Hervé Perez – Garden Of Secrets

Discus

Hervé Perez - Garden Of SecretsIt is impressive what Hervé Perez has managed to accomplish on this latest album. With great assistance from Alex Hegyesi, they play an astonishing number of instruments, some of which (psaltery, kokiroko, caval) I have no idea what they are. What they have managed though is to totally encapsulate the idea of a Garden Of Secrets by producing a series of themes that are accessible yet mysterious, and lead the listener through various different phases until we are lost with only the sounds to guide us. It never loses us in a worrying way; there may be curious noises just out of our range, but it is never threatening.

The opening piece has some surprisingly forceful drumming, over which saxophone and what could be flute perform a dazzling duet, one all calm and thoughtful while the other is the essence of excitement, flitting and scooting in dizzying circles. It sets off in a direction which is completely undone by the next piece, which is all drones and strings and tibetan bells.

This is the peaceful side of the garden, its Eastern intonation lending an air of relaxation with a crackle of a campfire reflecting a light falling of snow. The movement from this kind of tranquillity to the air of expectation in the near silence of “Slow March Of The Pilgrims” is like a step further into the unknown. A dulcimer gives sparse notes with the merest hint of other sounds in the background; the scrape of strings, a floating flute, the sense of enchantment as we head deeper.

At points on Garden Of Secrets, there are reprises of some of what has gone before, reawakening our memories of those moments, and there are lovely little interludes between the larger pieces; the buzz of insects with flute, the sound of a shore at dusk , all little palette-cleansers preparing us for further immersion.

The wide variety of instruments used means we have no idea what is coming next and how they will interact; the flute and zither make a really tranquil combination on “Skandhas”, while the rhythmic sax on “Lizard Dance” is accompanied by another dreamier instrument and they entwine gently in the smoke of a distant fire. Things turn stranger on “Shaman’s Dream”, a real smorgasbord of sounds, submerging and intoning among a busy scrabble of textures, like a group communicating without speaking. This is where the secrets really start; and then the drums are reintroduced, working on their own beat, lost in a world of texture and thought, a meeting of wills or a dervish dance as the instruments egg one another on.

Towards the end, the pieces become longer, expanding in idea and execution, spectral notes dominating the title track, diffuse and liminal, passing like gossamer, obscuring the way. The sax is lazy here but beckons still, drifting in and out of our sphere, appearing at times like the sun shining through rain clouds, that bright burst of pure illumination which moves into the sparser, bittier rumble of the final piece. The sax is splenetic on “All Is Change” as all else totters and tumbles around as it sounds like a cast of thousands are all thrashing away to make the finale an unforgettable moment. It drags elements of all that has gone before into a swirl of motion and emotion until the secrets are lost to the wind.

This is a huge and expansive work of exquisite drama. Once again, Discus have found something that is unlike anything else on the scene. I don’t think the secrets are really meant for us, but there is only one way to find out.

-Mr Olivetti

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