The compositions and improvisations of Yorkshirewoman Bex Burch are characterised by an all-encompassing internationalism which rides roughshod over perceived notions of place and border. The classically-trained percussionist defines her music as ‘messy kinda minimalism’, which calls to mind the transatlantic tradition of experimental music, a sort of DIY John Cage perhaps, but which in reality is more complex and more interesting than that. Burch’s instrument of choice is the gyil, a gourd-resonated xylophone which she began playing during a three-year trip to northern Ghana. Half of that period was spent under the tutelage of Thomas Sekgura, one of the instrument’s most accomplished exponents.
Now in possession of a handcrafted gyil made in the UK to her own specifications, Burch decamped to Chicago and recorded There is Only Love and Fear, her debut album, with a whole host of International Anthem labelmates. Thirty-two days of recording, the result of sessions at various studios augmented by sounds collected throughout Europe and North America, was whittled down to twelve concise and highly distinctive tracks.
There is Only Love and Fear feels less like a journey, with all the associated physical and emotional peaks and troughs that implies, than a series of discoveries. Snapshots rather than one single reel. This approach allows for greater freedom and results in a more collaborative and improvisational feel. It also allows Burch to focus predominantly on creating a sense of positivity. This is a record that celebrates and gives thanks to the many places, people, and even non-human animals that inspired it. Opening track Dawn Blessings, for instance, begins with a recording of birdsong before the gyil – with almost luminous clarity – directly echoes the familiar cuckoo (a bird, mirroring Burch’s own flight paths, that spends its time between west Africa and northern Europe). The song grows with evocative bowed strings and woodwind, and a bassline that teeters and begins to explore like an animal newly foaled in the woods.
If I was you, I’d be doing exactly the same builds out of drones, drawn-out flares of brass and audible breaths until the percussion takes centre stage at about the halfway point, bringing a processional feel to the piece, like a surreal, deconstructed dream of New Orleans marching bands, while Don’t go back to sleep is insistent but subtly shifting – a series of hypnagogic twitches building into a complex tapestry.
The short Fruit smoothie with peanut butter recalls African tribal rhythms filtered through experimental jazz, Pardieu is tightly coiled but celebratory and Start before you’re ready displays a self-assured and decisive variety of minimalism, the gyil ranging confidently over the sounds of water and woodland. It forms a stark contrast with the swooping, nocturnal urban sounds of You thought you were free?, which begins in eerie, uncanny territory before a jaunty brass riff energises things in the most wonderful way possible. It’s experimental music, but like much of International Anthem’s ridiculously consistent output, it’s great fun. It’s a philosophy expanded upon in “Joy is not meant to be a crumb”, which grows in foot-tapping percussive fervour over its short duration.
There are moments of profound, meditative stillness, like the drips and stately keys that make up the beautiful On falling, and these have a dual function: they are oases of calm in a record otherwise full of an energy that is hectic if minimal, but they also work perfectly on their own terms, showing the vividness and range of Burch’s vision. It’s a vision uniquely adorned by an expert array of collaborators: International Anthem’s cornet superstar Ben LaMar Gay, Tortoise drummer Dan Bitney, woodwind player Rob Frye, upright bassist Anna Butterss and violinist Macie Stewart all play important roles, but so too do other individuals and groups who provided studio space and contacts.
This feels like an album made possible by the kindness of strangers, so it’s no surprise that the joy of collaboration shines through on the recordings. Even on a track called This is the sound of one voice, it’s difficult to ignore the close human contact that charges this music with irresistible vigour. All this adds up to a wholly distinctive musical language, a jazz-inflected improvisational world music that quotes from minimalism without ever being in thrall to its history. When you consider that There is Only Love and Fear is Bex Burch’s solo debut, that’s quite some feat.
THERE IS ONLY LOVE AND FEAR TOUR
October 13th – RIAA, Hamburg, Germany (Listening session w/ Bex Burch)
October 20th – Cafe Oto, London, UK
October 27th – King Georg, Cologne, Germany
October 30th – Rhinoçéros, Berlin, Germany (Listening session w/ Bex Burch)
November 03rd – ÜBERJAZZ Festival, Hamburg, Germany
November 17th – Jazz Brugge, Belgium
Pre-Order: There is only love and fear