Eyvind Kang’s recording career is quite astonishing — and at variance with its humble decade-and-a-half span — to the extent that it’s surprising how under-the-radar he’s perched compared to some of his associates. No doubt if his name is unfamiliar, his playing is most probably not, having made guest appearances on — to name but a few — Mr. Bungle’s California, Master Musicians of Bukkake’s The Visible Sign of the Invisible Order, Animal Collective’s Feels, The Decemberists’ The Crane Wife, and sunn 0)))’s Monoliths & Dimensions. Concerning the latter, Stephen O’Malley commends that “Eyvind Kang’s tremendous efforts on sunn 0)))’s Monoliths & Dimensions album helped elevate the group’s presence to a new level creatively and aesthetically.”
Visible Breath is the fourth release from Ideologic Organ, a new imprint curated by O’Malley and operating under Editions Mego. The record consists of three tracks; the first two — “Visible Breath” and “Monology” — feature the musicianship of Stewart Dempster and Julian Priester on trombones, Cuong Vu on trumpet, Taina Karr on oboe, Timb Harris on violin, Jessika Kenney on voice, Miguel Frasconi on glass, and Cristina Valdez and Steven Moore on piano and electric piano respectively. Despite a dense lineup, the music never feels overloaded, maintaining a delicacy throughout. The third and final track, “Thick Tarragon,” is sparser in texture, featuring Susan Alcorn on pedal steel guitar and Janel Leppin on modified cello. Three years separate the recording of the final track and its two antecedents (recorded back in 2008), but there is no let-up in consistency, other than the granted timbral shift.
There’s something spiritual about Kang’s music to date, thus I was not surprised after purchasing the John Zorn-edited book Arcana V: Musicians on Music, Magic & Mysticism to find that he, along with vocalist Jessika Kenney, had authored one of its essays, entitled “Hyakintos and Pardeh.” The second of the essay’s three sections is particularly fascinating in its description of pardeh; “the senses, the entry points and the interstices of phenomenal existence,” they write, are pardeh, and “if separation and union is the lover’s discourse, pardeh is the intermediary and the boundary alike.” Without a doubt, Kang’s sensitivity toward the phenomenal mechanisms carries through on Visible Breath and is audible in its considered gestures. The sustained notes too convey patience and an eagerness to thoroughly explore the potential of sound and harmony.
It is in keeping with Eyvind Kang’s unassuming persona that he would suggest the following: “Music isn’t dead, but held captive, kept prisoner within a parade of falsely glamorized forms. Like a corpse which has been overly made up, the forms are glamorized to the point where music is no longer recognizable.” Visible Breath, however, testifies the converse; the music is assuredly recognizable, or else — by way of its title — almost visible.
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