Alfredo Costa Monteiro
Centre of Mass

Alfredo Costa Monteiro  -  cymbal & resonating objects

Recorded in Barcelona, June 2008

Duration:  32:29

Reviews

‘Restriction is the mother of invention,’ as Holger Czukay once said, and perhaps with something like that axiom in mind, Barcelona-based improviser Costa Monteiro limits himself on this half-hour disc to a single cymbal sounded (by motorised objects most obviously) against various resonant materials.   There’s nothing particularly new about teasing overtones out of metals, but Centre of Mass is quite wonderful.  Its episodic structure initially seems weak, as a variety of timbres are explored and then abandoned, but as the piece unfolds there’s gradually more overlap between sounds, with the final stretch managing to recapitulate and synthesise those initial ideas into a complex and very lovely coda.  Even if Costa didn’t exercise such careful structural control, this would still be great from a purely sonic point of view.  It’s a hugely enjoyable collection of individual textures, each drawn out with meticulous care.”                                         -   Keith Moliné, The Wire

“The term “sound art” is an often blankly pregnant phrase that usually refers to an installation of sonic work in an environment that has some lasting perceptual effect on the listener. It is often process-based, and expects of the individual a certain aesthetic awareness of environment to emerge in relation to sound. It seems far rarer for works of sonic art to be placed alongside significant musical works in terms of their impact, whether through tonal color, range, expressiveness, or any other criteria we attach to composition and improvisation. Barcelona-based artist Alfredo Costa Monteiro, who also works with electronics, turntables and accordion, is of sonic kin to post-Cageian composers like Alan Bryant, David Behrman and Robert Rutman, though he is of another generation. Like these artists, he has found a way to orchestrate and give a sense of quality to noise, resonance, and environment.

Centre of Mass involves a large cymbal and resonating/vibrating objects placed to produce an astounding range of tones, overtones and various combinations. Properties reminiscent of acoustic instruments emerge almost immediately in the piece, which clocks in at a hair over thirty minutes. There’s breathiness in the first part that one could equate with low, needling baritone saxophone. Rattling drones emerge in a higher pitch, calling to mind a hurdy-gurdy. A lengthy stretch of what sounds like a plastic fan slowly shifts toward celli, then back into the amorphous cheap-mechanization range. High harmonics reach the foreground, supported by a mix of other distinct tones before being buried in clatter. The harmonic frequencies generated from objects’ vibrational interplay is as old as insect wings, but Monteiro has found a very rich chamber orchestra within one piece of copper and a series of handy objects. Harsh, electric noise is part of this landscape too (perhaps a quote from Behrman’s “Wave Train” twelve minutes in), but it grows from an organic, natural sensibility of electro-acoustic play. And like any great orchestral work, site-specificity is unnecessary—whether on a home stereo or a late night drive, one’s surroundings will be molded to fit Monteiro’s art.”                                
Clifford Allen, Bagatellen

“The third release sees the debut of a new imprint, Another Timbre Byways, which will release limited edition CD-Rs featuring less well-known musicians. This inaugural release sets a high standard for others to follow. Barcelona-based sound artist Alfredo Costa Monteiro is already well known enough to have appeared at the Atlantic Waves festival, to have accumulated a smallish discography and to have his own Wikepedia entry. He has previously released recordings of "paper music" and "rubber music".  Here he delivers a prolonged (over 32 minutes) drone piece as good as any you'll have heard this past year. Monteiro has used the phrase "soft noise music" to describe his music, and it is apt here as the listener is not overwhelmed by its volume but captivated by its form and structure. Underlying everything is a persistent low frequency drone—at times reminiscent of a didgeridoo—that provides a solid foundation on which to build, as well as setting the nerves jangling. Monteiro overlays the drone with sounds obtained from exciting a cymbal, a process which, in his hands, yields an inconceivably broad range of sounds, enough to create a constantly varying and fascinating soundscape, one that makes riveting listening. Monteiro is one to watch. And so, of course, is Another Timbre.  Roll on 2009. “                                                                                                                                    - John Eyles, All About Jazz

“There are musicians whose conception I simply enjoy, finding almost anything they do to be imbued by it. Costa Monteiro is one.  This often harsh dronescape, lasting a bit over 30 minutes, was created by agitating one or more cymbals on various resonating surfaces.  Simply enough idea, focusing in on a "small" area, discovering all the largeness there, finely executed.  One is initially fascinated by the sounds themselves; later, their placement, opposition and sequencing impresses greatly.  Good stuff.”
Brian Olewnick, Just Outside

“One thirty-some minute work of overtones generated through the use of motorized objects on a large cymbal. The recording however seems to be focusing itself more on the motorized objects than on the cymbal itself, or so it seems. Divided in various parts, each emphasizing the various possibilities of scraping and scratching the surface. A highly concentrated set of sounds on a highly condensed disc. Great stuff.”
Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly

“From his adventures with Cremaster to the recent collaborations with the likes of John Duncan, Alfredo Costa Monteiro has been analyzing the fundamental nature of harmonic resonance through methods that could appear as not really innovative on a negligent listen. What we need here is exactly the opposite, as the 32 minutes of Centre Of Mass clearly show that the core of a vibration is perceivable – make that “visible” - only to those who are impermeable to words but have the channels of responsiveness wide open.

The record is built upon separated episodes of different length, all generated by the simplest means: a cymbal and “resonant objects”. Beginning with straightforward quivering essences that we can barely define as “tones”, various gradations of harmonics are explored by extracting the grime and the acid to convert what superficially appears as a grim diversification of frictional harshness into something that must be investigated starting from the rear side of the skull which, at serious volume, is the first part of the body that gets aroused by these stimulating, if admirably controlled phenomena.  Those apparently jarring superimpositions gradually evolve until they become an aggregation of protective reminiscences, as we’re thrown back in a critical setting which is probably nearer to the preliminary phase of biologic life than to the painful qualities of dissonance. Although impressively resounding the frequencies never threaten to overwhelm, looking at the listener with a sort of severe benevolence. They eclipse fear and stupor at once, tracing a mental path to be followed without hesitation in order for the very nerves to undergo a beneficial effect, a sharing of the overall wavering in the energetic flux of existence.

When the music abruptly ends one is left pondering about buried meanings and trying to give an answer to a massive amount of doubts, yet the lingering sensation is that what’s just passed might have been a rare glimpse of afterlife under the outer shell of sonic waves that – while harmonious for the well-trained – are not going to absolve the ignorant.”
Massimo Ricci, Touching Extremes

Interview with Alfredo Costa Monteiro

When did you start playing music, and what drew you to experimental music and improvisation?

I started playing accordion when I was ten. It wasn’t really a decision, but almost an accident: a gift from my father. I played it for many years, but as a teenager I was much more interested in sounds that related to my condition, so at around 15 I started playing guitar and keyboards in rock bands.  None of them produced a serious end-result and later I stopped making music and focused on visual arts. But while studying at Fine Arts school sound was very present in my work.  And I realised that I was much more interested in the psychology, the semantics or simply the presence of sound in itself than in its musical form.  So the first connection between visual arts and music was in some personal experiments in my art work. This was also the time when I discovered free jazz and anarchism and had a short bout of political activism, which quickly stopped through disappointment.

I came back to music in 1995, but with feedback from my art work and a stronger interest in sound. I started playing as a multi-instrumentalist in an experimental rock band called Superelvis, here in Barcelona. Our music was based on collective modal /tonal improvisation and a lack of hierarchy. Having played in punk groups, I could find a pretty similar spirit that allowed me to make music without any kind of accurate technique and a joyful sense of chaos. Intention was the key.

Slowly I began other collaborations that led me to a more abstract form of expression, and in 2001, as I was feeling more and more comfortable with free improvisation, I set up my own projects.

I’ve always felt a strong fascination for sound. Maybe it’s an inner curiosity or a deeper perceptive connection; whatever it is, I’ve always been more permeable to sound than to images. Another important point that may have been significant was the discovery of electro-acoustic music while studying classical guitar at the conservatory at the age of 15.  The realisation that reality could be transformed by sound was a total revelation for me (and this discovery led me to leave the conservatory…)

I guess such a sensibility belongs to a larger process which is part of our understanding of the world. I still consider sound as one of the most powerful enigmas (psychologically and technically) that keeps my perception in close connection to reality.

I assume that you’re from Portugal originally.  When and why did you move to Barcelona? And what is the improv scene in Barcelona like today?

I was born in Portugal and lived there until 8. Then for political and economical reasons, my parents moved to Paris, where I lived for 20 years. In 1992 I moved to Barcelona for reasons of love, but it happened at just the right moment for me, because after 20 years living in Paris I needed a change.

Once in Spain I had to deal with new cultural values, behaviours, spaces and sounds. I went on producing visual/sound installations, and as I mentioned before, slowly started a parallel activity in a certain way connected to my art work.  It was very easy to be part of the scene in Barcelona because there was a great deal of respect and openness.

Nowadays it’s a very small and quite fragmented scene, in part because of a lack of a real tradition in this field; there are very few venues, almost no trust in this practise from institutions, almost no funding...but, there are some really talented musicians...I guess this lack of even a minimum infra-structure should make people react, but it’s not so. For many years, I was part of a collective called IBA, and we created a pole of synergies and intense activity by organizing festivals, workshops, meetings and concerts. I left the collective two years ago, partly due to tiredness, but also to focus on my own activity.

On various discs you play accordion, turntables, electronics, paper and now solo cymbal.  How do you choose which instrument to play when?  Do you have different styles of playing for each instrument, or do you basically play in the same way regardless of what you're playing?

I carry out different activities in parallel, creating an echo between them. I keep many correspondences which are not necessary and immediately obvious, my work being regenerated constantly in a process that I like to define as nomadic. I’m not attached to a form that could be a mark of identity, but rather to a method that could construct this identity. For these reasons I’d say that the choice of sound source is part of this process. It’s a sort of reactivation where whatever is acquired tends to be the focus of a new speculation. It’s all about resoluteness and disinclination: and between these two notions my intention is to create a new context for the music to exist. The choice of a sound source is always connected to a previous idea of what I want to build; in every case, there’s always a conceptual departure. But as the praxis is fundamental for me as an experimental procedure, I always keep in mind that the concept has to test the form. And in this way the instrument is accepted in its original definition, as a simple tool, as a means to achieve a purpose. Of course every instrument requires a different approach, but the basis of each intervention is quite similar, only the context makes it different.

Do you manage to earn a living from your music, or do you need a 'day job' to survive?

In Spain it’s very difficult to earn a living from this kind of music, at least if you try to remain honest.  Extensions of this practise such as conferences, work-shops are very rare, and there are very few venues and festivals. So I work as a language teacher, which I really like and which occupies almost a third of my time, concentrated in three days, and which brings in a minimum salary. I mostly perform abroad.

I try to conserve a kind of pleasure principle in all my activities, even in my job. For now I’m totally happy with my situation, because for me it’s also a way to protect my artistic integrity, as I don’t have to make any kind of compromise for money. When I say this I have in mind some professional improvisers, and their attitude, which is represented in their music, is simply incomprehensible for me.

You have produced a number of solo discs.  What are the advantages and disdvantages of playing solo as against group playing?

Playing solo seems to be the most free form of expression, but it’s also the most arid. When I’m playing alone, I’m the only one responsible for what’s happening. It’s very rewarding, because you learn a lot about yourself; no justification to a third person is needed, and some acts can keep the status of secrets never revealed. But this is also what can make it dangerous in the way that if only I know what my intention was, then it’s easier to pretend that it’s been achieved even when it hasn’t! Playing alone requires more honesty with oneself, and as long as one is able to recognise one’s mistakes, it’s fine.

But obviously the music changes when another subjectivity comes into play. You enter into a consensus (even when you’re not really playing together) that nourishes your practise, not just artistically but also in human terms. And as I strongly believe that this practise is related to human exchange and political consensus, I also need a group context to continue building an open subjectivity.

Would you describe some of your music as 'noise music'?  You have also used the term 'quiet noise music', so what is your relation to 'noise'?

Noise music, as it’s called and defined, requires some parameters that I don’t fulfil, simply because I’m not interested in using them the way they are required. On the other hand I’m interested in the energy of loud noise, in its capacity of trans-figuration and most of all in its physicality, which is an amazing virtue: not just for the power of its presence, but also for its perturbing force socially and politically.

In this way sound crosses the boundaries of what is socially acceptable and literally invades reality. For me, it’s more a realisation than an act of aggression or a provocation.

At the same time I’m very attracted by the inner body of this physicality. And I believe that to make it understandable, high volumes can be an obstacle. In my music dynamics are fundamental. There’s a tendency to mix the word ‘noise’ with the label ‘noise music’. Noisy music and noise music are different to me, the first using an adjective to describe and qualify the music, and the second defining a genre. It’s curious that in Latin languages when we use the word ‘noise’ in English (without being translated) it means ‘noise music’, and otherwise we use a translated word (bruitiste in French, ruidista in Spanish and Portuguese, rumoroso in Italian...) Once I used the expression ‘soft noise music’ as an irony, trying to describe a piece of mine that was pretty much this: noise music in its essence but with a soft volume...I try to give to each material I use the volume and intention I consider correct.  It could have to do with psychological tension, erotic pulsions, inner perceptions, vibration or simply the mood of the moment.

You have played with many leading improvisers over the past few years.  Are there any that made a particular impression on you, or who you feel you learnt a lot from?  And is there anyone who you'd particularly like to play with who you haven't played with yet?

I see collaborations as processes of feedback where the information flux is redistributed by each collaborator, and influence is part of this flow. Transmitter and receptor are pretty much part of the same intention. In this context I always learn from others, and if not, I would stop collaborations. But for me, it’s not just about music, it’s also about energy. I consider music as part of this energy that brings me closer to or drives me apart from a musician.  As the years go by we have to be conscious of the fact that there’s less and less capacity to be surprised, impressed or influenced by other people’s music. When I think of somebody I’d like to play with, I imagine what my contribution could be and how it could change his or her music. I love the work of many musicians, but in many cases I don’t see what I could bring to their music.

But still, I’m attracted by musicians I’ve never played with. Jérôme Noetinger is one of them. We have played together in larger groups, but not yet as a duo, though we’ve talked about it many times.  And I’d love to play with John Tilbury, Otomo Yoshihide and Lee Patterson.