Esther Ferrer
Concierto zaj para 30 ó 60 voces
in collaboration with CAC Brétigny

Design by Vier5
w.m.o/r 37
CD + poster









Reviews:


The Wire (issue 342, July 2012)
http://www.thewire.co.uk/





URSONATE 0000000003 (Madrid)
Héctor Rey

Concierto ZAJ para 30 o 60 voces. Esther Ferrer, 1980 (CD editado por CAC Brétigny y publicado en el sello w.m.o/r en 2012).


En la tercera edición de los encuentros MRB-AMM, que se celebró a principios de agosto en Arteleku (Donostia), pude comprobar lo mucho que Mattin disfruta, aún a estas alturas, reviviendo ese acalorado y confuso debate que tuvimos hace ya más de dos años a través del blog arteleku.net/mrbe, que a su vez nació como fruto de la inspiración posterior a la primera edición de los encuentros, allá por el 2006. Aprovechando la coyuntura, en estos últimos encuentros se convocó un coloquio con personas pertenecientes a diversas ramas de la práctica artística bajo el título Concepto y experiencia en diferentes ámbitos que inesperadamente comenzó con una referencia muy clara y evidente de Mattin hacia el citado cruce de posts –que, por cierto, llega a cubrir no menos de cien páginas si se copia y pega en un documento de texto con letra Times New Roman a tamaño 12-, reivindicándolo incluso como motivación para la organización de aquel debate. Por mi parte, tanto en conversaciones privadas como a través de medios de difusión del ámbito de las músicas experimentales en Euskadi, hace ya tiempo que he dejado bien claro que no tengo deseo de seguir arrastrando toda aquella retahíla de argumentos y contra argumentos que acabó siendo una acumulación naïve de improperios y chorradas por las dos partes implicadas. Pero, si bien es verdad que mi visión sobre ciertos aspectos de la praxis del arte ha variado sustancialmente, me mantengo en la opinión de que la obra es un ente hipercomplejo que estructura y da forma al imaginario en función de un inasible del que sólo se puede dar cuenta en ese punto en el que dicho imaginario cruza un límite que hace añicos la posibilidad de su enunciación lingüística.


A raíz de nuestra última discusión, esta vez a través de la lista de correo IGUA, Mattin me sugirió realizar una crítica del disco Concierto ZAJ para 30 o 60 voces, que contiene el registro de la ejecución en directo de la pieza homónima ideada a principios de los años ochenta por la renombrada artista donostiarra Esther Ferrer –sobra cualquier presentación- y estrenada durante la exposición Noise & Capitalism: Exhibition as Concert, proyecto del propio Mattin que se extendió durante dos meses –del 1 de septiembre al 30 de octubre de 2010- en el Centre d’Art Contemporain de Brétigny, una pequeña ciudad situada a unos treinta kilómetros de París. El evento, que fue creado con la vocación de trabajar con los contextos expositivos y performativos desde la praxis de la improvisación, desarrollando una consciencia de la noción de ruido desde parámetros mucho más amplios que los meramente musicales, constó de una programación que investigaba en este sentido desde diferentes niveles: la creación de un fanzine improvisado, una convocatoria abierta para improvisar con las condiciones materiales del formato expositivo, una programación de intervenciones de artistas, teóricos y todo tipo de invitados –desde Jean-Luc Guionnet hasta Zbgniew Karkowski pasando por Diego Chamy, Ray Brassier, Barry Esson, Matthieu Saladin, Jarrod Fowler, Esther Ferrer, etc.- y demás.


Desde que Mattin me pidió que escribiera este texto, hay dos preguntas que me han ocupado con especial insistencia hasta el mismo día de hoy: la primera –y más evidente- es ‘¿qué puedo decir yo, a estas alturas, de una señora que sigue demostrándolo todo como doña Esther Ferrer?’; la segunda es ‘¿qué quiere Mattin de mí?’. Dándole vueltas a esta última, a veces me da por pensar que Mattin se interesó por conocer mi opinión y comentario acerca de esta pieza con la intuición de que a un supuesto ‘formalista’ como yo no es propio que le guste. Divergencias aparte, la responsabilidad de reconocer aquellos momentos en los que una estructura tan rígida como la de esta pieza se desparrama y muestra sus entrañas permanece más allá de todo tipo de preferencias estilísticas.


Tengo que reconocer que cuando supe de la existencia de este trabajo, antes de profundizar en él, mi primera reacción fue la de un cierto rechazo por algo tan aparentemente irrelevante como su título. Cada vez que leía eso de ‘para 30 o 60 voces’ no podía evitar pensar que si el título sonaba así de antiguo la música no podría ser menos. ¡PARA 30 O 60 VOCES!, ¿de verdad soy el único al que esto le lleva unas cuantas décadas hacia atrás, cuando se estilaba lo de las comparaciones extravagantes e inesperadas, buscando un intelectualismo desenfadado y un desparpajo cañí supuestamente anti academicista? En fin, por suerte no todo es negro, ya que tras tranquilizarme y entrar poco a poco en el disco me fui dando cuenta de que eso de las 30 O 60 VOCES es un elemento interno de la pieza que determina no sólo el número de participantes sino también la duración de la misma.


En el mundo de las músicas extrañas, Mattin es (por muchos motivos) una de esas rara avis que dedican tiempo y esfuerzo a cada detalle de las publicaciones de las que son responsables, ya sean bibliográficas, discográficas o de cualquier tipo. Por lo general, es bastante desalentador ser testigo de la despreocupación, desconocimiento y –peor aún- conservadurismo estético con el que algunos artistas y sellos discográficos -¿experi qué?- desatienden sus ediciones, lanzándolas a la accesibilidad pública sin ser conscientes de ello, adosando un simple .jpg cuadrado de una foto de texturas –como me decía hace un rato Mikel- o inventándose no sé qué disculpa platónica de que la importancia está en el interior. Por suerte, Mattin siempre pone especial atención en esto y sabe hacerlo muy bien –así lo ha demostrado en los trabajos de Billy Bao, en el libro Noise & Capitalism o en su vinilo en solitario Object of Thought, generando una construcción global que se presenta como una forma discursiva. En el caso de este disco de Esther Ferrer, cuyo diseño está firmado por Vier5, se puede ver cómo la tipografía entra en relación con el imaginario mattiniano y desvela las especificidades metodológicas de un trabajo tan proyectual –a saber, su partitura1-, evidenciando así lo discursivo como técnica de representación. El problema es que se mire donde se mire sólo se ve a Mattin: ni un rastro de la espontaneidad y radicalismo de Esther Ferrer, que parece haber sido encerrada por Mattin en una jaula con forma de compact disc. En este sentido, la continuidad dentro-fuera es aquí puesta en crisis y termina por desvincularse a medida que uno comienza a escuchar el disco y reconoce la independencia de la grabación, las variabilidades inesperadas de un evento con sus especificidades espaciotemporales. El zumbido de la grabadora, el ruido de fondo, los nervios y preguntas de las treinta y nueve personas que se disponen a interpretar la pieza, las instrucciones de la propia Ferrer... todo empieza como queriendo salir de un hermético ataúd conceptual. Los micrófonos están allí, el 25 de septiembre de 2010 en el CAC Brétigny, moviéndose entre un grupo de personas que se dedican a contar el tiempo -y os aseguro que están tan convencidas de ello, de algo, que casi consiguen convencerme a mí también-; pero lo registrado y sus pluses, las fluctuaciones de esas voces y sus cuerpos, en definitiva, la música de Esther Ferrer, está aquí ahora, dentro de una caja que desborda.


Ferrer canta una canción enunciando el primer minuto en castellano. De repente, una voz italiana se une a la primera y juntas celebran el segundo minuto, cada una en su idioma. Y así, con el tiempo, van entrando el francés, el euskera, el inglés y otras lenguas que se hacen irreconocibles a medida que cada uno de los treinta y nueve cuerpos va sonando en el espacio, sumando capas como un canon demencial o un loop-station orgánico estropeado (ojalá los loop-stations se utilizaran así), conformando una maraña que emborrona el qué para desnudar el puro cómo: un pasaje que comienza comunicando algo y termina comunicando conmigo a través de ese burbujeo que entrevé un Real que amenaza desde el subsuelo del lenguaje, hasta el punto de dar miedo, con estallar. ¿Alguna vez habéis sentido esa sensación, al escuchar o ver a alguien e imaginarte en su lugar, que te revuelve por dentro y te provoca unas ganas incontrolables de gritarle ‘¡DEJA DE HACER ESO!’? Así me he sentido yo al escuchar el disco, como con una especie de vergüenza muy bonita ante la fiesta absurda que estas treinta y nueve personas protagonizan en el disco.


Si bien es recurrente relacionar la figura de Mattin con ciertas propuestas muy concretas en las que lo discursivo se instaura como recurso técnico evidente, que a primera vista parecen estar condenadas a un reduccionismo que las limita, hay algo en su propio trabajo que supera, quizá sin que él sea consciente, todo apego a su imaginario. Por eso le considero un muy buen artista y entiendo que se haya fijado en trabajos como este de Esther Ferrer: más allá de toda estrategia de acción, algo se hace vivir en la voz misma de estas treinta y nueve personas, algo que se escapa y es lo que realmente habla por sí solo. Claro, como era de esperar, a la gente le das unas instrucciones y, tarde o temprano, se las pasa por el Arco de Triunfo: todo fluye hacia momentos de pelea, de separación, de solipsismo sobre una marabunta de murmullos, hacia canciones, hacia lo estético, hacia oraciones solemnes que quieren hacerme creer en Hamabi minutu y obedecer la marcha militar de Hogeita bat. Todas las voces intentan reconocerse, diferenciarse, reivindicar su individualidad, como la italiana irritante que me ha obligado a parar el disco tantas veces. Por favor, ¿alguien podría hablar normal, sin estos aspavientos? ¡Parece una partida delirante de Scattergories!


Habrá quienes hablan de desubjetivación, pero aquí no hay más que fiesta, cuerpo, PURA VIDA hasta un punto tan ridículo que se hace abyecto. Y, al final, todos y todas aplauden... será por algo.


¡Qué bello!



Héctor Rey



P.D.: Hoy me he enterado de que Franz West falleció hace pocas semanas... una pena.

1 Una persona dice, canta o declama en el idioma que prefiera: 1 minuto. Pasado el primer minuto, se une a la primera persona, la segunda y juntas dicen, cantan o deckaman en la lengua que prefieran: 2 minutos, y asweñfekñokewfteas dicen, cantan o deckaman en la lengua que prefieran: 2 minutosl primer minuto, se une a la primera persona, la í sucesivamente durante, en este caso, treinta y nueve minutos.





Art & Theory for Societies in Transition
http://transitoryart.org


Noise as potentiality for political/artistic action

by Luka Zagoričnik

In this brief text, I would like to enter the sphere of public space by means of listening to public protests as an assemblage of different initiatives, as a cacophonous event full of noises, voices, gestures, bodies and energies that enter the field of transitoriness before categorization, formations, unison voices, fixed ideologies, demands, initiatives and actions. In other words, I would like to grasp or listen to the protests that happened in 2012 in Slovenia before the moment of their articulation. I will listen to them as if they were noise, noise that is not only a rapture, a void or defined with its known meaning, but noise as a problematic field that is based on contradictions that are present in the noise itself; inside these contradictions lies an open field of possibilities. Or as the title suggests – “Noise as potentiality for political/artistic action”. The theme of noise is quite fitting for the context of this symposium, not only because of its inherent transitory nature, but also for its tight etymologic connection to the sea and the navy in its form as noisea, as it was emphasized by Michael Serres: the sea, not only as white noise that is produced when the waves reach the shore, but white noise as pure potentiality that contains every possible frequency, and also has a shifting form, non-pattern nature, forming and deforming of waves, crashing into each other, etc. Nevertheless, we are on Cyprus and the waves are right in front of us.

In the last two decades, noise has become a fashionable item to be observed from a theoretical point of view. The theory is as follows: Disruptiveness and disorders lie in the very center of noise. Its ontological condition is a paradox because noise always creates and dissolves structures at the same time – it eats itself in order to constantly reemerge through a flux of data streams, information and sound. It doesn’t have a fixed form or fixed points, it escapes meaning, but at the same time it also provides it. It is multilayered with constant dislocations, it is confrontational but at the same time set in the background, and filtered through our perceptions or formal measures. It can be a discomfort or comfort. But what I want to suggest is that it is crucially embedded in our culture, even though we are doing everything to erase it from our lives or to contain it. However, in order to start thinking about noise as part of our culture, we have to abolish its confrontational moment by confronting it with silence, which is inherent to noise and can be understood as background noise – an omnipresent entity.

At the start, the protest in Slovenia in 2012 didn’t really have a fixed target. Targets were many and in its physical materialization in public squares and streets, as Johnny Cash would sing, ‘multitudes were marching’ … and creating noise: antiglobalists, anarchists, common people, workers, army veterans, artists, intellectuals, fascists, they were all creating a dynamic body of voices, sounds, bodies and actions that were totally undifferentiated. If you can control the movements and the bodies during a protest with architectural space, police formations, special forces, corridors and legal rules, you cannot confine noise – it resonates, it bounces, it echoes and moves around, entering bodies, creating forms, and setting up actions. Which brings us also to the question of a tactical use of sound – through organization, megaphones, speakers, microphones, mobile technologies, sound devices, acoustic or amplified instruments, mobile and non-mobile sound systems which all enter the ever-shifting sound matter without a fixed center or fixed dynamics. We can also observe power relationships: who wants to be heard more, who wants to mobilize bodies and voices. Of course, the other side uses sound to control the masses as well, through modern technology that is devised for the warfare and not available for commercial use. There was shouting, booing, whistling, cheering, singing, playing music, performing, each of these activities mobilizing part of the crowd and then shifting somewhere else and so resisting immediate articulation. It’s tempting to say that their way of operating was prompted by affect rather than reasoning. And this is the moment that produced discomfort amidst the general public, the press and political powers.

When this noise reaches the point of articulation in the form of a unisono voice, movement, demand or political party, it is immediately subsumed in the prevailing political discourse, where it becomes an easy target for dominant politics and where, in order to be heard and seen, has to play by the already existing rules of the game, which is the game of politics that isn’t even in the domain of politics anymore, as many would say nowadays. When it contains itself, it loses its potentiality and changes from transitory to transitional, with a clear meaning and aim. Noise, of course, is not immune to this process, it is not even immune to becoming a commodity inside the frame of vulgar capitalism. For example, noise in the context of music as musical genre or noise as a commodity on the idea market: it is present in the heterogeneous field of academic sound studies for the last two decades, in information theory, in urbanism and architecture through the concepts of soundscape and sonic ecology, in the field of physics and acoustics, and in art through various practices of sound art. The last context is particularly interesting because noise, in the contemporary art field, has always been castrated – confined with spaces where it is presented (galleries, museums, even public spaces) and following strict regulations that prevent its potentiality to unleash.

Finally, I would like to present two works from the contemporary art field that are using musical form for their content: the first one, entitled Improvised Non-Concert, is by a Basque artist Mattin, and the second one, entitled Concierto ZAJ para 30 o 60 voces, is by a Spanish artist Esther Ferrer. Both are placed in the context of a concert while also trying to subvert it, and both can also be placed in the context of a social experiment and in the field of participatory art. They both rely on the loose structure, i.e. the structure of space and time of the performance. The second one also relies on the score or set of loose instructions. I participated in Improvised Non-Concert at last Documenta. It happened after the discussion among invited artists, theoreticians and the general public called Noise & Capitalism. Both, the discussion and the concert exposed themselves as not being goal-centered, in the sense of wanting to result in a product, but rather focusing on the activity. During the non–concert, we were put in a space and it began — there was no goal, just the presence of people in a certain context and their activities. Some would talk, some would sing, dance, do nothing, some tried to provoke others, some tried to form a group, etc. During this activity, certain structures emerged and vanished, power relations formed and dissolved, some people performed, while some (just) thought they didn’t … It generated noise and posed question through the act of improvisation as a musical and performing act, a concert as a musical or non-musical act and as a social activity. Here, improvisation is the key thing; it’s the making of music that takes activity as a starting point rather than focusing on a final product. Somewhere during this improvised non-concert, Mattin dissolves this all too often presumed premise and puts it under critical observation. It should be noted that in Mattin’s case, what is problematic is exactly the aspect of observation and the role of the observer.

Esther Ferrer is one of the Spanish pioneers of modern performance art. In the seventies, she was a member of the collective ZAJ together with Walter Marchetti and Juan Higaldo that were closely associated with John Cage and the international Fluxus movement. In her work, Esther Ferrer continues with its basic premises. One of them is that through performance, social situations, tensions between the work, the performer and the audience are created; the latter two becoming a single but heterogenous body that is characterized by a specific social space. It also reveals itself in the present work Concierto ZAJ para 30 o 60 voces, which involved about forty people, including many non-musicians, performers and visitors who are united in one body, a social unit through the medium of voice and sound followed by an open composition, in which voices of different people enter individually, each one every minute, with content of your own choice that you can sing, recite, speak, yell, etc. And in various languages ​​and in different positions in space. This can be a public space, a theater, a gallery or anything else that deals with artistic and social forms with their own pulse and dynamics. The piece was originally written in 1984 and it could therefore be said that it belongs to a specific time and place, but the recent performances and record release from 2010 by the label w.m.o/r reveals its potential for a politically charged art of noise. Both Mattin and Ferrer use a well-established art form (a concert, or non-concert in Mattin’s terms following modern philosophical tradition of François Laruelle and his followers) and transform it into social action which defies strict definitions and containment, therefore creating a powerful field of potentiality, an event inside the art and political space.







The Watchful Ear (Richard Pinnell 6 July 2012)
http://www.thewatchfulear.com


And so a return to reviewing CDs, which given just how many are piled up here right now is a good move. Tonight an unusual and curious release on Mattin’s w.m.o/r label, a live recording of a composition by Esther Ferrer named Concert ZAJ pour 30 ou 60 void. The piece is a vocal work for massed voices, but not something that sounds like it belongs in some precious classical canon. The idea is that a single person recites, says or sings in any language (Ferrer’s score omits shouts or yells, though there’s a lot of that happening here) a singe phrase as many times as they like within a minute. In the first minute only one voice is heard, then two in the second, three in the third etc until between thirty and sixty voices can be heard. There is a suggestion that the number of minute stat each person has been involved at any one point should dictate what is spoken, so various calls of “twelve minutes” or “dix-huit minutes” can be heard at various times, though certainly not every one of the vocalists follows this route. What entails is a vaguely wild, just about under control mass of voices that, given the same words are repeated within short windows over and over, forms little rhythms and patterns that stay for a bit before lurching off into something else each time a minute passes. There are all kinds of ages, male and female, with Mattin the only name I recognise amongst the thirty nine participants in this particular realisation, though quite frankly exactly who performs the work matters not.

To begin with, its interesting to note that the few voices we hear seem to slip into a kind of semi-Reichian rhythmic pattern, chanting and singing little bits of melody in ways that seem almost hypnotic, but as more voices are added the simplicity disappears and a sense of chaos, of crowd mentality to try and outshout the person next to you takes over. There are moments at the minute marks, when everyone changes to a new phrase, that it all suddenly seems a lot louder and more aggressive, even though only one new voice is added each time.  Buried in the mass of voices I swear that I heard a snippet of that dreadful yet catchy recent pop song called something like Move like Jagger at one point, and at another there is definitely a rendition of La Marseillaise appear elsewhere, but for the most part it all sounds like some kind of overheard crowd scene, with certain voices choosing to shout the same things over and over.

I actually really enjoyed listening to this recording. Being linked to Mattin, and his Noise and Capitalism project somehow, there is doubtlessly a fair degree of philosophical enquiry inspiring Ferrer’s work. She apparently normally works as an artist of various guises. For me though, there is something very musical about this recording, almost like hearing a field recording of many birds twittering at the same time, or running water, in that everything pulls together into one big whole, but listening carefully and breaking the sound down into smaller units identifies lots of little detail coming together to form the whole. Somehow, despite the seeming chaos, its quite a beautiful work. Not in the normal way, as so many voices all crying out to be heard isn’t that aesthetically pleasing on the surface, but somehow the way all of the little elements lock together, the whole soup made up of little chunks works well. There are probably many worthwhile discussions to be held about this work, maybe regarding the manner in which the common man might join with others, improvising to a degree to create a communal work, but for me it just sounds good- a bit raucous, not something you put on during a quiet night in with the girlfriend, and not something to hold up as a shining example of intricately designed composition, but as a raw, alive and occasionally quite humorous work, Concert ZAJ pour 30 ou 60 voix is a good listen indeed.





Just Outside (Brian Olewnick, 27 November 2012)
http://olewnick.blogspot.de


Esther Ferrer - Concierto zaj para 30 o 60 voces (w.m.o/r)

I hadn't previously been aware of Ferrer, though she's apparently quite prominent in Spain and elsewhere (and married to Tom Johnson, fwiw).

This performance was part of a "Noise & Capitalism" exposition, organized at least in part by Mattin. The idea behind the piece, I take it, is to both illustrate the banal, humdrum nature of the workday of a victim of this system while, at the same time, evoking strategies that might be employed to alleviate and, possibly, transcend that system.

The text is recited, sung, yelled and whispered by however large the throng is that participates and consists of a real time recital of numbers representing the passing minutes; as the minutes progress, we go from "uno minuto" to "dos minutos", etc. (I take it that it's Spanish, not Basque, but I could be wrong) How these words are stressed, enunciated, subjected to dynamics or emotional extremes varies over the course of the 40 or so minutes at hand. I'm not sure if a score was involved or, as I would rather hope, decisions were made cooperatively within the group. There are passages that are more or less in unison, though I could imagine them having been arrived at during consultation away from the main action at the time. Sometimes the sung numbers take on the character of a Catholic service, intoned repetitively and with (mock?) solemnity. But they may just as likely be whistled, spat out, hummed or screamed. If anything, I'm reminded of works like "Cardew's "The Great Learning" where the massed voices have a similar balance, or seeming balance, between the orchestrated and the improvised.

Other strains appear, deviating from the numerical recitation (though that never vanishes): simple songs, perhaps nursery rhymes, and an increased density of sound including a prominent, fairly regular beating of a metal pipe. The crowd evenually reaches the 40-minute mark with cheers, whoops, applause, laughter and an eddy of conversation. They sound happy.

It's the type of event that, were I have to read a description, wouldn't likely have intrigued me. But I have to say, I found myself rather immersed in all the activity and enthusiasm, much like being in the flow of a busy street, purposive but chaotic. Maybe the progression from spare to richly complex is indicative of a way out of the aforementioned capitalist rut; there does seem to be a positiveness about the whole affair, in a way, not dissimilar to the worker songs that Cardew championed in the 70s. I couldn't help but feel that he would have smiled at all this, been drawn in and buoyed. I was too, a little bit to my surprise.





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VITAL WEEKLY
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number 832
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week 21
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ESTHER FERRER - ZAJ CONCERT FOR 30 OR 60 VOICES (CD by Cac Bretigny)
A work in the best tradition of the old Fluxus movement. One person start to sign, speak or recite, in any language. After one minute somebody joins in, after two minutes a third person etc, until you have thirty to sixty voices. Here we have work for forty voices, each piece lasting one minute, so (think Residents' 'Commercial Album'), we have probably forty voices doing a kind of vocal poerty sound performance. Its composed by Esther Ferrer from Spain, who has been composing since 1966. A highly concpetual piece but it works well. Of course its not difficult to be reminded of Cardew's 'Great Learning' piece which also has vocal parts performed by a large group of untrained players, but in this case it works a bit more chaotic. Erm, what else can one say about it? Its a fine piece for sure, and a fine example of such Fluxus like music, but I am not sure if I would likely play this a lot. Instead I'd rather play the Cardew piece on Deutsche Grammophon again. (FdW)