Laurence Pike - The Undreamt-of Centre

A Closer Listen

While many great requiems have been written over the years, their form has remained staid.  How might one inject new life into an old musical form about death?  Can a modern requiem be both unique and reverent?  After losing his father-in-law, Laurence Pike began to ask himself such questions, which are answered in The Undreamt-of Centre.

The title is taken from Rilke’s “Sonnets to Orpheus,” the album’s starting point the Latin Mass.  And yet, this is unlike any Latin mass anyone has ever heard.  The Vox Sydney Philharmonia Choir provides the comforting, traditional tone while Pike’s percussion contributes something new: a hint of the unexpected that matches the human reaction in the face of the great unknown.  Hearing the same old songs and the same old forms may be comforting, but it is no longer mysterious.  The artist’s conclusion that “all life is a constant transition of states” is brought to bear on his music, fittingly recorded in a 19th century Gothic church.

At first there is only the choir and a shimmer like angels’ wings.  Then a beat: slow, steady, still traditional, like a New Orleans funeral march.  The choir reaches for the heights, their intonation reminiscent of Hildegard von Bingen; the drums begin to rattle: like bones, like shaken souls.  The listener is drawn into the music, which bears the message, this life was unique, so why should the mass sound like everyone else’s mass?  The end of the introit is rhythmic, inviting body movement. A slightly discomforting thought comes to mind: if all requiems were this intriguing, would we become funeral crashers?  The thought is dismissed as we remember that this is an album.

“Mountains Of The Heart” is trancelike, recalling African tribal ceremonies.  Unusual percussive patterns break free of the trance, as if expressing individual thoughts.  The piece stops briefly and restarts, like a stopped heart followed by a resurrection.  A few things are unfolding at the same time:  Orpheus is descending into the underworld, Pike is recalling his father-in-law, the choir is attempting to console.  The brief title track showcases church bells, while “Eurydice” contains the poignant sound of footsteps as Orpheus begins to walk toward the light.  The gut punch is not the loss of Eurydice, but how close Orpheus comes to getting her back.

Only after the loss sinks in does the timbre turn electronic.  “Requiem Aeternam” begins as a drone with synth arpeggios until the choir enters to re-inject the human element.  After a loss, one is cold until another offers warmth.  By offering a new framework for grief, Pike leads the way to the light. (Richard Allen)