THALIJA
– II
(CD, pumpkin)
I am all for numerology and stubborness in
artistic vision. I don’t know how it adds up, but the way Thalija
consequently title each track on each of their albums, singles and
compilations by the number of their appearance is great. A lot of bands have
numbered their albums (Led Zeppelin, Soft Machine, Modern Talking, ...) or
had their own band catalogue number (This is Shellac-record number x) but
doing this to every track is great. We’ll see how long they’ll be able
to do this, when even Led Zeppelin gave up.
But no, this is not a matter of
chronicality or of signifyers for archives or libraries, but mostly of all I
guess a means to draw the attention to the music. Even more, to focus on the
eventuality of music in time, as it evolves with the listener in real time
of the act of listening, and away from the storage function of a CD. The
technological possibilty of storing music robs the artistic measure of its
auratic character (thank you Adorno). In other words, the paradox of
recording improvised music has been pointed out many times by people more
specialised in music theory and philosphy than me.
People like those in the loose Viennese
collective Thalija, that sometimes adds up to 15 or more people, arranged in
a circle facing each other, even in live settings, for best playing
performance. Their second instance of recording collects seven pieces that
change between the gentle flow of transcending soundwaves and harmonies
stretched out so much, they start to sound like drones, to the wild and
fascinating dynamics of music that makes the best effort to evolve over
time. The female vocals add a tinge of silver and gold, that will remind
many fans of Sigur Ros in its fragility and ephemeral quality, but since
comparisons are hard to come by in a setting like this, I think its okay to
do so.
Though on “II” Thalija are way deeper
in the area of songstructures and classic songs than ever before –
whatever that may mean in this context. Everything evolves very slowly,
melodies and harmonies arrange themselves organically, wether over a driving
beat or a pulsing rhythm, while – and this is probably the most important
point and one that sets them apart from the gazillions of other bands that
somehow dabble in a sort of instrumental music that once was called postrock
– they adhere to the first rule of any kind of art, which is: do not be
boring. Which can also be translated for the listeners as: be prepared
because anything might happen. For instance “Track 15” being a rockish
instrumental with a little of a tv-soap-theme to it after a long long while
of more spheric rambling. There are no boundaries for Thalija, none at all.
My personal highlights are those ephemeral
moments that are at the same time so intense and electrifying, when a long
(from one minute to fifteen) dynamic stretch finds its natural solution in
an arrangement that is becoming more and more dense and thick with emotion.
How random is random? (William Burroughs) is an interesting question,
especially when opposed to free formings and formations that almost
organically evolve so much like natural growth and end up so harmonious and
beautiful.
