A Closer Listen
The Tinnitus Chorus is the second tinnitus-themed album we’ve reviewed this year, following Lola de la Mata’s Oceans on Azimuth. de la Mata had been advised to abandon her musical career. In Michael Scott Dawson‘s case, “The clicks, ringing tones, and hiss in his ears had been drowning out the ringing tones, clicks, and hiss in his studio.” Each composer tackles the affliction in a different recording manner: de la Mata by diving into the heart of the imposing sounds, and Dawson by enlisting the help of friends. Ten guests appear on The Tinnitus Chorus, one twice. A wide variety of influences is fused into a seamless set, in the same manner as white noise cancels out tinnitus. In the cover photo, the peaceful pink of the house establishes the tone, while two smokestacks loom in the background: a visual metaphor.
The little pops, tape hisses and warbles that normally appear in Dawson’s productions now seem less like nostalgia and more like aural echoes. The affliction has not gone away, but from time to time it is in retreat. Michael Grigoni, who lends a hand to the opening and closing tracks, invites the listener – and perhaps Dawson – to wake up and lie down in peace. It has seldom been more apparent that often ambient artists make such music because they need it themselves. The birds, too, are high-pitched, but welcome. The sea is low-pitched, a panacea.
One of the most beautiful tracks is “Where There Is Happiness There Is Happiness,” featuring M. Sage. The sentiment is obvious, but the repetition is crucial. This particular form of ambience, which Sage calls “a musical music box,” is more subdued than joy but longer-lasting; the guitar speaks of acceptance, contentment, rest. In the distance, children play.
The album makes room for an assortment of sounds. The languid sax on “Present Day,” leads to a light shower, whose frequencies can also cancel tinnitus. On “Mono Lake,” micro sound becomes macro sound over repetitions of a bass note. Dawson’s Peace Flag Ensemble bandmates reunite on “The Treadmill of My Worries” to support one of their own. Vumbi Dekula singlehandedly makes “Fondness” the album’s most ebullient track, injecting a cup of Congolese celebration. One can do more than deal with tinnitus; one can thrive. By the time Grigoni comes back around again, one has forgotten the tinnitus and is concentrating on the chorus. (Richard Allen)
Sat Aug 31 00:01:25 GMT 2024