Institute of Contemporary Arts

Join the ICA

Belong to the home of new art, culture and ideas. Know first, book first, see first, and pay less.

My ICA: mailing lists and more

Sign up for regular updates about the ICA's programme, special events and offers.

ICA Members: sign in to buy tickets

Please note: ICA Members can buy discount tickets online by signing in, but are limited to two tickets at the discount price per event as a membership benefit. To book more members' tickets please call the box office on 020 7930 3647.

DAY SIXTEEN: Ludovico Einaudi and Edin Karamazov

Date: 16 July 2007

Ludovico Einaudi
Ludovico Einaudi

Mood, atmosphere and relaxation reigned supreme for Ludovico Einaudi.

Mood, atmosphere and relaxation reigned supreme at the Ludovico Einaudi concert on Monday. Unlike so many of the gigs so far, the focus wasn’t on enjoying a big sound in a small space, but rather listening to a small sound in a small space, the intimacy of the small theatre accentuating the tension between artist and audience. You could literally hear a pin drop during both acts, and as a result I didn’t take many pictures. The noise of my camera button was enough to disrupt things, so I gave up on that and enjoyed, or should I say appreciated, the show.

The first interesting point to be made about the evening was that the support act was different than expected. I came all prepared for Dhafer Youssef, avant-garde jazz musician and oud player, but he couldn’t make it in the end (some problem about his band or lack of) so instead we had the Bosnian musician Edin Karamazov. This turned out to be a merry exchange, and at least the audience still got to hear a lute being played, albeit of a different variety. Edin wowed people with his nimble fingers with a selection that included German, Turkish and Cuban-inspired modern classical music. Edin is best known for his work in the chamber music department, (he recently collaborated with Sting on Songs from the Labyrinth based on the music of 16th century composer John Dowland) but last night he focused more on newer material and experimented with the electrical guitar and sound-altering electrical loops and effects.) I personally enjoyed his no fuss lute pieces the most. To watch him play is to see an instrument becoming an extension of a person and vice versa, Edin became an extension of his lute. So it made sense then that he later told me, ‘I don’t play the music, the music plays me.’ Edin finished with aplomb, performing Bach’s Toccata and Fugue In D Minor after joking that he only thought Bach composed it; ‘Probably he just stole it from some lesser known artist who wrote it for the lute…So I’ve transcribed it back again.’ I liked Edin’s sense of humour on and off stage and although I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him about anything much, I did get him to describe himself with the letters ICA, (in his mother tongue no less); IDEM CRTATI AMKANTDELO were his words of choice. If I have any Bosnian readers, please comment, he wouldn’t tell me the meaning so I am most intrigued. I also got a rather brooding picture of him outside the theatre, which is now in the picture gallery.

And so onto Einaudi. Well, I can’t deny it; the music of Italian composer Einaudi just isn’t my cup of tea. I’ve seen him twice now and my feelings haven’t changed. I can’t appreciate the sound of his simplistic, monotonous music, which uses the same handful of comatose chords to drag us painfully through what feels to me like overtly emotive music. I failed to appreciate him the first time I saw him at the Barbican recently and Monday’s intimate, trio-favoured environment failed to bring me round.

However, that’s just tiny little me talking, and if Einaudi is your thing, (and he has thousands of fans, ready to write in and revolt against such claims I’m sure) then you definitely would have been excited by Monday's show. It cannot be denied that his simplistic compositions rely on the expression with which they are played to exude any kind of thought provoking complexity, so for fans to see him this close, well it must have been a mind-boggling thrill.

And the fans were of all ages. Einaudi’s music appeals to people young and old and an eclectic crowd attended the concert. One couple in their forties told me, ‘We’re surprised we are not surrounded by more old cronies like ourselves’ and, while this reaction might have been more accurate if this had been any other modern classical concert, Einaudi’s music is accessible stuff. It sounds like (or is) trendy soundtrack music, and it is far easier on the ear than a Verdi Opera or Tchaikovsky symphony.

If you didn’t make the concert but are wondering what he played, the majority of the tracks came from his most recent album which is slightly more electric based, hence the presence of the laptop musician with the cellist. Tracks included Luce, Uno, Andare, Oltremare, L’origine Nascosta and the title track Divenire (music in the same vein as Michael Nyman’s The Piano). Eden Roc and Due Tramonti from the Eden Roc album also got played, and as a treat for his UK fans, he performed Al Diva; the soundtrack music he wrote for the British made television programme Zhivago. There was plenty to keep fans happy here, and I promise you, it was only really me to be found dashing for the doors.

Torie Speyer 

 

COMMENT(S)
Chiara Realini
Dear critic (I would call you by name if I knew who wrote Ludovico Einaudi’s review)

I doubt you’ll get anything but polite replies from anyone who was at the concert and loves Einaudi’s music. You are certainly entitled to fail to appreciate it.

I don’t know if can I describe myself as a fan; I don’t use the word in relation to anyone, but I certainly love his music, I find it divinely beautiful, and I’ll tell you why. I am a Londoner, a young professional with a complex job, who lives a complex life in a complex city, and in my spare time I engage my mind in complex studies. Before you start thinking - here comes another stuck-up cow - please rest assured that I love plenty of silly things too. Yet what I cherish the most is simplicity, and here I’m not referring to the pretence of simplicity that only too easily masks hypocrisy, but the simplicity that is the very essence of beauty. Einaudi’s music is not ‘simplistic’, it is simplicity (intentional use of the noun, rather than the adjective) in all its beauty and genuine quality. I could be easily tempted to dismiss your criticism with Da Vinci’s quote “simplicity is the ultimate sophistication” but with Einaudi this simply isn’t the case. What you describe as ‘monotonous’ may be so, but not in the negative connotation of the term, rather in its hypnotic sense, as mesmerisingly monotonous waves can be (hence “Onde” = waves), the same sound reaching the shore in the same, soothing range of modulation. Surely you must have done something completely monotonous, and yet sublimely pleasant in your life, or maybe something you do every day, in that little break you take from your routine, only to wonder afterwards, what was monotonous, the break, or my daily routine? Hold that thought. What you describe as ‘comatose chords that drag’ are variations of the same chords, progressions and inversions around the same notes, as if they were caught in a looped onward course that describes the act of becoming “Divenire” ( = to become), a movement that happens, and then curls on itself, advances, and soon folds on itself again at short, close intervals before completing itself (I was observing the movement of his right hand on the piano’s keys, and this is precisely how it moved). As far as the “mind-boggling thrill” goes, I definitely felt that in the understated, heroic crescendos and solar harmonics, in light of which I even like your choice of words: - simplistic, monotonous, comatose, mind-boggling - I can use them to describe the most spectacular moments in anyone’s life. What is the simplest, most simplistic geometric shape? A line segment, a straight line. The same, simple straight line of the gaze between your eyes (“Luce dei miei occhi” = light of my eyes) and the eyes of the love of your life when they meet across a room for the first time, and from then on it’s always the same wonderfully simplistic, monotonous, comatose, mind-boggling back-and-forth, beautiful straight line between your eyes, the same line segment back-and-forth on the same notes.

By the way, I immensely enjoyed Edin Karamazov’s sparkling, superbly original performance. I heard Leo Brower’s Cuban landscapes on guitar before, but never on electric guitar. Not to mention his rendition of Bach on lute with gusto, dare I say, almost head-banging heavy metal! I couldn’t help recording him (ooohps…) on my videophone. I’ll come and watch him again any time!

Chiara Realini
POST A COMMENT
In order to post a comment, please log in:




Forgotten your password?
Then enter your e-mail in the box above and click:

Not Registered? Then register here now.

The ICA is located on The Mall, London SW1Y 5AH. Box Office: 020 7930 3647 / Switchboard: 020 7930 0493

Open Monday 12pm-11pm, Tues-Sat 12pm-1am, Sunday 12pm-10.30pm
Galleries open daily 12pm - 7pm (9pm on Thursdays) during exhibitions.
Bookshop open 12pm-9pm daily (entry free). Call 020 7766 1452 for bookshop queries.

 

Admission price covers entry to exhibitions, café and bar. Mon-Fri: £2/£1.50 concs Sat-Sun £3/£2 concs

 

Box office open daily 12pm - 9.15pm. Buy tickets online/call 020 7930 3647 during opening hours. Textphone: 020 7839 0737

 

The Institute of Contemporary Arts is a registered charity in England No 236848 and a Limited Company registered in England No 444351. Registered offices as above. VAT No 853 7217 17

 

Copyright ©2008 Institute of Contemporary Arts, all rights reserved. Site content copyright of their respective owners.