Lois V. Vierk
River Beneath the River
(hear it)

Lois V. Vierk's sliding, shifting harmonies and obstinately driven eighth notes could make a fine home for either an overindulging drunk or a poet meditating on punctuation. While one spins and stumbles, seeking vainly for trash can or toilet, the other sits quietly, becoming more and more profoundly moved by the simplest of typographical details. Finally, his world at its most unhinged, the intoxicant drops to the floor unconscious - the thinker, on the other hand, drops a line onto paper and moves on.

What is stunning about Vierk's Tzadik album is her simple comfort in what she has discovered. In pieces spread over a decade, groups of horns, of violins, and of rock (well... cello-rock) instruments each develop similar harmonic material through joint glissandi underscored with rythmically simple gestures made of one repeated note or of a sequence of notes in simple musical relationships. The structure, too, of each piece is generally a gradual crescendo cut off at a point of maximum ecstasy.

In my conceptual map of music, Vierk's work sits next to Glenn Branca's. Each transfixes a listener, dominates the mind, almost uncomfortably so. John Cage (I understand) called Branca's music fascist. Since I enjoy this music, perhaps I will find myself at home in the 21st century after all. Vierk is definitely the tyrant I would choose to live under. Her music brings to mind little dolls that wear moccassins coming up over the hill in a throng.

bb, 5 Jan 2008