Hildur Guðnadóttir – Without Sinking 2xLP (Touch)
RECOMMENDED
This will probably bum a few of you out, but like many kids who grew up on indie rock in the ‘90s, and who were fascinated by the drama and energy and release of some of its more notable acts, I rushed out and bought the Rachel’s LP as soon as it came out. It was a record I should have just kept in its sleeve, sealed and untouched. To listen to chamber music on that level of monochromatic simplicity just about soured me on that kind of music altogether. I rarely seek it out (though most of what comes to Still Single was hardly sought by me at all), and I remain woefully ignorant of classical music in most forms. Not to draw a comparison, but a very stiff, dry piece of music with which I could make no connection still tarnishes my view, the representative no one asked to show up. All because I liked Rodan! I’m bringing all of this up not to make a Rachel’s comparison, but to lament that this double album by Icelandic cellist Hildur Guðnadóttir wasn’t my first foray into chamber music. She performs solo and with sparse accompaniment (bassist Skuli Sverrisson, better known for his free jazz work where I come from; Johann Johannsson, himself a composer on a similar trajectory, on organ and computer) across a frigid 13-song cycle, battered by grey seawater and very nearly lost in the mists and shifting plates of metaphysical being. Without Sinking, originally released by Touch in 2009, and now in a new vinyl edition, evokes true sadness, which approaches a heavy emotional state, but somehow manages to play through in an incredibly light and supple style, in a way that is difficult to describe, but you’ll understand when you hear it. Most of the record is nothing but her cello, multitracked, without obvious processing or effects treatment (though it is there, it takes a back seat, as it should, to the product). Many would attribute something this melancholy to hard-to-deal-with feelings, or an internal sadness that lashes out in unforgiving ways. I can’t understand it as that. This is a powerful work that instills within the listener that their soul is about to dissipate, and none of the resignation that might be associated with such a moment is present. It is a state of being; there, in a deft moment of skill from Guðnadóttir’s wrists, you bravely accept your own minor fate, the dust from which you were said to return replaced with chilling temperature and briny denouement. Never have I been so moved by music that gives off an expression of being so close to the end of the line. Guðnadóttir rounds out this recording with strokes of zither, and an Icelandic folk hymn sung acapella with some treatments, but there’s a point near the middle of the final track “Iridescence” that brings a new layer of depth to the proceedings, like the coffin lid is being closed for good. Experience this and you will know what it is like to have the ice in you. (http://www.touchmusic.org.uk)
(Doug Mosurock)
