Jamie Macleod Bryden attends composer Nils Frahm’ s first London shows in over five years. At the Barbican.
Entering the Barbican Hall: Nil’s equipment is grouped into one central treasure trove in the middle of the stage. Moogs and keyboards stacked on top of each other so that they can be used simultaneously: Jean Michelle Jaar style. It builds anticipation for what is to come but there is also a beautiful sparseness to the rest of the stage. Nils enters, takes a bow, and puts some gloves on in a very knowingly exaggerated way, as if sharing a private joke with the audience.
He then shakes some water off them towards the audience – as if anointing them. We have already been admitted into his inner world.He takes his place amongst his instruments. The only light, coming from an instrument that looks like a giant glass vase on its side with flickering candle under it, a “Hydrocrystalophone”, also known as a glass Harmonium. He crouches over it with a concentrated reverence and elongates piercingly beautiful, sustained notes.
They cut through all pretence and have an immediate beauty that could bring you to tears. Augmented by the room he gives the notes to breathe: the silence is an equally important part of it. In the light you see a supersized silhouette of him on the wall as he does this, adding to the sense of intimacy.“Harmonium in the Well” builds on this, with the rhythm of the Harmonium mimicking an emerging snowy dawn.After setting this beautiful mood, Nils engages the audience to let them know that they will be part of the next track. He asks them to mimic animal noises in a jungle.
I am lucky enough to attend a couple of the Barbican performances and over both nights the first try is noisy and sounds like a Chimpanzee enclosure.The audience overeager. Like a kind parent, Nils informs them. that he is looking for a more nocturnal loop like “Crickets at night”, more ambient. They deliver on the second attempt.
“Briefly” from the appropriately titled “Music for Animals” has a pattering electronic beat that sounds like droplets overlaid with his Harmonium that then uses the loop to create a trance like state. The loop is incorporated very subtlety. With “Spells” he grows ever more animated. Laying his piano over a more urgent beat, his body in a state of kinesis – almost melding with the music. The precocious “Hammers” is introduced as his last song. It is a Piano piece that builds and builds in its intensity, closest to a piece of classical with its flourishing crescendo.
He quickly punctures the audience’s disappointment by joking that it will be the last song before he goes off stage for a glass of wine and then return for the encore. Knowingly breaking the fourth wall.The opening chords of “Says” are greeted with rapture. Syncopating synths with pianos overlaid, pulse like initially but then building into a great wall of sound. Each shift in tempo and transition brings its own form of reward.
“Toilet Brushes” is another Nils favourite where he creates its signature sound by using… toilet brushes – on the innards of the piano. Conjuring a unique percussive sound. He finishes with the beautifully delicate “More” from “Felt”, a track who’s pattering notes replicates raindrops with its piano and xylophone. The delicacy of this track was engendered during an era when he had to literally cover the piano hammers in felt so as not to disturb his neighbours.
He often feels like a mad scientist in his omnivorous approach to music and his unique engagement with the audience. During his Sunday matinee performance he jokes that it will only be culture lovers there during his evening performance given that it clashes with the football. This is modest though, football will disappoint you at least some of the time. Nils, in his devotion to sound, will never.
Nils Frahm at Barbican / Unwavering Devotion To Sound
Credits:
Artists: Nils Frahm
Photos: Beth Knight
Venue: Barbican Centre / @barbicancentre
Words: Jamie Macleod Bryden / @jamiemacleodbryden
Editor: Maria Abramenko / @mariabramenko
Assistant: Annalisa Fabbrucci / @annalisa_fabbrucci