CONCHAS SILENCIOSAS. ANDRÉS GOMIS




Andrés Gomis
3 de junio 2009
Casa de las Conchas de Salamanca


The music of the spheres vibrated round the Casa Las Conchas patio on Wednesday night as Andrés Gomis circled Las Conchas well stepping from music stand to music stand.
Four movements, 6 stands, 4 saxophones, 1 well and 1 man orbiting them all.
I’ve not got the titles of the movements now, so I’ll give you my version:
Playback/All you’ve ever said; every note blown on the alto sax was swallowed by the microphone and fed back to us in polyphonic echoes. Split, split and split again. The text on the screen oscillates till shattered and Gomis’ image on the screen recoils from all he has blown out, returning in inverse ratio to resonate through our ears. His onscreen self vibrates till inverted and he seems to imbibe his instrument. All that he had ever sounded out of his sax reverb’d back to him, sucked in and tooted out in reverse. Be careful what you say…with a reed on your lips.
Balanced Vibrations; Reassembling the audience, Gomis ohm’d his way into this 10 minute solo on tenor sax. Inhaling and exhaling a deep throb that radiated in lengthening time phrases – pierced by his signature parp! – (in case you needed reminding who you were listening to) till, having cleared the air, Gomis lilted us out and around the well once more…
If you’re lost on the streets; and lost I was too with this, the third movement fog-horned out on the engulfing bass sax. Doing the rounds of the well with this mighty bass, we were fed, in turn, by a view of the throated brass gullet that you couldn’t but lean toward. This is the instrument, and player, to round up all the Rain Dogs from the streets of Nighttown.
Finally, dripping through time; ‘
'Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away’

For the final movement, the computer-generated images of Alex Gomez played out behind Gomis – back on the alto, rounding out with the soprano sax. Gomis’ words opened the piece and spoke of the crushing solitude in a world of shackling religion, limiting thought and arresting language. Clichéd to begin with; crouched man in a locked, cushioned room blah de blah-de-blah, Gomez acquitted himself with a flying paper airplane than nosedived into the sand beside a skull, sinking houseframe and slowly revealing behind, a child’s tricycle. Timing the move from alto to soprano were long shots of Dali’s dripping clocks and the refrain of a pulsing plant emerging from a lake; Gomis’ dreams of the possibility of another world.
The performance was not for everyone, as witnessed by the escapees after the first movement (they’re obviously content the way things stand).

Keith Payne



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