Jóhann Jóhannsson – The Miners’ Hymns

Power…          Is there any geopolitical issue more intractable, any economic or environmental question more omnipresent? Our homes and places of business require warming, our iceboxes need cooling, our purchases must be transported, our nighttime endeavors must be lit. Yet the extraction of energy resources is a complicated, dirty, often dangerous business, which — not incidentally — pays quite well. Interests converge or conflict, difficult questions are put aside for the next election cycle, and physical, sometimes ecological violence results. Or worse. Our lot today is the sum of all choices heretofore; choices that were made under different assumptions, outdated value structures. The expression “carbon footprint” is, in historical terms, quite new, so it is probably fair to assume that the flooding of Maldives was not a primary concern throughout the Industrial Revolution. OPEC is a similarly recent phenomenon.

A new film — which debuts at the Tribeca Film Festival in Lower Manhattan — addresses a not-insignificant component of the energy question: coal. Specifically the history of coal mining in Northeast England, the affiliated labor movement, and the eventual strike of 1984. Coal is a resource that is conspicuously out-of-favor now, a fact not lost on filmmaker Bill Morrison, who drew from a century’s worth of archival black-and-white footage, depicting cycles that “repeated decade after decade – political rallies, going to work, in the mine, going home, playing, organizing, fighting, and ultimately celebrating at the Big Meeting in Durham.” London-based production agency Forma commissioned the film, and Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson provided the score.

It is named The Miners’ Hymns. The film looks to be awe-inspiring. It bears mention here that this is a “documentary with no narration, dialogue or sound effects, only music.” The 52-minute score provides the only audio for this 52-minute film.

Regular Fluid Radio readers should already be familiar with Jóhann Jóhannsson, and for those who aren’t, the prefix “Icelandic composer” is likely reason enough to listen. Jóhannsson has received awards for soundtracks to Varmints (2010) and Dís (2004), and his traditional releases have received wide acclaim. Even still, he is unnecessarily obscure. (As is too often the case with lesser-known talents, the inclusion of his music in a current blockbuster film seeks to correct this.)

The soundtrack’s one-sheet states how “The Miners’ Hymns project was initially commissioned for Durham County Council’s ‘Brass: Durham International Festival’, which incorporated the Durham Miners’ Gala into a programme celebrating the culture of mining and the strong regional tradition of brass bands.” Jóhannsson paid homage to this tradition with a 16-piece brass ensemble, including members of the NASUWT Riverside Band. Pieces open tentatively with pipe organ: hushed notes, wisely chosen. Then the occasional swell of dissonance and the occasional eruption of what must be all of those instruments at once. One deft and immediate touch is a non-musical one: the movements take their titles from bulky union rallying cries, such as “An Injury To One Is The Concern Of All,” and “Industrial And Provident, We Unite To Assist Each Other.” Jóhannsson has named the opening piece “They Being Dead Yet Speaketh,” and indeed this is a hushed, moving tribute, barely audible in its opening moments, some measures swelling in voice from single organ to ensemble, others resembling the desolate trumpet solos of military ceremonies. This is likely no accident, as Jóhannsson cites John Philip Sousa as an early musical favorite.

The most powerful movement is the last, and this is certainly by design, but the composing is delicious throughout. “Injury” is a long and haunted piece, clocking in at over 14 minutes, at times made up with symphonic noise, or metallic, cinematic clamor. Yet most of the piece is restrained, slow, unerringly modern. “Freedom From Want And Fear” is halting, cascading, featuring waves of melody and stretches of calm. The composer’s passion is evident, and it is not about coal. Titles such as “There Is No Safe Side But The Side Of Truth” are explanation enough.

The Miners’ Hymns closes with triumph, which is odd, given the subject matter. A quietly organic, nearly absonant arrangement tapers off to reveal an elegant French horn riff. The movement is called “The Cause Of Labour Is The Hope Of The World,” and indeed the composition is long on optimism. Near the midpoint “Cause” begins a bold ascent toward a chilling finale, a massive architectural drawing built of one brief, beautiful line at a time. Historical consistencies aside, brass was always the only possible choice, here. Strings would have been too elegant for the subject matter, percussion too regimented. Brass has a natural, jagged texture that seems as if it will fit the film like second skin.

Coal may be the furthest thing from clean, sustainable fuel. Solar power, however expensive or fledgling, does not trap men under the ground in collapsed mine shafts. But a tiny amount of coal produces a remarkable level of energy. The soundtrack to this brief film burns in rather the same way. This is old-school power, and it delivers a prodigious heat.

FatCat will release the soundtrack on its 130701 imprint May 23, while BFI will release the DVD June 7.

- Review by Fred Nolan for Fluid Radio

www.fat-cat.co.uk
www.johannjohannsson.com