Duration 37.48 | Released June 2016
Composed by Edith Alonso
For prepared electric bass
Recorded in May 2014 in Mozota (Zaragoza, Spain).
Edited & Mastered by Edith Alonso between April-May 2015 at Interferencias Studio (Madrid).
About the Artist
Edith Alonso was born in Madrid and began her classical studies playing piano but soon became interested in playing guitar and saxophone as well started to be interested in jazz and rock music. In the early 90's she played the electric bass in a well-known punk-rock band of the underground scene.
She moved to Paris where she studied electroacoustic and instrumental composition. She discovered musique concrete with composers such as François Bayle and Pierre Henry. He holds a PhD in Arts, Sciences and Technologies from the University Saint-Denis-Vincennes (Paris) and the University Complutense (Madrid).
Her compositions have been performed at numerous international festivals, including the International Computer Music Conferences of Belfast and Montreal, SIMC (International Society for Contemporary Music, Paris), SMC (Sound and music computing conference, Lefkada, Porto), XXIV Contemporary Music Festival of Alicante (Spain), Synthèse (Bourges, France), and others in Portugal, Spain, Austria, Germany, Sweden, South Korea, Cuba, Costa Rica, Columbia, Argentina, and Mexico.
She is very active in the field of improvisation while also collaborates with other media including film, dance and sound installations. She is co-founder of Campo de Interferencias, a non profit organization for promoting sound art in Spain and Co-director of Radical dB Festival, music & technology festival in Zaragoza (Spain).
Julan Cowley — The Wire 393 — November 2016
“Je suis perdue,” proclaims writing on a wall in one of George Zahariou’s photographs on the cover of Collapse. Nearby in the same image “madness” is scrawled above a boxed-in drawing of a receding spiral. Architectural dereliction and psychological turmoil coincide in the visual artwork, and Edith Alonso’s four-part composition for prepared electric bass mirrors that combination with sinister subterranean murmurs, spooky rumbling, ominous rustling and alien chatter. Recorded in Zaragoza in May 2014, Collapse has acoustic depth and expressive breadth far beyond the limits its basic instrumentation might suggest. Alonso starts with the bass guitar as a physical resource but her music has intensity and imaginative scope that transcend the well-worn cliches of dark ambience and low end atmospherics. Irreconcilable tensions spread through its stratified soundscapes; menacing faultlines open up as layers slide and clash. An engrossing study in physical and psychic disintegration.
Massimo Ricci — The Squid's Ear — 05.12.2016
An attentive analysis of Edith Alonso's CV gives several clues about the typology of creative energies fuelling Collapse. Having been an active practitioner/student both in punk bands and electroacoustic environments, this Spaniard attempted to transfer the disorderly drive of anarchy into a more structured context, prepared electric bass being the lone source. Over four tracks, the raw dynamism of a growling sonic coagulation maintains its clutch on our focus, in a way forcing a physical absorption of its constitutional substances. In the meantime, a multitude of micro-components adds various layers of vivid intricacy to the music.
The violent oscillation of thick strings is a generator of compelling vibrational irregularity. With Alonso setting in motion an arrhythmic interaction between manual skill and bottom-range resonance, the solitary listener becomes the innermost core of a magmatic compatibility. The sonorities are mostly aggressive and relentless, still allowing the detection of an intrinsic design: a low-frequency monarchy, with a few openings to the comprehension of what happens behind the scenes. The sense of organization is clearly discernible even in the presence of strong factors of intimidation, which is especially highlighted as the volume goes up.
As the title may suggest, the composition transits across states of relative intelligibility to gradually turn into a jarring ensemble of filthy throbs, raspy densities, echoing thuds and fighting partials. The spitefulness of a grubby harmony accepts no armistice; and yet, listening to this album with the whole body and all aerials up is mandatory to receive the access code to its underground chambers. The ultimate surprise: you're going to feel finely tuned at the end of the apparent chaos.
Guillaume Belhomme — Le son du grisli — 09.09.2016
Est-ce dans cette inquiétante salle des vents (en couverture) qu’Edith Alonso est un jour allée poser sa contrebasse préparée ? Pour, peut-être, la soumettre aux rafales quand l’archet agaçant déciderait de la délaisser ou pour la changer en hôtel à insectes (selon la mode du jour) chantants ? Sous l’impulsion d’un contact électrique ou à la seule force de son poignet, elle recueille en tout cas d’étonnants grognements quand ce ne sont pas plutôt de beaux motifs qui tournent avant de disparaître dans un soupçon. Et si l’on pense de temps à autre à John Eckhardt, la comparaison n’est pas faite pour desservir Edith Alonso.