Japanese-born expanded violinist
Mari Kimura is a pioneer in the realm of technological interactivity in music and one of only a few violinists to take seriously the study of sub-harmonics, whole ranges of pitches outside the violin's usual compass that may be achieved through special bowing techniques. Prior to the release of Bridge's Polytopia,
Kimura's work, already well known on the international concert scene, was under-represented on recordings; she had appeared only as a participant in improvisations and through her self-released disc The World Below G. With Polytopia, Bridge finally provides listeners with a cross section of
Kimura's varied streams of interest, from signal-processed pieces, which restate the live sounds she produces to "duets" with pre-recorded elements, computers, machines, and beyond. While on paper this may sound like a recipe for a "Metropolis"-like journey into the gaping jaws of a technological Moloch, conversely Polytopia is very fresh and challenging in a positive way and is not without a sense of personal warmth and emotional involvement. Make no mistake, though;
Kimura's Polytopia is a dazzling display of virtuosic technique by a highly specialized and skilled performer -- sort of like a plugged-in
Paganini for the digital age.
The gauntlet is thrown down from the outset, where
Kimura pilots her spaceship through a signal-processed piece by Jean-Claude Risset in which only
Kimura is playing, yet a galactic orchestra seems to emerge, traveling along with her. Afterwards
Kimura attains hyper-warp speed in
Conlon Nancarrow's tricky Toccata, where she is accompanied by a player piano. While this piece connects her to past American avant-garde tradition and the others represent an international/intergenerational focus,
Kimura's own pieces, Polytopia and GuitarBotana, seem the most effective in the program. Others seek to match
Kimura's extraordinary abilities with their creative input;
Kimura knows her own capabilities best and has the talent as a composer to make them take wing. There is additionally some incorporation of wonderfully old-fashioned violin techniques, including various kinds of portamento in
Kimura's retinue; the interactive electronic element is so front and center that at times it's easy to miss the basic beauty of
Kimura's violin playing, which is light, nimble, and free. This aspect of
Kimura's artistry perhaps can be heard best in
Frances White's The Old Rose Reader, an atmospheric piece in which
Kimura is a single element moving around in an electro-acoustic environment that includes a narration delivered by her husband. It is reminiscent to some extent of some of the more conceptually ambitious "Frippertronics"-styled efforts, though minus
Robert Fripp and his guitar. Rock music is not forbidden territory in
Kimura's universe; it is also referenced to some extent in Serbian-American composer Milica Paranosic's ComeCryWithMe, which has as its fulcrum a descending figure that resembles the bass line in a Led Zeppelin tune. While none of the music here can be said to be "conservative," the most conventional sounding of the works here is Axon (2002) by
Tania León, in which
Kimura is heard in conjunction with samples drawn from textures belonging to other
León compositions; the writing of the solo violin part seems steeped in a style familiar from the mid-twentieth century.
The selection of pieces on Polytopia is excellently well chosen, and the great variety heard here helps keep the program moving forward. Bridge Records and
Mari Kimura's Polytopia is a highly satisfying debut from a superlative artist who recognizes that the twenty-first century has turned a new page in the relationship between music and technology; she is utilizing all of her super powers to guarantee that her instrument -- the violin -- doesn't get left behind.