Compact disc, 2024. Available from KV2 Computer Music, Finland; www.vakeva.org.

Reviewed by Ross Feller
Gambier, Ohio, USA

According to the liner notes, the seven fixed media, electroacoustic works on Void are to be considered as an ordered collection of compositions that may also be heard or performed separately. All the compositions were generated by the composer using a variety of synthesis methods produced by his own software written in C++.  The results, as the composer outlines in the liner notes, contain sound and pitch-based material, with the latter generally adhering to microtonal principles.

The first piece, “Void I” presents video game type sounds within a variable speed context. We hear crackling sounds and wind, or water flowing. Here, and in several of the other pieces on this collection, nature is used as a conceptual backdrop for the sound material, which lends a sense of organicity to the ways in which Väkevä develops his materials. After about four minutes the texture changes, but only briefly before heading back into sonic territory that had been covered during the previous four minutes. This work never establishes anything for long enough to make an impression on the listener. Conversely, the ever-shifting texture presents continually evolving material that some listeners might find compelling.

“I Saw Eternity,” the second piece, is the longest work on this collection, clocking in at almost 14 minutes. The introduction sounds like a prominent sample of choral voices had been time-stretched, while juxtaposed above a sparse layer containing high-pitched bells. The time-stretched part slowly changes until it reveals its FM synthesis base after about five minutes. This moment also corresponds with a brief section in which the sounds seem to change focus from a notched emphasis of mid-frequencies to a more balanced distribution of frequencies. According to the liner notes, all of the sounds in this composition stem from inharmonic overtones of a bell. The composer states: “The interest of the listener, however, is probably caught by the granulated sustained-sounds in the mid-register with their wavering character and almost chorus-like whispers…” His statement may explain the title, but what I described as the notched emphasis of these mid-register sounds is somewhat painful to listen to, especially if you are listening via headphones. The last two minutes sounded like a filter had been opened, and then closed again for the remaining 30 seconds or so. The ending fadeout sounded prematurely shortened, especially considering the overall length of this piece. Or, in other words, the tension generated by this piece sounded inadequately resolved – it rushed to close after creating many listening pathways.

“Void II,” the third piece, begins with a section featuring what the composer calls “noisy eruptions” that “recur periodically.” To realize this work the composer used granular and physical-modeling synthesis methods. To control his pitched material he developed an evolving process from an initial ‘seed’ interval. This process kept the newly generated pitch materials fresh and unexpected. The same cannot be said of the rhythmic materials, which oscillate between long, overlapping sustains that mask a sense of pulsation, and short groups of attacks that accelerate or de-accelerate slightly. The latter effect takes the form of virtual bells being rung. Unlike the previous piece, the fadeout at the end is effectively long and phased.

The fourth piece, “I Kiss the Sky,” also employs granular synthesis and physical modeling systems, but they develop differently: the former stay focused, while the latter become unglued, as it were, “as if vaporizing in the air,” according to the composer. There are long stretches of this work that remind me of hearing Shepard Tones, wherein the ‘bottom’ of a sound mass seems to continue descending indefinitely. Another intriguing aspect to this piece is how the composer separately spatializes different frequency bands. This technique creates a distinct tactility of sound in the listener. The overall, dynamic volume for this work is quite intense, over long stretches of time. Perhaps this is a nod to the title’s dedicatee – Jimi Hendrix - and his fully saturated guitar sound.

According to the liner notes, “Void III,” the fifth piece, “begins with deep-pitched membranophone sounds that have been a controlled simulated acoustic feedback.” These sounds are used in recurring sections, separated by other sections that explore “other kinds of voices.” This occurs in the middle of the piece, where the composer seems to manipulate the amplitude envelope shapes to create a sound mass containing video game ‘sound creatures.’ This work is a good example of a composer reusing specific synthesis techniques to generate quite different timbres and textures than found in some of the previous compositions on this disc.

“If Bees are Few” opens with an ominous “chord of buzzing sounds.” The title refers to Emily Dickson’s lyrics, which may have been used within the composer’s employment of vocal formant synthesis. Väkevä also reuses the concept of generating material from an initial seed value, as well as granular synthesis and microtonal pitch collections. There seems to be a greater effort in this work to shape the gestural materials with respect to filtering, depth effects, and spatialization. This results in a more convincing composition, largely due to the nuanced ways in which the sounds develop. During the last 20 seconds, or so, the piece dissipates in such a way as to suggest that the work could have gone on for much longer but was cut short due to practical or aesthetic reasons.

The final piece on this disc, “Void IV,” was created from “computer-generated sounds of primarily stringed-instrument qualities.” The composer goes on to explain his intentions for this piece: “I wanted to explore the sounds from different playing techniques, and therefore I programmed a realistic physical model into my synthesis environment. I chose Cordis and implemented its basic functionality into my own C++ system, and that gave me the possibility to play arco/pizz., sp./st.. (sul ponticello and sul tasto) harmonics, fingered trill, etc. like playing a real string instrument.” This compositional motivation reminds me of similar incorporations by spectral composers such as Gerard Grisey, especially in his composition “Transitoires” (1980-81), which was based on sonographic analyses of the double bass played in five different ways: pizzicato, arco, poco sul ponticello, sul ponticello, and ponticello. This idea has produced some convincing work, and in the case of “Void IV” Väkevä adds an additional layer of conceptual complexity by using parameter values that “make the vibrating string not uniform (i.e., inhomogeneous), or applied damping the string heavily at varying points while plucking, and so on. Furthermore, I modeled the effect of the resonances of the body of the instrument, and the acoustics of the surrounding space.” The result is a subtly nuanced work that holds the listener’s attention over extended periods of time.

Overall, Void adheres to consistent aesthetic values, expressed using similar synthesis methods from piece to piece, and a tacit acceptance of certain large-scale formal structures. The music contained herein employs largely through-composed forms that lack sudden textural or formal shifts, or what free improvisers describe as sharp edges, students of Xenakis call catastrophe theory, and Herbert Brün described as the principle of the non-sequitur. One wonders what music might result from the inclusion of these formal attributes into the already-established procedures that we routinely find in the work of Kari Väkevä.

A final word about the packaging for this compact disc: When I initially opened the cd I was met with many tiny shards of plastic. The internal contents had evidently been shattered by the vagaries of the snail mail process. This, and the fact that many potential listeners do not own cd players or drives, speaks to the advantages of digital downloads. Nevertheless, holding a three-dimensional cd and booklet in hand feels substantial and offers the holder a hope that these physical objects will outlast their digital duplicates, which will inevitably fall prey to the vagaries of fatal hard drive crashes or system failures. One would like to have it both ways.