By Charlie WatkinsÂ
Listening to BBC’s Late Junction programme recently, I suddenly had to stop
what I was doing and just listen. I was hearing for the first time the
extraordinary accordion playing of Suzan Peeters. This is accordion playing
like I have never heard before: deep, guttural sounds, throbbing bass and
fractured high frequencies: things that feel like they should be impossible
for an acoustic instrument. Yet, unlike electronic music, Peeters’ accordion
is very much alive.
Peeters is a very exciting new name on the Belgian experimental music scene,
and her debut album Cassotto is an apt demonstration why. A ‘cassotto’ is
the name for a resonating chamber which some accordions have that adds depth
to the lower frequencies and detail to the higher frequencies. These two
elements are both evident throughout the record, but it is the deeper
frequencies in particular that make it shine as an affecting, visceral work.
The record is not long, clocking in at less than half an hour, and so feels
like a series of miniatures, each one exploring a different aspect of
Peeters’ playing. The first track, Jaco, opens softly – but by no means
tentatively – and from the start the depth of sound is obvious, with
fragmented, scraping structures on top of rich bass tones. Peeters uses some
electronics on the album, on tracks such as Edith, but it is the accordion
itself providing the shifting ground that underpins the whole album.
My favourite track on the record is Vroem. This is a drone track making full
use of the accordion’s resonating chamber, and it reminds me somewhat of
Brìghde Chaimbeul’s Scottish smallpipes playing (which would certainly be an
interesting collaboration). The raw power of the accordion is really on
display here: Peeters makes the instrument growl demonically, like a beast
disturbed from sleep, such that even when she moves to a more melodic
finale, the roaring throb is still palpable underneath. It is an incredibly
impressive demonstration of just what an accordion is capable of.
It must be said that the album is not all, or even primarily, about the
sounds Peeters can conjure. Each track has a strong sense of musical
character, of shape, tension and movement. Some of the more delicate moments
on the record – Linnen or Ratel, for example – demonstrate the breadth of
Peeters’ musical interests, although for me they weren’t the highlights; the
raw sonic capabilities of the accordion were what I was here for. It would
be good to hear Peeters explore some longer works, developing the ideas that
are presented here. Almost every track I felt could have been longer, but
perhaps it is better to leave us wanting more rather than overdoing it on
her debut recording.
This is really creative music, well worth your time. Peeters has breathed
new life into her instrument and given it the spirit of a dragon, disturbing
and enchanting in equal measure. The cover art – the shadow of a hand – is
an apt metaphor for the music, because what is heard here is far darker than
one would ever anticipate. The final track, Mucci, is a fitting end: the
deep end is suddenly pulled away, letting the accordion breathe softly,
returning to its slumber. I look forward to hearing Peeters bring it to life
again.
Cassotto can be purchased on Bandcamp: