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.
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)
