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Ingrid Schmoliner
Elena Kakaliagou

NABELÓSE

  • Ingrid Schmoliner — prepared piano, voice
  • Elena Kakaliagou — french horn, vocals

“Whispering, Drones, Whiches and a Funeral March…”

Corvo Records’ new LP + download release NABELÓSE shows Austrian prepared piano virtuoso and yodeler INGRID SCHMOLINER and the french horn player ELENA KAKALIAGOU from Greece, putting their hands and voices on traditional folk music from both countries.

Ingrid Schmoliner moves between the genres of new music, improvised music, free jazz, and folk music. Teaming up with the member of Zeitkratzer, RANK Ensemble, PARA, and Zinc & Copper Elena Kakaliagou, they form a Duo that creates dark interpretations of ancient songs and tales from mountains and the sea.

The LP comes with download code and in lavish gatefold cover!

Listen

Format

LP, 140g Vinyl + digital download
43:32 min
300 hand numbered copies
core 012

Credits

  • Recorded at Alte Gerberei, St.Johann in Tirol, Austria by Charles Wienand in June 2016
  • Mixed and mastered by Alexander Yannilos
  • Sleeve artwork by Wendelin Büchler
  • Kindly supported by BKA Österreich
  • Elena would like to dedicate this album to her father.
  • Ingrid dedicates this music to deep female friendships, the women from the mountains, to Nieves, Marlene, Marlies, Elena and to her mother.
  • Special thanks to Karin, Cornelia and Hans, Charles, Alex and Wendelin.

Some praise…

“(…) Kakaliagou, als bloße Zeitkratzer-Bläserin offenbar unterschätzt, geht der Diaspora-Blues von den Lippen wie bitterer Honig (…)
— Bay Alchemy (DE)

„I would call it delicate, but it‘s the delicacy of a very still lake at night, with ripples only barely audible along the shore, and there‘s no light so you can‘t completely differentiate the horizon and the water.
And there‘s an ancient myth monster that sleeps in the lake.(…)”
— Andrew Choate (USA)

Reviews

Die österreichische Metapianistin und die griechische Waldhornistin stimmen unerwartet dunkle und althergebracht klingende Lieder an. Ja, nicht nur Töne, Lieder, das bekannte, schon von Chalkias Lakis und Eleftheria Arvanitaki angestimmte ‘Giánni mou to mantíli sou’ aus Epirus, von Patmos und den Kykladen ‘Varka mou bogiatismeni’, das Giorgos Batis schon 1935 aufgenommen und Martha Frintzila, a capella, unvergesslich gemacht hat. Giánni lebt in Xenitia, in der Fremde, und fünf Flüsse bringen den fremden Schmutz nicht aus seinem Taschentuch. Auch das Herz derer ist schwarz, deren Boot nicht schwimmt, mit Hilfe der Madonna soll denen die Hose zerreißen, die Waisen im Stich lassen. Wenn Schmoliner als ‘Frau im Berg’ sich vor den Karren span-n-n-n-nt, belädt sie ihn mit Eiern, Brot und Schlamm. Das Horn tutet dazu trist und monoton, aber auch feierlich und urig, Saiten sirren wie elektrorasiert. Kakaliagou, als bloße Zeitkratzer-Bläserin offenbar unterschätzt, geht der Diaspora-Blues von den Lippen wie bitterer Honig. Schmoliner singt gewagter, ihre Frau zittert vor Hunger und Frost, das Horn ein einziges Fauchen und Brummen, das Piano windschief verstimmt. ‘Goldgefüllter Lippenrand’ kreist als pingendes Windrädchen, das Horn küsst dazu mit Goldmund. Die ‘Schlangenfrau’ tanzt zu Röhrenglockendingdong, Kakaliagou zischt, blubbert und zungenredet mykenisch. ‘Varka mou bogiatismeni’ aber betet sie zag zu ominös dröhnendem Piano und beklemmtem, wie eine Robbe heulendem Horn.
Die Beklemmung überträgt sich durch und durch. Trister kann ein Marienlied kaum klingen.
— [Bad Alchemy 94 rbd]

 

Squeye: Where the Squint Retakes the Eye

I’m surprised there’s not a specific word that exists to describe the phenomena of something small making a sound bigger than itself, or the phenomena’s counterpart: something gigantic making a sound so small that the sound portends of fathomless distances between what is seen versus what is understood.
On this new duo recording by Ingrid Schmoliner and Elena Kakaliagou, folk songs abound and blur, becoming improvised music. Improvised music becomes hymnal. Small sounds scare big ones; huge sounds are defined by squeaks at the edge.

Rattles and spirals, pops and echoes, breaths and strikes: the backbone of this music. This music is composed of sounds that resonate bone deep, played with the level of sophisticated virtuosity that Schmoliner and Kakaliagou possess, enacting an entirely otherworldly evocation of the inner landscape.

I would call it delicate, but it’s the delicacy of a very still lake at night, with ripples only barely audible along the shore, and there’s no light so you can’t completely differentiate the horizon and the water. And there’s an ancient myth monster that sleeps in the lake. Still, I would call it delicate. Ferocity is there, under the lake, inherent in the tones and interactions between these musicians. This is ferocity made fang-explicit, at several crucial moments on the album.

Schmoliner’s rhythmic sequencing of piano preparations––blunted axe-handles, ever-ringing overtones, perky cinnamon swizzles––leaves no room for uncommitted ideas. She’s a sword swallower who savors the taste of complete commitment.
Kakaliagou, equally, has developed a clarity of melancholy for the French horn to revel in. Her sound is not a brash championship drillbit but a long pour of heavy liquid and breath. If something gets scratched in the process, she has the teeth to soothe.

Both women use their voices on this recording––from folk yodels that become chamber harmonics, to physical groans that become improvised touchstones––and boy do we need these voices at this time.

The sounds are bigger than their being, and the being is so big it can only make a small sound.
— Andrew Choate, October 2016

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