Octavian Nemescu - Les États Du Temps Et De L'Espace 2 (2002)

Some more Octavian Nemescu, to follow on from the post of his earliest (digitally) available album a couple of weeks back.  As this one is obviously Volume 2 of something, it's worth quickly pointing out that Les États Du Temps Et De L'Espace 1 was a deleted late-90s CDR that's eluded my grasp ever since I first heard Nemescu, but will keep trying.  This collection was where Nemescu started releasing his 'Music Of The Hours' grand project in earnest - see this handy discogs list.  The string quartet compilation that features the initial Midnight piece is again - you guessed it - almost impossible to come by, so might as well start here.

On the previous post, I noted Nemescu's obsession with particular listening conditions that he prescribed for each piece.  Music Of The Hours was/is an attempt to take this even further, and reintroduce what he thought was missing from Western music (Indian classical music comes to mind as an obvious example where this remains): assigning specific times of day at which pieces ought to be played/heard.  That discogs list above gives an interesting summary of its ritualistic inspiration, and this extends to the how the music sounds, with the majority of the pieces topping the half-hour mark.  As the polar opposite of a night owl, I might seldom be awake to follow Nemescu's timings for the first seven pieces, but I've been enjoying the two on this disc anyway during the day.

First up here, then, is Quindecimortuorum for 1AM; it was composed in 1994, but there's no recording dates in the notes, and the wind ensemble is uncredited - odd oversights when the two pieces are explained in such intricate detail.  The woozy brass fanfares start off subtly, gathering complexity and some thunderous percussion as it progresses.  And here's the extremely odd thing about the progression of the piece, which I noticed straight away when taking the CD out its case: it's punctuated by lengthy silences, some several minutes long.  Nemescu explains that these are "offered as 'spaces' for invocation and meditation".  It can seem strange or unnecessary at first, but in the right headspace for concentration it works a treat.  Or you can just let your mind wander during the silences and then be pulled back into the piece whenever the music restarts.

The second track, Negantidiadua for 2AM (1995), for piano, sax, trombone, percussion and voice is even sparser at its outset, eventually establishing a low drone (later phased out for more pure silences) over which all kinds of sudden elements will burst onto the soundstage.  A sharp piano figure here, a blast of percussion there, a disembodied voice suddenly singing in Latin in a very odd affected manner; I've just now realised what this reminds me of in terms of the listening experience: very early Nurse With Wound, e.g. Ostranenie, The Schmurz or especially Dadaˣ.  In this case, Nemescu isn't including the surprise elements just for the sake of creating a surrealist soundscape, but invoking... something like... the tension between waking and sleeping, existence and non-existence, temporal distortions... I gave up trying to understand his weighty liner notes at this point, and just enjoyed the album for what it was: a couple of extraordinary adventures in sound & silence.

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Previously posted at SGTG:
Metabizantinirikon, Trisson & Sonatu(h)r
Split CD with Costin Cazaban

Octavian Nemescu - Metabizantinirikon, Trisson, Sonatu(h)r (1992 compi, rec. 1986-1990)

By request, an hour of shimmering, mindwarping tape-based spectral music, which, when I discovered it three years ago at the sadly-no-more Spook City USA, caused a Big Bang in my listening habits that led to at least a half-dozen other Romanian composers (see links below).  One of those other composers I went so crazy for that they're about to get their 14th post here on Wednesday.  For today though, very happy to bring back into circulation this 1992 CD of Octavian Nemescu's music, which was originally released as a 1991 LP with just the first two tracks.

Nemescu, born 1940 in the Moldavian city of Pașcani, has been active from the 60s to today, and revisiting his discogs page was a handy reminder that there's still a good few releases I must get hold of.  This compilation starts with Metabizantinirikon for saxophone (the great Daniel Kientzy) and magnetic tape, produced at IRCAM in 1986.  Intended to evoke the Byzantine era via its landscapes and bird & insect life, Kientzy's lead lines float over the buzzing and fluttering of the tape-manipulated electronics for a beautifully meditative 20 minutes.

The other two pieces are purely electronics/tape.  Trisson (1987) was commissioned by and recorded at GMVL (Groupe de Musique Vivante Lyon), and Nemescu recommends that it be listened to outdoors, on a spring or summer night.  The vast rumbling soundscape that underpins Trisson brings Eliane Radigue to mind for me, but the whole track is nowhere near as minimalist; the gently pinging melodies are perhaps closer to David Behrman.  After an ear-ringing finale, it fades out and it's time for the CD-only track Sonatu(h)r, composed in 1986 and mixed 1990 at the GMEB (Experimental Group from Bourges). 

As in the first track above, in Sonatu(h)r Nemescu is interested in the dynamic between human cultures and natural animal timbres, and again recommends outdoor, rural listening at dusk in springtime.  The shrill high tones escaping from my earphones in the office one lunchtime made someone ask what the hell I was listening to - Sonatu(h)r is definitely a deep-clean for the brain, and the most strikingly alien piece among an hour's worth of phenomenal, otherworldly sounds.  Massively recommended.

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Previously posted at SGTG: Split CD Nemescu/Cazaban
Other posts featuring Daniel Kientzy: 
Berio, Stroe, Stockhausen etc
Gerard Pape
Niculescu, Marbe, Vieru
Rotaru, Taranu etc

Octavian Nemescu / Costin Cazaban (1996 compilation)

Nicely strange compilation from the Dumitrescu/Avram label Edition Modern, split between Romanian spectralists Octavian Nemescu, who I haven't posted before but, as mentioned previously, I was introduced to via SpookCityUSA, and Costin Cazaban, whose only other CD release was featured here back in December.

Nemescu's 32 minutes of the album are bookended by the nearly-identical piano pieces Spectacle pour un Instant/Instance (1974) - each only features a few seconds of piano that echoes into nothingness and electronic static over the remainder of the two minutes duration.  Quatre Dimensions en Temps IV (Illuminations) (1967) fades in subtly for eight minutes of psychedelic orchestral soup that suddenly leaves only chiming bells; very haunting and arresting stuff.  The remaining Nemescu piece is 20 minutes of IN PAR (1988) for trombone and tape, which starts with a loud electronic gurgle before proceeding to mutate the trombone sound with increasing amounts of metallic buzzing and other electronic sound.

The remaining 47 minutes of this disc are Cazaban's, and focus on two lengthy, knotty orchestral works, filling out the picture of his ouevre a bit more when taken alongside the mostly chamber works on his other CD release mentioned above.  On Deus ex Machina (1988), a seasick-sounding flute tries to get its bearings in the choppy orchestral waters.  Trellis (1985) is a little more static-sounding, until its last few minutes spiral and churn around.  Sandwiched in between these two is a string quartet, Au-delà de Vienne (1989).  All of it is fascinating stuff on in-depth listens; wish there were more Cazaban recordings available.  There are a few more Nemescu CDs out there, which I'm intending to pick up in due course.

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