Antología 1: Obras para la Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos
Honestly one of the most mind altering things we've heard this year - this astonishing set collects up some of the most breathaking compositions from radical Bolivian composer Cergio Prudencio, co-founder of the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos - working with traditional instruments from the Andean highlands, Prudencio uses Aymara philosophy to guide his compelling narrative, peering into a parallel future by grasping methodology that colonization threatened to erase. RIYL Mica Levi, Debit's 'The Long Count' or György Ligeti - just absolute gamechanging music.
What might an orchestra sound like if it was made up of completely different instruments, like the siku, a traditional Andean two-row panpipe, the tarka, a wooden Andean blockflute, the mohoceño, a duct flute, the pinkillo, a bamboo or bone pipe, and Bolivian percussion like the double-headed wankara and the seed shaker? It's this question that Prudencio, a teacher and researcher as well as a composer, answered when he formed the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos back in 1980. And he wasn't only motivated by the instrumentation itself, but the incorporation of the structural principles that govern Aymara music. There are three particular ideas that Prudencio employed: "arca-ira," the interplay between two musicians; "tropa," the formation of large ensembles with amplification; and "wakiña," or community strength. These notions regulate each of Prudencio's compositions with the OEIN, and although the pieces stretch across three decades, we get to hear the ensemble's genesis on 1980's 'La ciudad'. Here, Prudencio walks us through the Andean highlands, with groups of sikus played in peculiarly-tuned bursts alongside slow, rousing drum hits.
He starts by introducing us to the sounds relatively slowly, the breathy woodwind blasts forming into whirling, pad-like harmonies that are interrupted by lively high-pitched wails. But soon Prudencio veers leftward, prompting his orchestra to skew each sound into near chaos, creating a cloud of shrieks and wails that's as unnerving as Ligeti's influential micropolyphony work. When the cacophony subsides, Prudencio elongates the sounds, bringing out the texture of each sound and highlighting exactly what's so special about the instrumentation. The harmonies - concocted from sikus played in unison - might be mostly unprecedented for those of us outside the Andes, but the flutes themselves are familiar, regularly featured in racialized depictions of the region's ancient culture. Prudencio uses this composition to reset any stereotypical associations, venturing into unexpected places by using knowledge gleaned from his obsessive research and collaboration.
It's hardly surprising that he's ended up being an in-demand film composer; the anthology's stunning 20-minute opening piece 'Cantos insurgentes' is assembled from material Prudencio wrote for 2012's 'Insurgentes', a historical feature from revolutionary Bolivian director Jorge Sanjinés, one of Prudencio's regular collaborators. This one escorts us through Bolivia's history of indigenous insurgency, and Prudencio uses his orchestra to create tension and release with thickets of woody percussion, misty flutes and nervous, metallic squeaks. It's unashamedly visual music that plays with innovative dynamics, dipping into silence before chanted and sung vocals break the quiet, and erupting with reverberating clicks and shakes from the singular instrumentation. 'Antología 1' provides an ideal introduction to Prudencio's sound world, distilling three decades of his career-defining work with the OEIN. There's nothing else quite like this out there, and we have to thank the Buh Records imprint yet again for putting together such an astonishing collection.
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Honestly one of the most mind altering things we've heard this year - this astonishing set collects up some of the most breathaking compositions from radical Bolivian composer Cergio Prudencio, co-founder of the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos - working with traditional instruments from the Andean highlands, Prudencio uses Aymara philosophy to guide his compelling narrative, peering into a parallel future by grasping methodology that colonization threatened to erase. RIYL Mica Levi, Debit's 'The Long Count' or György Ligeti - just absolute gamechanging music.
What might an orchestra sound like if it was made up of completely different instruments, like the siku, a traditional Andean two-row panpipe, the tarka, a wooden Andean blockflute, the mohoceño, a duct flute, the pinkillo, a bamboo or bone pipe, and Bolivian percussion like the double-headed wankara and the seed shaker? It's this question that Prudencio, a teacher and researcher as well as a composer, answered when he formed the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos back in 1980. And he wasn't only motivated by the instrumentation itself, but the incorporation of the structural principles that govern Aymara music. There are three particular ideas that Prudencio employed: "arca-ira," the interplay between two musicians; "tropa," the formation of large ensembles with amplification; and "wakiña," or community strength. These notions regulate each of Prudencio's compositions with the OEIN, and although the pieces stretch across three decades, we get to hear the ensemble's genesis on 1980's 'La ciudad'. Here, Prudencio walks us through the Andean highlands, with groups of sikus played in peculiarly-tuned bursts alongside slow, rousing drum hits.
He starts by introducing us to the sounds relatively slowly, the breathy woodwind blasts forming into whirling, pad-like harmonies that are interrupted by lively high-pitched wails. But soon Prudencio veers leftward, prompting his orchestra to skew each sound into near chaos, creating a cloud of shrieks and wails that's as unnerving as Ligeti's influential micropolyphony work. When the cacophony subsides, Prudencio elongates the sounds, bringing out the texture of each sound and highlighting exactly what's so special about the instrumentation. The harmonies - concocted from sikus played in unison - might be mostly unprecedented for those of us outside the Andes, but the flutes themselves are familiar, regularly featured in racialized depictions of the region's ancient culture. Prudencio uses this composition to reset any stereotypical associations, venturing into unexpected places by using knowledge gleaned from his obsessive research and collaboration.
It's hardly surprising that he's ended up being an in-demand film composer; the anthology's stunning 20-minute opening piece 'Cantos insurgentes' is assembled from material Prudencio wrote for 2012's 'Insurgentes', a historical feature from revolutionary Bolivian director Jorge Sanjinés, one of Prudencio's regular collaborators. This one escorts us through Bolivia's history of indigenous insurgency, and Prudencio uses his orchestra to create tension and release with thickets of woody percussion, misty flutes and nervous, metallic squeaks. It's unashamedly visual music that plays with innovative dynamics, dipping into silence before chanted and sung vocals break the quiet, and erupting with reverberating clicks and shakes from the singular instrumentation. 'Antología 1' provides an ideal introduction to Prudencio's sound world, distilling three decades of his career-defining work with the OEIN. There's nothing else quite like this out there, and we have to thank the Buh Records imprint yet again for putting together such an astonishing collection.
Honestly one of the most mind altering things we've heard this year - this astonishing set collects up some of the most breathaking compositions from radical Bolivian composer Cergio Prudencio, co-founder of the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos - working with traditional instruments from the Andean highlands, Prudencio uses Aymara philosophy to guide his compelling narrative, peering into a parallel future by grasping methodology that colonization threatened to erase. RIYL Mica Levi, Debit's 'The Long Count' or György Ligeti - just absolute gamechanging music.
What might an orchestra sound like if it was made up of completely different instruments, like the siku, a traditional Andean two-row panpipe, the tarka, a wooden Andean blockflute, the mohoceño, a duct flute, the pinkillo, a bamboo or bone pipe, and Bolivian percussion like the double-headed wankara and the seed shaker? It's this question that Prudencio, a teacher and researcher as well as a composer, answered when he formed the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos back in 1980. And he wasn't only motivated by the instrumentation itself, but the incorporation of the structural principles that govern Aymara music. There are three particular ideas that Prudencio employed: "arca-ira," the interplay between two musicians; "tropa," the formation of large ensembles with amplification; and "wakiña," or community strength. These notions regulate each of Prudencio's compositions with the OEIN, and although the pieces stretch across three decades, we get to hear the ensemble's genesis on 1980's 'La ciudad'. Here, Prudencio walks us through the Andean highlands, with groups of sikus played in peculiarly-tuned bursts alongside slow, rousing drum hits.
He starts by introducing us to the sounds relatively slowly, the breathy woodwind blasts forming into whirling, pad-like harmonies that are interrupted by lively high-pitched wails. But soon Prudencio veers leftward, prompting his orchestra to skew each sound into near chaos, creating a cloud of shrieks and wails that's as unnerving as Ligeti's influential micropolyphony work. When the cacophony subsides, Prudencio elongates the sounds, bringing out the texture of each sound and highlighting exactly what's so special about the instrumentation. The harmonies - concocted from sikus played in unison - might be mostly unprecedented for those of us outside the Andes, but the flutes themselves are familiar, regularly featured in racialized depictions of the region's ancient culture. Prudencio uses this composition to reset any stereotypical associations, venturing into unexpected places by using knowledge gleaned from his obsessive research and collaboration.
It's hardly surprising that he's ended up being an in-demand film composer; the anthology's stunning 20-minute opening piece 'Cantos insurgentes' is assembled from material Prudencio wrote for 2012's 'Insurgentes', a historical feature from revolutionary Bolivian director Jorge Sanjinés, one of Prudencio's regular collaborators. This one escorts us through Bolivia's history of indigenous insurgency, and Prudencio uses his orchestra to create tension and release with thickets of woody percussion, misty flutes and nervous, metallic squeaks. It's unashamedly visual music that plays with innovative dynamics, dipping into silence before chanted and sung vocals break the quiet, and erupting with reverberating clicks and shakes from the singular instrumentation. 'Antología 1' provides an ideal introduction to Prudencio's sound world, distilling three decades of his career-defining work with the OEIN. There's nothing else quite like this out there, and we have to thank the Buh Records imprint yet again for putting together such an astonishing collection.
Honestly one of the most mind altering things we've heard this year - this astonishing set collects up some of the most breathaking compositions from radical Bolivian composer Cergio Prudencio, co-founder of the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos - working with traditional instruments from the Andean highlands, Prudencio uses Aymara philosophy to guide his compelling narrative, peering into a parallel future by grasping methodology that colonization threatened to erase. RIYL Mica Levi, Debit's 'The Long Count' or György Ligeti - just absolute gamechanging music.
What might an orchestra sound like if it was made up of completely different instruments, like the siku, a traditional Andean two-row panpipe, the tarka, a wooden Andean blockflute, the mohoceño, a duct flute, the pinkillo, a bamboo or bone pipe, and Bolivian percussion like the double-headed wankara and the seed shaker? It's this question that Prudencio, a teacher and researcher as well as a composer, answered when he formed the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos back in 1980. And he wasn't only motivated by the instrumentation itself, but the incorporation of the structural principles that govern Aymara music. There are three particular ideas that Prudencio employed: "arca-ira," the interplay between two musicians; "tropa," the formation of large ensembles with amplification; and "wakiña," or community strength. These notions regulate each of Prudencio's compositions with the OEIN, and although the pieces stretch across three decades, we get to hear the ensemble's genesis on 1980's 'La ciudad'. Here, Prudencio walks us through the Andean highlands, with groups of sikus played in peculiarly-tuned bursts alongside slow, rousing drum hits.
He starts by introducing us to the sounds relatively slowly, the breathy woodwind blasts forming into whirling, pad-like harmonies that are interrupted by lively high-pitched wails. But soon Prudencio veers leftward, prompting his orchestra to skew each sound into near chaos, creating a cloud of shrieks and wails that's as unnerving as Ligeti's influential micropolyphony work. When the cacophony subsides, Prudencio elongates the sounds, bringing out the texture of each sound and highlighting exactly what's so special about the instrumentation. The harmonies - concocted from sikus played in unison - might be mostly unprecedented for those of us outside the Andes, but the flutes themselves are familiar, regularly featured in racialized depictions of the region's ancient culture. Prudencio uses this composition to reset any stereotypical associations, venturing into unexpected places by using knowledge gleaned from his obsessive research and collaboration.
It's hardly surprising that he's ended up being an in-demand film composer; the anthology's stunning 20-minute opening piece 'Cantos insurgentes' is assembled from material Prudencio wrote for 2012's 'Insurgentes', a historical feature from revolutionary Bolivian director Jorge Sanjinés, one of Prudencio's regular collaborators. This one escorts us through Bolivia's history of indigenous insurgency, and Prudencio uses his orchestra to create tension and release with thickets of woody percussion, misty flutes and nervous, metallic squeaks. It's unashamedly visual music that plays with innovative dynamics, dipping into silence before chanted and sung vocals break the quiet, and erupting with reverberating clicks and shakes from the singular instrumentation. 'Antología 1' provides an ideal introduction to Prudencio's sound world, distilling three decades of his career-defining work with the OEIN. There's nothing else quite like this out there, and we have to thank the Buh Records imprint yet again for putting together such an astonishing collection.
Deluxe 2LP set, edition of 300 copies, comes with an insert of liner notes by Cergio Prudencio and archival photographs, plus a download dropped to your account. Mastered by Gustavo Navarrete. Art and design by Gonzalo de Montreuil.
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Honestly one of the most mind altering things we've heard this year - this astonishing set collects up some of the most breathaking compositions from radical Bolivian composer Cergio Prudencio, co-founder of the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos - working with traditional instruments from the Andean highlands, Prudencio uses Aymara philosophy to guide his compelling narrative, peering into a parallel future by grasping methodology that colonization threatened to erase. RIYL Mica Levi, Debit's 'The Long Count' or György Ligeti - just absolute gamechanging music.
What might an orchestra sound like if it was made up of completely different instruments, like the siku, a traditional Andean two-row panpipe, the tarka, a wooden Andean blockflute, the mohoceño, a duct flute, the pinkillo, a bamboo or bone pipe, and Bolivian percussion like the double-headed wankara and the seed shaker? It's this question that Prudencio, a teacher and researcher as well as a composer, answered when he formed the Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos back in 1980. And he wasn't only motivated by the instrumentation itself, but the incorporation of the structural principles that govern Aymara music. There are three particular ideas that Prudencio employed: "arca-ira," the interplay between two musicians; "tropa," the formation of large ensembles with amplification; and "wakiña," or community strength. These notions regulate each of Prudencio's compositions with the OEIN, and although the pieces stretch across three decades, we get to hear the ensemble's genesis on 1980's 'La ciudad'. Here, Prudencio walks us through the Andean highlands, with groups of sikus played in peculiarly-tuned bursts alongside slow, rousing drum hits.
He starts by introducing us to the sounds relatively slowly, the breathy woodwind blasts forming into whirling, pad-like harmonies that are interrupted by lively high-pitched wails. But soon Prudencio veers leftward, prompting his orchestra to skew each sound into near chaos, creating a cloud of shrieks and wails that's as unnerving as Ligeti's influential micropolyphony work. When the cacophony subsides, Prudencio elongates the sounds, bringing out the texture of each sound and highlighting exactly what's so special about the instrumentation. The harmonies - concocted from sikus played in unison - might be mostly unprecedented for those of us outside the Andes, but the flutes themselves are familiar, regularly featured in racialized depictions of the region's ancient culture. Prudencio uses this composition to reset any stereotypical associations, venturing into unexpected places by using knowledge gleaned from his obsessive research and collaboration.
It's hardly surprising that he's ended up being an in-demand film composer; the anthology's stunning 20-minute opening piece 'Cantos insurgentes' is assembled from material Prudencio wrote for 2012's 'Insurgentes', a historical feature from revolutionary Bolivian director Jorge Sanjinés, one of Prudencio's regular collaborators. This one escorts us through Bolivia's history of indigenous insurgency, and Prudencio uses his orchestra to create tension and release with thickets of woody percussion, misty flutes and nervous, metallic squeaks. It's unashamedly visual music that plays with innovative dynamics, dipping into silence before chanted and sung vocals break the quiet, and erupting with reverberating clicks and shakes from the singular instrumentation. 'Antología 1' provides an ideal introduction to Prudencio's sound world, distilling three decades of his career-defining work with the OEIN. There's nothing else quite like this out there, and we have to thank the Buh Records imprint yet again for putting together such an astonishing collection.