Pitchfork
73
The composer and instrumentalist Miya Masaoka was already well-versed in experimental practices when she showed up for a 2013 gig with saxophonist Anthony Braxton. As a specialist on the koto, a traditional Japanese string instrument, Masaoka had appeared alongside visionary artists like Pauline Oliveros, in addition to presenting her own pieces on an electronically modified koto. Yet Braxton’s electro-acoustic setup managed to impress her.
“When I entered the stage area, there were six small speakers on tripods that resembled human heads on a stick figure body,” she writes in the liner notes for Duo (DCWM) 2013. “The speakers were facing in seemingly random directions, almost like people facing every which way, as if the speakers were talking to each other at a cocktail party.” Over two ensuing sets (three “experiences”), the duo improvised alongside waves of electronic tones, programmed by Braxton on the interactive SuperCollider platform.
A two-channel mix of that show, newly released on the RogueArt label, narrows the concert’s omnidirectional sonics a bit. But the most striking qualities of that performance have no trouble asserting themselves on the stereo recording. Simultaneously dramatic and dreamy, the duo’s method of swinging between free-improv and more ambient styles follows the loose script of other performances in Braxton’s “Diamond Curtain Wall Music” system. (Or, per Braxton’s preferred album-titling scheme, “DCWM.”)
The album’s first disc is the calmer one, making it the more surprising half of the show. Its lone, 50-minute track (“Experience 1”) shows the improvisers patiently building rapport with one another, and with the placid SuperCollider tones. Masaoka’s “cocktail party” analogy turns out to be an apt way to describe the unusual but convivial air of Braxton’s Diamond Curtain Wall Music system. When the SuperCollider setup enters a duo dialogue already in progress, sometimes it harmonizes ideally. And sometimes the electronic contribution feels like a less elegant interruption, requiring Braxton and Masaoka to adapt on the fly to keep the flow of conversation moving smoothly.
Duo (DCWM) 2013 contains some of Braxton’s most sumptuous playing in recent memory, and Masaoka’s range of approaches is equally advanced. She can improvise motifs on the koto that sound fairly recognizable—with strums or resonant picked lines that evoke traditional Japanese forms. And then she can attack the instrument as though it were one of John Cage’s “prepared pianos,” producing scrapes and twanging echoes. This adaptability makes her a powerful partner for the unpredictable Braxton. Half an hour in, after being spurred on by some of Masaoka’s arpeggiated chords, Braxton cuts loose with some bluesy, rapidly descending lines. Those same licks might have produced satisfied cries from jazz aficionados in a club, half a century ago. But without a vintage, swinging rhythm section supporting those notes, the exultation sings in a newly thrilling manner.
This duo concert is another artifact that underlines the benefits of Braxton's convention-resistant thinking. Some of Masaoka’s improvised themes could pass for ancient chamber-music hooks (as with some gorgeous progressions that come toward the end of “Experience 2,” on the second disc). And her ability to pivot off a wild card played by the electronics is just as keen. There are many other “DCWM” recordings in Braxton’s discography—including the twelve CDs housed in one recent (and often transporting) box set. But this duo's refined power distinguishes this entry with ease.
Tue Jan 10 06:00:00 GMT 2017