Heavenly tape loops from the superstar of ambient music
The only thing that might be missing was a yippie ki-yay from William Basinski when he took on the Copenhagen Distillery as part of The Last Symphony tour. »Buckle up bitches«, it sounded so raw that for a moment you thought it was Bruce Willis on stage. Basinski's riveting superstar charisma is the perfect contrast to his crumbling and self-indulgent ambient music.
The concert was refreshingly far from the extended space of contemplation I associate with Basinski's recorded works. His famous series The Disintegration Loops (2002-2003), in which the mortal world of tape loops crumbles in slow motion, was emblematic of the concerns many had around the turn of the millennium: Was the infinity of the brave new digital world actually the beginning of the end? Like no one else, Basinski manages to let the question of technological determinism sound open in his music: The patinated tape recordings contain no answer, but instead a curious state, where repetition and impermanence stop pulling at the sense of time from either side and instead come full circle.
It was fascinating to experience the way Basinski processed his loops. Every time he put a new sound into rotation, it seemed as if it was his first encounter with it. Quickly, a sucking field of reverberation and feedback arose, forming a sphere from the orbits of the tape loops. The analog sound sometimes gnawed at the music with its small clips and grinding compression.
The distance between the ambient terrains was short and the concert, which was followed by two encores, was more collage-like than the wasteland Basinski usually paints. The landscape was particularly captivating as a six-note motif consumed itself in reverberation and gave way to what sounded like Arabic ornamented chant. Basinski found transcendence in the high frequencies, and when at one point he extended a bright vocal sound beyond the murky tape environment, the boundary between heaven and earth disappeared. It was incomprehensibly beautiful to hear how the vocals hovered like a radiant deity over the profane tape-recorded world.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
»For me, music is at its best when it appeals to both the head and the heart. I love music that plays with language and understands how words create images, while also possessing its own unique sonic quality and mood. It’s an added bonus if the music energizes me during a run, makes me dance in the kitchen, or makes me laugh. Or cry. Music can be like a chocolate-coated marshmallow treat with a surprise inside.«
Lone Hørslev is an author of poetry, novels, and song lyrics, as well as the TV series Den gode stemning. Together with Mads Mouritz, she forms one half of the Mouritz/Hørslev Project, and she recently wrote lyrics for the musical theatre production STOLT in collaboration with Katrine Muff. The songs can be found on the album Jeg ønsker mig.
»For us, music is... magic? Aside from the fact that we are huge fans of silence, the closing line of one of our upcoming singles perfectly captures our relationship with music:
'Music feels like magic to me / A superior art form in a marketplace / Trying to find an empty space'.
That is what it can feel like as a songwriter and performing musician. We try to hold onto an almost childlike infatuation with music, yet the art form we work in – alternative-leaning pop-rock – was created and has evolved 'in a marketplace' driven by powerful economic forces. As a romantic, that can sometimes be a bit disheartening...«
Late Runner consists of Asger Tarpgaard and Tanja Forsberg Simonsen, both formerly of the bands Superheroes and Private.
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