Dear Shaded Viewers,
As soon as I stepped in, a chill ran down my back. Amidst the smoke and fog, against a backdrop of dark walls and curtains, stood several objects – and I say objects because they are unlike any speakers I had ever seen. The audience sat facing this dystopian orchestra of loudspeakers. In the middle was a metal rectangle that sloped inwards into this long and slim opening, shaped almost like a keyhole. The rectangle resembled an abstract geometric painting, and it appeared to be suspended in midair, as its supporting structure blended into the black background. Flanking this sculpture were two series of triplet circular bulbs, each standing on a slender rod. At the far left and right of the stage, bronze trumpet mouths were mounted on sleek metal slabs. This orchestra of acoustics continued along each side of the room.
Throughout the performance, sound travelled from behind and beside me, engulfing the audience in an enclosed sphere of sound. Set against a low drone, a drum sequence or a deep bass, tiny, irksome trails of sharp sounds pierced the atmosphere. Slightly jarring, these small intrusions kept me on edge. Like nails on a chalkboard, but they haven’t quite scratched surface yet.
Sound and light worked in tandem, a rhythmic marriage between the two. It was as much a performance for the eyes as it was for the ears. The light was made visible and almost tangible by the smoke as it lingered and swirled upwards. Meanwhile, light pulsed over the keyhole-shaped speaker, creating the illusion that the object itself was breathing with the bass.
At one point, strings and voices were introduced. Like a film score, the music strangely took me back to my college music classes when we analysed the Gladiator Victory Theme. As the female vocals called and responded with the heavy bass, I liked to think I heard the sound of marching, of horses galloping. My imagination threw me scenes of armies advancing. That feeling just before something happens. Before the first arrow is released. How fitting, with the revolution happening tomorrow.
Neuf Voix took three quick bows before disappearing. His station, from which he conducted the acoustics, sat at the centre of the room – the best seat in the house. I left my headphones off as I walked home.
Later,
Estelle
