BURKHARD BEINS: structural drift - REVIEWS

Burkhard Beins is best known as one of the most distinctive percussionists in European free music, performing in groups both in Berlin (Phosphor, Perlonex, Activity Center) and beyond (The Sealed Knot, Trio Sowari), though on the strength of his two solo albums, 2007's Disco Prova and now Structural Drift, he's no slouch as a composer either, bringing the same acute ear for timbre and immaculate sense of timing to more fixed structures. But whereas Disco Prova, with it's rattling machinery and Joy Divison samples, was an affectionate nod to the industrial and new wave music Beins grew up listening to, this new releases's shifting tectonic plates of synthesizers, E-bowed zither and self-designed electronic instruments (including ET, a hendheld oscillator with built-in speakers) belong in a parallel universe of electronic music along with the psychoacoustic wonders of Eliane Radigue and Maryanne Amacher.
Beins's compositions retain the same fondness for occasional sudden shifts of texture and dynamic that characterizes his improvising. Combining purely electronic sounds sourced from a Korg MS20 with his customary organic performing materials, wood and stone, the three pieces on the album were conceived and elaborated during a residency earlier this year in the Lower Saxony village of Worpswede, and the landscape surrounding the village, as shown on the album cover, with it's lonely roads, bare trees and leaden skies, seems appropriate. What on first contact might appear cold and featureless reveals on close listening a remarkable wealth of warmth, colour and detail.
- Dan Warburton, The Wire -

Conceived, created, recorded and mixed during a three-month residency in Worpswede Germany, sound artist Burkhard Beins' aural landscape uses found sounds to reflect the verdant, isolated area while simultaneous altering these sounds with electronics, an e-bow and a synthesizer to create a notable audio collage.
Of varying lengths, each of Beins' three "drifts" reflects different properties. Packed with motorized reverberations and bulky intonation that could come from a massed vocal choir, the longest track varies the sound field by alternating single chime strokes and wooden block pops with agitated timbres that variously resemble cutlery being shaken in a drawer, strident tea-kettles whistles and the rough cry of a smokestack whistle.
This antipodal game plan, which often interrupts the swelling and reverberating pedal-point wave forms with stop-start electrical buzzes, seeps into the other tracks as well. This is especially apparent when extended unchanging tones are layered with simultaneously undulating timbres that reflect back onto one another as the pieces advance and finally dissolve. Evidence of Beins' skills at timbre-manipulation is most evident during the finale. Evolving in a parallel fashion, staccato synthesized signals chirp like wild bird songs while sharing space with rushing water tones which have been processed so that they resemble blurry mechanized drones.
- Ken Waxman, MusicWorks -

The constant transition from "plain" improvising percussionist to composer of electroacoustic works seems to cause no problem to Burkhard Beins, who with Structural Drift - entirely conceived during a residency at Künstlerhäuser Worpswede from April to June of this year - managed to manufacture stimulating music through the use of a few instruments and objects, a clear-minded disposition of the same in rather linear compositional schemes and a clued-up utilization of the studio for editing and post-production. Generators include "e-Bowed and propelled zithers, analogue synthesizers, E.T. (!), looper, igniters, chimes, wood block, steel bands, fire and stones". Some of these sources result practically unrecognizable, yet the ensuing amalgamation is rich in implications despite a deceptive elemental simplicity.
That something has changed in regard to Beins' habitual structures - typically organized around a well-controlled discipline of intuitiveness - is immediately evident as "Drift 1" gradually invades the listening space via a velvety layering of synthetic tones that - once juxtaposed - elicit a classic effect of throbbing undulation which instantly puts Eliane Radigue, or Maryanne Amacher, in the listener's mind. Only after a while a tangible rhythmic component appears, a cyclical repetition of quiet asymmetrical cracks (pebbles, perhaps?) that results extremely functional in comparison with the entrancing qualities of the fundamental pulse.
The second movement is more of a consecutiveness of interconnected settings, although a somewhat inert stratum often remains at the core of frequent moments of overcoming entrancement. The concrete materials begin to establish their authority pretty prominently, recurrent discharges of hoarse frequencies, clicking insurgences and metallic intromissions acting as contrasting elements in Beins' palette, appearing in a state of undress for the occasional instances in which the electronic background disappear. About six minutes in, a gorgeous melodic figure depicted by strings establishes the main shade of what's possibly the most emotionally charged moment of the album. A cross of heavenliness and irredeemable dissonance whose underlying harmonics sound like a choir of dirty-faced angels, before a clamorous rumble comes and destroys the scene decisively. Sort of a rite of passage backwards, from weird echoes back to the concreteness of a tough reality, the latter looking as the composer's focal point of interest. The section ends with a three-note chime accompanied by infinite/looped upper partials (probably from the bowed zither) and additional interference, signalling that the storm may have passed but it's better not to sleep.
The final and shortest track ("Drift 3") is quite instable as far as timbres and dynamic continuity are concerned, characterized as it is by white noise-ish emanations, sudden interruptions, solid pitches that seem to eschew humanity, the whole sounding as cold as a hospital room invaded by cyber-insects. Contrarily to what many artists do, "dulcis in fundo" is not Beins' motto: as a matter of fact he pushes us into a hole full of puzzlement and uncertainty, leaving doors open to different interpretations of his ideas. An added value to a cleverly succinct and, to all intents and purposes, brilliant record.
- Massimo Ricci, Touching Extremes -

After the wondrously open Disco Prova, Burkhard Beins' musical imagination has never been less indebted to percussion as conventionally understood. Structural Drift comprises three slices of sound, assembled at length using e-bowed and propelled zither (an instrumental link to Beins' work in Misiiki), analogue synthesizer, E.T. (a self-designed handheld oscillator with built-in speakers), looper, igniters, chimes, wood block, steel band, fire and stones. This all-sorts might suggest some sort of heavily electronic symphony of rattles, a contemporary piece for AACM-ish little instruments. Yet the sound is far more elemental, as the use of fire and stones suggests. While the thick drones of "drift 1" suggest chrome and metal (in a way that recalls early Radigue to me), there are no determinate sound sources for the most part. The music simply rolls forward, its thick fuzzy low end eventually birthing a seductive throb in the upper register. At length, tones stack up to form a big shimmering chord that settles into a churchy organ. "drift 2" is much more scratchy, a restless piece that could almost be heard as trying to claw its way out of its predecessor. Unlike the slowly morphing substratum of "drift 1", this sounds restless, with a manifest rustle that moves wave-like throughout and what sounds like a steady decay. But, unpredictably, Beins layers in tin whistles, a bunch of pick-up-sticks being tossed continually in a bathtub, and settles into the sound of a mutated harpsichord calling out to others. It's lovely stuff, turning over and over as bits of it fall away to leave a single coiled tone. "drift 3" is less complex and less engaging, consisting mostly of a big booming bass rattle that fizzles, hisses, and crackles to a close. Overall the album is really quite fine. While it's clearly not as ambitious as Disco Prova, Beins has taken those disparate sound sources from the earlier record and fused them in ways that are more coherent and at times quite tonal in the way of Oren Ambarchi.
- Jason Bivins, Paris Transatlantic -

Three works conceived during a residency at Künstlerhäuser Worpswede, solo but constructed from more than just percussive sources, including electronics. One of the qualities in Beins' music that I love is a kind of earthiness, a fine grit that has often been a key factor in keeping certain group performances from sliding into blandness as well as having the capability of forming a magnificent edifice on its own (Rowe/Beins). That's not entirely absent here, but I found myself having to accommodate a slightly different Beins, which turns out to be a good thing. The first track is more or less drone-centered (ebow in prominent usage, I assume), with a repeating pulse. I feel a kind of distance here, the sort of thing you pick up sometimes in recordings of installation pieces. A soft rumble underneath keeps matters on a rough enough keel and, after its 15 minutes, I do feel a sense of satisfaction, but I think I'd get vastly more out of it live, able to be more thoroughly enveloped.
The second drift, however, is something of a marvel. At the very beginning, we seem to have simply moved a step or two sideways, the ebow hum replaced by a more pointed organ-synth tone, the rumble by a harsher rattle. That synth sound is the first of two referents that struck me (intended by Beins or otherwise): the analog type of tones generated by Terry Riley in his Poppy Nogood days. I absolutely love that "flickering" effect where the tone shifts sound as though they're produced by some manual operation like flipping open and shut a gate; I could listen to that for hours. Very soon, darker rumblings and loose metal crashes intrude and we find ourselves in an entirely different landscape from the first piece and an extremely unusual and fascinating one. Sirens come and go, fire and rain arrive. Beins reverts briefly to the opening set of sounds before introducing the other element that strikes me as allusive (about 15 minutes into the 20-minute work), a three note, high chimes sequence recalling phrases in music like Feldman's "Why Patterns?". The effect is beautiful and eerie, that original synth tone subtly increasing in stridency, the clicks beneath seeming a bit more desperate. He carries that through to the conclusion, lingering in this lovely, alien field. Wonderful piece.
The final, brief drift is finely concentrated, a propeller sound blending disparate chunks into a lumpy whole before droppin g out entirely in favor of high electronic flittings, a succinct bookend.
- Brian Olewnick, Just Outside -

Today it rained. Hard and continuously, occasionally with the crack of thunder added in for good measure. There was a particularly impressive storm early this morning that sounded great as I laid in bed under an open window. If it hadn't been my day off and my only chance this week to grab a lie-in I'd have got up and recorded it. For now though my career as an environmental field recordist will have to remain on hold. I had a successful, productive day today however, inching Cathnor releases that little bit closer to reality. which made me happy, and then went over to Julie's for dinner, which made me wet, but since getting back home tonight I have been listening a few times to a new solo album by everyone's favourite Berlin percussionist Burkhard Beins' new, second solo album called Structural Drift.
Beins' first solo effort, Disco Prova, which came out a year or two ago on the Absinth label caused a minor stir here and there, particularly in the more hip and trendy corners of the internet, where the album was often dismissed as a failure, occasionally quite brutally. For me Disco Prova was very much a mixed bag, some of it was actually very good indeed, other parts less so. What the album lacked though was consistency, both in quality and in stylistic intent. The album sounded a bit like a compilation of out-takes collected over several years. What people seemed to forget a little though was that not only was Disco Prova a break from BeinsŐ normal output in that it was his first solo, but also in that the music on the album was aesthetically and compositionally a complete break from anything he had done before. Rather than try and take what he does as an improvising percussionist in collaborative situations and try and make it work solo, Beins chose to make something completely different, returning to his very early work with tapes and simple electronics.
Beins remains well away from his more recognisable percussion work on the new album Structured Drift. He also manages to correct the key faults I found with Disco Prova. The three tracks here (titled Drift 1, 2 and 3) Certainly all work together as three pieces in a co-ordinated set. As the (rather unappealing) album title suggests the pieces are essentially composed and arranged, with some degree of drone to them, (though that is a rather simplistic description) and hence there will be inevitable comparisons made with the music of Jason Kahn, another percussionist that uses extended techniques and post-production to turn his instrumentation into heavy, throbbing drone works. As I say though, drones is a lazy description for these three pieces. In fact only really the first of them deserves the description, the second has elements within it, and the last of the three pieces is not a drone at all.
The opening piece clocks in at just over fifteen minutes and is made up of a series of pulsing, continuous sounds that are overlaid in sections so that in places the music is thick and heavy, and elsewhere these parts cut out to leave quieter sounds beneath. The album's notes list Beins' instrumentation as e-bowed and propelled zither, analogue synthesizer, E.T, (?!) looper, igniters, chimes, wood block, steel band, fire and stones. Its hard to tell which of these elements appear on Drift 1 and to what degree they might be processed, but overall it isn't too bad a work, quite simple in its construction, reliant on the quality of the sounds rather than any dramatic incident. The main charm of the piece is the slow build, step by step towards the heavier, deeper sections and then the sudden stripping back of layers, revealing new sounds below. this is hardly an original technique, and Drift 1 isn't anything new, but its nicely done.
The second piece immediately starts with a heavy synthesized drone made up of a couple of tones undercut by clicking sounds and for the first few minutes it feels like we are in for more of the same, but then the track begins to break up in unusual patterns. The heavy tone on top keeps cutting out at odd, irregular moments, breaking with the smooth structure of the opening piece. Further sounds snap in and out of the piece, and then after three and a half minutes the clatter of what sounds like metal chains breaks in, initially underneath the drone until suddenly everything cuts out bar this tinny jangle. Rustling, scraping, rubbing sounds join slowly, and then piercing tones flick on and off and the music restlessly changes over the next few minutes, growing slowly in a buzzing, siren-like manner for a while before exploding out into another richly detailed layering of sounds, both tonal and percussive. Things drift along with a certain energy until around twelve minutes in when blasts of hard noise interrupt the quiet rhythmic patterns the music had settled into. An insistent but quiet high pitched tone takes up the next minute or two until a series of three struck chimes appears, repeated over and over. Slowly these are joined by the clack of wood blocks and some nice use of small synthesizer squiggles, everything moving at a different pace to the other sounds around them like slightly demented clockwork. The track ends on one single chime. Drift 2 is great. It is a far more mature and focussed work than anything on Disco Prova, and it really does surprise and captivate the listener by never quite doing what you expect all of the time. Often it slips into systems and rhythms and you find yourself swaying along only to be shaken out of this by sudden shifts at unexpected, anti-rhythmic moments.
The third piece is even more broken up and erratic again. Similar sounds are used, pulsing tones, fuzzy blasts of static and little flutters of synth, but nothing is allowed to settle into any pattern. There are a lot of short silences, often ended with short, sharp sounds. Anything that is allowed to run for more than a few seconds is cut out abruptly by something else. There is no sense of drift at all to this shorter five minute track. As a listener you cannot settle as the previous tracks suggested you should. Often if it feels like things are about to be allowed to continue out into an extended sound, and particularly after hearing the first two pieces you expect this to happen, but it never does. Sounds disappear as fast as they are introduced and a rough, sketchy dynamic is retained throughout. Drift 3 is a curious little piece tacked on to the end of this album, pointing the way maybe to future work from Beins. It certainly sounds unlike anything we have heard from him before, a real opening of the wings in an attempt to fly into new territory, but its brevity doesn't allow this to develop much further here.
Structural Drift was created over a three month period between April and June this year when Beins undertook a sound-art residency in the German countryside. The time he had to focus on the work on a daily basis and without distraction is evident here. The album sounds like the result of real experimentation on a personal level. Coming after Disco Prova I feared for how I might respond to this disc before I heard it but I really like it. The second track in particular is very strong, a very powerful centrepiece for the album. The last track fills me with intrigue for what we might hear from Beins in the future. Structural Drift is the sound of a real experimentalist shaking free of the pigeonholes he has mastered in the past and really trying to do something new and of worth. It isn't perfect, and perhaps only points the way to even better recordings to come, but I really think it will be a shame if this album is not recognised as the strong, mature work that it is.
The sleeve photography, by Dave Ball is really great as well. I'm not sure how it relates to the music enclosed within, but maybe that is the point.
- Richard Pinnell, The Watchful Ear -

Music by improviser Burkhard Beins has been reviewed before, mostly of course when it dealt with improvising with others, but there have been a small number of solo releases too. 'Structural Drift' is a three piece suite which he recorded at the Kunstlerhauser Worpswede, where he did an arts residency in April and June of 2009. He brought along with e-bowed and propelled zither, analogue synthesizer, E.T., looper, igniters, chimes, wood block, steel band, fire and stones. Apparently no drum kit, or perhaps he considers that too much of commonplace that he chooses not to mention it. Well, perhaps he just didn't have it with him, if I listen to these three pieces. Beins, the trained percussion player, uses in his work on the kit a lot of sustaining and resonating materials, and they appear here too. The drones that arrive from the zither, in combination with the analogue synthesizer waves form long tone sounds and on top Beins adds charming little bells, chimes and wood blocks. Perhaps just as he would do when playing the drumkit in a combo of improvisers. He does this with much elegance here, especially in 'drift 2', this works out very well. A very well made CD, that has nothing, or not much at least, to do with improvised music, but all with composed music of a highly meditative nature. If you like Jason Kahn sonic explorations in this area, then this 'Structural Drift' is no doubt one to have as well.
- Frans De Waard, Vital Weekly -

Structural Drift, eine pulsierende, an- und abschwellende Dröhnwelle, von Bassfrequenzen begrummelt. Wenn da, wo ich herkomme, ein Schiff mainaufwärts tuckert, gibt es eine ähnlich wummernde Vibration, bei der auch schon mal die Fensterscheiben mitbeben. Nicht der Drummer von Perlonex ist da am Werk, sondern der dröhnminimalistische Tonkünstler BURKHARD BEINS. Als Klangquellen nutzt er eine mit E-bow oder Propeller traktierte Zither, Analogsynthesizer, Krimskrams. Die zweite Welle driftet heller durch den Stereoraum, reißt ab, beginnt erneut, rasselnd beklickert und rau geschabt. Letzteres erinnert an ein bäriges Schnarchen. Ein drahtig-silbriges Scheppern oder metallisches Rascheln kommt hinzu, ein Pfeifton und fast singende, harmonikaähnliche Schwingungen, die ein von Feuer beknistertes Grollen durchqueren und in eine minutenlange Auslaufrille münden, von Glöckchenklingklang bepingt, mit Steinchen beklackt. Bei 'drift 3' mischen sich wischend und pochend pulsierende mit quecksilbrig bitzelnden und zwitschernden Geräuschen. Zu Beginn und gegen Ende schießen Störimpulse quer. Vor allem bei dem 'Schnarchen' musste ich schon sehr kämpfen, nicht nach Schlummerland abzudriften.
- Rigobert Dittmann, Bad Alchemy -

Après Günter Müller ou Jason Kahn, Burkhard Beins sera t'il le prochain à abandonner son attirail de percussions pour se consacrer definitivement à l'électronique? L'heure n'est pas aux spéculations mais plutot à l'attention qui se doit d'etre portée à un disque aussi convaincant qu'atypique dans le parcours de son auteur.
Musicien clé de la scène électroacoustique actuelle, Burkhard Beins s'est distingué dans bien des formations: Activity Center, Perlonex, Phosphor, The Sealed Knot, Trio Sowari, Polwechsel ou SLW. Mettant de coté pour un temps ses activités collaboratives, le percussionniste est allé passer trois mois (avril-juin 2009) au Künstlerhäuser Worpswede, une résidence d'artistes au nord de l'Allemagne. L'occasion pour lui de repenser certaines de ses pratiques musicales et d'approcher de plus près le synthétiseur analogique. Témoignage de cette période exploratoire, Structural Drift est un mystérieux assemblage de mouvements et de textures dont il est difficile de séparer l'aspect improvisé de la composition globale, si tant est que cette dichotomie ait une quelconque utilité. En près de quinze ans de carrière, il s'agit seulement du deuxième disque solo de Beins, après Disco Prova en 2007.
Les notes de pochette dévoilent les sources sonores ici utilisées qui, outre l'appareillage électronique, incluent une cithare contr™olée par un aimant électromagnétique, un dispositif pour réaliser des boucles, des allume-gaz, blocs de bois et autres plaques d'acier (liste non exhaustive). La contribution précise de ces différents éléments ne transparait pas de facon évidente mais le résultat est tellement limpide et engageant que la question importe peu. 'Drift 1' fait un usage rigoureux de la synthèse analogique en imposant d'emblée une fréquence compacte, immuable, à la limite de la saturation. Une minute plus tard s'en ajoute une autre plus aigue, puis une autre cette fois plus grave: les interférences se mettent en place générant d'inexorables pulsations. Des cordes de cithare en résonance viennent se superposer, ajoutant une épaisseur supplémentaire à une trame déjà massive et déplacant d'autant l'équilibre précédemment atteint. Le mécanisme se poursuit ainsi, de modulations d'amplitude en addition/soustraction de fréquences. L'effet qui en r'esulte oscille entre techno minimale et radicalité psychoacoustique.
Il faut néanmoins attendre la seconde pièce ('Drift 2') pour atteindre le sommet du disque: une vingtaine de minutes d'une variété et d'un timing impeccables. Le drone est toujours aussi stoique bien qu'infiltré de nombreux parasitages: grésillement électroniques ou flambée de bois vert. Puis le souffle brulant d'un chalumeau s'immisce graduellement, des débris métalliques s'agitent avec frénésie (une portion de l'arsenal percussif habituel de Beins?). Le bourdon sous-jacent s'interrompt brutalement, laissant la place à des sifflements suraigus auxquels succèdent les échos plaintifs de la cithare qui tranchent avec le caractère tendu de la construction générale. D'autres textures prennent le relais, s'enchainant les unes aux autres ou se chevauchant. Quelques brefs mais violents accès bruitistes viennent déstabiliser l'ensemble mais la lancinante répétition d'un triplet de notes émanant de clochettes, accompagnée de pierres frappées l'une contre l'autre, ne manquent pas d'apaiser le tout.
Le troisième et dernier titre, intitulé - vous l'aurez compris - 'Drift 3', revient à des sonorités plus électroniques, organisées en segments contrastés: bruissements entomologiques, vrombissements d'ailes d'oiseaux, réminiscences de rythmes industriels, pales d'hélicoptère, alternance entre silence absolu et déflagrations qui jaillissent sans prévenir. Structural Drift en surprendra sans doute quelques uns qui, familiers du jeu de Beins, regretteront peut etre ici l'absence de percussions au sens conventionnel du terme. Après plusieurs écoutes, ceux-là memes (ainsi que d'autres) devraient trouver, au contraire, que ce disque éclaire d'une lumière nouvelle l'oeuvre du berlinois et, dans tous les cas, confirme sa polyvalence.
- Jean-Claude Gevrey, Revue & Corrigée / Scala Tympani-

Burkhard Beins är en av dagens mästare i i jamställda ljud. De tre styckena på hans senaste solo-album är en mäktig upplevelse. Verken sträcker makligt ut sig. Rörelserna är kärva, nästan motvilliga, de fuktas gråblöta. Det är oundvikligt att sugas in. Uppmärksamheten försvinner in som i dimma. Det känns inte som en tillfällighet att Structural Drift kommit till under hans nyligen avslutade stipendieår på Künstlerhäuser Worpswede. Omslaget på shivan visar ett panorama över det platta tyska landskapet i Niedersachsen. Öppet, disigt med gråa skyar som har sänkt sig nästan till trädopparna. En ensam helikopter flygar. Kanske jag fägas av orten, men visst klingar detta som ett slags alternativ landskapskonst.
Burkhard Beins är annars ingen illustratör. Den fyrtiofemårige slagverksspelaren hör snarare till dem som frigjort ljuden, objekten, instrumenten från värntjänst. Jag hittar en ny intervju i Worpswedes lokaltidning, Osterholzer Anzeiger, där Beins konstaterar, att 'med akustiska instrument kan man skapa klanger som låter som elektroniska ljud. Då de förenas liknar de varandra, men ändå finns det friktioner, som skapar spänning.' Vi har hört det förut, åtminstone som praktik, men saken är den att Burkhard Beins var en av de allra första som arbetade på detta vis. Således har vi i honom en dynamo till dagens energi, inte bara i Berlin, där han bor, utan också internationellt.
En tidig närstudie får vi på lp-albumet Santa Fé (Eventuell), inspelat tillsammans med Sven-Åke Johansson 2002 på legendariska Raumschiff Zitrone i Berlin. Johansson vecklar ut sin medvetna performativa minimalism medan Beins låter instrumentets smärre delar fräsa, pysa, knaka, knastra som om de fått högspänning i skinnen. De dragen finns också på Structrural Drift. Synthljud, störningar, en cittra spelad med e-bow, elknappar väser, då plötsligt smattrande långa täta meningar dyker upp från träblock och klockor.
På Beins hemsida möts vi av ett citat från Piranesi: 'Every ass can tell the best is always located inbetween monotony and confusion. The only problem is, where is the center?' Det beskriver väl vad Beins gör i sin musik, vad den 'handlar om'. Det där centrumet finner han förstås aldrig, det glider undan hela tiden. han skapar nya positioner i ett allt vidare fält. Hans förra och första soloalbum Disco Prova (Absinth, 2007) innehöll liksom det nya nästan inget slagverk alls. Han töjer på så vis på våra upplevelser och slår knut på kategoriseringslusten, sätter myror i lyssnarens huvud.Fältupptagningarna på Disco Prova skar tvärs över improvisationens praxis. Också på nya albumet finns långa stycken, där det hörs som om han bara tryckte på knappen för att lyssna.
Hans musik ryms inte i motsättningen tanke - praktik. Det hörs, då han lägger upp stämor i öppningen av Structural Drift, Drift 1. Långa linjer rör sig makligt likt mistlurar medan en svirrande to kryper intill. Mellan dem skapas ett tomrum. Det tar en stund innan örat låter delarna leka med varandra. Efter två tredjedelar av tiden växar klangerna till ett rum. Stegrar sig långsamt, och kvaliteterna skiljer sig mycket åt. Det är uppenbart hur uppmärksam Beins är på nyanserna i ljuden.
Beins musik har röttar i slagverkets fysiska sida. Instrumentet är påtagligt kroppsligt, rörligt. Han är ibland som de gammaldags trumsolisterna, som bara öser och öser, förtjusta över alla figurer de lyckas skapa. Fast Beins gläder sig mer åt några få klanger han vill knåda och känna på. Och litar på att åhörarna också delar lusten. Ljuden sätter sig i våra kroppar. Men allt som oftast klipper han till från sidan eller underifrån. Släpper in andra klangar, låter småljud sprida sig likt splitter eller frömjöl. Fortfarande litar han på att vi är med. Han kräver mycket, met aldrig för länge.
En god improvisatör ger aldig sig själv sista ordet. I Drift 3 låter han tunga malande sövande ljud pressas ut över oss; men just då det naturliga slutet närmar sig släpper han loss små kvittrande ljud som flaxar runt i rummet. Så upphhör allt. Och Beins slipper hamna i kölvattnet efter sig själv. En briljant upplösning, där han undviker att stå till svars för de problem som skapas med alltför mekaniskt reproducerade elektroniska klanger.
- Thomas Millroth, Nutida Musik -

[ back to overview ]   [ details ]