World-traveler, multi-instrumentalist, recording technician and spiritually questing denizen of the ‘70s avant-garde; all of these descriptions apply to Ariel Kalma. The current moment is particularly opportune for getting acquainted with the man’s early stuff, as RVNG Intl has just unveiled An Evolutionary Music (Original Recordings: 1972 – 1979), a bountiful compilation of previously unreleased material carefully selected by Kalma and the label. All the necessary info is included, and the 2LP/ 2CD/ digital package coheres into a welcome survey of a highly worthy subject.
It’s well-established that as the 1960s progressed many musicians became bored by the perceived restrictions of pop and rock, with numerous artists introducing other elements into their stylistic equations. Others rejected pop/rock completely for the possibilities of experimentation in jazz and electronic music.
That’s the case with Ariel Kalma. Like a handful of his generation he’d been knocked sideways by the innovations of Albert Ayler and Sun Ra, though he did in fact travel extensively in the band of Belgian pop singer Salvatore Adamo. It was but a stepping stone to greater things; he was soon to join the quartet of bossa nova guitarist Baden Powell.
By the mid-‘70s, after his crucial purchase of a ReVox G36 reel-to-reel two-track tape machine, Kalma was employed an assistant engineer at Institut National Audiovisuel, Groupe de Recherches Musicales (or as commonly known, INA GRM) the pioneering studio formed in 1951 by noted sonic specialist Pierre Henry, a lab utilized by such important 20th century figures as Luc Ferrari, Michaël Lévinas, and Iannis Xenakis.
Jesse Jarnow’s notes help to solidly place Kalma in the milieu of New Music, and upon listening to the 17 selections herein (21 on the 2CD/download) the peaceful spiritualism conjures an occasional likeness to Terry Riley. However, Jarnow’s text makes clear he was no mere follower but rather a full-fledged contemporary of Riley and others; his cohorts during the era included Don Cherry, Kalma playing with the trumpeter on the sidewalks of NYC and upstate at the Creative Music Studio in Woodstock.
With the encouragement of his countryman and Heldon guitarist Richard Pinhas, Kalma self-released a pair of records. First came 1,000 copies of Le Temps des Moissons in 1975 and then Osmose in ‘78, a 2LP of Kalma’s organ and saxophone interacting with birdsong captured by sculptor Richard Tinti in the rainforests of Borneo.
An Evolutionary Music gathers absolutely nothing from those albums; with one exception it’s all heretofore unissued. In opener “Almora Sunrise” Kalma’s sax floats and drifts but just as importantly mingles with a robust drone base suggestive of synthetic bagpipes. It’s followed by “Ecstasy Music Mind Yoga,” one of the set’s standout tracks, the longer duration horn-layered and ethereal yet with a sharper tone subtly establishing Kalma’s jazz influence, especially around eight minutes into the piece.
“Echorgan” greatly intensifies the connection to Terry Riley, though the titular choice of instrumentation also offers a baroque, churchy feel as Kalma’s attraction to the sonic potential found in places of worship is substantially underscored; on a trek to New York to join the spiritual music collective Arica (which didn’t work out like he’d hoped) he ended up residing in the basement of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine to eventually play the massive organ located there.
Brief, atmospheric, and appealingly hard to tag to its decade of origin is “Sunset Inside,” which diverts significantly from the path of Riley and leads directly into the captivating electronic soundscape of “Chase Me Now,” its blend of synthetic rhythms and keyboard streams far from what one might expect given Kalma’s background.
The use of then-new technology continues in “Enuej Ellev,” the cut mixing the futurist and the ceremonial (largely via the processed sound of Dominique Regef’s hurdy-gurdy) as it contrasts with the ambiance of traditional rhythm, flute and voice found in “Sister Echo.” And “Les Mots de Tous Les Jours (Rêves Etranges)” engagingly combines poetry calmly spoken in French with cyclically minimalist organ patterns.
Initially, “Rainy Day” matches an environmental field recording with an aura mildly reminiscent of Modernist classical, though the suspenseful mood that results is curtailed too quickly. To be fair, Kalma’s deliberately winding soprano isn’t a bad substitute. Returning to the realm of electronic experimentation is “What Would You Say,” the weave of voices, rhythm, and keyboard distinct from that of “Chase Me Now.”
Likewise, “Les Etoiles Sont Allumées” features more poetics, utilizing a slightly tense echo effect as flute gradually rises in the mix, and while “Voltage Controlled Wave” opens on the sound of beach tide, the water wastes no time in unifying with and getting nearly (but not quite) overtaken by a tangle of electronica; at track’s end the ocean has reasserted itself.
Within the context of An Evolutionary Music “Montparnasse Morocco” is something of a diversion (though a non-disruptive one), impacting the ear like a replication of street sounds heard in the country of its title, as Montparnasse references the French artist’s district where Kalma was born and raised. And my only real complaint is that it could’ve stuck around for while, a factor applicable to much of what’s here; the terrific space-eeriness of “Head Noises” is but two minutes long and seems designed for five times that length.
Along with “Ecstasy Music Mind Yoga” and “Echorgan,” exceptions of succinctness include the strum and chant of “Asalam Yamerek,” the cascades of levitating celestial harp across the entirety of “Love and Dream” (the sole previously issued number, from a ’82 cassette), and the 19 minute closer “Yogini Breath,” a piece unsurprisingly integrating much of Kalma’s artistic essence; the forward-thinking use of electronics, the application of environmental sounds, the organic experimentation a la Riley, and the spiritualist vibe relating not only to jazz but also to New Age.
Together with a marvelous head of hair, Kalma’s work on An Evolutionary Music (Original Recordings: 1972 – 1979) helps to reinforce the reality that not everybody seized by the ideals of the ‘60s was destined to later reject them in a struggle with disillusionment and/or a reawakening of selfishness and greed.
An additional insight lent by the gentle heft of this collection is that Kalma was simply not cut out for the rigors of the music business, though he’s been long active and is still at it today. Had Kalma stumbled onto a fierce advocate for his innovation, he could’ve easily grown into if not a star/celeb than certainly an influential figure of the period.
But then the specialness of this set wouldn’t exist, would it? Retrospectives often detail stories of bad luck and strife, but An Evolutionary Music annotates and celebrates a road less taken and very nicely traversed.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
