A Closer Listen
The Art of Surrender bears the artist’s experiences in its musical notes. If the percussion seems at times off-kilter and the violin morose; if the electronics bubble in like counterposed thoughts; if the tone ranges from melancholic to resolute, there’s a reason. The album cover displays a woman’s arm in the foreground, in sharp focus; the composer plays in the background, blurred. While the image is a video still, it is also symbolic. Christopher Tignor had to find himself again during its creation, learning The Art of Surrender; and from the sound of it, he has.
Few lives turn out as planned. Sometimes this is a blessing, other times a burden. For Tignor, the writing process began in the wake of a ruptured relationship and bloomed in the light of new love. Applying this romantic inversion to the compositional process, Tignor allows the music to lead where it will, letting go of previous modes of creation. The percolating synth of “Any Way to Reach You” offers an undercurrent of optimism, hoping to be heard through the keen of despair. Who is the “you?” Even if the artist intends the “you” to be the lost love, the track now speaks to the listener, the artist, and those who have never heard the music.
In Jason Akira Somma’s video for “Ritual of a Thousand Limbs,” dancer Rachelle Nidra Somma sways and bends with the music. At first she seems to be dancing double time, but the ear soon grows attuned to the melodies of the violin; Tignor is playing faster than we think. Multiplying images enhance the feeling of disorientation. The title refers to the 1000 arms and hands of the compassionate bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara. There is more than one Tignor. There is more than one Nidra Somma. There is more than one path, and Tignor is playing more than one instrument. His feet control the pedals, software, a kick drum. At the end, the palms of the dancer are turned upright in supplication.
The nearly 13-minute “Forms in a Flame” is the album highlight, and the opening half includes the album’s most confident, forward movement, one that could become a single if one were so inclined to dilute the power of the full piece. The back half of the composition is less immediate yet no less intense: a period of refraction and reflection, enhanced by an extended excision of beats. The title “She Comes In Waves” is open to interpretation: is she love, or happiness, or sorrow, or depression, or all these things? Mirroring the title, the music approaches in crest and trough. Sparkling synths return, as if inviting the listener to float.
Tignor calls the 70-second closer a prayer; in this position, it also acts as a benediction, an amen to all that has unfolded, an acceptance of life’s tapestry, revealed frame by frame. (Richard Allen)
Sat Sep 23 00:01:36 GMT 2023