session on listening: a modern ritual

Their name only, part wild horses mane on both sides, invites for imaginative, mysterious experience of music. There is no stage, only a single table single table covered with most different devices, cassettes and found objects that trigger a journey, wandering. Atmospheric vibes of this UK duo encounter aggressive whiteness of exhibition room. Layers of recorded ambient and voice together with flute create the mystical folk soundscape. The pool of sounds increases, building up ritualistic polyphony. Over half an hour, performance sets a quest towards the bottoms of subconsciousness. Edgy, freestyle patterns point to no tradition or categorization. Instead, they traverse depths of forests, mystical ancient lands and once taken roads. Simultaneous sound of a rock and live operated field recordings call for human, one who created the first instrument to please the gods and then mastered a godly machine. The creative technique feels like balanced mix of composition, recording and improvisation. Still, the performance itself plays on random. With evident experiment in the approach, there is no much of it left on the spot. A picturesque sound informs significantly spatial and visual capacity of the piece. However, the visual sensation remains rather modest, mostly due to inappropriate lightening combined with too suggestive physical presence of the performers diminishing the uncanny, speculative audio stimuli. Kith, Schist; slowing down the time experience certainly has contemplative and meditative potential. In repetitive and long loops, it manipulates the real time. However, it does not fully immerse in the moment, but rather stretches it, brings it to the levels of diffused. It aims to bare experience rather than knowledge. Thus, it evokes the very process of listening, more as a sensation but the full capture. This could be a smart reference to a human kind that acts within and projects into the nature, but never really possess it. The overall experience of the piece is much of short lived memory, like all these bits and traces of sounds and sceneries our mind has passed through, had them once, and lost again. Nina Vurdelja