Mack makes a delicate
start - almost Spanish flamenco style on an electric guitar, with added echo and
now a drone. Notes emerging from the hum and buzz of the sound system, until
the crackle drowns and submerges the melody. The crack of cables echoes the
rattle of castanets. He’s very Spanish in his mood, running melancholy scales
up and down the fret board and tumbling into clusters of low notes.
It’s gentler than
Caries. The sustain and feedback hovers, threatening to destroy the fragile
picking. He’s applying an acoustic method to the electric, moody and
melancholic again. Or am I slightly sad and applying this to every piece?
The sound of a guitar
in the distance: Mack’s playing seems to come from the other end of a tunnel,
or through a weak radio signal. The sound system is simply obscuring the clear,
firm pizzicato. These are transmissions from another world, another cliché.
Certainly, his actual
playing is accomplished and precise. He’s problematising the performance. The
electricity has been made audible – thanks to some fiddling with wires. It’s a
battle for a thing of beauty to survive.
Eric talked about a
message. Old school music journalists weren’t afraid of overdoing it. This
musical monologue tells a story about life. Life, represented by the guitar, is
delicate yet beautiful. Rich in emotion and evocative of tales that are barely
comprehensible in their complexity and detail, life tries to survive against a
hostile universe – here represented by the feedback, the nasty crackle of the
speakers.
This is an opera for
solo guitar that contains the basic narrative of existence. It’s mysterious,
frail, frightening. I’m loath to call the universe of noise that tries to
subjugate the melody godless (the guitarist might be God, anyway), but it is in
some sort of conflict with the guitar’s life.
However, the sources
of the sounds that threaten are also the reasons that the guitar is audible.
The universe may sound tough, but it is also sustaining. The music is a duet
between guitar and PA.
The actual melody has
traces of heavy metal exhibitionism and folk refrains. This might well be the
most beautiful thing I have ever heard. And I bet I would have called it doodling
if I were not trying to write about it.
I was not expecting
music to need as music thought as performance.
Damn. Eric noticed
that the style was very blues. He has beaten me. That is what this is: not
delta blues, but the blues of the universe, which makes the noise that
eventually will destroy it.
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