Margherita Berlanda

Margherita Berlanda–in conversation with Alexey Munipov 

 

Azione Improvvisa »EOCENE«

Azione Improvvisa »About robots and other people« (KinderECLAT)

 

 

Сould you start by introducing the EOCENE concert?

 

Deconstructing Humanity is a concert by our ensemble Azione Improvvisa that puts different pieces into dialogue–four works with very different aesthetics, by composers from Italy who work between Italy and, for example, Germany or the Netherlands. That was also why we chose these composers: we felt their aesthetics could speak to each other–different, but capable of creating a strong dialogue.

 

Our line-up is also very different from most contemporary music ensembles: there’s an accordionist (Margherita Berlanda), a theorbo player (Andrea Antonel), an electric guitarist (Pierpaolo Dinapoli), and electronics (Davide Bardi).

 

The project comes from the idea of connecting natural elements, or a reflection on the contemporary world, with contemporary music–because we feel this is really necessary now. We took a lot of inspiration from natural phenomena when we thought about the project. In this case, we’re thinking in layers of complexity.

 

One layer is the music itself: music for this particular ensemble, and exploring its possibilities–going a little beyond the boundaries of »normal« writing for such a line-up. That means experimenting a lot with acoustic sound, but also with the possibilities of electronics.

 

On the other hand, we asked the composers to start from a reflection on the Eocene–and what is the Eocene? It’s a geological epoch marked by dramatic climate change. We use it as a lens for thinking about today, and for projecting it into a dystopian future. Not all the composers took this inspiration in the same way: each approached it through different ideas.

 

For example, in Mauro Lanza’s piece, »You can easily return to the past but no one is there anymore«, we start from the idea that three instruments are electrified–and we also have computer voices. So we begin from non-acoustic sounds: the acoustic sound of the instruments is basically deleted. We transform ourselves, as instrumentalists, into something else. And then comes a reflection on a dystopian idea: the instruments and the instrumentalists become like robots. In that sense, he took this Eocene concept and used it to think about the future–how could words and music exist when there are no humans, and machines are playing? This is also a piece we would like to present in the children’s project, because it gives a funny interpretation of this future–the piece is quite funny. It has different layers of complexity in the text as well: it’s tense and dense material, but it gives a lot of possibilities for reinterpreting the theme, which for us feels necessary to think about.

 

Then there is Giovanni Bertelli’s Monarca–and he reflects on a natural phenomenon: monarch butterflies and their migration. He also works with electronics, but alongside very acoustic sounds.

 

We also have Filippo Perocco’s Fiato, a very delicate and fragile piece where the voices are used. The use of voices is another theme in the project, because in Lanza we also have voices, but they are computer voices. So we tried to have different kinds of voices inside the project itself. In Fiato, the voice is not really sung–it’s using the voice in a different way. We’re not singers, but it’s also not a speaking voice. It becomes a colour, creating different layers.

 

And then we have Silvia Borzelli’s »strata (reverse ruins)«, which reflects very explicitly on processes of erosion and material transformation–on different »strata« of matter, and how ruins can appear, layer by layer. She reflects on this in the music through the idea of creating different layers of musical material–like creating a mineral itself. We also use minerals to play our instruments. So each piece reflects, in its own way, on different aspects of the natural world.

 

We also thought about the future: how climate change could make us migrate–and then we have the butterflies migrating. That was part of why we wanted to start from this reflection, because we come from the Dolomites and we look at this landscape that is really beautiful. Every time we come here to rehearse, it’s a kind of inspiration. But the condition of the world is changing very quickly–and that also creates difficulties for contemporary creation. Looking at this beauty makes us reflect on what it could be in 100 years, or how the world was before.

 

And Fiato means »breath«, right? So it’s about breathing, too.

 

Absolutely! Also because we use the voice in this piece, and it was part of the inspiration.

 

Perocco creates a unique sound for the ensemble using very complex but fragile materials. Imagine: we mix these voices that are not really sung–it’s using the voice in a different way. And there is always this idea of breath that evolves and then ends in something totally different.

 

All these pieces are different, but they’re also in dialogue. Lanza’s piece, for example, is very dark–very long, very dense, very complex. Then we have Fiato, which starts from something that often happens in the beginning–like a dialogue between the four of us–but then it becomes totally different, much more rhythmical. It’s based on a text that we say–it’s in Italian, and for me it’s very poetic. It’s like poetry. I really see it as poetry, and I think it’s very human. That’s very different from Lanza, where the humans are like machines. That doesn’t mean there’s no possibility to go further with interpretation, but the piece itself is strict: you are meant to be electrified. So my accordion sound is never an accordion sound; the theorbo is never a theorbo sound.

 

There’s also a difference in performance practice: for example, in Lanza we are playing with a click, and in Perocco and Bertelli there’s no click. So it was very challenging for us to differentiate and play four very different characters across these pieces.

 

And in Borzelli’s work, it’s about this unpredictable–stable but unstable–texture between all of us and electronics. Sometimes you don’t recognize where the electronic sound is coming from: whether it comes from the accordion, or from something else. It’s like a mechanism that develops and develops, and creates these strata–these ruins.

 

The programme also has a subtitle: Deconstructing Humanity. What does that mean?

 

The idea is that sometimes we are very human. We are on the earth, very related to our physicality as performers–as you know, as human beings on stage. I recognize this, for example, when we speak about Perocco: it’s a very human sensation–breathing, and producing sound with your voice. Even if that voice is amplified or modified through electronics–and the electronic modification is really a core of the project.

 

But in Lanza’s piece, we are supposed to be in a world without humans–electrified voices, computer voices. So we also have an alter ego: this computer voice appears, and that becomes part of the point for us. Deconstructing Humanity is an open question: what does it mean to be human today? What does it mean to be a performer on stage? What does it mean to be an artistic personality creating projects nowadays?

 

And then the question becomes: for which public are we playing? This also connects to the children’s project.

 

And finally, why speak about natural phenomena? Because we really think it’s an important point of reflection right now–and it gives many possibilities for thinking about the future.

 

So it’s not about being rigidly stuck on a single theme. It’s more like a first cue–something that helps the audience understand the main thread, and the broader thematic field of contemporary music. For me, that point is important: the possibility to speak, but also to be understood.

 

The title also comes from what we actually do with sound. In this project, we are deconstructing our sounds. Azione Improvvisa is based on the concept of creating new sound identities, starting from our very different sound aesthetics. We have an electric guitar; we have an accordion, which can remind you of folk music, but it’s also used in contemporary contexts, and for traditional repertoire. So it has many facets.

 

Then we have the theorbo, which was mainly an instrument designed for accompanying–for large ensembles–but it also has a strong solo repertoire. It was used very much in combination with the voice, too. And all of this connects to exploring different possibilities of what it means for humans to be on stage.

 

And then we have live electronics, which is a major part of this ensemble, because it gives us the possibility of deconstructing ourselves. I could speak for many hours about this concept, because it’s essentially what we’re researching in order to create something new: new characters, new identities, new sounds. But also something that reminds us of what already existed. That is another point in this project: many of our reflections are reflections on time.

 

And because our inspiration also comes from our instruments: we play instruments that come from different areas, different histories. So we really think that this reflection on the past, and the imagination of the future, could be a key to making our research grounded and fruitful–and also understandable for a general audience.

 

This concert is very concept-heavy. It refers to climate change; it points to a certain jargon, a geological epoch. Instrumental music usually resists literal messaging. Do you believe music can express anything? This debate goes back a long way: for centuries some composers were convinced it can express anything, and others insisted–like Stravinsky–that music cannot express a thing. Where do you stand?

 

That’s a very difficult question. We come from improvisation, and from the idea that music can express different things on different layers of complexity. Music is music–it speaks about energy; it speaks about gesture; it speaks about the relationships inside sound. But your question is also connected, for me, to something very clear–in the past and now–which is: why are we playing? Why are we here? For whom are we playing? These questions are very important to me.

 

And I really think that music, in combination with a theme, can speak deeper to the audience. I mean: people come to a concert that is »about« something, and that framing can open a door. So yes, I think music can express–but it’s a complex question. I also deeply appreciate composers who hold the opposite view, and their music can work so well that, for me, it still expresses a lot.

 

So maybe the right answer is: there is no right answer. But one possible answer is that if the music, the performers, and the overall concept are strong enough, you almost don’t have to ask the question. Music expresses–and that’s okay.

 

Azione Improvvisa brings together instruments with very different cultural histories–theorbo, electric guitar, accordion, electronics. What was the artistic idea behind putting this specific combination together? What’s the joy of this combination of instruments, and what’s the main challenge?

 

I’ll start with the challenge, because that was our first point. The challenge is that you have a tabula rasa when you create a new combination of instruments, because there is no literature. That was inspiring–a starting point–but it was also very challenging. We started with some Stockhausen, and some open-form pieces. And then, very quickly, the question became: how do we finance our idea? How do we involve good composers in such a project?

 

We started with friends, with the smallest possibilities, and then we grew–step by step.

 

But why did we want to create something like this? It came very naturally. I was studying in Germany, and I was playing together with Andrea Antonel–he is one of my best friends–and the combination of accordion and theorbo was extremely interesting. The sound already felt, for me, very inspiring.

 

Then we had a common friend–the first person who, together with me, thought about this as an improvisation project.

 

We thought: okay, we need something that takes us far away from this idea of »transcription« and Baroque sounds–because the accordion can also be related to the Baroque. Sometimes, when you play transcriptions, it sounds like a small, portable organ–not exactly like an organ, but it can remind you of that sound world. And then we had the electric guitar, and of course the electronics.

 

So why this combination? Because we wanted to create something new. And »new« gives you freedom. And to be free–to dream–you also have to work a lot to make it real. It’s not only dreaming: you also have to be concrete. How do you finance this? How do you involve people?

 

But from the beginning, we wanted to create a new sound identity–because normally these instruments don’t »play well together« without amplification, without electrifying them, without electronics. That creates an unknown field–not only for us, but for the composers too–and it gives you freedom: freedom to experiment, freedom to go deeper.

 

That idea was very strong in the first year. Now we have some literature–we have a more concrete idea of what has been done–but that doesn’t influence new creation too much. Because the best possibility of this ensemble is still the same: to keep a kind of tabula rasa, and to develop new sounds, new soundscapes. In this concert you will hear four very different worlds.

 

With this instrumentation, you can sound ancient, popular, amplified, synthetic. How do you keep it from turning into mere eclecticism, and instead make it feel like one organism?

 

Sometimes it’s electronics–it’s like a glue. And sometimes it depends on how the instruments are used. For example, the accordion can be a very mechanical instrument; it can be a very legato instrument; it can be a very gestural instrument. So you have to communicate very clearly to the composers what the instruments can do.

 

There are approaches that fit very well together. So yes, electronics often creates that »glue« inside the group, but it’s also very important that composers understand the general sound and the general possibilities of the ensemble, so that they can create unity–not a unity of four separate ideas, but a unity of sound.

 

Now let’s move to the children’s project. It’s »about robots and other people«–so what is it actually about, and what do you want kids to take away from it?

 

We want the children to understand, first of all, what the instruments of this ensemble are–because it’s very unusual to see an accordion. Some people might have one at home, but maybe not today. In my generation everybody had an accordion at home, but now it’s different.

 

And then the theorbo–what is that? The electric guitar, and then electronics. So first we will introduce who we are, how we work, and what it means to be performers on stage–and we will also let them hear the »pure« acoustic sound of the instruments.

 

Why robots? Mainly because this project is connected to the piece by Mauro Lanza, »You can easily return to the past but no one is there anymore:. The title is already like a paradox, and it reflects on an old photo, on the possibility of remembering the past–but also on a future where there may be no humans. We will try to explain this to the children in a funny way–because it’s also funny to listen to the effects, and to the idea of these voices, these computer voices.

 

Then we’ll speak a little about the background–but not too much. The main thing is to let the children listen to what happens when you electrify the instruments: when you add the effects that characterise Mauro Lanza’s sound world. We can ask them: okay–does it still sound like an accordion, like what you heard before? Yes or no?

 

That can be a first approach to what we’re doing. Children are always very curious, and for them it’s incredibly inspiring to watch people play live. That’s the first thing–because for many children of the new generation, at least in Italy, experiencing live music very close, in the same space, is still something special.

 

And it becomes an exchange–because music is exchange. Someone is listening to us. Then, in the last part, we will also play the Mauro Lanza piece, so they can recognise some of the sounds they already encountered.

 

We’re also testing something we call a music box–a small game where children can try out sensors on a box. The sensors trigger the same effects, that we use on stage. So the idea is: they listen, but it doesn’t feel like a lecture. It becomes a project where we try to involve the children in the process–in a small form of creation.

 

Why robots? Because we start with humans on stage, playing acoustically–and then, through this reflection on time, and thanks to what technology gives us, we become something very different. An electrified accordionist, an electrified «bass” theorbo, an electrified guitarist. It can also be funny–because it’s a hard theme, thinking about the future. »Nice« can also be not nice. So we try to add an extra optimism, which, I think, always comes when you have the chance to create something new.

 

That’s the point: when you have the chance to create something new–to perform something new, to present something new to a new generation–you have to carry optimism, and a certain happiness.

 

It begins with a »Grand Transformation«: »Today we’re all going to become robots.« In today’s context, that could sound a little scary. Not everyone is enthusiastic about becoming robots, or dealing with robots.

 

For me, it’s interesting to speak about these themes, because I think it’s a future. We kind of have to normalise this idea.

 

And this connects to one of my favourite themes: the fear of the new–which is also something we encounter with contemporary music. Very often, when we present something new, people are scared: scared of new messages, new ensembles, new possibilities. So by speaking about it and normalising it–by placing these developments, these changes in contemporary life, inside a concert–we can approach them in a more optimistic, and more »normal« way.

 

I think it’s a good starting point for these themes.

 

You also teach and develop children-oriented formats. I’ve worked with kids around music too, and I’ve always felt contemporary music can be a great match–because children love stories and unusual sounds, and they don’t arrive with the idea that this music is »difficult« or »for adults only.« Their reactions can be very direct. What has your experience been like?

 

They love the new. They have no fear of the new. This fear mostly appears when you grow older–when you want everything to be categorised, and your ear becomes categorised too.

 

I always think about this idea: how our brain and our ear work, how we understand and listen–it’s based on habits. If you hear a sound two times, maybe you can love it–but you need the chance to know it first.

 

So for me it’s important to spread the new music we’re making to the new generation, and to children, because they need the possibility to experience these sounds. Institutions and adults can be scared of this–but children often aren’t. Still, everyone deserves the possibility to experiment: all possible sounds, all possible kinds of music.

 

And if you hear it as a child, you already carry it with you. You remember it. You can appreciate it. It works like that, also neurologically.

 

Recently I was playing a very complex piece by Samir Odeh-Tamimi in a library, in an open space. There were many children, and actually the best audience was the kids. They sat right in front of me, and they were so into this music–music that adults might label as »difficult«.

 

And that’s exactly the point: the difficulties often come later–when you’re an adult, or even a teenager. But kids can approach the most difficult, the most »unapproachable« things, in a very direct way. They go straight into it.