House of Chadula 2012
The fourth part of the series concertos continues to dig the ambient vein initiated by the first 3, but with a resolutely orchestral approach here. By "orchestra", one must understand layers of instrumental divagations adjusted together by means of some prodigious adhesive. The principle is symphonic, and the musicians undoubtedly play together, even if each of them seems to be determined to develop his score in spite of the others and that the sandbox, by dint of pedaling, turns into slush where they sink , furious autistic clinging to their hammer. It agglutinates - because, it is one of the laws of the universe, everything can clump together -, amalgamates a bit like glutinous rice, to form at the finish a large ball of orchestral dough. To the joys of conglutination, adds the coagulation which, once the drained resin is collected in the calabash and modeled as a pudding, offers an amusing effect of transparency: the sound, limpid like a river of glue, tablecloth with unctuosity banjoïstic cracklings, effects of tremolo buzzing from Johnny Hamill's bass, Mike Dillon's percussion drums and Mark Southerland's electrocheap grouzibouzis, and all of it with a thick meditative coulis, a hard-toasting slice - that's it, go for it , rigorously to the same. Jazz, unexpectedly, goes up from these depths, and it is the occasion of recreational bubbles - quickly broke out. We must go back to excavate, gurgle and excavate magma of small diamonds, set in its infinite navels.