In his sharply observed liner note essay, Canadian composer Martin Arnold refers to the two pieces on this beguiling album—written by Rebecca Bruton and Jason Doell — as “psychedelic,” which is not a description one expects for contemporary classical music. “It seems to me that undermining/displacing cultural conventions/pre-conditionings is not a straightforward task. You can’t just do something that’s not them: something the opposite or something exotically strange, for example.” Indeed, both works undercut a familiarity with weird, disorienting elements. In Bruton’s Faerie Rhythm, it’s the composer’s own folk-ish, wordless singing and shy whistling that feels deliciously alien, limning elegantly proportioned lines and shapes articulated by Montréal’s endlessly adventurous and adaptable Quatuor Bozzini. All of that sits alongside the work of Toronto keyboard trio junctQín, which sticks exclusively to acoustic piano here. The relative activity of the two outer sections of the piece involved all the musicians, but the two middle parts strip things down to a sparse solo piano passage, which is soon enhanced by solo piano, joining to refashion the outer parts in a solemn, melancholy reverie of unabashed beauty and deceptive simplicity. Doell’s undeniably trippy “to carry dust & breaks through the body” get a lot of its warped qualities from the deceptive fake drone that emerges as the strings steadily pitch down half a step throughout the piece while the piano maintains the same tuning, which makes it seem as if the keyboard is losing it. The interplay between the work’s tender melodic thrust and the increasingly sour harmonic confusion provides its unalloyed power.

Hypnokaséta (82U) is an outgrowth of what Yannis Kyriakides dreamed in the Corona lockdown. It is performed by Quatuor Bozzini, the fantastic string quartet in Montréal, Andy Moor (from The Ex, Lean Left, The Heretics with Anne James Chaton) on guitar & tapes and Kyriakides himself with electronics. The tapes play an essential role in the quartet’s interplay with Moor’s improvised interludes. Because the “cassette theory of dreaming” is at play: Where we had thought there were dreams, there is only an unconscious composition process and an equally unconscious memory-loading process. It goes back to the cognitive scientist Daniel C. Dennett (1942-2024), whose naturalistic view of the world is free of ghosts, elves, Easter bunnies — or God. Universal evolution and what is called freedom and the self are based exclusively on the mechanisms of variation, selection and replication, on memes, leitmotifs and repetitions at the “centre of narrative gravity”. Kyriakides spins a narrative dream thread in six flowing passages: The government’s new cultural scheme / All roads to the airport are blocked / Everyone is nervous, everyone is lost… London is covered in mud… The reluctant hotel manager / She lifts the mountain… Bridges are being dismantled across the city… And delegates to Moor an unconscious composition process and an equally unconscious memory-loading process. Electro-acoustically interwoven, a hauntingly singing and emotive individual voice occasionally stands out from the dreamy, apparently also electronically swirled harmony of the strings — Clemens Merkel & Alissa Cheung on violins, Stéphanie Bozzini on viola, Isabelle Bozzini on cello. Contrary to the expectation of surreal plundering and collaging, the tape & guitar track etc. is ’only’ a vague noise film ’in the silence of the night’ and a wiry plonk or scrape. Quatuor Bozzini dreams early music into liquid fluctuations, lapses into repetitive arte povera or complex dissonances into bubbling or gentle droning. Sometimes it sounds like opera singing, then it booms again, bowed and electronic, elegiac and sonorous. Moor plinks towards glissanding mutations on an empty grid, and Pizzicato picks A harpsichord in a derelict palace. Whistling strings and creaky lutes mingle with fragile plucking and delicate strokes. The concert promoter complains that not much happens in the piece / Tranquilizer… Kyriakides follows his own dreams, not the wishes of others.

When it comes to being a music writer, for me, at least, perhaps even more of a buzz than getting advance listens of the most eagerly-anticipated releases is being exposed to music I otherwise wouldn’t have. And the nature of the avant-garde means that you have to be in the know to know. Being introduced to the Unsounds label and the work of Yannis Kyriakides certainly opened my eyes — and more so my ears — to a whole expanse of music I assumed must exist, but would have had no obvious means of locating or accessing while going about my ordinary life before.

Although I’ve only dipped in and out of Yannis Kyriakides’ output, more as one with a casual interest than a fan per se, his work has never ceased to impress with its range and constant questing for something different, something new, both sonically and methodologically and “Hypnokaséta (2020-2021) is no exception.

Kyriakides’ introductory notes explain both the concept and the practice behind the recording of the album: “Hypnokaséta (2020-2021) is a continuous set of 16 pieces for string quartet, improviser (playing cassettes and any instrument) and live electronics. The source material is based on dreams that I had during the first few months of lockdown, April-June 2020. Accounts of these dreams are encoded in the music that is played by the quartet and also encrypted in the sound textures that surround this.

“The pieces alternate between quartet as the foreground and electronic interludes, where solos or duos underpin the soundscape. The title of the piece (Greek for ‘sleep-cassette’) refers to a theory of dreams proposed by Daniel Dennett, that says that dreams are loaded into consciousness like a cassette tape during the night and played just before waking.”

It’s longtime collaborator Andy Moor who provides the guitar and tape work on these recordings, and together with Kyriakides’ electronics, which move between shuddering skitters and unsettling scratchiness and quite abstract sounds, when juxtaposed with the strings — which span playful to mournful to droning discord.

The sixteen pieces have been mastered as six separate tracks, but they flow as one immense composition in a continuous state of transition. Within each of the six numbered tracks, the individual segued pieces bear titles, with their time markers also noted. The titles present, if not strictly a narrative, then a guide to the theme, the idea, the inspiration.

‘Hypnokaséta I’ comprises ‘The government’s new cultural scheme’, ‘All roads to the airport are blocked’, and ‘Everyone is nervous, everyone is lost’, titles which serve to encapsulate the events and the sensations they engendered within the populace at the strangeness and uncertainty of lockdown.

‘Hypnokaséta III’ is a stunning work of contrasts, containing as it does the gentle, almost light-spirited string-led ‘The reluctant hotel manager’ and the dramatic, jarring ‘She lifts the mountain’, a dark, alien drone brimming with electronic tension that crackles and tweets. The rapid switches in mood and form recall the sudden and wild extremes I experienced myself during this time: it was impossible to keep up with the constant stream of developments in the news, while at the same time entrapped within the confines of the house, where the world outside felt so very far away, while also having to accommodate the changeable and diverse headspaces of friends, family, and colleagues. No-one knew what the fuck was going on, or how to cope.

There was an air of unreality about it all, and at times it became difficult to distinguish between the bewildering nightmarish reality of the wakeful hours and bewildering nightmarish sleep, and in drawing on dreams in the creation of Hypnokaséta (2020-2021), Kyriakides captures the essence of that abstract space forged in the mind where everything blurs. This blurring and abstraction is also reflected in the titles: ‘The concert promoter complains that not much happens in the piece’ sounds like something that could happen in one of those self-reflective semi-anxiety dreams, and ‘Bridges are being dismantled across the city’ has an apocalyptic sense of separation, while ‘Body swap opera’, ‘Swimming pool synthesis’, and ‘Mutations on an empty grid’ are altogether more surreal in their connotations.

Throughout the album, the lister is jolted from a moment of tranquil reverie by some abrasive thud or rasp, an unexpected spike in volume, and a turn towards an altogether more disquieting atmosphere.

The composition is nuanced, the placing of the switches and transitions perfectly timed to achieve optimal impact, never allowing the listener to truly settle, to relax, to sit back and enjoy, and the moments of tension are indeed tense; but credit must also go to the performers: the strings are played with a keen awareness of the importance of both dynamics and detail, and Moor, in his capacity of ‘improviser’ brings texture and tone delivered with an infallible intuition. The album’s structures may be subtle, almost invisible, but they’re affecting, and as a whole, Hypnokaséta (2020-2021) is an experience which permeates the psyche in unexpected ways.

Mon compagnonnage avec Yannis Kyriakides se poursuit disque après disque. Septième article consacré aux disques qu’il signe seul, ou cosignés avec Andy Moor. Je renvoie à l’article Amiandos pour quelques éléments biographiques sur Yannis, à l’article Rebetika pour Andy. Les renseignements fournis par le compositeur lui-même sont précieux pour comprendre la genèse de ce nouvel album: «Hypnokaséta (2020-2021) est un ensemble continu de 16 pièces pour quatuor à cordes, improvisateur (jeu de cassettes et de n’importe quel instrument) et électronique en direct. Le matériel source est basé sur les rêves que j’ai faits au cours des premiers mois de confinement, entre avril et juin 2020. Les récits de ces rêves sont encodés dans la musique jouée par le quatuor et également cryptés dans les textures sonores qui l’entourent. Les morceaux alternent entre quatuor en premier plan et intermèdes électroniques, où solos ou duos soutiennent le paysage sonore. Le titre de la pièce (en grec pour «cassette de sommeil») fait référence à une théorie des rêves proposée par Daniel Dennett, selon laquelle les rêves sont chargés dans la conscience comme une cassette pendant la nuit et joués juste avant le réveil.» Ce n’est pas la première fois que les rêves sont au centre de la musique du compositeur. Il y eut évidemment Dreams, en 2012, mais la plupart des œuvres de Yannis sont directement ou indirectement liés aux rêves. Les souvenirs aussi deviennent comme des rêves, surtout ceux d’un passé dont nous sommes coupés, exclus, passé de la partie grecque de Chypre dont il est originaire, évoqué dans Resorts & Ruins, en 2015, passé collectif d’avant la Grande Catastrophe (perte de l’Asie mineure) dans Rebetika. Face, en 2021, interroge le visage lui-même en tant que matière du rêve par sa capacité à nourrir fantasmes et craintes. Hypnokaséta poursuit l’exploration des territoires oniriques en revenant à leur veine intime…

Turning dreams into literature or music has a long tradition. Bruce Chatwin traveled dream paths in Australia, for Aphex Twin it was the path to his groundbreaking music and let’s not forget Sigmund Freud and many others. Yannis Kyriakides has written music for string quartet and electronics from his dreams and the resulting music is simply amazing!

Hypnokaséta (2020-2021) is an ongoing series of 16 pieces for string quartet, improvisers (playing tapes and random instruments) and live electronics. The source material is based on dreams I had during the first months of the lockdown (April-June 2020). The accounts of these dreams are encoded in the music played by the quartet and also in the surrounding sound textures.

The pieces alternate between the quartet in the foreground and electronic interludes in which solos or duos punctuate the soundscape. The title of the piece (Greek for ’sleep cassette’) refers to a dream theory proposed by Daniel Dennett, which states that dreams are loaded into consciousness during the night like a cassette and played just before waking up. The piece was premiered under the name “Cassettes” by Quatuor Bozzini and Andy Moor in October 2022 in Montréal and other locations in Quebec. It was subsequently recorded by Micha de Kanter at Studio Helmbrekers in Haarlem in November 2022.

There are some interesting parallels here with other works involving a string quartet and electronic music. A piece by Scott Wilson was presented on BBC Radio 3 and the “New Music Show” series in April, which was performed as part of a concert entitled “CrossCurrents: The Ligeti Quartet — The Memory Project”. Project BEAST (Birmingham ElectroAcoustic Sound Theatre) was involved. Two pieces from this concert were presented in this program, one by Scott Wilson and one by Sara Caneva. I can recommend both without reservation. Just as I can warmly recommend the “New Music Show” series to anyone who is interested!

I find the idea of writing works for string quartet and electronic music very appealing. On the one hand, a young audience is introduced to the musical world of string quartets through electronic music and the classical audience is introduced to the other. An opening that can be a gain for everyone.

In any case, I think the realization of Yannis Kyriakides’ composition is very successful. The dreamlike quality is not comforting or cozy, no. The interjections of Kyriakides’ tapes and Andy Moor’s guitar do not allow this. The present doesn’t allow that and that’s how this music sounds. The beautiful moments are there, brief and just so that we don’t forget them. The whole thing leaves a strong and long-lasting impression and for me this is music at the height of our time. A favorite for the best of the year!