Tim Collins & Reiko Goto with Chris Malcolm: Plein Air | Silva Datum Musica
Gruenrekorder
Only on Gruenrekorder, it seems, would a release appear claiming to present “recordings from a plant-driven synthesizer” and focusing on “plant bioacoustics.” The German label has a reputation for bringing unusual projects into the world, and its dedication to the strange and fascinating is one of the things to admire most about the imprint. This latest outing (issued in an LP edition of 300) certainly qualifies as different: to record the material, Tim Collins and Reiko Goto worked with a custom-built instrument that uses software programming by Chris Malcom and scientific sensors to produce “real-time tree leaf data.” Said device transcribes into sound form (data-sonification, in other words) the ‘music' produced by leaves, material whose timbre and volume are determined not only by the specific tree type but also conditions in the immediate environment such as temperature, light, carbon dioxide, and humidity.
Photos of the instrument setup show it to be an easel-styled construction that instantly establishes a through-line to visual artists such as Van Gogh and Monet who transcribed the outdoors into painted form. The Plein Air collaborators differ from open air painters, however, in that their generative sound recordings are facilitated using software. As described by Collins and Goto, the project isn't only about sound content; there's an ethical dimension in play, too. One of their goals involves exploring the empathic interrelationship between humans and trees and more generally the relationships of people-plant and culture-nature. If we're presented with evidence of a tree as a live entity, how, they ask, does our sense of moral duty change towards it, especially when the nature object has historically been regarded as property, utilitarian resource, and non-sentient.
Adding to the recording's appeal, the opening side's four pieces were recorded in Glasgow under different conditions than the flip's side-long setting, produced in Cologne. The Glasgow recordings were made at a curved, Victorian-era glasshouse, which allowed fluctuating weather conditions to influence the dynamic range of the sounds produced; a sheltered, quiet office room with one window was the setting for the Cologne piece, which is more soothing and less characterized by change than the others. In short, anyone who thinks one tree sound is the same as the next need only compare the two halves to conclude otherwise.
Each track on the Glasgow side was generated using a different leaf, namely Scottish Elder, Oak, Elderberry, and Birch. “Alder” features lurching, vaguely dissonant melodic meanderings and percussive punctuations resounding amidst a backdrop of soft, industrial-styled textures. In some strange way, the slow, meditative result doesn't sound completely unlike the sound of an improvising raga ensemble with harmonium and percussion as the main instruments. The intensity level increases in “Oak,” with this time the melodic material rising and the overall tonality of the material dark and aggressive compared to the opener. The sound mass creaks and groans with forceful intent, the track's stepwise dissonances disturbing, its mood nightmarish. “Birch” concludes the macabre, unsettling first half with nine minutes of intense melodic flurries, percussive batterings, and siren-like howls.
In the twenty-five minute “Pear,” whose sounds were sourced from a regional heritage pear tree leaf, the timbre of the primary melodic element shifts from harmonium or organ to high-pitched, warbling synthesizer; in fact, the sound details on the side are all brighter than those on the first. Stylistically, however, the second side shares with it the explorative feel of an improvising group birthing a meditative, slowly evolving drone in real-time. With the ringing of a tambourine, the bass pulse of a hand drum, and the shimmer of a tamboura all part of the sound design, the image of an Indian ensemble performing live is again evoked. As producer Georg Dietzler correctly notes, the recording is invaluable for bringing the listener “face-to-face with the sound of the breathing of a tree.” We've all seen, felt, and even climbed them, but we've probably never heard them before in the way they're presented here.September 2019