The stillness of a reticent Sunday identified by voluble weather (and a tiny measure of migraine) was decorated by a somewhat ephemeral composition by microtonal tubist Robin Hayward, half of the Reidemeister Move duo with contrabassist Christopher Williams as the opposite fifty percent. The score for this piece is circular, and was printed on the white vinyl of this edition; both the conceptual elements and the physical object of our discussion are observable at the above link.
Due to the instrumentation, the frequency spectrum considered is obviously limited to the lower ranges. The sounds emitted by Hayward and Williams (who employs arco throughout, except for a couple of plucked dots) evolve gradually but firmly, allowing the acoustic particles to enter that state of consonant oscillation which strengthens a given note as it unfolds. The consistency of the essentials results in profound parallelisms, all the more effective when the pitches are close – namely, very often. Needless to say, the “classic” throbbing of adjacent partials constitutes a predominant trait; at adequate volume, the outcome impresses in several parts of the opus. However, the music works fine even at levels barely exceeding a whisper, providing that the listening environment is noiseless.
A definite plus: overly protracted pauses are absent. There are just a few hints to muteness scattered around the entire track, as if the musicians wanted to briefly regroup after an intense concentration. Then they start again, leading us through new juxtapositions informed by the warm broadness of their joint timbres. In absence of dramatic turnarounds it’s nice to be escorted by the sheer influence of instruments transmitting, first and foremost, an impulse to act calmly and live “in the moment”.