artist: FRANCISCO LÓPEZ
title: Wind [Patagonia]
catalog number: and/27
release year: 2007
format: CD
status: available
title: Wind [Patagonia]
catalog number: and/27
release year: 2007
format: CD
status: available
and/OAR couldn't be more pleased to present the third part of Francisco
López's already classic "trilogy of the Americas" which started with La Selva,
followed by Buildings [New York] (both released by V2 Archief, Netherlands).
An immersion into the sonic matter from micro- and macro- environments
dominated by wind in Patagonia. A vast barren space shaped and inhabited by
the ever-changing forces of unmuted plants, rocks, sand, snow, and ice. An
irregular broad-band environment of relentless strength and richness. And
above all, a tour de force of profound listening.
López’s Patagonian winds have a ferocious beauty and immensity. Delicate
whispers combine with wild swarms and eddies undergirded by deep bass
punches. And all of this produced by an invisible force that endlessly sweeps
the surface of the globe. With this, we are no longer in the tidy world of human
music, but have entered the sublime domain of natural sound. (Christoph Cox).
Packaged in a super gloss digipak with 16 page 4 color booklet.
López's already classic "trilogy of the Americas" which started with La Selva,
followed by Buildings [New York] (both released by V2 Archief, Netherlands).
An immersion into the sonic matter from micro- and macro- environments
dominated by wind in Patagonia. A vast barren space shaped and inhabited by
the ever-changing forces of unmuted plants, rocks, sand, snow, and ice. An
irregular broad-band environment of relentless strength and richness. And
above all, a tour de force of profound listening.
López’s Patagonian winds have a ferocious beauty and immensity. Delicate
whispers combine with wild swarms and eddies undergirded by deep bass
punches. And all of this produced by an invisible force that endlessly sweeps
the surface of the globe. With this, we are no longer in the tidy world of human
music, but have entered the sublime domain of natural sound. (Christoph Cox).
Packaged in a super gloss digipak with 16 page 4 color booklet.
WALL OF SOUND (OCTOBER 2007)
Do the winds of Argentina sound any different than the winds of Tukwila?
Probably not. Although there is a lot of wind here to hear. Close to an hour in fact.
And it's a strong wind. So part of the power of this CD lies in it's evocation of
nature's power. It's palpable. Turn it up and it's terrifying. But beyond that, what's
most beautiful here is when you can hear the wind as music. It takes an open
mind and it's admittedly challenging, but if you can hear the rhythms of the shifting
winds as you would those of a jazz drummer and hear the sound of the wind as
you would the tones of a microtonal composer, you're on your way. It's one of
John Cage's basic lessons and it's a good one. Master it and you'll hear music
everywhere. (Michael Ohlenroth)
Do the winds of Argentina sound any different than the winds of Tukwila?
Probably not. Although there is a lot of wind here to hear. Close to an hour in fact.
And it's a strong wind. So part of the power of this CD lies in it's evocation of
nature's power. It's palpable. Turn it up and it's terrifying. But beyond that, what's
most beautiful here is when you can hear the wind as music. It takes an open
mind and it's admittedly challenging, but if you can hear the rhythms of the shifting
winds as you would those of a jazz drummer and hear the sound of the wind as
you would the tones of a microtonal composer, you're on your way. It's one of
John Cage's basic lessons and it's a good one. Master it and you'll hear music
everywhere. (Michael Ohlenroth)
VITAL WEEKLY (NOVEMBER 2007)
Many of the works by Señor Lopez are sparsely packaged: his name, untitled
number so and so and a label name. The vast majority of his work doesn't go
beyond that low level of information. For reasons I am not entirely sure of (or
rather not at all), some works are packed with text: 'La Selva', 'Buildings [New
York]' and this new one Wind [Patagonia] too (the link might be they are all
recorded in America). So we learn that this piece of fifty-six minutes is a
'non-processed, not mixed environmental sound matter from a certain 'reality''
and in this case the reality is the wind the empty spaces of Patagonia, in the
southern part of Argentina. During the 'austral winters' of 2000 and 2003, Lopez
recorded a whole bunch of wind. The empty space, usually referred as a quiet
one in the world of musical reviews (certainly by Vital Weekly) is of course a
misconception. Silence as such doesn't exist and the wind can be harsh player.
The wind blows here heavily in the microphone - various types are used - and the
membrane shakes along. It's not a straight forward, almost one hour piece of
wind blowing. In his piece he uses various segments of wind sound, both the
'quiet' and the 'loud' and thus depicts a beautifully cruel world. As a biker I
learned to dislike the wind, as much as I like it; it depends on which way you are
going. This new work fits along very, very well along the two previous mentioned
releases and for those who care to know: this isn't the all out silent Lopez, as it's
audible through the end, although the sound is in a long fade out. A great
conclusion to a great trilogy. (Frans De Waard)
Many of the works by Señor Lopez are sparsely packaged: his name, untitled
number so and so and a label name. The vast majority of his work doesn't go
beyond that low level of information. For reasons I am not entirely sure of (or
rather not at all), some works are packed with text: 'La Selva', 'Buildings [New
York]' and this new one Wind [Patagonia] too (the link might be they are all
recorded in America). So we learn that this piece of fifty-six minutes is a
'non-processed, not mixed environmental sound matter from a certain 'reality''
and in this case the reality is the wind the empty spaces of Patagonia, in the
southern part of Argentina. During the 'austral winters' of 2000 and 2003, Lopez
recorded a whole bunch of wind. The empty space, usually referred as a quiet
one in the world of musical reviews (certainly by Vital Weekly) is of course a
misconception. Silence as such doesn't exist and the wind can be harsh player.
The wind blows here heavily in the microphone - various types are used - and the
membrane shakes along. It's not a straight forward, almost one hour piece of
wind blowing. In his piece he uses various segments of wind sound, both the
'quiet' and the 'loud' and thus depicts a beautifully cruel world. As a biker I
learned to dislike the wind, as much as I like it; it depends on which way you are
going. This new work fits along very, very well along the two previous mentioned
releases and for those who care to know: this isn't the all out silent Lopez, as it's
audible through the end, although the sound is in a long fade out. A great
conclusion to a great trilogy. (Frans De Waard)
TOUCHING EXTREMES (JANUARY 2008)
This is the last CD that I listened to in 2007, right in the middle of the final
December evening - so much for firecrackers and champagne - and the opener of
the subsequent morning. While I’m writing, as it often happens, the windows are
open and an icy winter breeze in a glowing sunny afternoon is being heard, the
effect on the fallen leaves that of an irregular rustle interrupting the first day of
January’s somnolent reprise of activities. From here, this is seen as the
completion of one among the innumerable cycles of which our existence is full. In
this same frame, Francisco Lopez’s recordings of winds from the Argentine
regions of Patagonia (Chubut, Santa Cruz and Tierra del Fuego) finalizes the
triptych started in 1998 with “La Selva” and continued with “Buildings [New
York]” in 2001. As he explains in the liners, the author was (is) interested in “an
extreme phenomenological immersion led by anti-rationality and anti-
purposefulness” in a “world devoid of human presence”.
Lopez, a trained entomologist and accomplished deep listener of this planet’s
many voices, is also among the very few who have an actual chance to
experiment with the above described conditions, his recordings documenting
situations where nature and self-consciousness become parts of a whole set of
drastic states of mere being that only the fittest can endure. In a strictly “musical”
sense, three basic kinds of wind are captured in this album: furiously ripping
discharges that seem to destroy the microphone’s capsule, distantly roaring
whooshes whose voice is akin to hearing a faraway jet, progressively calmer
settings that close the show reducing the level of perception down to a typical
“Lopez silence”. It’s the depth of the implications that transforms a potentially
normal document of natural sounds into a galvanizing, reinvigorating event. The
Spanish soundscaper needs no additional words to highlight an already
recognized mastery in this game. (Massimo Ricci)
This is the last CD that I listened to in 2007, right in the middle of the final
December evening - so much for firecrackers and champagne - and the opener of
the subsequent morning. While I’m writing, as it often happens, the windows are
open and an icy winter breeze in a glowing sunny afternoon is being heard, the
effect on the fallen leaves that of an irregular rustle interrupting the first day of
January’s somnolent reprise of activities. From here, this is seen as the
completion of one among the innumerable cycles of which our existence is full. In
this same frame, Francisco Lopez’s recordings of winds from the Argentine
regions of Patagonia (Chubut, Santa Cruz and Tierra del Fuego) finalizes the
triptych started in 1998 with “La Selva” and continued with “Buildings [New
York]” in 2001. As he explains in the liners, the author was (is) interested in “an
extreme phenomenological immersion led by anti-rationality and anti-
purposefulness” in a “world devoid of human presence”.
Lopez, a trained entomologist and accomplished deep listener of this planet’s
many voices, is also among the very few who have an actual chance to
experiment with the above described conditions, his recordings documenting
situations where nature and self-consciousness become parts of a whole set of
drastic states of mere being that only the fittest can endure. In a strictly “musical”
sense, three basic kinds of wind are captured in this album: furiously ripping
discharges that seem to destroy the microphone’s capsule, distantly roaring
whooshes whose voice is akin to hearing a faraway jet, progressively calmer
settings that close the show reducing the level of perception down to a typical
“Lopez silence”. It’s the depth of the implications that transforms a potentially
normal document of natural sounds into a galvanizing, reinvigorating event. The
Spanish soundscaper needs no additional words to highlight an already
recognized mastery in this game. (Massimo Ricci)
PLAN B (JANUARY 2008)
During a particularly blustery English winter weekend, listening to the third and
final instalment of Francisco López's “Trilogy of the Americas” series may seem a
tad redundant. But like Olafur Eliasson's installation “The Weather Project”, with
its representations of the sun and sky, López's work compels the listener to
meditate more deeply on the everyday natural phenomena that we either take for
granted or occasionally even resent. These field recordings of the air gusts and
currents that patrolled the Argentinian Patagonia during the Austral winters of
2000 and 2003 are simple in their presentation; unadorned and elegant. Delicate
whispers mix with ferocious eddying blasts, inhuman intensity juxtaposed with
sublime beauty; these delightful expositions of “the invisible force that endlessly
sweeps the surface of the globe”, when taken in conjunction with the
accompanying photographs and Christoph Cox's fine liner notes, constitute both
an absorbing documentary and a stunning aesthetic object. (Spencer Grady)
During a particularly blustery English winter weekend, listening to the third and
final instalment of Francisco López's “Trilogy of the Americas” series may seem a
tad redundant. But like Olafur Eliasson's installation “The Weather Project”, with
its representations of the sun and sky, López's work compels the listener to
meditate more deeply on the everyday natural phenomena that we either take for
granted or occasionally even resent. These field recordings of the air gusts and
currents that patrolled the Argentinian Patagonia during the Austral winters of
2000 and 2003 are simple in their presentation; unadorned and elegant. Delicate
whispers mix with ferocious eddying blasts, inhuman intensity juxtaposed with
sublime beauty; these delightful expositions of “the invisible force that endlessly
sweeps the surface of the globe”, when taken in conjunction with the
accompanying photographs and Christoph Cox's fine liner notes, constitute both
an absorbing documentary and a stunning aesthetic object. (Spencer Grady)
CLASSICAL-DRONE BLOG (JANUARY 2008)
One of the most interesting releases from 2007 was by the peripatetic sound
artist Francisco López, entitled Wind [Patagonia]. It is the third in an occasional
series of extended works constructed from relatively unprocessed field
recordings from various locations in the western hemisphere. The label
description refers to the three releases as the "trilogy of the Americas," but it
is not only the sound origins that create a commonality between the works.
Each one has a similar cover design and contains an extensive essay on how
the work was created, along with the same cautionary warning in all three
releases, providing the listener with information about "the background
philosophy behind the work and about its specific spatial-temporal 'reality,'" but
urging him or her not to access them. All this is very much in keeping with
López's long term vision of 'absolute' music. In various essays and interviews,
he has situated himself with reference to the work of musique concrète
theorist Pierre Schaeffer, who used sound objects without reference to their
origins in the 'real' world. López often blindfolds the audience at his concerts to
de-emphasize the sounds' relationship to the performer.
López has been at the forefront of sound art for nearly twenty-five years. He
originally trained as a biologist, spending considerable time in the Costa Rican
rain forest La Selva where the first of the three recordings was made. La
Selva is an amazing recording, bringing the rain forest to life through
close-miking magic. At several points, the listener can hear insects landing on
the microphone and taking off again, along with all of the other richness
present in the ecosystem. The second recording was urban: Buildings [New
York] captured the sounds of the city's infrastructure, including the World Trade
Center. Both albums portrayed a detailed sonic environment, demonstrating the
rhythmic and textural possibilities for a musical interpretation.
Although Wind [Patagonia] shares several aspects with the earlier releases, it
seems to require a perceptual shift that is unique. It isn't simply that López has
moved his focus from the closed spaces of the rain forest and sub-basements
to the South American plains. One can hear various creaks and squeaks, but
the overwhelming sound source on the album is, unsurprisingly, wind.
Movement of air through empty space. The sound of something invisible,
something that's not really there. A Google search for wind noise produces
results that tell how to minimize and eliminate it. López turns the act of
listening on its head by calling attention to the invisible, the ignored, the
unseen. Even with this obscured sound palette, López has created a work as
varied, as detailed and as rich as the other releases in the series. The great
sweeps of white noise from the wind are complemented by tiny sounds from
the rest of the environment, rewarding the listener who has successfully
transferred the background to the foreground.
López is a prolific sound artist, with nearly fifty releases on CD alone. With his
focus on sound objects, it's not always possible to identify his sound sources,
but he casts a much wider net than field recordings. Nevertheless, these three
albums are among his best and most accessible. Wind [Patagonia] is released
on and/OAR, a small label specializing in field recordings, and is available
directly from the label as well as from the usual gang of distribution suspects.
(Caleb Deupree)
One of the most interesting releases from 2007 was by the peripatetic sound
artist Francisco López, entitled Wind [Patagonia]. It is the third in an occasional
series of extended works constructed from relatively unprocessed field
recordings from various locations in the western hemisphere. The label
description refers to the three releases as the "trilogy of the Americas," but it
is not only the sound origins that create a commonality between the works.
Each one has a similar cover design and contains an extensive essay on how
the work was created, along with the same cautionary warning in all three
releases, providing the listener with information about "the background
philosophy behind the work and about its specific spatial-temporal 'reality,'" but
urging him or her not to access them. All this is very much in keeping with
López's long term vision of 'absolute' music. In various essays and interviews,
he has situated himself with reference to the work of musique concrète
theorist Pierre Schaeffer, who used sound objects without reference to their
origins in the 'real' world. López often blindfolds the audience at his concerts to
de-emphasize the sounds' relationship to the performer.
López has been at the forefront of sound art for nearly twenty-five years. He
originally trained as a biologist, spending considerable time in the Costa Rican
rain forest La Selva where the first of the three recordings was made. La
Selva is an amazing recording, bringing the rain forest to life through
close-miking magic. At several points, the listener can hear insects landing on
the microphone and taking off again, along with all of the other richness
present in the ecosystem. The second recording was urban: Buildings [New
York] captured the sounds of the city's infrastructure, including the World Trade
Center. Both albums portrayed a detailed sonic environment, demonstrating the
rhythmic and textural possibilities for a musical interpretation.
Although Wind [Patagonia] shares several aspects with the earlier releases, it
seems to require a perceptual shift that is unique. It isn't simply that López has
moved his focus from the closed spaces of the rain forest and sub-basements
to the South American plains. One can hear various creaks and squeaks, but
the overwhelming sound source on the album is, unsurprisingly, wind.
Movement of air through empty space. The sound of something invisible,
something that's not really there. A Google search for wind noise produces
results that tell how to minimize and eliminate it. López turns the act of
listening on its head by calling attention to the invisible, the ignored, the
unseen. Even with this obscured sound palette, López has created a work as
varied, as detailed and as rich as the other releases in the series. The great
sweeps of white noise from the wind are complemented by tiny sounds from
the rest of the environment, rewarding the listener who has successfully
transferred the background to the foreground.
López is a prolific sound artist, with nearly fifty releases on CD alone. With his
focus on sound objects, it's not always possible to identify his sound sources,
but he casts a much wider net than field recordings. Nevertheless, these three
albums are among his best and most accessible. Wind [Patagonia] is released
on and/OAR, a small label specializing in field recordings, and is available
directly from the label as well as from the usual gang of distribution suspects.
(Caleb Deupree)
EARLABS (FEBRUARY 2008)
This wind-beaten region located on the far southern reaches of South America
known as Patagonia has been called “the land of the living wind", a place of
surreal images where birds can be seen to fly backwards and trees grow
sideways.
Wind [Patagonia] is the third in series of pure environmental sound recordings.
The CD is accompanied by a beautiful, sixteen page booklet containing images,
introductory text by Francisco López (FL), and an extended essay by Christoph
Cox (CC). It’s purpose is to give: “An appraisal of the richness and essential
qualities of the original sonic material” (FL). The first two CDs in the series
featured a collection of various sounds from two contrasting environments.
The first being a Costa Rican rain forest and the second, various buildings in
New York City. Wind [Patagonia] is different in the sense that it a focuses on
just one fundamental, transcendent sound source - “the sonic power of air
gusts and currents“ (CC) - wind.
Wind [Patagonia] can be appreciated on two levels. On the one hand, it’s an
unadulterated (but not unbiased) audio record of a specific weather phenomena
occurring in a particular locality. On the other hand, in an abstract sense, it’s
instance of wideband noise that can be uniquely interpreted by each listener,
shaded with his/her own experiences and preconceptions - independent of the
actual sounds that were recorded and where they were recorded. So, in the
concrete sense, one listener might hear strong gusts of wind in the forefront of
the initial few minutes while another listener, assuming the abstract vantage
point, might hear powerful bursts of wideband noise. The strong gusts and
swells of wind that are evident in the forefront of the initial few minutes might
also be interpreted as powerful, swirling bursts of wideband noise while
gentle, steady streams of air currents become segments of calm drones.
In the liner notes, Christoph Cox argues that in listening to this recording of
Patagonian winds “we are no longer in the tidy world of human music, but
have entered the sublime domain of natural sound.” The pleasurable tones and
structure of man-made music aren’t present here. The winds of Patagonia are
an instance of raw, naturally occurring noise which crosses over into the
realm of those things that we humans regard as immense or awe-inspiring or
magnificent such as violent storms, the depths of the oceans, and mountains.
Things that we not only find beautiful but also that bring about a bit of
apprehension and fearful respect. (Larry Johnson)
This wind-beaten region located on the far southern reaches of South America
known as Patagonia has been called “the land of the living wind", a place of
surreal images where birds can be seen to fly backwards and trees grow
sideways.
Wind [Patagonia] is the third in series of pure environmental sound recordings.
The CD is accompanied by a beautiful, sixteen page booklet containing images,
introductory text by Francisco López (FL), and an extended essay by Christoph
Cox (CC). It’s purpose is to give: “An appraisal of the richness and essential
qualities of the original sonic material” (FL). The first two CDs in the series
featured a collection of various sounds from two contrasting environments.
The first being a Costa Rican rain forest and the second, various buildings in
New York City. Wind [Patagonia] is different in the sense that it a focuses on
just one fundamental, transcendent sound source - “the sonic power of air
gusts and currents“ (CC) - wind.
Wind [Patagonia] can be appreciated on two levels. On the one hand, it’s an
unadulterated (but not unbiased) audio record of a specific weather phenomena
occurring in a particular locality. On the other hand, in an abstract sense, it’s
instance of wideband noise that can be uniquely interpreted by each listener,
shaded with his/her own experiences and preconceptions - independent of the
actual sounds that were recorded and where they were recorded. So, in the
concrete sense, one listener might hear strong gusts of wind in the forefront of
the initial few minutes while another listener, assuming the abstract vantage
point, might hear powerful bursts of wideband noise. The strong gusts and
swells of wind that are evident in the forefront of the initial few minutes might
also be interpreted as powerful, swirling bursts of wideband noise while
gentle, steady streams of air currents become segments of calm drones.
In the liner notes, Christoph Cox argues that in listening to this recording of
Patagonian winds “we are no longer in the tidy world of human music, but
have entered the sublime domain of natural sound.” The pleasurable tones and
structure of man-made music aren’t present here. The winds of Patagonia are
an instance of raw, naturally occurring noise which crosses over into the
realm of those things that we humans regard as immense or awe-inspiring or
magnificent such as violent storms, the depths of the oceans, and mountains.
Things that we not only find beautiful but also that bring about a bit of
apprehension and fearful respect. (Larry Johnson)
TOKAFI (MARCH 2008)
ALBUM OF THE MONTH:
A dramaturgical and utterly personal presence: A 57-minute piece composed of
nothing but wind-related field recordings. There is no such thing as “pure
sound”, of course. At least not in the sense that it could ever be entirely
without reference. And yet, on Wind [Patagonia], Francisco Lopez returns to a
place, where these references loose their meaning and dissolve as the music
unfolds. This ideal goes hand in hand with a listening process, “which doesn’t
deny what is outside the sounds”, according to Lopez, “but explores and
affirms all what is inside them.” The result of this quest has turned out mind
shattering, but how can one talk or write about an album which just wants to
be heard and nothing else?
No substitute for listening, and/OAR have thankfully ignored the possible
dilemmas between form and philosophy and placed the existentially pitch
black CD inside a luxurious super gloss Digipack, accompanied by a 16-page
booklet whose colour photography pays tribute to the sparse planes and raw
romance of Patagonia. Inspired by the music, Christoph Cox delivers an
intoxicating, smart and informative essay in the booklet, which gives hope for
the reinvigoration of the long-lost art of liner notes. Cox places Wind
[Patagonia] in the context of the trilogy which opened with “La Selva” and
continued on the 2001-effort “Buildings [New York]”, he draws elegant
parallels with Burke and Kant and observes the particular importance of the
microphone (a “sine qua non” of field recordings as he puts it) in this instance,
because wind can only be heard when it touches objects or surface areas.
Neither Cox’s article, nor the artwork, however exquisite as they may be, can
substitute or supplement the listening experience. The same, I fear, goes for a
descriptive approach to introducing this record. Lopez has combined various
site-specific, wind-related field recordings into a single, 57-minute piece. Other
than choosing the right places and the equipment to record them with, the
entire material has remained unprocessed with only sequencing, segueing and
the length of each segment falling into the responsibility of the composer.
These parameters are, however, enough to unfold an overwhelming presence.
As eruptive as a classical symphony Lopez's recordings range from gale
storms to howling and hollering winds, from scarily eruptive thrusts to
meditative states of rest, from the harsh and loud opening to the gradually
dying-down whisper of the finale. It is the dramaturgical and utterly personal
presence which he establishes over the course of the piece, combined with
the immediacy of his field tracks, which shake the listener up like a classical
symphony.
The symphony is not a bad metaphor in this respect, because it, too, has the
potential to transcend the plentiful concrete associations evoked by the
orchestra. Wind [Patagonia] conjures up images of Haiku-like precision and
intensity, rising from the inside of these sounds in moments of absolute clarity.
Asking where they came from would only lead to their destruction.
All of this is nothing but a faint representation of what really happens here. At
times, the album really comes close to attaining the status of pure sound, and
when it does, the listener suddenly finds himself alone with nothing to fall back
to but himself. A lot of questions are raised in this context, but their discussion
is barely a public one. “My recommendation”, Francisco Lopez says, “is –
having knowledge of the existence of referential levels – to keep them
closed.” He’s right. It’s better that way. (Tobias Fischer)
ALBUM OF THE MONTH:
A dramaturgical and utterly personal presence: A 57-minute piece composed of
nothing but wind-related field recordings. There is no such thing as “pure
sound”, of course. At least not in the sense that it could ever be entirely
without reference. And yet, on Wind [Patagonia], Francisco Lopez returns to a
place, where these references loose their meaning and dissolve as the music
unfolds. This ideal goes hand in hand with a listening process, “which doesn’t
deny what is outside the sounds”, according to Lopez, “but explores and
affirms all what is inside them.” The result of this quest has turned out mind
shattering, but how can one talk or write about an album which just wants to
be heard and nothing else?
No substitute for listening, and/OAR have thankfully ignored the possible
dilemmas between form and philosophy and placed the existentially pitch
black CD inside a luxurious super gloss Digipack, accompanied by a 16-page
booklet whose colour photography pays tribute to the sparse planes and raw
romance of Patagonia. Inspired by the music, Christoph Cox delivers an
intoxicating, smart and informative essay in the booklet, which gives hope for
the reinvigoration of the long-lost art of liner notes. Cox places Wind
[Patagonia] in the context of the trilogy which opened with “La Selva” and
continued on the 2001-effort “Buildings [New York]”, he draws elegant
parallels with Burke and Kant and observes the particular importance of the
microphone (a “sine qua non” of field recordings as he puts it) in this instance,
because wind can only be heard when it touches objects or surface areas.
Neither Cox’s article, nor the artwork, however exquisite as they may be, can
substitute or supplement the listening experience. The same, I fear, goes for a
descriptive approach to introducing this record. Lopez has combined various
site-specific, wind-related field recordings into a single, 57-minute piece. Other
than choosing the right places and the equipment to record them with, the
entire material has remained unprocessed with only sequencing, segueing and
the length of each segment falling into the responsibility of the composer.
These parameters are, however, enough to unfold an overwhelming presence.
As eruptive as a classical symphony Lopez's recordings range from gale
storms to howling and hollering winds, from scarily eruptive thrusts to
meditative states of rest, from the harsh and loud opening to the gradually
dying-down whisper of the finale. It is the dramaturgical and utterly personal
presence which he establishes over the course of the piece, combined with
the immediacy of his field tracks, which shake the listener up like a classical
symphony.
The symphony is not a bad metaphor in this respect, because it, too, has the
potential to transcend the plentiful concrete associations evoked by the
orchestra. Wind [Patagonia] conjures up images of Haiku-like precision and
intensity, rising from the inside of these sounds in moments of absolute clarity.
Asking where they came from would only lead to their destruction.
All of this is nothing but a faint representation of what really happens here. At
times, the album really comes close to attaining the status of pure sound, and
when it does, the listener suddenly finds himself alone with nothing to fall back
to but himself. A lot of questions are raised in this context, but their discussion
is barely a public one. “My recommendation”, Francisco Lopez says, “is –
having knowledge of the existence of referential levels – to keep them
closed.” He’s right. It’s better that way. (Tobias Fischer)
SIGNAL TO NOISE (SPRING 2008)
Storms and other such natural disasters stand as non-representative
vicissitudes par excellence. The lack of natural laws connecting the weather
here and the mysterious beyond out of which it appears sets in motion a
search for correlations and coincidences that brings no small amount of
pleasure. With Wind, sound artist Francisco Lopez forgoes any such attempt to
conjure the specter of the wind and reveal some of its secrets. Instead, he
uses contact microphones like tiny mirrors, positioned strategically, which
reflect some of the many voices of the wind and their ability to arrest and
negate a sense of time and reality. The sounds are identifiable enough, but torn
from their relational frameworks and real-life implications, they become
something other, something uncanny, or, better, they enter upon another -
perhaps pure - state in which their internal properties are explored. Such was
the goal of Lopez, as outlined in the brief linear notes accompanying the work,
and in this he is wholly successful. From rippling surges to sub-aquatic whirrs
and calm pools broken gently by incidental creaks and croaks, Wind touches a
world whose physical and emotional heft is unexpectedly strong and resilient.
(Max Schaefer)
Storms and other such natural disasters stand as non-representative
vicissitudes par excellence. The lack of natural laws connecting the weather
here and the mysterious beyond out of which it appears sets in motion a
search for correlations and coincidences that brings no small amount of
pleasure. With Wind, sound artist Francisco Lopez forgoes any such attempt to
conjure the specter of the wind and reveal some of its secrets. Instead, he
uses contact microphones like tiny mirrors, positioned strategically, which
reflect some of the many voices of the wind and their ability to arrest and
negate a sense of time and reality. The sounds are identifiable enough, but torn
from their relational frameworks and real-life implications, they become
something other, something uncanny, or, better, they enter upon another -
perhaps pure - state in which their internal properties are explored. Such was
the goal of Lopez, as outlined in the brief linear notes accompanying the work,
and in this he is wholly successful. From rippling surges to sub-aquatic whirrs
and calm pools broken gently by incidental creaks and croaks, Wind touches a
world whose physical and emotional heft is unexpectedly strong and resilient.
(Max Schaefer)
