Henning Christiansen

Op. 50 Requiem Of Art (Aus "Celtic") Fluxorum Organum II

Genre: MODERN CLASSICAL / AMBIENT

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Boomkat Product Review:

Penultimate Press present the "authoritative" version of Henning Christiansen's 'Op. 50...', a stunning collage of church organ, detailed field recordings, spoken word and musical snippets that the composer viewed as a requiem for the role of art in the '60s.

One of Denmark's most vital sound artists, Fluxus member Henning Christiansen released a dizzying number of compositions over the years, many of which have been lovingly restored and reissued over the last few years. 'Op. 50...' is among Christiansen's most essential works, scratching at the heart of his process and juxtaposing poignant concrète recordings, bizarre rhythms, oddball vocal segments, organ blasts, solemn solo piano recitals and church liturgies. The piece came to life when Christiansen was working on 'The Search', a collective film he contributed to in 1969. He dubbed a series of on-site field recordings that make up the backbone of 'Op. 50...', capturing the sound of Jutland's flat, open heaths with whirring airplane engines, clanking tools, birdsong, muddy footsteps and idle chatter. These sounds are set against more mysterious elements, like filtered, distant organ drones pinched from 'Eurasienstab', a collaborative work Christiansen developed alongside legendary German performance artist Joseph Beuys.

And for a piece of sound art that's mostly made up of rustling sounds and freeform voices, it's strikingly captivating. Anyone who's heard works like 'OP.176 PENTHESILEA', Christiansen's most ambitious project that was reissued last year, will know how well he's able to create a narrative from precious few ingredients. That's just as true here, and while the composer works relatively enigmatically (there's no set text to draw from this time, just sound), it's gripping from start to finish. The initial flurry of sound is made up of pipe organ blasts, hoarse screams and clinking glasses, before footsteps herald a groaning lead voice and the hum of traffic. We're placed outdoors for a moment, but the hypnotic, swirling organ drones spark an illusion - are we outside of the church hall or inside? Christiansen doesn't really answer that question, trudging us through the northern Danish landscape but keeping the ghosts of sacred music close behind.

Christiansen's funereal tone is only amplified when he fades in the familiar sound of church bells, offsetting the peace with foghorn blasts and bizarre, metallic percussion that might be some kind of tool smacking together, or might be something else entirely. And in the final act, the organ is taken from a hum to a blare, surrounded by coughs, animalistic vocalizations and the anxious rustling of bodies. If we're inside the service now, the atmosphere isn't as solemn as you'd expect. As the composition draws to a close, Christiansen adds a fuzzy, tape saturated piano recital that cracks as it peaks into the red - it's beautiful and damaged, an a fitting end to his funeral for art. Essential listening, to be sure.

MP3 Release (1)