Zeena Parkins Three Harps, Tuning Forks & Electronics, Laraaji Celestial Vibration
Zeena Parkins
Three Harps, Tuning Forks & Electronics
(Good Child)
Harps: they’re not just for angels or television show dream sequences. There is a short list of musicians who use harps in interesting ways, and Zeena Parkins has been on that list since the ‘80s when she was a member of the legendary Skeleton Crew with guitarist Fred Frith and the late cellist Tom Cora.
A composer and improviser, who often favors her custom-made electric harp, Parkins has worked with the likes of Björk, Yoko Ono and John Zorn and has created music for film and dance.
One such dance piece is her originally improvised score for choreographer Neil Greenberg’s “Really Queer Dance with Harps” from a decade ago, and Parkins has adapted this work into a stand-alone recording, Three Harps, Tuning Forks & Electronics, which features harpists Nuiko Wadden, Kristen Theriault and Megan Conley in addition to Parkins and guest Ikue Mori.
The opening piece “Muted” starts with octave-separated notes on muted strings, eventually introducing unmuted note patterns played in unison from the harp trio, weaving in and out of a minimalist soundstream.
“Determined” uses electronic manipulation, with garbled tones among the clarity of pure tones, and “Tuning Forks” has even more pure tones from the titular tone generators, adding somber sounds that resemble bowed strings, fluttering electronics, reversed sounds and watery, reverberating bursts in the context of electro-acoustic music.
Even beyond its angelic associations, the harp has a sort of inherent purity in its sound—also because its strings are single-note and unfretted—but Parkins has a toolbox for the performers to introduce such impurities, in addition to her electronic processing.
Objects such as metal bolts and basting brushes or textiles like yarn and ribbons are used on the harps, and the musicians also employ Ebows (hand-held devices to vibrate strings) and mallets.
“Drumming” begins with minimalist approaches and swiftly becomes more confrontational, with the players slapping the wood of the harps, sounding like a stampede and seemingly driving a sound-based story. The album ends with “Coda,” with tender yet swift melodic interplay that gets interrupted by a ramping outburst of distortion, lending to the concept of a purity being sullied in controlled ways.
Laraaji
Celestial Vibration
(Soul Jazz)
In one of those “right place, right time” busking success stories, musician Edward Larry Gordon—who plays the hammered dulcimer, zither and mbira (thumb piano)—was performing in a park in New York City in 1979 when Brian Eno stumbled upon him; impressed by what he heard, Eno eventually offered to release an album as part of his Ambient series (which also includes the classic albums Music for Airports and the Eno/Harold Budd collaboration The Plateaux of Mirror).
Under the name Laraaji—reflecting Gordon’s devotion to Eastern spirituality and mysticism—the album Ambient 3: Day of Radiance was released in 1980. However, before that, Gordon had already released his debut album, Celestial Vibration, under his birth name on a small-run boutique label in 1978, and it has been recently reissued by the Soul Jazz label in multiple formats.
Comprised of two 24-minute tracks, Celestial Vibration unwinds gradually, with subtle yet apparent changes that unfurl for patient listeners who seek an experience that is simultaneously soothing and stimulating.
Reversing the original track order, this reissue begins with “All Pervading,” which uses a fast tempo, with Laraaji going through several cycles of alternating between his swift hammered dulcimer sequences and mbira passages, never dropping the rhythm. There is a light envelope processing effect on his sounds—think about the way the sound of a mouth harp changes as a player opens or closes his mouth—and a slight phaser effect.
While Laraaji’s hammered dulcimer notes sound heavenly, the mbira has a shambling, homemade feel that is earthier, emphasizing rough textures rather than notes. At times, the effects make Laraaji’s notes sound like synthesizers, and the exquisite, glistening cascades on this piece are comparable to those heard on “The Dance” on Ambient 3: Day of Radiance.
“Bethlehem” is a more abstract number, taking advantage of space and time and demanding more patience; a few more peculiar moments have Laraaji creating metallic buzzing, as if springs were attached to his instrument’s strings, or nervously tapping with his fingers.
Overall, it’s a satisfyingly meditative piece that marks a fascinating debut.