Sō Percussion and Every Step

St Andrews Hall and the Guild Hall

Sō Percussion, bluntly put, make music by hitting things. Drums of all sorts are to be expected, but piano keys use hammers, and even guitar strings can be stretched out horizontally and whacked with pencils. Throw in pots - both plant and cooking - water jugs and a guest vocalist, and an evening of intrigue and variety is assured. Before their performance at St Andrews, however, I popped into the Guild Hall, home of the pixies that run the festival, having been warned that Every Step is a Different Height.

A group of us were taken through this historical building by a Robin and Frankie, their membership of the Guild of Wayfinders signalled by their preposterous blue and pink costumes. It was a fascinating poke about, from the heights of pomposity in the judge’s chamber, to the depths of the cells, replete with profane graffiti. Robin and Frankie were such nice people, I hesitate to pass judgement, but I did think it a shame they were shackled to a rather stilted and lame narrative. Someone had written an arcane script for them, which they did their very best with, but things were so much better when they, all too rarely, just talked to us as themselves. It stretched what would have been a fascinating forty minutewalk through of the building’s history into a rather long hour.

After the challenging staging of the Erland Cooper concert it was pleasure to see that good sense had been restored and that for the Sō Percussion performance, we had a proper stage andchairs all facing the right way. Sometimes simple really is best. Their opening offering was a pair of UK premiers (though neither was newly written). Angélica Negrón’s Goneand Go Back use custom-made Bricolo robotic instruments,designed and built by Nick Yulman, which made for an arresting visual presentation. Coloured water vessels, cooking pots and all manner of paraphernalia brought to mind the eccentricities of the Bohman Brothers, but it was the considerable percussive skills employed on more conventional instruments that did most of the heavy lifting.

Bryce Dessner’s Music for Wood and Strings was, for me, the highlight on the evening. Four dulcimer-like instruments were played by the quartet with astonishing virtuosity to truly mesmeric effect. Terry Riley or Steven Reich was never very far from one’s mind during the half hour piece, but it was nonetheless a distinctive and wonderfully labyrinthine exploration of the possibilities of percussive music. It took me back to Colin Currie’s masterful performance of Glass and Reich at the 2019 festival, and while not quite it’s equal, it came very close.

After the interval, the quartet was joined by vocalist Caroline Shaw, for a run through of their joint album, and the lateness of the hour allowed for a far more atmospheric and impressive staging that the early evening sun had permitted. Otherwise, however, I found the second half of the concert a tad underwhelming. Shaw’s checklist of credentials areimpressive, so she’s obviously a great talent, but there was something lacking on the night. Sound balance was certainly an issue, with the instruments all but drowning her out on occasions. There were moments of transcendent musicality, with Long Ago We Counted and Cast the Bells in Sandparticular highlights, but to my mind the compositions failed to make the best of her talents. I should say that I was seating near the front, and I’ve been assured by someone that sat further back that sound balance was perfect. For him, it was the second set that raised the roof, and the hairs on the back of his neck, so perhaps, two hours in, I was simply weary of being hammered away at.

Misgivings aside, this was nevertheless an eye-opening introduction to a talented quartet that, but for the festival, I might well have never come across. Experiencing new things is what a festival is all about, something which only served to highlight a frustrating aspect of this year’s programming. There is less on, both in scale and number, but that’s understandable in these straightened times. Less easy to grasp is why I had to choose between four events, each one the only thing on at their respective venue, and yet each one in competition with the other.

Sometimes by as little as a few minutes, all four of tonight’s shows overlapped, a decision I find inexplicable. By putting Barbi, Mystery Sonatas , Peacophobia and Sō Percussion on at the same time the Festival audience is split four ways (perhaps explaining the numerous empty seats at my show). No one is expecting the schedules of Edinburgh or Brighton, but surely it should have been possible to stagger them in a way so that two could have been seen in one night. It is, after all, exactly what did happen at last year’s marvellous mid-covid festival.

This isn’t just a plea for audiences hungry to take in more, orfor performers wishing to avoid competition from three other shows. This is supposedly a Norfolk festival, not just a Norwich festival. Many of us living in the sticks of this huge county have a long way to come, given that practically everything is taking place in the city. That trip needs to be worthwhile, if the festival hopes to attract significant numbers beyond the outer ring road.