I Don't Know Where But She Sends Me There
Last night I went to Mono in Glasgow to see an amazing performance by Pamelia Kurstin, an American Theremin improviser. I wasn't sure what to expect - something a bit more traditionally improv, I think, more noisey and abrupt and technically flash, something with moments of silence and hesitation - but Kurstin wore her virtuosity lightly, using her experience of the instrument to make beautiful music that simultaneously sounded sculpted and spontaneous. The ghostly wailing and vocalised sounds summoned up by the classic Thereminists - Clara Rockmore, most obviously - were there in Kurstin's performance, but she also used meaty bass tones and simple looping technology to create a music that had as much in common with modern electronica as with faux-classical show tunes, or post-Pet Sounds ping-pongery, the two most common forms of Theremin play and practice. I was intrigued to see that Kurstin used a Theremin manufactured by the Moog company - a joining together of two great 20th Century musical innovators in one small box of science fictional magic.
Kurstin herself was a neat ball of beer sipping energy who used small, delicate hand gestures to play the Theremin. Perhaps the biggest surprise of all was when she spoke - her voice a helium-high giggle that at first seemed like a put-on, but was in fact her very own strange vocalised tone.
Kurstin herself was a neat ball of beer sipping energy who used small, delicate hand gestures to play the Theremin. Perhaps the biggest surprise of all was when she spoke - her voice a helium-high giggle that at first seemed like a put-on, but was in fact her very own strange vocalised tone.