Glass is otherworldly and electrifying

Glass is the latest collaboration between German minimalist Alva Noto and Japanese polymath, Ryuichi Sakamoto. Sakamoto came to prominence as a member of Yellow Magic Orchestra over three decades ago, as well as with working with artists such as Brian Wilson, Iggy Pop and David Sylvian on his own solo work. Noto and Sakamoto also co-produced the score of Alejandro González Iñárritu’s film, The Revenant, along with composer Bryce Dessner. Diagnosed with throat cancer in 2014, Sakamoto has now returned to working on music.

Glass was recorded live at Philip Johnson’s Glass House in Connecticut, during the private opening to Yayoi Kusama’s installation to mark the 110th anniversary of Johnson’s birth. Noto and Sakamoto balancing tones both serene and electrifying, for a performance that leaves a mark on the psyche.

“When I was offered to perform at The Glass House, the first idea that came to my mind was to use the house itself as a musical instrument,” says Sakamoto. “It was completely musical and 100 percent improvised, as that’s what we usually do. Looking at the beautiful landscape through the glass wall with Kusama’s dots was something, and it affected me, affected us, I should say, a lot. It’s a strange mixture of natural, nature, and artificial things, art.”

Using the architecture as an instrument, the duo attached contact mics to the glass walls of the house, generating delicate tones by rubbing the walls with rubber gong mallets paired with electric waves of singing glass bowls, crotales and keyboards. Noto and Sakamoto produce striking tones and ethereal reverberation that transform into a breathtaking performance. Drifting through this delicate soundscape, it would be easy to use the word ‘ambient’ to describe the piece. However, listen closely, and you will find an intensifying sense of unease accumulating throughout the performance. Gentle waves of ice become electrified, frigid and ghostly as they evolve. Glass bowls are rubbed with mallets, then digitally processed; ghostly tones from Sakamoto’s synthesizer ascend beyond the room, and the high timbre of the crotales seem to hover like an apparition. The sounds evoke a physical sensation akin to crystals forming against your skin, frigid and exhilarating.

Around the 20-minute mark, a chilling wail materializes over the echoes of noise, like a symphony of spirits from the great beyond. Sakamoto approaches the house’s outer wall, tracing arcs across the glass with careful precision. The tones, like frozen shards of ice, become infused with a permeating warmth, which is both deeply comforting and satisfying.

The improvised performance is seamless, and as the sun sets outside of Glass House, it has a spellbinding effect. Glass is lush and otherworldly.