Reviews

Doug ThomasFlavia Massimo is an Italian cellist, sound designer and event curator who trained, and sits, between contemporary classical, avant-garde and electronic music. 

She has composed for exhibitions, audio-guides, dance and theatre performances as well as interactive art installations. Massimo has also worked as a sound designer with the CRM music research center in Rome. On top of that, she is the artistic director of Paesaggi Sonori, an unusual festival of cultural events in exceptional naturalistic locations.

Glitch is Massimo's first solo release, and is quite a fascinating one. Halfway between mistreatment and loving devotion; the Italian composer creates a work that is singular and difficult to classify, yet mesmerising and intriguing. 

While Massimo is a cellist, the first observation which strikes the listener with “Gagaku” is the approach that the composer has. The piece is highly modern, layered, textural and almost three dimensional. The instrument is developed into an orchestra of its own and in the first few moments of the album only, one can hear several musical facets. While it is acoustic, it is also highly electronic. In just a few notes, Massimo creates an entire audio experience. “Steps” is based on an organised set of rhythmic noises, which then lend to a pizzicato cello, which in its turn provides the looped canvas for field noises and extra-musical sounds. In “Data Transfer” Massimo illustrates the electronic process through processing her own instrument; reversing it, inverting it, filtering it, expanding and reducing it until it sounds like a new entity — In Glitch, the musician creates her own laboratory of experiences and the cello is her subject. “Oxygen” is almost the most traditional — if that word can apply to Massimo's work at all — of the pieces of Glitch. Its aggressive, beating cello leaves space to an almost ethereal pulsated musical work. “Bit Pass” is another piece which superimposes a weeping cello against an urban filtered roaming patch which slowly fades into electrical noises and disturbances. Finally, and splendidly, “Chromosome XX” is a compendium of the album, featuring all of the extensive techniques and electronic devices that Massimo has used throughout the futuristic voyage. 

Massimo’s approach to the cello is quite unique; in addition to extended techniques, she complements and merges voice, synth, field recordings, loops and electronics — all this in order to create one singular augmented instrument. It is thanks to this approach that Glitch is so expressive, and so well illustrated. Through this ultra-modern approach, the cello is transformed into a new processed system in itself. 

A glitch is an error in the system; something which did not go right. It is often related to technology and electronics, and the connection with Massimo’s music is evident here. By making the cello sound wrong, Massimo gets it right!

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Monolith CocktailClassico-electonica is an atoll where music is bountiful. The ringed-islets and sandy spaces have surfaced as the result of the volcanism of the modernists and post-romanticists. A deep lagoon saucers in the centre. The turquoise-blue water quavers and trebles endlessly. Time is not continuous here. Varèse and Stockhausen had once inhabited the islets and moved on to become coral. This is the post-world of Moondog and Pierre Henry. This is the precursor to an unknowable futurism. This is the present day space where Frahm and Richter key quietly in the twilight. The reedy bass of Stetson offsets the lilting harp strings of Lattimore. The warmth of the cello-bowing of Coates radiates like the sun. Along the shorelines and sands, the horizon is momentarily interrupted by a dot that hazes gently in the distance. The dot blots and slowly comes into focus. This is Flavia Massimo. She is rowing across the calm sea. She will shortly arrive on the beach to play Glitch.

There is an innate delicateness to Massimo’s sound. Gentle gongs reverberate and pace-make on ‘Gagaku’. They bob like buoys in open water. She hits, strings and bows in triadic equipoise. The result is meditative. Here, Massimo beautifully blends these ritualistic traditions (Gagaku is an ancient form of Japanese court music) with the opposing turbulence (at points she channels the lightspeed of L. Shankar) and broad-stroke soundscaped minimalism that are idiosyncratic to modern ambienism. She approaches the beach.

‘Steps’ is balladic. The notes disembark and tip-toe around a pas de deux interplay of slapped pizzicato. This motif steadily repeats around the brooding narrative of tremolo and white noise and analog effects. It beguiles.

‘Data Transfer’ opens as a thrashing melee. Alive and anatomical, the piece builds into a pulsing polyphony. The vocals inhale and exhale. The held chords are choral. The 4-4 beat is plainsong steady. The élan vital here is Massimo’s mastering of the interstitium, i.e., the spaces between the tissue planes that she slowly electrifies and neon-ifies. She lets her attack-mode-driven pulses laser and spark. She stands steady with cutters and feeds wires into her classical instrumentation.

‘Oxygen’ is a journey of aerobic respiration. The oxygen enters our bodies through the measured adagio. The sforzando is the lifeblood: rubrous, iron-clad, heavy. Her legato bowing echoes the held synths of Vangelis. The beat is opaque. Through its structural complexities, and eventual degradation, we witness the metamorphosis of oxygen. We are left with energy, and water.

I envisage quiet rainfall on ‘Bit Pass’. The leggiero sings. High-pitched static are droplets on my window. The subtle percussive pops puddle on the periphery. The piece is endless, like precipitation. It is symphonic. It is beautiful. If Glitch was a symphony, this would be its adagietto. It simply glistens.

‘Chromosome Xx’ marks a departure from the organic. The machinations and collé bowing are rhythmically complex and the plucked-strings halo circumferentially in slow-motion to disintegrate into noisecore distance. The ending is subtle. It warps into quietude, like Tchaikovsky’s Sixth.

This is undoubtedly a strong debut from Massimo. She has set up camp on the atoll where her sound pools quietly in the lagoon. She offers us abstract minimalism. There is an off-set asymmetry to her sound. The tone is elegiac. She channels classicism but in measured doses. She appears to find joy in the uncertainty. To her, form appears unnecessary. Like the wavelets that milled through her cogwheeling oars in open water, she is strongest in the existential spaces that float around us.

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LoopFlavia Massimo, based in Rome, is a contemporary violoncellist, sound designer and event curator, trained in classical and electronic music. She works with the violoncello, extended techniques and live electronics. Leads sound creation workshops, compose music for installations and soundtracks for exhibitions, audio guides, dance and theater performances, and creates interactive art installations.

Her permanent research on her violoncello enriches her sound possibilities that she unfolds in this album, in addition to the use of her voice, synthesizers, field recordings, loops and live electronics.

‘Glitch’ consists of six tracks in which the violoncello treated in the sound design is combined, along with the plucking of the strings, delivering its maximum acoustic expression in ‘Steps’ and achieving melodies that feels really poignant. In ‘Data Transfer’ a manipulated voice and an unexpected overlapping beat emerge. Then the atmosphere becomes more complex with environmental electronics abstractions. In “Oxygen” some low tone strings appear creating an eerie atmosphere. Whereas in ‘Chromosome Xx’ that close the album,  oriental music influences come up, along with an amalgamation of dirty sounds and complex violoncello dialogues.

Flavia Massimo keeps a perfect balance between classical cello playing and sound design with the nowadays possibilities of technology.

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Igloo Maglectronic and organic instrumental cello-themed music. I like to call it Supernatural Instrumental, because it is made with strings that make the spirits tingle. The cello travels well into these speculative fiction sound environments, the whole album is a series of flowing compositions, a rich inventive electronic exploration of bowed strings and passion and technology. The work Glitch  focuses my mind on the aesthetic of interferences, errors, and sound granules in a melding of acoustics and electronics. The artistry is phenomenal and consistent through the geistscape.

Imagine that ancient chaos still haunts the royal theater. “Gagaku” (5:48), I insist that the ancient imperial spirits probably cannot see us, here in the listening world, I believe we are safe. The historic form of Gakaku blends various traditions of music to accompany slow ceremonies, it was often heard in the imperial court in Japan, a specialized and very elegant reflective form of ancient background music that slows everything down. What I hear makes me think of that historic musical style to start off with, and then goes into entirely new zones and dimensions. Between the tracks, the next one builds on the last one always going up, “Steps” (4:58) that keep moving with determination into oblivion. I like the sequential distortion and then the havoc blossoms, while somehow keeping a sense of entropic distance in places.

Passing grit to the surface ::

“Data Transfer” (4:16) begins with the sound of raw power scraping and grinding, there are voices, this is difficult. Soon cosmic havoc takes hold, there is an emotional visitor who turns out to live here. The force is short and brutal, feel the pressure, interference cannot mask the certainty that there are humans in there, the message upheaves passion, and the song has changed completely. There is something hidden with us, here in the dark, and there is a long way to go. The sound at first makes me think of bullfrogs in a night pond, bow strokes call and answer, thick and beautiful “Oxygen” (8:24), the call extends, the answer holds echoes, endless rusty weeping walls and chimeric winds, then the bowed strokes trickle away. I think I see something, electronic visitors capering about at a great distance, or somehow remotely, I can just barely hear them. Then the choppers sweep through and almost snag us, “Bit Pass” (6:50), the discussion is thorough or sad, like a ghost on the moor in the season of deep frost, a ghost calling sweetly, opening blockages, passing grit to the surface.

Up until this track the beat has been unnecessary, now here comes the awesome power of grunge strings, “Chromosome XX” (3:58), this is the throbbing monster cello slow get down number, this one has legs and is short and is a cello monster, a healer, a savage beast. It all starts with a funky beat then takes you someplace different, then it tears off your head and gets away.

What I like best about this album is that the stories told are all about texture and emotion, sometimes dark and powerful, sometimes delicate yet commanding. The string instruments can make a huge variety of thrilling sounds, trilling and bowing, scratching and sounding wooden and hollow, varnished and polished, dark and scary, brooding and final, even gritty and primitive, all at once. And the strings are not alone, there are electronics and percussives, and ghosts I tell you.

Flavia Massimo is a contemporary cellist, sound designer and event curator, trained in classical and electronic music. She composes soundtracks for exhibitions, audio-guides, dance and theatre performances and creates interactive art installations. Her intense schedule of live performances brings her to work with several well renowned artists of classical, pop and contemporary music in Italy and worldwide. She conducts the workshop Artigianato elettronico del suono, a theoretical and practical laboratory, guiding the audience in the creation of a personal sound through sound-walks, acoustic exercises, digital manipulation and processing of music and ambient samples. She worked, as sound designer, with the CRM (Centro Ricerche Musicali), music research center in Rome. She is the artistic director of Paesaggi Sonori, an unusual festival of cultural events in exceptional naturalistic locations.

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Rumore

VITAL WEEKLYI have no idea who Flavia Massimo is. From her Bandcamp page, I understand she is a " contemporary cellist, sound designer and event curator, both trained in classical and electronic music. She composes soundtracks for exhibitions, audio-guides, dance and theatre performances and creates interactive art installations".  I believe this is her first release - although I don't see the CD mentioned on Discogs or Bandcamp. The title suggests some 'glitch' heavy music, but that is not the case here. Massimo uses voice, synthesizer, field recordings, loops and live electronics and recorded six pieces of rather friendly electronic music, merging with improvisation and modern classical music. The cello remains central in all these pieces, and one can recognize the instrument. Everything else serves the cello, looping, granular synthesis and so on. The music is quite interesting, not only as a showcase of what she does with her instrument but also in the variety of approaches that she uses here. At times she veers towards more traditional improvised music and just as easily bends towards something more electronic or even glitchy. A touch of melody is also on the menu, such as in 'Bit Pass'. There is noise, but no loudness or aggressiveness, which is fine. This is music made with passion and skill and is, I think, a great introduction to her work. (FdW)

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Son Of MarketingFlavia Massimo is an Italian composer, cellist, sound designer, also known as curator of Paesaggi Sonori Festival. She composes soundtracks for exhibitions, audio-guides, dance and theatre performances and creates interactive art installations.

She has announced the release of the solo debut album called Glitch which will be out on June 6th via Audiobulb Records. According to the press release, it renders her unique cello augmented with extended techniques, voice, synth, field recording, loops and live electronics. An organic world where perfection flutters and distorts with a microcosmic grace.

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Rockerilla

GrooveDie Sounds, die die Italienerin Flavia Massimo ihrem Cello entlockt, sind direkt, voll klar da und lassen doch keine Eindeutigkeit zu. Sie sind akustisch, elektronisch, improvisiert, atonal, melodisch, harmonisch, knarzend, verzerrt zugleich, sie sind Songs und Komposition und Noise, Hintergrund und Vordergrund, sie sind neben vielem tatsächlich, was der Titel des Debütalbums besagt: Glitch (Audiobulb, 8. Juni), aber nur wenn der Begriff im weitestmöglichen Sinn verstanden wird, nicht nur als digitales Fehlergeräusch. Eine mögliche Neuigkeit der Neuen Musik und eine Redefinition des guten alten Glitch, hier könnte sie liegen. Der Eindruck des Neuen, größer könnte er kaum werden.

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Sperimentale

Silence & Sound

Armée de son violoncelle, de field recordings, d’éléments électroniques et de pédales d’effets, Flavia Massimo dévoile une partie enfouie d’un monde caché derrière des bribes de boucles flottant dans un espace aux douces tensions, enveloppant le Cosmos pour le protéger des Hommes.

Glitch glisse à coups de mélodies sur des pentes d’ambient, nourries de classicisme et de modernité, déployant ses arabesques dans l’immensité de l’abstraction.

Une certaine forme de mélancolie traverse l’album, enrobée de noirceur suintante aux légers crissements, invitant les rythmes à faire une escale pour mettre en relief les débris d’oublis emprisonnés dans des geôles d’onyx.

Flavia Massimo travaille le son jusque dans ses moindre détails, dépasse des zones floutées par la poésie, embrasse le firmament à coups de glissando recouverts de pluie au ralenti et de nuages emportés par le souffle de la vie. Sublime.

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Nieuwe Noten‘Glitch’ is een wat minder duister album, Massimo zit met haar werk iets meer in de melodieuze hoek. Iets meer, want de opener ‘Gagaku’ valt al direct op door de wijze waarop Massimo hier met pizzicato spel haar zorgvuldig opgebouwde dromerige ritme doorkruist. Iets soortgelijks horen we in ‘Steps’ waarin ik het duidelijk stevig hoor waaien, iets waar de elektronica voor wordt ingezet, terwijl ik tegelijk die cello hoor met iets dat vaag tegen een melodie aanleunt en gekraak en geknisper in de marge. In ‘Data Transfer’ gaat ze nog een paar stappen verder. Dit stuk vangt aan met een frase die veel weg heeft van de situatie die je ervaart als je een zender aan het zoeken bent op de radio, gevolgd door ambient die ook hier weer allesbehalve eenduidig is. Verderop loopt bovendien heel even het ritme op, iets dat in het geheel niet past bij ambient, maar wel bij de titel van dit album. ‘Oxygen’ valt op door die stroeve, spannende bewegingen op de cello, in combinatie met de hier al even spannende elektronica levert het een bijzonder klanklandschap op, voorzien van de nodige melancholie. Mooi en al even duister spel op de cello ook in ‘Bit Pass’, mooi gecombineerd met spannende elektronica. Tot slot klinkt ‘Chromosome XX’ dat nog het meest opvalt door die pizzicato gespeelde ritmische melodie, het vormt een mooi coherent slot van een bijzonder album.

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African PaperDie Cellistin und Sounddesignerin bringt in einigen Tagen ihr neues digitales Album heraus. Auf “Glitch” überblendet sie ihr charakteristisches Cellospiel mit ihrer Stimme und einer Vielzahl an Fieldrecordings, Loops, Synthie-Parts und weiterer Elektronik zu einer fast organisch anmutenden Sammlung an Kompositionen, die im Tempo und im Grad der Experimentierfreude variieren und in der Klangfärbung und der Fata Morgana eines leicht “asiatisch” anmutenden Einschlangs aber so manchen roten Faden aufweisen. Das Album erscheint bei Audiobulb.

“The work “Glitch” is focused on the aesthetic of interferences errors and sound granules in a melt of acoustics and electronics. A glitch a fault in an electronic system becomes a malfunction of the classical way of playing the cello far from the classical music canons to deconstruct the cello sound into small sound cells to experiment with different possibilities so much that almost all the record sounds come from the processing of the instrument. Perfection offers no incentive for improvement and mistake is to go further. However unpredictable it may be it has its own harmony. Integrating the error in a musical composition makes the concept itself harmonic.” (Audiobulb)

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The New NoiseLa voce del violoncello svincolata dalla struttura stringente del lessico classico per essere utilizzata come sorgente sfaccettata di itinerari atmosferici alimentati dall’attitudine alla ricerca. La visione da cui scaturisce l’esordio solista di Flavia Massimo non è di certo inedita, ma la peculiare declinazione che ne offre merita sicuramente massima attenzione. Formatasi al conservatorio de L’Aquila, la musicista abruzzese vanta un’intensa attività in ambito orchestrale alla quale ha gradualmente affiancato l’interesse per le musiche altre, propensione che l’ha condotta a sperimentare tecniche estese sullo strumento preparato e a indagarne le possibili intersezioni con l’elettronica. Questo percorso parallelo ha portato negli anni alla realizzazione di varie installazioni e sonorizzazioni, trovando ora un primo sbocco discografico affidato all’inglese Audiobulb.

L’idea alla base delle sei composizioni è interamente racchiusa nel titolo dell’album e nell’immagine di copertina: l’errore, l’interferenza accolta quale innesco dell’inatteso capace di squarciare l’anelito alla perfezione e aprire verso nuovi orizzonti. Nella foto come nella pratica sonora tale operazione porta a uno slittamento del dato oggettivo, decostruito e manipolato per assumere una forma nuova con cui espandere un immaginario altrimenti bloccato. Alle trame nitide del violoncello si sommano e stratificano frequenze trasfigurate dello stesso strumento, nonché pulsazioni, live electronics, field recordings, loop e modulazioni vocali.

Nella prima parte del lavoro questo denso intreccio conduce – soprattutto nell’iniziale “Gugaku” – alla formulazione di derive dall’eco siderale, che nello sviluppo al tempo stesso onirico e materico rimandano a quel piccolo capolavoro che è Comet’s Coma di Aaron Martin. Pur mantenendo una profonda coesione, il percorso non si mantiene stabile e la spirale convulsa di sorgenti cangianti da cui ha origine “Data Transfer” lo rivela con forza. Da qui in avanti l’atmosfera scivola verso un paesaggio sonoro più cupo, fatto di movenze lente e battiti. Il tono crepuscolare che ne deriva rimanda alle strutture più inquiete di Julia Kent e nei frangenti più ruvidi al pathos dissonante della Mariel Roberts di “Armament”.

Quello dipinto è un universo indomito, in cui ogni idea musicale trova la giusta collocazione costruendo un viaggio aurale complesso ma sempre coerente, dal quale si evince a pieno quanto potenziale sia in gioco, materia creativa che certamente si lascerà ammirare in ulteriori, ammalianti tracciati elettroacustici.

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