- The roller coaster metaphor is a hackneyed one in music writing and is best avoided at all costs—except when it comes to describing a Tim Hecker performance, where there's no truer analogy. Friday night's gig at the intimate zaal at Korzo, a contemporary theatre in The Hague better known for its progressive dance program, was my third time strapped into one of the Canadian's multi-sensory trips.
The venue was jammed with audio thrill seekers and aficionados of modern experimental music from all corners of the Netherlands. Before Hecker, there was a sinuous dance performance soundtracked by Forest Swords and an improvisational piece from bass clarinet virtuoso Gareth Davis with Machinefabriek (AKA Rutger Zuydervelt). This was the first edition of Rewire's five-part collaboration with Korzo, and it was a transcendental triumph.
In addition to the traditional theatre seating, Korzo had supplied a number of giant sausage-shaped cushions and scattered them across the floor in front of the stage. People splayed themselves across these in various states of recline. Many went shoeless and at one point a guy even stripped off his trousers, presumably to get more comfortable. This set the tone for the evening—this wasn't some stiff cultural event; it was more like a group meditation session for the soul, body and mind.
Davis and Machinefabriek's collaboration provided a serene opening. Karel Doing's oceanic visuals reflected the trajectory of the music, as pulsating blue patterns and images of the sun glinting off the sea gave way to greyscale gulls, rocks and lighthouse scenes. The bass clarinet added a jazzy air to Zuydervelt's drones and static ambient soundscapes, while Davis's own breathing and finger taps brought a distinct human element to the piece, drawing the crowd back to one of the night's loose themes: the body.
This came across most powerfully during Forest Swords' performance. After all, the body was Matthew Barnes's original musing point for Shrine, a dance piece he recently scored. At Korzo, Shrine was physically brought to life via Carmel Koster's tough choreography and dancer Owen Ridley-Demonick's sweaty, muscular moves. The music employed a lot of gruff vocalisations—heavily breathing, chants, sharp inhalations—that gave the whole performance a brutish and animalistic feel. It was physically demanding on Ridley-Demonick, who was panting and anguished by the second half. At this point, Barnes had reached "Shrine Hold" and "Shrine Out," two tracks that recall elements of 2013's exceptional Engravings album, particularly "Thor's Stone." (Interestingly, the video for that one also features a body contorted into unnatural and tortured shapes.)
After the room recalibrated and slowly filled with smoke, Hecker took to the stage. Speaking to RA's Matt McDermott recently, he said that he wanted to create a "psychedelic experience" with the accompanying light show, employing visuals that heighten our aural receptors (or as he put it, "focusing things back on the ear"). I was sceptical—Hecker's music doesn't need the distraction. As with Autechre, it's an extreme experience made all the more visceral in total darkness. So I shut my eyes, held on tight to the armrests and let in his exquisite punishment.
Photo credit /
Ed Jansen