Günter Müller/Lê Quan Ninh - La Voyelle Liquide
(Erstwhile)
A brave new form of improv was in full swing in 2000, thanks to the devoted
efforts of labels like Erstwhile and For 4 Ears. Perhaps no document has
showcased the exhilarating possibilities of the new improv better than La
Voyelle Liquide, a summit of two superbly talented percussionists. Günter
Müller's star has been steadily rising, its ascent captured on wonderful
recordings with guitarists Keith Rowe and Taku Sugimoto, onkyo exemplars
Otomo Yoshihide and Sachiko M, and cracked-electronic specialists Voice
Crack. Though less established, Lê Quan Ninh has been more prominent since
his brilliant 1995 solo set Ustensiles (on Müller's For 4 Ears label).
Müller and Ninh share an open-minded, forward-thinking outlook. For La
Voyelle Liquide, they've extended their scaled-down kits (Ninh plays only a
"surrounded bass drum;" Müller sticks with his "selected drums") with
electronics (both) and minidiscs (Müller). Inspired by Gaston Bachelard's
"Psychoanalysis of Water"--the writer's visage peers sagely from behind the
CD tray--Müller and Ninh explore the multiverse of worlds associated with
water. If you're expecting 75 migraine-inducing minutes of pounding and
pummeling, look elsewhere. These astonishing creations could be mistaken for
a collection of field recordings. "La Voyelle e" is a stunning descent into
the depths, sinking slowly like a steel-hulled bathyscaphe, scattering
frightened fish in its wake, weathering compressive currents that threaten
to crush it like a discarded aluminum can. Ninh's bass drum bubbles through
dense clouds of grit stirred up by the underwater activity of "La Voyelle
o." The closing "La Voyelle Liquide" is a powerful piece of nautical
impressionism, laden with ominous sea bells, crying gulls, creaking planks,
and choppy waves. On "La Voyelle a," electro-acoustic treatments dissolve
percussion into waves, creating refractive shoals into which fragments of
rhythm are cast like so many handfuls of sparkling stones. "La Voyelle u"
begins similarly, the play as poetic as that of moonlight upon the ocean,
but builds to a frenzied pelting. "La Voyelle i" and "La Voyelle y" are
notably different--more ice than water, if you will--with frequencies and
crystalline droplets skittering across frigid reflective skins.
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