a place where none will harm us was held by weird aftertaste on 12th and 13th July, at the Goethe Institute (at the Goethe Lab), featuring Bertram Wee, Lynette Yeo, Christoven Tan, Michellina Chan and Low Jinhong. This concert delved into contrasting themes of suffering, pain, agony, friction, fragility, as well as catharsis and relief. We did not know what to expect for the programme. What we did know, however, before the programme was how the notion of art would be challenged.
Nam June Paik’s One for Violin Solo opened the show. Lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone towards the middle of the space where all of us were seated, which had a table with a marble slab on it. Pure silence filled the room as Tan made his way into the middle, holding only a violin. He stood in the space with both hands holding the violin at a height above the marble slab in a horizontal position by the neck. We waited with bated breath. Instinctively, the first thought which flashed by was if Tan was actually going to shatter the violin. From the firm determination through his eyes, I knew the answer. He was really committed to it. As time passed, Tan slowly elevated the angle in which the violin was held at, and all our eyes were just fixated on him. It was an almost motionless scene, like a tableau. Questions like “When is he going to do it?” “How long will it take before that happens?” appeared in our minds, while our breaths peeked through the silence. At an almost-vertical position, at that split second, it happened. The shattering sound punctured the silence which pervaded the room. Bits and pieces of different parts of the violin were strewn across the floor and the room darkened.
Christoven performing Nam’s One as the concert opener to a place where none will harm us
One may begin to wonder the meaning behind this piece? Musicians from a young age are constantly reminded by their mentors to protect their instruments. Destruction — just occurring right in our face. Naturally, this leads to the question of whether this is considered as art? What, or why is destruction a medium of art? Especially when one’s instrument may have developed a connection with a performer, how could one bring themselves to just shatter an entire body at that split moment?
If art is defined as a medium of expression and emotion, I do think that this definition validates what art means when we, as musicians and listeners, feel all sorts of emotions, like pain inflicted and shock, when the entire violin shattered. It is performance art. Moreover, the meaning of the piece can be derived from the commitment towards the act from the performer himself. It is really commendable for Tan to be dedicated to this piece, even since he himself is a string player. He knew what people may think and believe during the piece. Some might even be already comfortable with the silence, while some might be on their toes ready for that moment. Even towards the crashing end, there was no hesitation towards the decision. Hence, for this piece, it is really all about everything in between when he first held the violin in that manner to the moment before the violin shattered. Well, it is definitely very simple to just walk out and just immediately smash it before moving on to the next piece, but what is the point of that? That is just breaking things for the sake of breaking, which loses the visual, aural and emotional impact we, as audiences, should feel towards such a spectacle. I think Tan has done it really beautifully and successfully — a justice for the violin’s swan song. From a performer’s perspective, the feeling of catharsis brews from the long wait after holding the violin aloft, then letting it go and seeing the debris. One could appreciate the intended silence during the performance.
What followed was an attaca into the second piece – Wee’s my body, broken for your amusement [vessel II], performed by b-l duo — with himself on the keyboard and Yeo on the talkbox. This work draws on the work of Alvin Lucier to explore the human body as a sonic space. There was an audibly ominous pulse lurking as the voice struggled to peek out, as if restrained. Sounds from the electronics track gradually evolved, as well as the sonic colour of the voice through the talkbox. Yeo was extremely sensitive to detail as she brought out the subtle changes in sound through different mouth shapes, ways of projecting air and breath control. Occasional moments of silence were interspersed for the pulse to lay on, like a heartbeat. This suspenseful pulse gradually accelerated into a noise storm which unleashed chaos, raw and direct in its sound. Even so, textural layers and dramatic gestures beneath this facade of a storm morphed constantly. Order in chaos can be discerned through this progression of events of various sonic gestures. Towards the end of the piece, as the final sound rang, the body’s final struggle seemed to have ended with lingering pain. Although the piece does not have a narrative as a complement, the constant development in sounds with a clear direction lend to the propelling nature of the entire piece to the end. Though the piece is highly complex, the incomparable coordination from b-l duo rendered the various depths of exploration in the piece highly convincing and compelling.
Carapace by Wee, which was one of the few works he had worked on during his residency at the Goethe Lab, began rather inconspicuously after a brief moment of silence. It was performed by Tan as the solo performer, who had a contact microphone attached to him. The room was really dimmed at the time; truthfully, I only realised the piece had begun when there were some muffled sounds from the speaker. These muffled sounds persisted — it was the kind of sound obtained by tapping the microphone constantly and rubbing the microphone across some surface, yet in a somewhat more rhythmic manner. One can only discover a silhouette of a man kneeling, perhaps sitting, on the floor within the audience seats, with his shirt off, which was very surprising. As the piece progressed, the microphone slid and interacted with different parts of the body — from the head, to the arms, shoulder, face, abdomen and the leg. What was extremely unique was the subtle changes in the ruffling of sounds which were produced from the speaker. Apparently, the microphone seemed to produce slight changes in frequencies of the “ruffling” when placed at different body parts. There were several reasons like the amount of friction on the body, level of hollowness and fullness in different parts of the body and the body control in the movement during the act. These subtle changes suggest this specificity in sound both Wee and Tan had in mind. While Tan mentioned some aspects of the performance were planned beforehand, there remained moments of improvisations according to this goal of precision in sound and gestures. This piece was perfectly executed by Tan.
Similarly, this piece is another episode of performance art. It is an art form which thrives on various sensorial experiences other than sound to evoke another dimension of meaning in the work. To bind this piece neatly with the exploration it’s meant to be is another skill. Speed in movements, microphone control and breath control were few of the complex aspects of this piece to life in a convincing way. Leaving an impression of a convincing experience is hard to achieve. Furthermore, when Tan was initially approached with this piece, there was definitely some dilemma whether to perform this piece topless. Yet he still decided to perform as such as the microphone on fabric provides a different timbral quality in sound and in turn depriving the piece the authenticity in rawness of sounds. Indeed, this was a brave and commendable attempt by Tan.
b-l duo premiered the revised version of Wee’s study on always give up [vessel III] up next. One might recognise familiar sounds and noises as soon as the piece began — with a similar sonic character that of vessel II yet a little more “in your face” per se. Gurgling sounds constantly stutter yet both keyboardists interacted with each other to intertwine these harsh gestures. Amidst these noise storms lie two rather substantial episodes of child-like lyrical (even impressionistic) melodies, which seemingly do not appear out-of-place at all (albeit similar to the episodic gesture of Poulenc’s Sonata for Four Hands personally). These youthful and light melodies juxtapose with the harsh raw sounds which coarse through the piece almost entirely, perhaps being the moments of cleansing of our ears to be exposed to a different dimension of sound). But it also meant something that Wee was able to bring diverse materials together yet develop it thoroughly. Nevertheless, Wee mentioned that he likes a degree of abstraction in his work, however direct it is. Hence, if we were to insert a symbolism or narrative to this section, it rekindled reminiscence to a young, rejuvenated soul.
fresh smegma was up next as Chan stood within the spotlights with her baritone saxophone (an instrument which she would not play often). This was the premiere of the baritone saxophone version. Playing a prepared baritone saxophone was the foremost hardest challenge performing this piece as it requires non-conventional technique and skill in executing certain gestures. Violently controlled gestures and sharp and clear harmonies through multiphonics alternate, as if exploring the various levels of attack on the instrument.
Michellina Chan performing Wee’s fresh smegma
Closing the show for the night was the premiere of Wee’s displeasures for the flesh (fracture aria)— another piece which he worked on during the residency at Goethe Lab. I was fascinated by the highly intricate inner workings of the technology used for the final piece, which lent to the ingenuity in sonic design of the composer. The musicians were amplified, with Yeo on the keyboard and Tan on the violin, and Chan singing into a microphone. All those sounds were fed through a tube, into a talkbox, into Wee’s mouth. His mouth transformed into this mesmerizing sound chamber which amplified this colourful blend of timbres. Furthermore, this piece delicately presented the ever-changing harmonies that set a soundscape, over the drone of the room frequency. Occasional strident outbursts juxtaposed the overall zen-like atmosphere, as if a cry from our inner self. Given Wee’s predilection for loud and harsh sounds, this piece is definitely an eye-opening and unique one from him.
I can perhaps understand this piece from the idea of the sentient state of self vis-à-vis the theme of the programme. One may consider how the zen-like atmosphere represents our body and inner mind. Our mind is like a vast ocean which appears peaceful, yet ever-changing (just like these soundscapes). The constant development of the soundscapes comprises harmonies as well as erratic interjections with noise and timbre. Harmonies were conceived in a way such that it was personal and meaningful to Wee, attesting to his strong knowledge and diligence in common practice music too. Gradual transformation in sounds are hence perhaps intended to present the process of sound shapeshifting and for our ears to detect it. Sudden outbursts of noise allude to struggles — of suppression or release, or even possessing possibilities of referencing to his other works. Hence, this “aria” resonates well with this exploration.
One of the most noteworthy aspects of this concert was the stunning visuals projected onto the wall. These visuals were various sketches and artworks made by Yeo, the keyboardist of the ensemble, during the residency. Adhering to the theme of exploring various parts of the body, one of the artworks featured an x-ray-like image of various body parts, another depicted the physical hurt on our body on a microscopic level (cuts, gashes, etc.). Low, who is also one of the ensemble’s keyboardists, was the mastermind behind controlling the projection of these visuals throughout the concert. At various pre-planned timings of each piece, different sets, combinations and permutations of visuals were triggered by him, and consequently lit up on the wall. These artworks can be seen in fragments when projected, or even combined. Coloured lights added that extra layer of beauty as it elegantly diffracted in all directions. Visual impact from these media of various forms heightened the emotional impact we felt as listeners as these media brought about more life to the music we absorbed. This programme, which generously provided us a sonic and visual feast, was definitely a really memorable and compelling one.
To sum up, I think “beauty in bravura” describes the entire performance in a very fitting manner. Through this entire show, it is evident that weirdaftertaste’s commitment, dedication and passion to their own craft is witnessed. Wee says, “I like a degree of abstraction in my work, however direct it is…” Though the impact of the entire performance was direct and visceral at each given moment of the show, the abstract nature of the performance left plenty of room for open interpretation and discussion thereafter. Through this lens, it is perhaps worthwhile to take a moment to introspect upon what pain and suffering means to us. Embracing it does not require one to indulge in it; rather we could eventually come to terms with our pain and suffering through acceptance and transformation.
Written by Tan Zheng Rui
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