A Closer Listen
With immigration issues at the forefront of global discussion, Kites could not be more timely. Rutger Zuydervelt‘s score is but one arm of an audio-visual presentation, asking “What is it like to have to flee your homeland at a young age and grow up in an asylum seekers’ centre, in a ‘limbo’ between past and future?” This was the experience of choreographer and dancer Roshanak Morrowatian, who was born in Iran but now makes her home in The Netherlands. As all profits from the music will aid Gaza Children, the project has come full circle.
The “Bags” of the opener can be seen in the video, representing not only physical bags but baggage: the emotional weight carried by refugees and immigrants. The issues of identity and belonging resonate far after the national shift. One might add the additional baggage laden upon travelers by spectators who stereotype and in many cases demonize those who are fleeing everything from persecution to violence. In the video, this heavy weight is eventually lifted, but in the track it is expressed through sudden surges of electric current and drone.
The cover image is equally striking. Morrowatian is curved inward, fists clenched. The posture suggests self-protection, a shielding from blows, but also the desire to hold onto one’s dignity, self-image and memories, no matter how harrowing the journey or arrival. In “Places,” the sense of disorientation is borne on the artist’s voice, solo at first, then doubled, then layered. Dolls, I miss them … we haven’t arrived yet. The voice of one conveys the voices of many, soon subsumed by drone and desert sand. Snippets of an old Iranian pop song – a cassette gifted to Zuydervelt by Morrowatian’s parents – wafts through the cloud, an abraded memory, an aural keepsake.
Midway through “Places,” a beat develops, shifting from clacking to drumming, implying the repetitiveness of putting one foot in front of the other, but also the invitation to dance. Better things await. Micro-samples dot the sonic landscape like messages struggling to break through; then melodies replace the percussion, like conversation instead of quotation. The tracks blend together like national borders to birds. “Traces,” the set’s shortest, punchiest piece, sounds like liberation, while “Obsolete Veil” implies a different status for women in the new location, or perhaps simply a reassessment of rules in regard to religion.
Zuydervelt’s score may be only one facet of the project, but it affords the opportunity to reflect on the experience of people seeking asylum. The often-tender music is a reflection of Morrowatian’s empathetic performance. In the closing minutes, the score topples into joy. (Richard Allen)
Thu May 02 00:01:38 GMT 2024