Composed and recorded by Robert Piotrowicz in 2010-2012. Performed on modular analogue synthesizer. Design and graphics: Robert Piotrowicz. Visual adviser: Igor Krenz. Mastering and vinyl cut: Rashad Becker. “Lincoln Sea is Robert Piotrowicz’s second release in 2013 after the acclaimed ’When Snakeboy is Dying’. ’Snakeboy’ opened windows with it’s sophisticated weaving of guitar, piano and vibraphone, along with Piotrowicz’s more recognisable modular synth work. Praised from the likes of Brian Olenwick (Just Outside), Massimo Ricci (Touching Extremes) ’Snakeboy’ saw Piotrowicz take a confident leap into new
realms of sound. With Lincoln Sea, the potential of Piotrowicz’ vision is greatly expanded whilst exclusively focussing on modular synthesis. The result is a dizzying journey into the nature of machines and the elements of natural order that can be coerced out of them. Comprising of a single long form work split over 2 sides, Lincoln Sea is a complex multilayered combination of sonic architecture and narrative drama. Investigation of sound mass as an architectural form expands the work beyond the exploration of a single instrument resulting in significantly more vast and expansive sound landscape. The management of the electronic matter aligns itself with the logic and even sound world of an orchestra with wailing strings flying amongst the brass-like explosions of the bass. The tension resulting from the pull between the sonic world and the emotional capacity of the electronic microtonal explorations make for one of the years assured releases. On one hand, Lincoln Sea can be perceived as an exhilarating audio experience, one of immense thrills, intensity and a rich sonic experience.
With further listens, the intrinsic layers and idiosyncrasies will become more apparent providing further aesthetic experience as one hears new sounds, new corners, new worlds. Piotrowicz’s role as despot composer has created a remarkable release which incorporates an evolving landscape, human gestures, an absence of chaos, the orchestral (and rock?) organisation of sound, the false
ends and an extreme combination of scientific/architectural design seeped in abstraction and human emotion. This is a landmark release from one of Poland’s most revered musicians”. Mark Harwood
140 gram white vinyl, 370 copies. Composed and recorded by Robert Piotrowicz in 2009, mixed in 2011. All instruments: modular synthesizer, guitar, piano, vibraphone, software by Robert Piotrowicz. Mastering and cut: Rashad Becker. “When Snakeboy is Dying” is the first album of Robert Piotrowicz in which he deploys a broad spectrum of instruments. Most of his previous published compositions were committed to creating a multilayered electronic sculpture built with analogue modular synthesizer. Performing on all instruments by himself alone and using a variety of composing methods, Piotrowicz created an album which strikes with internal integrity and organic complexity whilst leaving the recipient with an impression of listening to an ensemble. In terms of tonal reduction and assigned function of individual instruments, the score recalls the spirit of minimalism, however the density and dynamics of narration remains in vivid contrast to such associations. The strength of Piotrowicz’s work reveals itself in the complexity of events as well as the rich palette of colours and the mobility of architecture in the overall sound picture. The instruments are organized in careful relations with each other, to build not only the horizontal tensions but the vertical ones as well. The beauty of microtonal constructions is amplified by strong impacts and vitality of electronics. What at first might seem like a fragile recording, with every further second it builds and maintains drama and intensity.
“Oleh Rami Pohon” (riverside performance for five / hut blow for any number of
participants and one muted mmempekík player).
“Tingal” (sylvan setup for two).
“Elok Pada Masa” (nighttime gathering for two and any numbers of attendees)
“Automatu” (for those who rebuild past events in memory).
“Udara Rosak” (for two anxious performers).
“Utara” (for one who heard everything / small band including strings,
percussion and electronics).
“Dimana” (for any number of pianists and one bad doublebass player).
Composed, recorded and mixed by Robert Piotrowicz. All instruments: double bass, piano, percussions, electronics and objects performed by Robert Piotrowicz. Accompanying texts by Grzegorz Jankowicz, Burkhard Stangl and Jon Wozencroft. Mastering and cut by Rashad Becker at D&M Berlin.
The music originally appeared as a 5.1 soundtrack to “Walser”, film directed by Zbigniew Libera.
The new album by Robert Piotrowicz Walser is a reiteration of the artist’s composition for the namesake film by Zbigniew Libera where a fictitious Concheli tribe enacts its ritual gestures through music and performance. Rather than following a traditional soundtrack format where music is written after the film is cut to illustrate the cinematic form, Piotrowicz treats the film music as a point of departure to create an autonomous sound work altogether. While its aesthetic narrative echoes the one that we are submerged into throughout the film, the record’s underlying structure and dramaturgy were reconfigured and reworked into a new spatial and affective arrangement.
Unlike Piotrowicz’s previous works, Walser is predominantly an acoustic album with a nod to his previous projects that imagined fictional music ensembles (such as Rurokura and Eastern European Folk Music Research Volume 2).
The idiosyncratic sound of instruments is a result of multifaceted composition process, which took as its starting point custom-made instrument design (wind, percussive and string), prototyping the music structure and meaning, and composer-led choreography of actors’ gestures that took place during the film shoot and in its predeceasing performance workshop.
In the film Walser, Piotrowicz’s original music score is thus enacted by body of sound rather than by actors on the filmset as it fills up the metastructure devised by the composer. Of course music always influences the way one views a film, but in Walser it becomes a cinematic language of its own kind, an extension of the camera apparatus, an omnipresent observer and narrator that sculpts our experience of watching and listening.
In the album Walser sound returns to its first and foremost dimension, time, and while the storyline is no longer in the foreplan, its immaterial traces persist in the LP structure and narrative, incorporating a myriad of mood changes and dramatic turns. The album is an analogue recuperation of the primal, original sound where music finds a new form of embodiment and occupies a new territory beyond the screen and beyond the image. It is a sensuous body of sound that carriers meaning beyond traditional ways of verbal and pictorial communication.