Diamanda La Berge Dramm – Chimp

Diatribe

Dutch violinist Diamanda La Berge Dramm has been playing since she was four, and although classically trained and a member of various ensembles, her first solo outing is a rather personal journey through avant-minimalist pop, taking lyrical cues from the work of European Poetry Festival founder Steven J Brown.

Accompanying herself with sounds that are generated solely by Moog and violin, she manages to strip the backing to bare essentials for each piece, framing the words which veer form the confessional through the conversational to the vividly dramatic, but always emphasising the inherent poetry.

Over eleven vignettes, a few of which are instrumental mood pieces, Diamanda wraps herself around these unusual lyrical outpourings, adding minimal, hypnotic backdrops to further enhance the surreal unfolding. Using Moog and treated violin, she manages to replicate all sorts of unexpected textural details while inhabiting different characters for each of the pieces.

The minimalist yearning of opener “Born” has the words delivered in a conversational tone, a little at odds with the mood of the music. There is a purity that sketches an image of solitude, while harshly plucked violin is the only accompaniment for “Horse around”; its stark rendering bringing to mind Appalachian folk high in the mountains. The production has the crystal clarity of a hillside stream and allows all detail to shine through.

The delivery on “Voices” is almost mechanical and brings to mind some of Laurie Anderson‘s experiments, as if she is learning the language from a machine, not knowing where to put the emphasis. This moving in and out of character makes for very intriguing listening, and it also helps that the voice has real charm as well as versatility, but there are moments where it feels as though you have stumbled into something personal, an underground dweller’s private monologue.

Quite how she manages to replicate the rush of rain on “Jungle” is a mystery, as is the bird sweep that chides the violin on “Chimp Is Who”. A real sense of momentum picks up here, and it feels like the first track to really open the lungs and breathe with the voice keening and swooping, evading capture. There’s a beat in “Gorilla CEO”, which is kind of unexpected, but lends a natural rhythm to the track; and I am also reminded at times of Lisa Germano, but mainly in the plaintive violin delivery, although the occasional confessional vocal, regardless of the lyrical subterfuge, twinkles in a similar way.

There are airplane noises, subterranean soundings to freshen the palette and the voice is always changing, captivating us then delivering a line that stops us in our tracks. Whispers, moans, a fleeting brush against the ear, strident declamations; it is all here and keeps us fully engaged. By the time the final track with its violin balm lapping against your consciousness arrives, we have travelled full circle and are enjoying a reprise of the opening piece.

Chimp is an oddly dreamlike album that has no real precedents; Diamanda’s solitude and attention to detail as well as the way she inhabits someone else’s words is impressive and makes this album well worth visiting. My CD had a piece of fake fur attached to it, looking as though it was taken straight from one of the ape protagonists

-Mr Olivetti-