Working in hospitality has its perks. The tip jar. If you leave it long enough, it’s like having your own personal bank in the bottom shelf below the till. Its contents funded my Wednesday night outing.
Under the pseudonym Gotye, musical alchemist Wally De Backer was the first to spark my intrigue and facilitate my comprehension of the emotive qualities that electronic music can possess. Stemming from organs, synthesisers and sampled home recordings, this realm of possibility within such a soundscape caught my ear from a young age. However, after last night’s performance, my list of inspiring electronic composers has grown.
The project paid tribute to one of the earliest electronic composers, Jean-Jacques Perrey, and his influence on the development of ‘music concrete’ into pop and funk scenes. Going a step further, De Backer focussed on Perrey’s exploration of 1941 Georges Jenny invented Ondioline; one of the earliest commercially available synthesisers of the 20th century.
I had no idea what an Ondioline was before Wednesday.
As elucidated during the concert, the magnificently unknown instrument that is ondioline is essentially a touch-sensitive electronic keyboard set on springs, encased within a wooden frame. The springs allow the keys to be manipulated laterally to produce a rather organic vibrato, whilst a lever played by one’s knee, harbours volume control. The seeming multitude of knobs and switches provide the foundation for which such an array of both instrument imitations [such as cellos, bagpipes and harpsichords] as well as totally unique electronic sounds. Wait, there’s more! Percussion is also no problem for the instrument. A copper wire laid in front of the keys, ornamented with ribbon, provided the instrument with electronic percussive effects. In short, it’s awesome.
The modest and overwhelmingly human nature that all the musicians exuded during the show created such an intimate experience, which in turn, was truly matched by the venue and setup. The grouped and layered seating brimmed the carpeted stage, allowing a wonderful view from basically anywhere; even more so when we were invited to sit or kneel behind De Backer’s ondioline for the second half of the set. The lighting was stunning, a “constellation of large light bulbs” trickled from the ceiling of the Carriageworks venue, while a single light stand placed in the middle of the carpet represented the presence of Jean Jacques Perrey himself, who passed away only weeks before the project’s debut.
The night was more of a colloquy or presentation, rather than a concert. This said, it was probably the most enjoyable Wednesday night I’ve had! Being so drawn in to musicology and I guess the psychology of music performance, being able to listen to somebody speak so eloquently about the histories of instruments and provide anecdotal yet prominent expositions of genres and composers, really proved to be a winner in my books.
I think my favourite part of the night in its entirety, was the humbling spark that painted its way onto De Backer’s face when he spoke not only about the Ondioline, but Jean Jacques Perrey himself. Which, in a way, brings me to my next point; what is music? Is it just arranged sound? Or is it something more ephemeral than a performance or a recording — surely it must snuggle the relationship between audience, composer and private experience under its wing. This idea of connection and breadth that even a single instrument can prevail across generations was a key notion embedded into the tribute project.
Coming back to the star of the show, the ondioline proved to be an exquisite case study for the prevalence of emotive electronica. The 6-piece ensemble [Wally De Backer on Ondioline, samples and vocals, Ben Edgar on guitar and percussion, Joe McGinty on Moog, organ and samples, Jordan Scannella on upright and electric bass, Rob Schwimmer on the second Ondioline, theremin, Moog and samples and finally Gideon Brazil on clarinet] worked brilliantly together; almost like one organic creature that could dance vibrantly one second, and lazily sway the next. As stated previously, the depth of sound and timbres that the Ondioline can produce is astounding; the compositions of Perrey however showcase each as a character or tone within a sonic paragon, under the guise of playful simplicity. If the compositions and arrangements themselves do not offer you sufficient proof of such emotive presence within electronic pop music, surely the volume control and insanely natural vibrato can.
Although I found the setlist to be a fitting array of showcasing both popular releases and unheard versions/rarities of Perrey’s work, there were two distinct pieces that caught my ear.
‘Spooks in Space’ written and released on the 1951 album In Sound From Way Out was quite early on in the set, almost acting as a primer for what else was to come. Musically, the jubilant yet quirky track I found to be outstanding in showcasing the ensemble’s connectivity, musicianship and overall enjoyment of playing. The featured Ondioline almost cascaded through many different voicings from woodwinds to strings, producing a divine culmination of classical orchestral timbres within an oscillating electronic pop soundscape. Whilst both synthesised percussion and acoustic jazz inspired brushed drumming were evident throughout, there were these really interesting sampled sound interludes performed by De Backer on what I believe to be a novation Launchpad – weird, yes, but they had this disjointed melodic line that was refreshingly new to my ears. The piece whilst providing a completely new and original tone/feel to any other track I’ve heard, still maintained this sense of unity and cohesion within the ensemble; incorporating call and response bridge sections between theremin and ondioline.
The second piece which stirred something in me, was the Ondioline Orchestra’s rendition of Charles Trenet’s ‘L’âme des Poètes’ which originally featured the Ondioline input of Perrey. Although the arrangement and performance of the piece was beautiful [and I’ll go on about that later], what really struck a chord [pardon the pun] with me was the sentiment behind the track. Throughout the night De Backer gave generous insights into each piece’s context, what drew him to it and even discussed his own relations with Perrey. The piece itself discusses the independence of songs from their contexts and draws attention to the fact that pieces can hold different meanings, importance or value to the different people who listen to them.
This is an idea that I have written about in great detail before, this relationship between creation, perception and private experience, and to hear these thoughts dictated through music itself had me smiling from ear to ear. If I hadn’t delved into my cafe bottom draw bank, I probably would never have heard ‘L’âme des Poètes’, which would honestly be a great shame.
Another link to this same notion came from the stories De Backer told during the evening; in particular the circumstances for first meeting Jean Jacques Perrey. Diverting for a second, my all time favourite musicians are those who are so blatantly human. A strangely obvious statement, but these artists who have created the pieces I love so dearly, are more often than not, humble, relatable and generally good people.
Maybe its the wannabe hipster in me, but I’ve never really felt a strong attraction to such polished mainstream music or their respective composers. De Backer bought this up himself, this idea that meeting or contacting beloved musicians can sometimes taint the relationship listeners have with the music they make; he also counteracted this argument in much the same way that I have also done. De Backer spoke about meeting Jean Jacques Perrey after contacting him through an email link online and being able to then on share in afternoons filled with music, photographs and memories.
Frankly, what a wonderful thing. Here’s where the connection comes in – I have loved Gotye’s music ever since being gifted ‘Like Drawing Blood’ as a Christmas gift when I was 7 or 8. When I was in year 8 at school, I did a music project dedicated to 2012 released ‘Eyes Wide Open’ and was stumped with notating/analysing some sections. Like De Backer had done, I found a contact address online and basically asked for some help. I remember trying to psych myself up for the fact that he probably wouldn’t answer, albeit to my upmost surprise in a matter of days I had a reply. During the course of my assignment, Gotye [De Backer] himself had graciously helped me with my questions and even went the further mile in sending me individual layers so that I could literally pull the track apart. Very meta, no? 5 years later, I would like to thank you again for such kindness.
Reverting back to the performance of ‘L’âme des Poètes’, the piece opened with one of the Ondioline’s string timbres, delicately ornamented with vibrato and dynamic inflection. The track also featured clarinetist Gideon Brazil who, with Rob Schwimmer on keys, supported De Backer’s elegantly restrained vocals throughout, allowing in between verses for the return of the Ondioline motif. The aforementioned theme of expressing the evidence of emotion in electronic music was probably at its clearest point here. The slurred melodic line of the Ondioline paired with its matched tone of a violin [complete with appropriate expressive techniques of an orchestral violin] created this sense of tenderness – perhaps a word wrongfully unaffiliated with electronic music. I dare you to listen to this piece, original or recreation, and not imagine yourself sitting in the sun outside a French cafe. I dare you.
The Ondioline Orchestra was superb, and I now have a playlist of 1950s electronic pop music on my phone.
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