Tim Hecker - Dropped Pianos

2011 has been a fantastic year for Montreal based electronic artist Tim Hecker, with acclaimed album Ravedeath, 1972 released in February and a follow up EP, Dropped Pianos following in October. In fact, to call the latter a follow up is slightly incorrect, as the series of 9 short “sketches” which comprise the record were actually recorded by Hecker back in 2010. These tracks all form the core of what became Ravedeath later in the year.
What makes Dropped Pianos so compelling however is the break in form that it takes in that it was written and performed almost entirely on piano. It sets itself apart in that it lacks much of the shimmering ambient noise that characterised Ravedeath and other more recent works such as 2009’s An Imaginary Country and the 2006 masterpiece Harmony in Ultraviolet. However, because the EP itself formed the basis of what would become Ravedeath the difference in instrumentation and style are what make it the perfect complement to its larger, more developed descendent.

The tracks themselves are often bold and brusque, with Hecker letting individual chords or very basic single note leitmotifs that crop up later on in Ravedeath create the foundation for the tracks. It is not a pretty or delicate work, and it not afraid to let empty space around these recurring themes to do much of its work. There are also hints of more traditional “Hecker” hidden in these tracks as well. Sketch 5 in particular has an undercurrent of distortion running through its repetitive and menacing second half, much more characteristic of wall of sound noise that he is undoubtedly a master of. Listening to the sketches I am constantly filling in the more sparse parts of the tracks in my mind thanks to these little musical hints, and feel the same pangs of excitement from them as I do from their album counterparts. The sparse piano makes them feel almost like memories or shadows of their true form. They are more introspective and haunting, compared to Ravedeath where the listener is bombarded by Hecker’s outspoken and unique brand of sensory overload.

This then is the paradox of Dropped Pianos, and the reason I enjoyed it so much. Despite being an earlier work, releasing it post-Ravedeath means that it can allude to something more complete, enabling it to exist as a standalone piece. Had it been released beforehand I feel it would have lost much of its allure as it would always have been only a glimpse of something much larger. It feels very much like it is holding back the floodgates of a torrent of noise, elements of which are straining at the door and occasionally seeping through the cracks. It is reminiscent of the perverse delight that the viewer takes in knowing what tragedy will befall the main character in a horror film before they do. For me that self-awareness is what makes Dropped Pianos so compelling. However, it is not a standalone work and probably not for someone new to Hecker’s work, but all the same it leaves me feeling even more impressed by the depth and complexity of Hecker’s work.