Davóne Tines's Barbican residency has been a fitting tribute to the enigmatic composer Julius Eastman, whose music is now receiving long-overdue recognition. The recent concert was a testament to Eastman's maverick spirit, which spanned genres and defied conventions.
Touch Him When, arranged for electric guitar and performed with frenetic intensity by Jiji, epitomized Eastman's vision of music as an unbridled performative art. The resulting sonic landscape – replete with distortion pedals and reverb – resembled a cacophony of crashing waves that threatened to consume all in its path.
In stark contrast, Conor Hanick presented Piano 2, a three-part work that drew inspiration from early-20th-century traditions. This more subdued interpretation served as a fitting counterpoint to the earlier piece's unbridled energy.
However, it was The Holy Presence of Joan d'Arc – a 10-cello work replete with chugging rhythms and heart-wrenching melodies – that truly captured the essence of Eastman's artistic vision. Tines brought an otherworldly presence to the stage as he intoned the original improvised prelude, his voice imbuing the space with a profound sense of urgency.
Seth Parker Woods's cello playing was equally impressive, navigating nine prerecorded lines with precision and control. While it would have been fascinating to witness these ten cellos performing together in their entirety, there was no denying the raw power that each individual instrument brought to the table.
The Gay Guerilla, a work that has become synonymous with Eastman's unorthodox spirit, was arranged for an array of forces – pianists, cellist, electric guitar, voice, and dancers. The result was nothing short of mesmerizing, as Tolling chords swelled into an astringent, Lutheran battle hymn, its iterations oscillating between the realm of sleep and death, sex and combat.
Throughout this concert, it became increasingly clear that Eastman's music transcended his own era and experiences. His commitment to challenging traditional boundaries was, if anything, more potent now than ever – a testament to the enduring power of his artistic vision.
Touch Him When, arranged for electric guitar and performed with frenetic intensity by Jiji, epitomized Eastman's vision of music as an unbridled performative art. The resulting sonic landscape – replete with distortion pedals and reverb – resembled a cacophony of crashing waves that threatened to consume all in its path.
In stark contrast, Conor Hanick presented Piano 2, a three-part work that drew inspiration from early-20th-century traditions. This more subdued interpretation served as a fitting counterpoint to the earlier piece's unbridled energy.
However, it was The Holy Presence of Joan d'Arc – a 10-cello work replete with chugging rhythms and heart-wrenching melodies – that truly captured the essence of Eastman's artistic vision. Tines brought an otherworldly presence to the stage as he intoned the original improvised prelude, his voice imbuing the space with a profound sense of urgency.
Seth Parker Woods's cello playing was equally impressive, navigating nine prerecorded lines with precision and control. While it would have been fascinating to witness these ten cellos performing together in their entirety, there was no denying the raw power that each individual instrument brought to the table.
The Gay Guerilla, a work that has become synonymous with Eastman's unorthodox spirit, was arranged for an array of forces – pianists, cellist, electric guitar, voice, and dancers. The result was nothing short of mesmerizing, as Tolling chords swelled into an astringent, Lutheran battle hymn, its iterations oscillating between the realm of sleep and death, sex and combat.
Throughout this concert, it became increasingly clear that Eastman's music transcended his own era and experiences. His commitment to challenging traditional boundaries was, if anything, more potent now than ever – a testament to the enduring power of his artistic vision.