U46 | Haptic | ten years under the earth
ten years under the earth_excerpt 1
ten years under the earth_excerpt 2
format : CD ltd to 200 hand numbered copies
all copies come with an additional art card on 300gr satin paper
release year : 2017
length : 45’47
track :
ten years under the earth
status : still available
>>> order via Paypal : chalkdc@unfathomless.net
(Belgium) : 14 € (inc.postage)
(Europe) : 15 € (inc.postage)
(World) : 16 € (inc.postage)
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: info :
Louisville, Kentucky, sits along the banks of the Ohio River, where the river cuts through the limestone and begins to drop away toward the Mississippi. The hills that rise above that river are honeycombed with caves. It was in one of those caves on the outskirts of the city that Ten Years Under the Earth was recorded.
In March 2016, Tim Barnes invited Haptic to come down from Chicago to perform with him at Dreamland, the performance arts space that he curated in Louisville. We were excited to have the chance to play together, and we wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to record as well. Rather than simply document the concert or book time in a studio, however, Tim suggested that we spend time improvising together in a particularly interesting—and resonant—place that he had access to, one where he had long wanted to record: a cave in the nearby hills. Chris Kincaid, a well-respected audio engineer, composer, and good friend of Tim’s, volunteered to bring his portable equipment along to engineer the recording for us.
The morning after our concert, Tim led us down a series of winding country roads to the cave. Its history is difficult to know for certain. It seems to have been used to store barrels of beer and whisky before the Civil War, and local legends say that it may have been used as a debtor’s prison after that. But now it is largely abandoned, left empty and—except for the occasional concert—forgotten.
Unlocking a heavy, rusted steel door that was set into the side of the hill, Tim led us inside. It took a several long moments to adjust to the darkness, but the light that poured through the doorway and filtered down from the stone ventilation shafts gave some illumination. Then someone hit a switch, a handful of lamps mounted along the walls buzzed into life, and we gradually began to take in our surroundings in the dim light.
It was the spring, and the rains had been falling all week. Inside the cave, the stone floor glistened with moisture and the temperature dropped immediately once we stepped within. From the ceiling above, rainwater that had seeped through the earth fell in sporadic drops.
We had brought only a few simple objects with which to make music: a shortwave radio, cymbals, a drum, a bell, and a handful of other instruments. The cave would give us the rest. A hollow wooden platform stood at one end of the chamber; struck with a stone, it boomed. The rocks that we found scattered on the floor could be scraped along the walls or tapped against one another.
When the microphones were ready, we simply began, working in an open and organic way, and responded to the space—not simply to its acoustic properties, but to its atmosphere: a mood of stillness, calm, and incredible age. We each moved slowly about the cave, placing cymbals where they might catch a falling drop of water, approaching and receding from each other, discovering and exploring, and often simply listening to the patient, almost hypnotic rhythms that the cave seemed to make without the need for our intervention. Each hushed gesture and footstep seemed to fill the entire space. Time seemed to stand still.
When, several hours later, we emerged from the cold half-light of underground, it was a powerful experience to feel the air again, to breathe deeply, and to see daylight. We hope that this recording captures something of the sense of that place and that experience.
(Haptic, 25 October 2017)
: reviews :
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Haptic is not in a hurry. Three years separate this CD from the last recording by Adam Sonderberg, Joseph Clayton Mills and Steven Hess. During that time the trio has played live fairly often, although that rate might decrease now that Mills has moved from Illinois to Arizona.
This recording, which documents an encounter with Louisville-based percussionist
and field recorder Tim Barnes, recalls the trio’s formational impetus, which was for its members to have an outlet for live performance and collaboration with other musicians. But it didn’t go down in front of an audience. Rather, the morning after a concert at Barnes’ venue Dreamland (RIP), they accompanied him to a cave in the nearby hills.
The cave has been put to various uses over the past century and a half, and it is fitted with lamps and electricity. Still, what you hear over the CD’s single 45 minute-long track is not so much a performance as the sounding of an environment. Using microphones, a shortwave radio, a few percussion instruments and the rocks on the floor, the four men tested the space’s properties. Objects boom and echo, droplets smack and splatter and a fuzzy whoosh makes you wonder where water ends and untunable static begins. The vibrations of a bowed cymbal spread and morph, turning quasi-electronic and then fading away. Bell-strikes fade like sonar pings. Nothing is rushed, and the piece’s patient unfolding allows the listener to forget the origin of what they are hearing and sink into the sound itself.
Bill Meyer
Dusted
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Many, if not all, of the releases by Unfathomless follow along similar lines; it’s usually by one composer, who records a bit of field recordings in a specific place, and then goes about to some extent transforming this material. The cover tells little more than the location. This new one is quite different. First of all, Haptic is a trio of players (Steven Hess, Joseph Clayton Mills and Adam Sonderberg) from Chicago using percussion and strings, and for many of their concerts there is often a fourth player, which can include anybody from Olivia Block to Mark Solotroff. Here the fourth player is Tim Barnes, who invited Haptic for a concert in his place in Louisville and the morning after the concert they went out to a cave in the nearby hills to do a recording. It was perhaps used to store barrels of beer and whiskey and maybe was used as a prison but these days for the occasional concerts, hence the presence of lights (this is also the first on Unfathomless with an extensive set of liner notes). The four them have a shortwave radio, cymbals, a drum, a bell and a handful of other instruments, without specifying what these are. Of course the main instrument is the cave itself, it’s massive space and its dripping water sounds. Instruments are moved around to catch a drop of water here and there, microphones pick up sounds from afar to catch reflections, and there is some mysterious dark rumble every now and then; I assume this is some kind of playing of the drum in an odd way? This all makes that this is a very unusual album for this label, having roots in improvisation and throughout relying heavily on musical instruments and human interaction, yet at the same time the whole cave thing is something that is very much something that one would expect on this label. Culled from a few hours of recording, and maybe some layering, this is quite a beautiful release. Also, I’d say, in terms of doing something unexpected, perhaps still is something that the label might care to explore further in the future.
Frans de Waard
Vital Weekly
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The exhaustive liner notes – readable through the label link – give a reviewer an easier life. Just take a look and you’ll learn everything in regard to the origins and circumstances of this album.
Having done that, you’ll also notice the final hope expressed by Haptic. Indeed, to trans-fer a deep experience such as a cave recording into a CD is not simple; we have heard hundreds of analogous attempts over the course of several decades, and – to be honest – the bulk of them has been more or less forgotten. Translation: no, it is not easy; it’s next to impossible. Only the ones who attend physically and spiritually will remain genuinely affected, the memory of the event carved in themselves forever.
For us – the poor listeners who can merely fantasize about being there – what remains is the possibility of enjoying 45 minutes of impressive electro-organic sonorities. And, make no mistake, Ten Years Under The Earth contains so many of them that one can’t help wishing of moving inside a similar domain in the future, perhaps definitively.
The properties and colors of a given resonance might be well known, but some people manage to capture and complement the essence of certain natural presences better than others. This is one of those cases. I’m not even bothering to list the quality and descent of the things we hear; suffice for me to say that the dampness of the setting is rendered very accurately, and the darkness of the reverberating space too.
All in all, this is a laudable release. Still, do not expect anything else than the acoustic memento of a meeting between the eternal and the mortal, the former welcoming the earthborn intruders with its finest musical attributes.
Massimo Ricci
Touching Extremes
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This is an album for late nights, when all is still and even minute noises are amplified. A panacea to the din of the outside world, ten years under the earth exudes patience and wonder. It’s a fine return for Haptic, the trio with a rotating fourth ~ this time Tim Barnes, who introduced the other players to Louisville, Kentucky’s “honeycomb of caves.”
The field recording aspect is first and foremost: water dripping from stalactites, the unidentified rustling of creatures scurrying away from the light. The cavern is generously reverberant, a natural recording space that may once have served as a prison. Descending into the abyss, the four players carry their humble instruments – shortwave radio, cymbal, bell, drum – and enter into conversation with the cave. This is no ordinary concert, but a private pas de deux, an experience of listening and reflecting. The music is molded around the preexisting echoes. Glass and metal sing to stone, water and dirt.
To many in its maw, a cave is sinister, foreboding, claustrophobic. Not to Haptic. They commune with found materials, treating them with the reverence one might apply to relics. Rainwater bounces from cymbals. Rock is struck against rock. Each sound inspires a corresponding pause, a deep awe. While recording, the four improvisors lose all track of time, guided not by cell phones, watches or clocks, but by subterranean breath. While listening, one experiences the same temporal disruption. The quartet emerges into the sun; the home listener falls into silence.
There is also excitement here: a deluge that envelops the sound field in its closing minutes. Once heard, the downpour becomes the denouement: subsequent plays swap one form of anticipation for another. The second time around, the listener feels a sense of build, akin to that of a cathartic post-rock finale. The beauty of the experience is its origin. As humans continue to chase artificial highs, with diminishing returns – the next big movie, the next big holiday – satisfaction beckons in the vast, unheard landscape. If we offer our humble sounds in return, we only echo the reciprocation of the tribes who came before us, who put into practice the knowledge that we forgot.
Richard Allen
A Closer Listen
Unfathomless 