Martin Küchen / Nikos Veliotis / Ingar Zach
Dying Sun

Looper:
Martin Küchen  saxophones
Nikos Veliotis cello
Ingar Zach percussion

1.  grand redshift
2.  hazy dawn
3.  near eternity

recorded in Albi, France, January 2010

Reviews

Dying Sun was released as part of a series of 5 CDs under the title Silence and After.  You can read reviews of the whole series here (Stuart Broomer in Point of Departure)  and here (Julian Cowley in The Wire)

The following are two of the individual reviews that Dying Sun received.

“Dying Sun is a superb effort that must be absorbed in total stillness – and, possibly, loneliness – throughout lots of listening sessions. Even a beloved family member interrupting the flux with mundane matters is going to damage the experience. This is the kind of substance that defines a moment of a person’s life very precisely, either implying different mental stances or reinforcing the pre-existing ambition to a salubrious isolation. It’s not for everybody. This lack of democracy should be a rule to follow for artists interested in fusing themselves with the quintessence of vibrational matter rather than getting recognized at all costs.

“Grand Redshift” starts with an underlying hum broken by percussive/abrasive insertions and a slow tolling. A Radigue-like mass expands, the ears begin to adapt, the skull is gradually saturated. The load is augmented by occlusive low frequencies, a basic pulsation and calculated dynamic fluctuations. A few harmonics seem to adjust to the room, the accumulation becoming gently invasive. It changes noticeably depending on the position you’re in. Dissonant whispers appear, the cello growls mutely, mixed with classic mouthpiece-and-tube activities. A circular snoring of sorts materializes, followed by more humming. Patterns – albeit atypical – exist, electronics (or whatever it is) acting subliminally on the perceptive mechanisms. Quiet elements that elicit sensations of impending disaster. Cyclical creaking camouflaged within the reeds, a regular rhythmic tapping subtending a lengthy stretch. No one seems willing to come to the forefront, the single components measurable nonetheless. Dropping drones, think “fragments of engine”, get highlighted by a rough whirr underneath. Ineluctability reigns without openings to light, evoking pessimism. An engrossing listen, anyway.

“Hazy Dawn” is introduced by a cymbal (gong?) resonance accompanied by an irregular buzz, faint overtones materializing shortly thereafter. It justifies feelings of involvement, preoccupation and alertness, its reverberating halos taking command little by little. The piece is so beautiful, a restrained composition picking the “right” inside strings; we have always belonged herein. And, unfortunately, it is too short. “Near Eternity” is even simpler: fixed pitches akin to controlled feedback, the repetitiveness of a remote bump, the gradual diminishing of already weak signals ending the segment by leaving a huge question mark hanging over our heads.

One of the top three releases in Another Timbre's catalogue, simple as that.”
Massimo Ricci, Touching Extremes

“This is a fused trio. Their music is vibrant and gentle, like the sounds of the sea that can be heard on old boats navigating an  archipelago. Low puffing noises, swaying and splashing sounds. And it evokes a sense of ancient power, which I mean as a compliment.  It is a music of great depth which reminds me both of the Djurgården ferry and a journey of death on the river Styx. It has the same captivating natural pulse, as if you’re listening to someone's breathing.

The music settles near the existential experience of pain, fear, desire to escape, confinement. The end is near at hand, since these three musicians are so successful in getting the music to throb as if it wanted out. They circle it and created a place for it as if it is an unruly animal that they have to keep in check.

So I listen only to the trio, before I try to trace the special sounds of the instruments: Veliotis on cello, Küchen’s saxophone or Zach's drums. It is so slow, as if all the players are happy to hide within the sounds, which sometimes become almost too fluid, and furtive. Then I get impatient and think, come on, come forward, and then sure enough you’ll hear some unexpected undulating sounds from the drums, or a stubborn sliding sound, perhaps derived from nervous abrasive bowing on the cello, or a sound that  mixes a little taste of metal and air, so must be Küchen. The music has a quality of  such thinness  that it feels like a sky from which the clouds have disappeared. Over there I sense Zach's cymbal sounding and music that has passed through an electronics mixer and  turned into floating objects, vague in outline but with the nucleus of each instrument as a clue.

This is a music without sharp outlines, but also a music that remains at the centre rather than hanging round the edges. There is a willingness to gather in a common desire or thought.  If this has meditative or even religious connotations, I cannot confirm or deny.   The third track begins with a vague tone that is punctured by Zach's muffled timpani.   "Near Eternity" is wetted gently by Küchen’s lips pressing against the reed so that we find ourselves inside a large reverberant tone. It is highly effective, dramatically - and creates a sense of mystery. I do not want to be seduced in this way, and yet I give in to it.  It is so peaceful but never mawkish. The music has a strong spatial sense, an impression of walls and boundaries being created by a seeping black gas that comes from the musicians’ closed eyes. A drone emerges from the disorder near the end, then fades away leaving only a slight hissing noise.  The last thing that decays is a fading pulse.

This is something much more than the usual reductionist Improv. For me it is a visit to the space that John Cage called ‘silence’.  But perhaps a little more varied, as the three musicians examine sounds beyond the usual, listening to the pulse beats. As if they were recalling that most  well-known of Cage’s stories, when he enters an anechoic chamber - and hears his own nervous system and pulse.  So although I don’t depend on Cage, it is appropriate that it is part of Another Timbre’s Silence and After series, as it inevitably recalls the famous American’s book ‘Silence’. ”       Thomas Millroth,  Sound of Music