Playing the episcopal hymn “Autumn” moments before the famously unsinkable luxury liner did precisely that on the afternoon of April fifteenth, a small group of string players made a gift of their lives, a self-sacrifice to which Gavin Bryars responded magnanimously, creating a classic semi-aletaoric work, The Sinking Of The Titanic, in 1969. Bryars’ work builds out as an ongoing treatment of “Autumn”, as sublime string swells slide slowly into melodic unison, escalating in volume and density, while percussion shapes a rough pulse.
On this occasion, Bryars, who handles double bass, is accompanied by Italian ensemble Alter Ego and turntablist Philip Jeck. Understandably, then, the work has a certain electronic feel, particularly the opening four minutes, which largely swim in static. It’s a move that strongly brings out the nature of this work and the event that it captures as being symbolic of the failure of modern technology and the paradox of modernity. More emphasis is also given to the field recordings, which have never before been presented with such clarity; their inclusion now providing a fine example of reality obscuring the difference between life and art.
Still, the albums progression remains wonderfully elegant, slow, natural even. At measured points throughout the work, each part proudly proclaims independence while being enigmatically lodged into the whole. Both Alter Ego and Jeck display their own talents, but they divert them equally as much to the service of others and to the piece in general, altering their personal aesthetic in a perpetual concentration on the details. The original work is thereby truthfully erected, only awash in special tone colors and feral microtonal inflections that accentuate it beautifully. The album comes in a wallet-like package with a postcard from Andrew Hooker, and it surely stands as another exorbitant gift from the players on hand.
Max Schaefer
