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Enrico Coniglio’s Galaverna imprint is back after a two-year hiatus, returning strong with Ramon De Marco‘s sonic exploration of Venice’s famous lagoon. The title is translated “the nameless hour,” although we’re having some fun with phonetics, as l’ora senza nome might be pronounced Laura sends a gnome in savage English. Even this may not be too far off the mark, as the recording deals with humanity’s sonic intrusions, the balance and the beauty upset by the brashness.
How much of each aspect might different listeners wish to hear? One resident of Venice may claim that “Venice doesn’t sound like this,” while another might insist that it does. Not everyone gets to wake up to the sound of squawking seabirds. One day, it is possible that nobody will. Distant traffic can be heard in the background of the opening piece, although a person waking up in the heart of Venice might hear the opposite: traffic with distant birds.
De Marco attempts to create a sonic cocoon around the city, characterized by calm over chaos, but harsher elements lurk just inside the perimeter, waiting to intrude. The first massive interruption arrives in “drones of war,” which juxtaposes the sounds of water and unidentified drones: perhaps actual drones, perhaps motors, lawnmowers or factory hum. There’s no question that the drones “win” this piece, dominating the biophany. Even the waves, when they finally grow audible again, have shrunken in intensity, seemingly subdued. The irony is that humanity cannot control water, no matter how hard it tries; the compound will have its way.
In contrast, the more peaceful “photosynthesis above&below” is as humble as drizzle, a soft pink noise all too often drowned out by, as Garret Keizer writes, “the unwanted sound of everything we want.” Waves will lap in a harbor as long as the harbor exists; one day they will reclaim the shore. In the meantime, other sounds stake their claim, from jet skis to foghorns to passing planes. Even a church bell – a “classic” human addition – cannot be heard clearly until the more abrasive sounds retreat. Does anyone remain to appreciate the sound of a “rasping pier?” And how might such a sound be classified: nature recording or human debris? The curiosity continues in the title track, with wind chimes in the background and waves and conversation in the background. Theremin adds a hint of the otherworldly; can the “real Venice” be captured on tape, or is it all a matter of perspective? The city, the lagoon and the imagination all meet at this sonic juncture.
By making the city a supporting character in his sonic play, De Marco underlines the fact that the lives of Venetians are interwoven with the health of the lagoon. Those who embark on this sonic journey may gain a new appreciation not only for the expanse of water, but for the importance of its preservation. (Richard Allen)
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