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Review: Erland Cooper, Bristol Beacon – ‘A riveting rumination on nature’
Erland Cooper’s latest release, Carve the Runes Then Be Content With Silence, is his third dedicated to Orkney.
Its three movements were laid down with raw beauty and aplomb in Glasgow back in 2021. We might have never known it, because the tape was then “planted” — “I prefer that to ‘buried’”, Erland tells us; “it’s about letting in light.”
Preceding Cooper’s performance, the short film Recomposing Earth showcases the process and the sentiments behind it — patience, value, respect for art and the wilderness.
is needed now More than ever
A series of interviews (including some stellar sweary content from Paul Weller) mull the idea of being “content with silence”. The tape being irrevocably tarnished was a very real possibility, and one that Cooper made his peace with.
And yet. No need. The result — upon being discovered, dried out, and digitalised once again — is twofold: a totally unique example of collaborating with nature, and a gorgeous record seemingly enriched by its time in the peat.
There are faintly perceptible moments where the soil has manipulated and moulded the sound, mostly in the crackle and fuzz over the poetry of George Mackay Brown. The album’s title is taken from the Orcadian poet’s work, and Brown’s readings lend the music another degree of profundity.
Three or four other tracks weave in among the new record, each highlighting Erland’s compositional clout and the virtuosity of the quartet by his side. Music for Growing Flowers is an earlier marker of Erland’s fascination with music and nature, and at one point he perches stageside as the musicians turn out a lively Scandi tune. Props to solo violinist Freya Goldmark; she’s immaculate throughout.
But ultimately, it’s all about Carve the Runes. Throughout the piece, new motifs and melodies emerge and overlap to prompt new emotions. The ditty-ish, high-pitched lead violin across Movement 1 feels elated, but the cello in Pt. 3 reminds us of nature’s frailty.
Movement 2 is far more reflective, and the final Movement brings back the sense of celebration, with a jubilant refrain casting sunlight on the piece after slower work in sombre tones.
They even play the silence — or rather, they create white noise by manipulating their strings, offering us an “opportunity to remember; a place, a person, anything.”
The evening feels every bit a rumination on nature, from its status as a Beacon Green Gig (with a pre-concert panel exploring climate action within the music industry) to Erland’s enigmatic experimentation.
At his request, we play chirps of blackbirds from our phones, with those familiar notes of spring given greater weight by the stunningly simple Holm Sound on the keys. The volume of nature rises and falls, but it’s always there.
You’ve every sense that Erland Cooper’s artistry is a near-necessity in the modern world. It transcends the music. It alludes to something bigger. His creative conscience is manifest in softly spoken interludes, unassuming humour, and floaty, dramatic gestures across the stage. But it’s also there in every enchanting note.
All images: Samuel Fletcher
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