Maya Shenfeld - Under the Sun
A Closer Listen
Under the Sun is a study in contrasts: the way things are and the way things could be. Even the internal dynamics shift beneath the ears, from seismic drone to effervescent electronics, from oboe and recorders to organ and choir. While grounded, the album also travels into space. The fact that it holds together so well is a testament to the vision of Maya Shenfeld, who has produced a remarkable statement, championing diversity through diversity.
Shenfeld is nothing if not hopeful. She envisions a future of collaboration and cooperation, in contrast to popular prognostications. By quoting the words of the prophet Ecclesiastes (“There is nothing new under the sun”), she both exposes and challenges assumptions.
The spiritual tone of the recording is evident from the opening organ tones of opening “A guide for the perplexed” to the exuberant finale from the Youth Choir Ritterchor, conducted by Ann-Kristin Mayr. Underneath it all ~ first apparent in “Tehom,” a Hebrew word that means “The Abyss” ~ are subterranean rumbles captured in Portugal’s Vila Viçosa marble quarries on one of the hottest days in history. The opaque yellow vinyl is a symbol of the scorching sun in an era of climate change. Is it “all meaningless, a chasing after the wind?”
The Philosopher was very old when he wrote his words; he had tried everything in his pursuit for meaning, save for love and friendship. He ruled, but he didn’t let anyone in. By this we question if he was truly wise; his blind spot opens the door for discussion. If Ecclesiastes arrived at such dour conclusions alone, what conclusions might collaboration produce?
Just when the album seems to be nearing maximum density in “Geist” (meaning ghost, spirit, mind or intellect, as in Zeitgeist), the tone and timbre shift. “Interstellar” is an uplifting synth excursion that suggests a reaching for the stars; Emptyset’s James Ginzburg makes a guest appearance. Might there really be reason for optimism? “Light, refracted” features processed choir, a staple of sci-fi scores, supplanted by unadorned choir in the finale, reflecting the idealism of youth.
In the end, the drone attempts to swallow the choir, but fails. The signal outlasts the noise. May this vision become a reality. (Richard Allen)
Tue Feb 13 00:01:52 GMT 2024The Quietus
I am of the firm belief that the opening track, whether it be an instrumental, skit or song, will tell you whether the ensuing album is going to profoundly move you or not. Maya Shenfeld’s Under The Sun is ambient at its core yet contains tonal fluctuations in ways that push the listener to question every aspect of the environment that surrounds them, or even the reality in which they experience (or believe they experience).
The album is a mirage that is every bit dazzling, piercing (at times haunting) in its use of synthesisers, organs and the distant-memory-like sound of the Ritter Youth Choir. It’s as if Shenfield seeks to communicate something she has seen that ‘ordinary folk’ happen to be blissfully unaware of through Under the Sun. It’s an evocative existential querying of the here and now, whilst also communicating a desire for a better tomorrow. Under the Sun paints a landscape true of its nature, and not the one(s) we fanatically conjure for the benefit of self-interests, or even self-preservation.
‘A Guide for the perplexed’ is a fitting title for the opener. It is unmistakeably foreboding, either pointing to an impending sense of doom or encapsulating our current state of living. Organ chords from St Matthew’s Church are siren-like at the very genesis, incrementally increasing in pitch in and amongst the repetitions. There is something that grows nearer that can no longer be ignored. What threatens to arrive? Will it ever arrive? It is prolonged, perhaps communicating a drawn-out, ever-present angst in association with these existential queries. Like birds of the same feather, ‘Tehom’ and ‘Geist’ are bullishly similar in their exploration of the unknown though the former is heavily industrial in its composition, riddled with the drilling sounds of clanging metal and unidentifiable industrial soundbites that suggest an environment succumbed to a post-apocalyptic reality. Perhaps this is the uncomfortable feeling of “the pursuit of meaning amidst change and uncertainty” that Shenfield refers to in the press release.
There is a beautifully dramatic tonal shift in ‘Light, Refracted’ as the distantly angelic (at times absurdly haunting) Ritter Youth Choir enter the fray. Transient voices, as if that of a different realm, erupt before yielding to drone-like synth chords that heighten anxiety. Neither welcoming nor shunning away, bathing you like the icy moonlight (perhaps hope, if you are glass half-full). Such feelings of uncertainty persist throughout the record until its climax, ‘Analemma’. The Ritter Youth Choir return with vocals higher in tone, akin to hope, again meddling with our idea of time, as if drifting into our existence from another in seraphic tones. Shenfield’s ongoing proximity to drone synth chords is evident again, in its harshness emanating the difficulty of change with a glimmer of some future reprieve.
Throughout Under the Sun, Shenfield seeks a metaphysical metamorphosis in the minds of the listeners. She seeks to forge her own in attempts to discard what currently is, in favour of what could be. Under the Sun is well crafted, interrogating the listener and experimental where it needs to be, gifting you with something to gain throughout.
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Sun Feb 18 18:12:26 GMT 2024