by François Couture
Recorded 14 months after 01.06.16, the Kiyoharu Kuwayama/Rina Kijima duo's second opus for Bernhard Günter's Trente Oiseaux label, 02.08.23 consists of another session of site-specific free improvisation. The cellist and violinist have traded the busy background (actually, overground) of a highway bridge for the damp calm of an abandoned warehouse. The reverb of the empty building and the sound of water drops falling in puddles give the music a cold, dark feel it probably wouldn't have in the studio. This is backdrop, setting. Kiyoharu Kuwayama and Rina Kijima don't integrate these sounds into their playing; they play for them. And once again they do so with fragility, lyricism, and a special way to stretch conventional instrumental techniques without getting dry. Their long pieces work out the best, as they have a chance to wrap the listener up in their plaintive song. Because this pair use arco playing almost exclusively, the way the sounds swell up -- thanks to the reverb-heavy acoustics -- has a narcotic effect. Even when they get feverish, the music remains somewhat sedated, letting you draw closer and closer to the center of this unusual chant. "02.08.31 f," the last piece on the disc (but there is a "02.08.31 g" before it), hits a creative peak when Kijima starts shifting between too much pressure on the bow (resulting in a screechy sound) and a feather-like touch. One can find the dripping water annoying, but if recording on-site is what allows these musicians to improvise so well, one can hardly disagree with the stratagem.