Thu, 24 Feb 2022

from 20:00 Solo evening

REA

Photo: REA

For REA, the whole year is autumn: plenty of light and crisp clean air, the mist over the Aare, the whole shebang. Autumn that smells of freedom and laughing colors. Talking foxes are standard equipment. REA can set silence to music at 110 decibels. She enters the circle and says: “It’s too beautiful to be me.” We believe her.

Rea Dubach (voc, electronics)

Sebastian Bättigs Ulme

In ancient Greece, elm trees were believed to possess healing powers. In the far north, they were thought to be the ancestors of part of the human race. We think Sebastian Bättig would make an excellent tree: his music is a beautifully soothing network of branching sounds, the soughing of the guitar amp, the dance of the worms between roots and audio cables—and every now and then, a bolt of lightning.

Sebastian Bättig (g)

Liz Kosack

Photo: Juliane Schütz

Swimming day in the universe. Hissing water, hot steam. A single thought drips from the tap, cables clog the drain. Clear water flows over the head, a book in the hand. Melodic cascades drown out all doubts. In the midst of a basin full of synthesizers, Liz Kosack: the janitor of the cat empire.

Liz Kosack (synth)

Marc Stucki

Marc Stucki sits in an abandoned studio and listens to playbacks from his VHF-saturated youth. Old transistors hiss, frustrated in their vain search for living frequencies. On channel one, a saxophone is playing.

Marc Stucki (sax)

Steffi Narr

In the 80s, she probably would have made sci-fi movies: a tangle of hoses and pipes thwarting escape. A low drone, either from an improperly grounded toaster or from a more looming threat. The whistle of apocalyptic rotor blades, dust in the air. Blinking control panels and the radiant, nonchalant heroine who has everything under control.

Steffi Narr (g)

NÂR

Bells, voice and electricity: Nadia Daou is in a constant state of flux. Sometimes it sounds almost like music; sometimes it sounds like the early shift at the iron works. Like mantras she repeats text fragments in Arabic, then she recites a poem by Sylvia Plath. Her music is fragile and abrasive; her references circle the globe. What should one expect from NÂR? Ideally, nothing at all.

Nadia Daou (voc, electronics, bells)

00:00 Split