A Closer Listen
Laura Cannell‘s beguiling series A Compendium of Beasts continues with two new installments, bringing the total number of creatures to an even dozen. These beasts may be real or imaginary, literary or extinct. The semi-composed, semi-improvised nature of the recordings mimics the backgrounds of the beings. The fun is in the scoring: what the artist calls “A Modern Bestiary in sound.” One may take these recordings at face value, or glean hidden meanings; the latter will differ from person to person.
Consider for example the universally known and adored phoenix: a symbol of resurrection and new life. “Phoenix Quartet” is hopeful and encouraging, the violins swirling and rising from the flames, pure and unburned. The EP’s shortest piece sets a mood of expectation and hope in only two minutes. The theme is extended on “Beneath the Tulpars Wings and Hooves,” as a dead horse (which one should not beat) speaks to the boy who loved him in a dream and tells him how to make a fiddle from his remains. As the horse was “supernaturally fast,” one imagines the fiddler will be as well: another example of life from death.
“The Otter Swims at Night” (whose title may be sung to the tune of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”) honors the reintroduction of otters to the wetlands of East Anglia: the resurrection of an entire mammalian species and ecosystem. Cannell’s recorder represents the conversation of the otters, who seem peaceful and even a little bit stunned to be back in the land of their ancestors. And “Feathered Serpent” (referring to ancient gods such as Quetzalcoatl) crosses the boundaries between earth and sky, the living and the dead. These four pieces reflect not only specific creatures, but life after death, in often transformational forms.
Volume 3 is a bit different as it delves into groups as well as individual species, seeking commonality. “Prowling at Dawn” is dedicated to “any prowling creature,” although given the cover art, it is difficult to imagine anything but a coyote, who hunts from dusk until dawn. One imagines the early bird getting the worm, or a jaguar eating a coffee-drinking tourist. “The Oyster Catcher Brings Protection” is a bit more playful, although these birds are also hunting; the protection they offer is to humans, not to shellfish, which they consume with glee. Twinned violins represent two catchers, working in tandem.
“The Beasts of Burden” is dedicated to “those who carry our loads,” including camels, donkeys, horses and elephants. Mick Jagger famously sang, “I’ll never be your beast of burden,” because he was never that hardy. The piece shows sympathy; these creatures don’t have very good jobs, but at least they have this song, which serenades them on their way. The gentle, lulling pace is a salve to a weight-bearing beast.
Finally, “A Wild Hawk in the Church” is based on the artist’s own dream, in which a hawk flew into the church where she was recording. The spiritual meaning of such a sighting is “to look inside for strength and courage, wisdom and direction.” The piece itself sounds like a church hymn, drawing power from the skies and what might dwell in the upper realms. One of Cannell’s stated themes: to search for inspiration from the animal kingdom, “meaning amidst chaos.” Once upon a time, not too long ago, humans believed that they represented order, and the rest of the animal kingdom chaos; now we know the opposite to be true; and therein lies the beauty of this ongoing series. (Richard Allen)
Fri Jul 25 00:01:20 GMT 2025