biped

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Now releasing records on his own GB label after a perhaps not entirely rewarding sojourn with Point, with Biped Bryars continues to consolidate his reputation as one of Britains finest contemporary composers, alongside the equally under-rated Steve Martland.
Composed for a Merce Cunningham dance piece, Biped retains a stylistic unity with his earlier work - his immediately recognisable sound still capable of being fresh and dynamic, unlike his erstwhile comrade Nyman, who has been performing the same tricks for way too many years now, with ever-diminishing returns. Biped is as languid and as slow as you could hope for in any Bryars work, and it is not difficult to imagine it making a moving and beautiful dance piece. The whole thing sounds like moving upstream in a slow sleepy river, the big blocks of sound shifting and mutating one into another.
The piece is divided into six continuous movements, each featuring those typical slow-motion Bryars arpeggios and deep sustained tones from the cautious players. Part one starts with a long sustained (keyboard?) sound, more of a glow than a drone, against which a gorgeous, plaintive violin is set, almost reminiscent of The Protecting Veil by Tavener but thankfully free of the New Age spiritual overtones. In the second part, the sound becomes more sub-aquatic and murky, a bass clarinet muttering away deep in the mix, hinting at Bryars' famous work The Sinking of the Titanic (which imagined the sound of the Titanic band, still playing on, underneath the ocean). An e-bowed electric guitar provides a meandering lead line, the whole thing sounding not unreminiscent of Sigur Ros. Part three introduces some almost haphazard percussion (similar to the percussion piece One Last Bar Then Joe Can Sing) while the fourth part has a lushly Romantic weeping violin.
At a concise 45 minutes, this sounds like classic Bryars distilled to perfection.