Quintela

Carme López plays the Galician gaita (bagpipes), but for this debut album she’s dedicated to what sounds like the deep surgery of her instrument, placing its bag under the microscope, and examining its contents. This extended suite is book-ended by a short prologue and epilogue, where we hear the pipes in a more traditional vein, with slow and graceful melodic progressions, over sustained tones that have a surprising purity, an affinity to organ or harmonium. As the four longer sections evolve, López seems to be using deeply-placed microphone techniques, and possibly electronic effects, zooming close to interior sounds of breathing, faint fingering, even suggesting a heartbeat. There are low, soft, duck-like sounds, as well as a halo of higher toned embellishments. It’s as if our headphones are actually inside the bag. Space is cleared for a smooth dronescape, different tones hanging beside each other, interacting almost by chance. We imagine a small church organ, then hear small percussive clicks. The entire bagpipe is used. There’s a growing global enthusiasm for ‘bodiless music’, where the generative instrument’s nature might be disguised, or heavily mutated. Ultimately, the epilogue ends up with a warming slow folk dance for one.