“In conjunction with for hugh davies, Another Timbre has issued a limited edition
CD-R of the source tapes Wastell, Bohman, and Patterson utilized in their session.
Culled from the National Sound Archives at the British Library, the set includes
five solos recorded in
the mid-’70s and a duo performance with Richard Orton from 1969. Here, Davies’ raw
sonic explorations are laid bare. One can hear the process of discovery as he plumbs
the potentials of his materials. Without amplification, the scrubbed and chafed
details of his
playing would be all but inaudible. But Davies’ approach places an intense focus
on the slightest motion or attack. The low-fi setups make the most of the reverberations
and distortion, plying them as yet another element to weave in. The percussive semaphores
between Davies and Orton show a boisterous energy, providing a nice way to round
out the set. Grab this one while you can...”
-
Michael Rosenstein, Signal to Noise
“The six pieces, dating from 1969 to 1977, are as raw and crisp as freshly sliced
carrots. The recording is dry, the signal hot, and the music sounds curiously more
daring, more modern than the later ensemble pieces. It could easily pass as the
latest offering from a latterday contact mic fiend like Pascal Battus, Ferran Fages
or Alfredo Costa Monteiro.
And that’s the point; though Davies was a major figure in free improv’s
early days - the two albums he recorded with the Music Improvisation Company in 1969
and 1970 are indeed “important documents of this formative period of improvised music
history”, to quote David Toop’s affectionate obituary tribute to Davies in Wire 252
- his work has never been more relevant than today. The generation of younger players
who see Keith Rowe as the godfather of today’s electroacoustic improvisation would
do well to check out Davies’ work...But describing Davies as a live electronics pioneer
is somewhat misleading, in that his work was concerned less with transformation than
with amplification, in a search to reveal the hidden sonic mystery of everyday objects.
Working as Karlheinz Stockhausen’s assistant in Cologne in the mid-60’s, where he
helped produce the composer’s Mikrophonie I (1965), a landmark work in live electronics
which sources all its sounds from a huge amplified Paiste tam-tam, was a veritable
epiphany for the young Oxford graduate. Thrilled at the prospect of using contact
mics to open up a whole new world of hitherto unexplored sound, he returned to England
in 1966 and embarked on a fertile period of experimentation with amplified egg-slicers,
metal combs, tins, springs and other “shozygs” (“any instrument - usually amplified
- built inside an everyday container, such as book-covers, breadbins, accordion files,
radio and TV sets, card tables”), his material and methodology clear precursors of
Adam Bohman’s work with Morphogenesis, Lee Patterson’s investigation of microsound
and Mark Wastell’s amplified textures.” - Dan Warburton,
The Wire
“In keeping with its adventurous approach, Another Timbre has put out two complementary
releases, one a CD, the other a CD-R. Taken together, they make a fine tribute to
Hugh Davies, the musician, composer, researcher, electronic pioneer and instrument
inventor who died at the start of 2005, aged 61. The limited edition CD-R serves
two useful purposes. Firstly, it brings six unissued vintage Davies performances
into circulation--five solos plus a duet with Richard Orton. As with anything in
Davies' (woefully small) discography, the pieces are endlessly intriguing. His ability
to conjure a dazzling array of sounds from the most unpromising of sources is simply
stunning. If one imagines what sounds might be produced from springs, bowed diaphragms
or egg and vegetable slicers, the imaginings are likely to be pale shadows of the
actual sounds. More importantly, these are not just "sounds"; this is no freak show.
The sounds are combined into coherent musical statements that are engaging in their
own right. After only a few minutes of wonder at the sounds themselves, one becomes
entranced by the music, so that the sources become of secondary interest and importance.
Secondly, the CD-R allows us to hear in isolation the source materials that were
used as the stimuli for Bohman, Patterson and Wastell on the CD proper For Hugh
Davies. The music from the CD-R was played to them, they improvised around it, and
the resulting music forms the CD. In their different ways, Bohman, Patterson and
Wastell all owe a huge debt to Davies; their music would be vastly different without
his pioneering work, hence their participation in this tribute. The most striking
thing about this CD is that Davies' own playing remains central to the music. The
other three players work out from his performance and expand the soundscape, but
the agenda is clearly set by Davies own playing. ...
As an experimental way of paying tribute to a musician, this must be judged a great
success. Doubtless, Davies himself would have heartily approved of the experiment.
The results are extraordinary. It is a great CD. It is meaningless to compare
these two releases trying to decide which is "better". Both are essential. They
complement one another, each throwing light on the other, making the whole greater
than the sum of the two.” -
John Eyles, All About Jazz
“English instrument-maker and improviser Hugh Davies (1943-2005), despite a scant
recorded legacy, has exercised a notable influence on European free improvisation
through both solo work and his presence in ensembles like the Music Improvisation
Company and Gentle Fire. The former coupled Davies’ subtonal density with the skittering
guitar of Derek Bailey, soprano saxophonist Evan Parker, percussionist Jamie Muir
and occasional vocalist Christine Jeffrey. Gentle Fire featured Davies, Richard Orton,
Graham Hearn, Stuart Jones, Richard Bernhas and Michael Robinson, and was somewhat
of an analog in England to groups like the Sonic Arts Union in the US or Musica Elettronica
Viva in Italy. Though often working in a group setting, Davies’ SHOZYG LP on FMP/SAJ
(1979) is a prime example of what he could do with his instruments unaccompanied—contact
mikes and circuits housed in a box that gives early Sonic Youth a run for their money.
Performances 1969-1977 feature Davies mostly solo on amplified springs, bowed diaphragms,
miked egg and vegetable slicers and a SHOZYG duo with Orton. “Music for Two Springs,”
recorded in 1977, is resoundingly physical without giving one a sense of the object
being played. There is a strong sense of Davies as texturalist, for this isn’t entirely
about white-noise; he strokes and coaxes sounds from metal with ribbed, miked sticks
and finds a multiplicity of passing rhythms a la Harrison Birtwistle’s “Chronometer.”
But unlike tape music, Davies’ instruments—even if one is not in the presence of
their fullest expression—are entirely gestural, the composer’s hand swinging in wide
arcs as components act in sonic collision. One can feel the striking, twisting, blowing
on, and other facets by which the artist works. Yet there’s also a willful sense
of drift, of events occurring in time but without an overarching structure beyond
instrumental specificity (which is itself frequently abandoned). There is very little
sonic repetition, for even if Davies comes across a pattern, it’s usually abandoned
quickly enough. For example, “Solo at Ronnie Scott’s” spends its first several minutes
in distant twittering and scampering, before erupting into a churning spring assault
that at its most sparse, resembles bent, wiry electric guitar chords and even approaches
facility befitting the Bailey-esque.
While there’s a great amount of random play at work in Davies’ music, as rigorous
as it might seem, Gentle Fire were mostly known for playing other composers’ work—rarely
did they “improvise” in the strict sense of the word. Here, Gentle Fire is represented
by a brief duo with Richard Orton from 1969, a pairing which overlapped the ensemble’s
initial lifespan and which apparently subbed for the full band in some situations
and which emphasized freedom. In duet, sounds play off of one another in an electro-acoustic
sparring contest, moderately dense scraping, whooshes, plinks and prods that are
among the liveliest of the set. Though Davies’ art acquits itself equally in solo
and group contexts, it’s decidedly a different beast in each. Even in isolation,
Davies’ music is endlessly fascinating, occupying a sound world that creates its
own rules and adheres to them with a direction that while hard to follow for the
outsider, is nevertheless like nothing else in contemporary music.”
-
Clifford Allen, Bagatellen
