Stephan Micus
Ocean

The voice, the oldest of musical instruments, opens this album by Stephan Micus: a naked voice, without instrumental accompaniment, singing a wordless song, syllables of sound, soon joined by the archaic timbre of six dulcimers played with hammers and the sad melodies of a nay, the ancient flute of Middle Eastern tradition. With these first 8 minutes, the journey of "Ocean" begins, a sort of sapiential journey among the precious and reserved sounds of this extremely original German musician.

Released by ECM in 1986, composed and entirely played by Micus, "Ocean" is divided into four parts: after the first one, at the opening, here is the long episode (19 minutes) of the second part: here the introduction is entrusted to the sho, a Japanese reed instrument whose timbre resembles that of the accordion, and the shakuhachi, a bamboo flute, also Japanese; after eight minutes, the metallic sounds of three Bavarian zithers alternate with two dulcimers played with hammers: and these fascinating instruments alternate, stealing the scene from each other, conquering the foreground before returning to the background.

Again, three dulcimers and a shakuhachi in the third part, another long piece (15 minutes) where the introduction is more subdued and rarefied, and where one must wait six minutes before the dulcimers design a very characteristic and recognizable melodic theme, constituted by the same ascending and then descending pentatonic scale, then transposed by one tone, on which the flute rises with its melodic figurations.

Finally, the closing, the 7 minutes for sho solo of the fourth part: here the Japanese reed instrument is the absolute protagonist, generating sound layers of greater or lesser density but almost continuous: an acoustic drone, created by blowing into this instrument which, it is said, imitates the call of the phoenix.

This sweet and enchanting music requires a certain surrender. It has the merit of bringing to light ancient sounds, with which we have lost all familiarity but which have never truly disappeared, perhaps only overshadowed by the noise that mars our soundscapes.

And despite the fact that this album is titled "Ocean", the sound of the sea is never heard. Stephan Micus is too prudent a musician to succumb to banal onomatopoeic effects: the ocean he has in mind is not made of water, but of sounds.