Paul Jebanasam – Music For The Church Of St. John The Baptist

“If the moments of sensual pleasure in the idea, the voice, the instrument are made into festishes and torn away from any functions which could give them meaning, they meet a response equally isolated, equally far from the meaning of the whole, and equally determined by success in the blind and irrational emotions which form the relationship to music, into which those with no relationship can enter.” ~ Theodor Adorno, The Culture Industry

Say that to onlookers who attended for this live recording of Paul Jebanasam and they’d aptly dismiss. Disparate parts in a triad: guitar amplifiers; baroque viol; viola coda merge ominously, but dodge fetishized gutter pumps; passionate seriousness is Chef’s Special. Accepted wisdoms that laureats of pre-war literarary criticism – like Adorno – forget the fact that, as with Jebanasam, a fledgling composer of the modern classical genre, intricacies are opined delicacies, spilling out of historical fabric when paired with invention. This live recording, a 25 minute continuous stroking of the sub genre’s outer fringe, casts a powerful spell, onto not only it’s audience on the night in Bristol’s Old City wall, but peepers looking for holistically fertile happenings outside their comfort zone.

Life isn’t a competition to outscore each other in condescension, but “Music For”‘s multiple personality, with convoluted granular synthesis, sure has aesopian arguing toss of the mood. Doomy, dark slingshot drone in a wash basin, catapulting medieval balls of grit at the sides. Then I realise why I love it so: Greg Haines “Submergence” is a comparable arrangement. Long tensions get released, then revert to a breathless murmur, such will your own inhalation technique when captivated by it’s cavernous density. 11 minutes sees a warm foray with the semantron for the first time, recalling Procol Harum’s earnest chord alternations and dirgey melodic contours. I imagine sitting in St. John The Baptist’s Church with this playing out and feeling the serenade leave people piqued and fuzzy.

The viola begins to arch at 15 minutes, hereafter careening like a penny dropped into a whirlpool, swirling softly in the lower registers then establishing firmness. It makes earlier Jebanasam composition appear relentless as it flows beautifully underwater. The coda’s joints unease from bone marrow and swim into the distance, hold broken. It’s gripping stuff, but 8 minutes consecutive you’re serenaded by Arvo Part tensions relieving, announcing an even wider dynamic range. The sole minus point is the recording isn’t longer for the feeling to take full effect. Nonetheless, as a relaunch piece for Subtext, and a taster of Paul’s forthcoming album, “Music For The Church Of St. John The Baptist”, a 14th century church at that, is a recording defiant of the idea that sonic fetishism shouldn’t obstruct sensual pleasure – and an idea to which Jebanasam’s expertise enters great understanding.

- Mick Buckingham for Fluid Radio

www.pauljebanasam.com
www.subtextrecordings.net