Wim Mertens
Shot and Echo

Papa Razzy, with “Deus Charitas Est”, encyclical letter, made public the results of a year of pontifical research on the nature of the Supreme.

An expression, his, that unleashed a wave of activity and enthusiasm. Less resonant was the release of “Shot and Echo”, with which Wim Mertens made public the results of his research on the nature of melody applied to minimalism.

Very busy at the time with his triple and quadruple box sets for masochistic specialists, the Belgian released “Shot and Echo” and its twin “A Sense of Space” in 1992. The two expressions immediately sank into a wave of complete indifference. In fact, they are two minor releases; however, they underline his dedication to the popularization of research that has kept him engaged from day one and that, ultimately, beyond successes, is the quintessence of his presence in our music collection. “Shot and Echo” is, in part, an interesting test. Let's see why.

In “Their Duet” a trumpet begins a small, private, triumphal march over which Katelijne van Laethem's voice weaves a long, melodious circular monologue. “His own thing” is the bastard child of Mertens and “In Re Don Giovanni” by Nyman, punctuated as it is by the exclamations of the tubas. The modular and circular structures of the winds chase each other without interruption, obsessive and claustrophobic. In “Watch over me” the same winds are forced into a challenging score of repeated staccatos, but the rest of the orchestra (fifteen elements in total) quickly comes to their aid for a lively chamber music excursion not without nostalgic accents that return and return on the same melody like in the mind the memory of a distant loved one. The bridge, in particular, surprises with a sound blend reminiscent of “Long, long, long” from the White Album. In “One who matters” the strings are finally given space, whose angular obstinate figure weaves the ennui of a Sunday afternoon in which the protagonist, a trumpet, strolls through the deserted city, waiting for her condition to take a decisive turn.

On a long, repetitive introduction by the winds, a laconic guitar and the wind-filled voice of Katelijne appear in the next track. “Silver Lining” lasts an eternity and nothing noteworthy happens, and here lies perhaps the secret soul of this album. Despite the great agitation of the instruments, the thousands of notes played (applause for the exemplary cohesion of the instrumentalists), there is a sense of anticipation that permeates everything. Overall, “Shot and Echo” is a stalemate full of suggestions but lacking direction. A different formula from previous ones is attempted in “Shot One”, where the elegant and melodious turn of the winds overlays the piano: a further combination for an album focused, indeed, on research on timbres. The voice underlines and accentuates here and there, taking over the role played by the tubas in “His Own Thing”. The winds – a beloved section of the orchestra by Mertens – are again the ranks for the quiet interlude “We’ll find out”.

In “Let him go”, playing a riff eavesdropped from a song I invite readers richer in music and memory than me to identify, the electric piano and the tubas seem to want to play “Michael Nyman plays the Supertramp”, while the voice reinforces the song format. Too bad the melody isn't one of those memorable ones. A crystalline and penetrating piano starts the beautiful “Wandering Eyes”, and immediately stumbles over those trills (technically called "ornaments" and "graces") so characteristic of Mertens. Voice and strings alternate on a more satisfying melodic line than the previous track, but still too repetitive.

Mertens must have taken note of the only partial success of his commitment, changing direction shortly thereafter. Certainly, if he had some acquaintance at Radio Vaticana, things would have gone differently.