Bee Tween, SVK, A melodyc shivering form
REVIEWS by Franziska Mucha
One man, one guitar, one machine
wait, no, many and their master in bee tween. Commissar Gadget has entered the stage to study his guitar under the observing eye of the audience, devotional absorbed, lent forward over his object of study, from time to time kneeing down to change the parameters of his exper iment. It seems strange to take pictures, it even feels strange to look at the deeply involved investigator only with your voyeuristic gaze as there is nothing but contemplative, finicky vernier adjustment, intimacy. The weirdness improves as we localize ourselves, slightly embarrassed, pretending to look away, your eyes wander around and suddenly you remember, this is a museum, art is on the walls which wants to be seen. Juxtaposition, contradiction, the attention is leaking off the w alls, dropping down, merging around the committed man, while my guitar gently weeps. Interlude to the unknown, petting, eliciting sounds, ambiente is filling the space, vibrating in the air and your belly. He shakes and loops, atmospheric oscillation, interference with relish, looking through the glass of reality, betw een the orange gaze of sound and image, like talking to ghosts, like chasing cars. Indirect intermediation. Carillon. Rain.
The store vennlige kjempe has landed
… and is definitely worth a glance, or two, or three. I’m the god of … and I shall bring you …music from another world, introducing widespread alienation, walking on the moon and obliviously jumping from one tone to the other, struggling to find their rhythm, processing endless notes, they are not lost. Free diffusing in the air, morphing silence into distant whisper, electronic voices in your head and shivering drum feedback. We resonate. We are gaining speed, we change tempo and get rewarded with materiality, contact, grip. Only to let it go, preparing the take-off, into the wild, into the peaking chaos. And then…drifting. Calming orientation, stumbling upon floppy sounds, confusion. Where are we heading and why are we running? What is the meaning of life and what the hell are we doing here? Suddenly we see a promising light, shivering, a melody evolves out of the anarchist particle cloud, the energy is united for a greater good, we accelerate, joining forces, with the speed of sound or light, repetition raises in tight windings, you never be alone and we follow the dispense and we are one, like stardust, a beautiful collision.
What can a blue plexiglass do at all?
In the hands of a melodyc shivering form it shouldn’t be underestimated, it’s a weapon of mass destruction, millions of fine cilia had to die, it was a massacre. Hypnotized like a dog, pain threshold of audibility, we suffer, and then suddenly relaxation, the sour muscles get retension, deep didgeridoo mantras, substitute the hightone overload, and the ambiguous somehow automatic interaction of high tones and deep vibrations, the inescapable torture, suddenly sums up in one picture, tickles an old memory out of its dusty grave…it’s a modem, it’s trying to connect and it seems like forever…till finally…the space shuttle launches, you can almost see the shockwaves reaching the first row, hitting the audience and like an airplane crash, you can’t close your eyes, you can’t shut your ears, reception is open, perception is vulnerable.
