by Lauren Viera
Strange electronic howls of little girls trigger multiple shivers in the audience as the darkness encompasses them &emdash; as darkness floods the room. The pulsations quicken. Eerie whistles like those of a demented wind chime grow louder and yet harder to grasp, but oddly, it's easy to enjoy the whole ensemble
No, this is not some acid trip, this is Warner Concert Hall, right here in the Oberlin Conservatory, and you have just experienced a good hour and a half of TIMARA.
Though this genre of electronic music may be foreign to some, those familiar with the scene have found greener pastures. Players included Conservatory first-years Paul Davis and Evan Malsbury, sophomore Christopher Goodman, junior Chris Agamanolis, Double-degree sophomore Bill Stevens and Conservatory sophomore Brian Laakso in the purely audio category.
Double-degree sophomore Peter Swendsen, Double-degree junior Jeremy Bieger, College senior Sarah Nelson and Conservatory junior Jeremy Dalnes proved their talent in the video category, which was presented in amulti-media style on film screen, backed with audio mixes of their own works.
When done correctly, the effect is remarkable. It truly is an art: pieces generally consist of a series of hooks, overlapped bass lines with keyboard synthesized melodies and an occasional sample of dubbed spoken word.
The ear drum trips over its own bliss: loops and patterns, often the simplest introduced first, remain constant as experimental rhythms and tidbits of audio art follow. The texture becomes complicated; the mixer decides what combination will finish the job of transporting listeners to a new plateau of euphonious understanding. Of course, content is the direct reflection of whatever the artist has deciphered as his or her own style.
Some of Wednesday's selections included oddities of minor key jingles and chimes, such as Maslbury's "Rampage of the Hellish Blobs," a three-part composition. However, Davis's "Turbofolk I" leaned slightly more toward what an uneducated TIMARA listener might slot into a Techno or Jungle-like classification.
Davis's work began with a raindrop-like recording, followed by digital melody and a steady pulse line. "Turbofolk," like others, had no set climax. Rather, the pattern slowly evolved, manipulating listeners' ears into a series of hooks, layered one on top of the other, then unraveled again to close the number where it began.
The most striking piece of the evening took on a different format, however. Though hardly appropriate for the next Tappan Square rave, Agamanolis's "On the Inside" possessed so much intensity it was almost disturbing. Leading off with a crowded swarm of voices that sounded as if it was staged at an amusement park, the audience was led apart from the norm by a single voice, a desperate gasp for air, and its synthesized journey on what sounded like it could very well have been a terrifying roller coaster ride.
Pulsations of bass lines in heart-beat notation followed the loud gasps for air, and as the piece began listeners were flung into a g-force of rising anxiety with each repeated cry of this electronic child without a face. Even after the wails died down and the audio adventure came to a close, a chilling silence weighed against the walls of the concert hall as the audience was transported back to reality. Or was it? Wednesday's attendees may still be wondering which is better &emdash; Oberlin, or TIMARAland. Judging from the guests' applause, they favor the latter.
