| Victor Gama is an Angolan-born
instrument maker and composer who has just had a cd
released on Rephlex Records in the UK. Gama was joined
throughout the evening by Max Eastley who played an
instrument suspiciously like a ski whose tip had been
sawn off. Down its length a single string stretched
which Eastley assiduously played with all the skill
and subtlety of an academically trained violinist on
a Stradivarius. Around him three beautiful instruments
sat patiently in the theatrical halflight. Gama’s
most recent release, Pangeia Instrumentos,
depicted on its cover the instrument which received
the most attention from its maker: something like a
large earthenware bowl on a three legged metal stand
sealed by a lid of perspex upon which sat three small
towers of metal discs. Out of this instrument, played
using thumbs and fingers, arose ziggurat rhythms which
were at once ancient and urgent.
The pair played continuously for approximately 70 minutes
acting as spirit guides along ancient routes. Like a
spectral bride, the ‘sky-ski’ (my own name
for Eastley’s instrument) beckoned to Gama’s
cyclical time. Throughout, the air was alive with upper-register
twitters and booming sonorities. Gama appeared to lead,
playing compositions which his musical partner reacted
to and shadowed.
They were accompanied by a visual artist whose projections
though more subtle than most, still managed to intrude
upon contemplation of the music for which the audience
had ventured into the night for. It’s difficult
not to resist feeling resentment at being presented
with somebody else’s interpretation of sound which
one would rather undertake oneself. Is this increasing
trend of visual intrusion some kind of heading off of
feared boredom on the part of musicians? Please hear
my plea: music should be the material for one’s
own dreams, not somebody else’s. Recently when
assaulted with video projections (Courtney Pine, Denys
Baptiste, David Sylvian) it has mostly been acceptable
to close one’s eyes, but in this concert the custom
instruments were beautiful to behold and fascinating
to watch being played. Yet behind the players a large
screen told the audience what somebody else thought
was going on.
After 30 minutes or so Victor Gama rose to his feet
and walked over to a cora-like stringed instrument which
he plucked at with fingertips. Again there were new
sounds, new resonances underscored by ancient vibrations.
Later Gama stood at his final, pyramid-shaped instrument
bowing intently at three long strings and tapping at
the clay sounding-bowl at its centre. Then he beckoned
to four members of the audience to join him. After a
few minutes he departed from the stage leaving them
to pitter patter onwards in a rather unorganised way.
The inclusive gesture was generous although the quality
of music experienced a distinct downturn. Gama didn’t
return to take a bow until the impromptu group had run
out of steam.
Afterwards in a continuation of the democratic impulse
it was possible to walk onto the stage and try out the
instruments. The harshness of the metal discs of Gama’s
primary instrument underlined how important the close
mic’ing was to the subtleties of the music.
It was up to each listener to decide whether the music’s
simplicity lacked sufficient complexity in its prosecution
or was worthy of merit for that very reason. For this
listener, Victor Gama and Max Eastley’s music
created its own spaces with a directness which allowed
the audience to reflect upon and engage with a music
at once non-western, ancient and yet newborn.
Colin Buttimer |
