nihm (tzadik 7715)

TimeOut New York

A Korean-born cellist who studied improvisation and film scoring in Boston, Okkyung Lee hit New York in 2000. Seemingly overnight, she became a ubiquitous presence in the downtown avant-garde scene. A powerful, versatile player, Lee has played a substantial role in projects led by John Zorn, Butch Morris and Greg Tate; she also works in a collaborative trio with Tim Barnes and Toshio Kajiwara. Nihm, Lee’s debut release as leader, at long last provides firsthand evidence of the distinctive personality behind those prodigious chops.
Lee deftly deploys a core band of leading downtowners—clarinetist Doug Wieselman, harpist Shelley Burgon, pianist Sylvie Courvoisier, bassist Trevor Dunn, laptopper Ikue Mori, and percussionists Barnes and John Hollenbeck—in a variety of colorful permutations. Zorn’s influence can be felt in the leader’s healthy disregard for stylistic boundaries, as well as in “That Undeniable Empty Feeling,” a gorgeously loping tune that sounds as if it were borrowed from the Masada songbook.
Picturesque miniatures such as “Story of You and Me,” “Anything You Say, Anything You (Don’t) Say” and “Sky” draw in equal measure upon Lee’s technical prowess and her visually acute imagination. Sitting one out, she includes a Korean children’s song rendered in Courvoisier’s icy stabs and Mori’s painterly daubs. Certain moods and titles—as well as a melancholy Raymond Chandler passage printed in the CD booklet—suggest that there’s still more to the story than Lee’s letting on. That’s okay: Who wants to learn everything on a first date?

—Steve Smith

Baltimore City Paper

Born in Korea in 1975, cellist and composer Okkyung Lee moved to Boston at age 18 to study at the Berklee College of Music and New England Conservatory. Migrating to New York in 2000, she’s become a fixture in the downtown avant-garde, playing with John Zorn, Jim O’Rourke, Christian Marclay, and many others. Nihm, her debut album, is consistently absorbing. Played by a revolving group of deft musicians, Lee’s compositions wind through chamber pieces, taut jazz, film-score drama, and improvised abstractions. Yet her music’s precision firmly glues the album’s diverse sonics.Nihm’s sharpest tool is Lee’s razorlike timing. Every piano chord, percussion rattle, and cello tone falls right where it’s needed. Hence, the catchy bop of “That Undeniable Empty Feeling” and the cascading abstraction of “Anything You Say, Anything You (Don’t) Say” sound oddly similar, each deploying its weapons with sublime logic. Building like a narrative, Nihm’s subplots mesmerize: “Closed Window” clings to a sad melody from Lee’s mournful cello and Doug Wieselman’s clarinet. A duet with drummer Tim Barnes, “Deep Blue Knot,” sways from minimalist restraint to air-filling abandon. “Home,” a Korean children’s song rearranged into an abstract tapestry, adds Ikue Mori’s electronics to the drizzling piano of Sylvie Courvoisier.
Despite its collaborative energy, Nihm, peaks when Lee plays unaccompanied. Her string massaging on “Sky” is like the score to slow time-lapse photography of a multihued horizon. The track’s patient, wordless tale unfolds like a great novel, a microcosm of Nihm’s powers: thoughtful yarns weaved from exacting sounds.

– Marc Masters

paristransatlantic.com

"Special thanks to John Zorn for (simply) being who he is," writes cellist Okkyung Lee. And, cynics might add, for signing the cheque.. Nihm is, after all, quintessentially Tzadik product, a typically Downtown (as was) mixture of atmospheric, wistful improv ("On A Windy Day", "Anything You Say, Anything You (Don't) Say"), Balkan-inflected post-klez post-Masada ("That Undeniable Empty Feeling", "Returning Point") with the odd splash of insanity ("Deep Blue Knot") cobbed in for good measure. The performances are naturally as impressive as the line-up – Tim Barnes and John Hollenbeck on percussion, Trevor Dunn on bass, Doug Wieselman on clarinets, Shelley Burgon on harp, Sylvie Courvoisier on piano and Ikue Mori on electronics join Lee in ten cunningly sequenced and exquisitely recorded pieces. Notching up bonus Zornie points, the eternally shining gold booklet comes complete with a quotation not from Mickey Spillane, but from Raymond Chandler: "The French have a phrase for it. The bastards have a phrase for everything and they are always right. To say goodbye is to die a little." Which, if read aloud while listening to the hauntingly beautiful "Sky" could bring a tear to the eye of the hardest hardboiled private eye. Or music journalist.

—Dan Warburton

Wire magazine

A debut from a current regular on the downtown New York scene. Part-composed, part-improvised, Nihm certainly reflects South Korean cellist and composer Okkyung Lee's training in scoring for film. It's there in the evocative chimes, droning and clatter of "On a Windy Day", in the sinuously cumulative narrative action of "That Undeniable Empty Feeling" and the expressive tenderness of "Story of You and Me". and it through the seven further tracks that follow, culminating in the uneasy intimations of "4:37 Tuesday Morning". Music designed to capture or enhance mood, intention, inner states and dynamics. episodic pieces, psychologically nuanced and stylistically eclectic in order to render specific effects; sometimes leaning towards cinematic fashoning of jazz, elsewhere edging into electroacoustic abstraction or plunging into dramatic improvised exchanges.

As well as Lee's cello, there are electronic contribution from Ikue Mori, Doug Wieselman playing clarinets, percussionists Tim Barnes and John Hollenbeck, harpist Shelley Burgon, pianist Sylvie Courvoisier and bassist Trevor Dunn. all are clearly attuned to Lee's conceptions and requirements, and meet them with assured, purposeful performances. Each piece can be heard as a movie for the ear. Indeed, it's difficult to listen to Lee's music without consciously drawing support from the visual imagination, but equally each is strong enough to stand alone. Tzadik production and presentation are in keeping with the exacting standard we have come to expect.

– Julian Cowley

All About Jazz NY

Each of the ten tracks on Okkyung Lee’s debut album sounds completely unique. Yet as Lee’s cello and Doug Wieselman’s clarinets fade away together—and Tim Barnes’ and John Hollenbeck’s percussion, mixed with Ikue Mori’s electronics, rattle in an at times magical, at times frightening clamor—each track opens into the next with complete ease. Nihm undulates between psychological mayhem and organic serenity.
As a composer, Lee has the fearless ability to conjoin myriad textures, creating pieces of music with scarce melody but profound atmosphere. The opening track “On A Windy Day” features the simple ringing of chimes against a low drone, which culminates in a clamoring orgy of steel and aluminum before yielding to the tribal echo of the hand drum. The visual movement of the piece is striking as the musicians create the sonic equivalent of a storm brewing.
A moment of passion is followed by calm on “Story of You and Me” as Lee laces a deeply resounding ribbon around the delicate plucking of Shelley Burgon’s soothing harp, but then “Anything You Say, Anything You Don’t Say” briskly arrives, resembling a relationship gone awry, or a mind gone askew. Sylvie Courvoisier culls rubbery, broken sounds from the strings of her piano that seem twisted by madness, while creaking, shattering noises fall all around. Thus begins the deranged apex of Nihm.
Wieselman’s long clarinet tones attempt to quiet the psyche with “Returning Point,” but spots of whirling whistles and soft cymbals add dashes of vibrant disarray to the tune’s serene backbone as it leads into the strangest part of the album: “Home.” This Korean children’s song is an ethereal, space-less atmosphere created by Mori’s extremely high-frequency electronics. Piercing sheaths of noise cut through the gentle piano passages and echoing electronics that resemble the microscopic sounds of the insect world. On “Deep Blue Knot,” dense musical configurations result in violent texture as villainous cello combines with the ceaseless crashing of drums.
And then the album achieves serenity. Content in her solitude, Lee’s solo cello breathes big on “Sky.” For the final track, “Tuesday Morning,” she links up with Wieselman’s clarinet for a calming duo. Their contrasting tones enhance each other’s impact, as mate can do to mate in the symbiotic world of planet Earth.

– Celeste Sunderland

from www.pepper-zone.com

La série Oracles de Tzadik, qui met en avant le travail des femmes dans la scène expérimentale mondiale. Fréquente actrice au sein de la Downtown scene de NY, Okkyung Lee a participé à de nombreux disques dont par exemple les deux œuvres de Raz Mesinai. Tzadik lui offre donc la possibilité d’enregistrer son premier opus, essai transformé avec la sortie de ce brillant « Nihm ». Basé en partie sur l’improvisation, les racines coréennes de Okkyung, et les concepts de l’amour et du mystère, les 10 titres sont d’une délicatesse infinie. Entouré de brillants musiciens (Trevor Dunn, Sylvie Courvoisier, Ikue Mori, Doug Wieselman…), le violon se fait sublime sur de nombreuses compositions à la sensibilité exacerbée. Si Ikue Mori propose deux interludes basés sur des samples électroniques, le reste flirte du coté ambiant paisible (« story of you… ») ou bien plus expérimentales (« anything… »). Quoiqu’il en soit, la jolie Okkyung (qu’on peut voir sur la pochette du disque) signe un brillant quinzième disque pour la série Oracles…

– punk sportif

www.elintruso.com

Okkyung Lee.
Esta cellista nacida en Taejon, Corea, ha llegado para complicarnos con su talento.
A la edad en que uno todavía usaba chupete, ella comenzó a tocar el piano; y cuando aún no lográbamos acostumbrarnos a vivir sin pañales, ya tocaba el cello.
Okkyung Lee se mudó a Boston en 1993 para estudiar composición contemporánea en el Berklee College of Music. Luego obtendría un master en improvisación contemporánea en el New England Conservatory of Music. Con esos títulos bajo el brazo llegaría a New York en el 2000.
En los años siguientes trabajaría junto a John Zorn, Butch Morris, Mark Dresser, Ikue Mori, Anthony Coleman y Zeena Parkins, entre otros. Durante ese tiempo también fundó el T.O.T trio junto al DJ Toshio Kajiwara y el percusionista Tim Barnes. Pero no serÍa hasta el 2005 en el que editarÍa su disco debut: Nihm.
Nihm es algo más que un promisorio debut. No es un simple ejercicio de composición. Aquí podemos encontrar una auténtica expresión de ideas musicales propias realizadas con un pulso muy seguro, ofreciendo el atractivo de una concepción formal muy equilibrada y con una instrumentación sencilla y diáfana. Su propuesta es pluralista tanto en contenido como en su forma.
A ese pluralismo creativo no debe dársele la acepción neo-colonialista en la que se pretende adjudicarle a Occidente la función de acaparar el hecho artístico, mientras el resto del mundo brinda materias primas que sólo alcanzan valor cuando son procesadas por el primer mundo. Parece corresponderle un significado más amplio y propio de este mundo globalizado en donde no hay estilos dominantes y en donde el agregado de valor académico puede provenir de diferentes culturas sin limitaciones geográficas ni antropológicas.
Antes de continuar y luego de las ideas expresadas, me parece oportuno aclarar que no tengo armas químicas en mi casa (no vaya a ser que alguno piense en invadirme)
Nihm en lo significativo tiende a ser íntimo, individual y está claramente asociado con una idea poderosamente pensada, pero también es un “lugar” de resistencia contra la noción que todo está “cocinado” y predeterminado. El gran cineasta Luis Buñuel decía que las películas profundas son como los sueños profundos. Pueden no gustar pero terminan alojándose en el subconciente para retornar una y otra vez.
Esta obra de Okkyung Lee parece compartir esta acepción.  Lee explica, al referirse al tema que abre el disco, que “está inspirado en el sonido de las campanas de los templos Budistas que visitaba cuando era niña”, para aclarar luego “no pretendo emular los sonidos reales sino transmitir las sensaciones y recuerdos que vagamente conservo en mi memoria, como un eco de la realidad en sí misma”.
Lo más sorprendente es que dice todo esto como si fuera lo más natural del mundo. Que quede claro: la muchacha es brava y no parece fácil de detener.
En este disco cuenta con la ayuda del percusionista Tim Barnes con quien también comparte integración en el T.O.T trio, Sylvie Courvuosier (otra que se las trae) e Ikue Mori ambas de Mephista, el impecable John Hollenbeck, líder del no menos impecable Claudia Quintet y otros que no nombro ahora porque ya lo hice antes... y porque no quiero… y además me enojé… ¡qué tanto! Y que vengan en fila que acá hay un pecho argentino dispuesto a…
Perdón, creo que me fui por la tangente… ¿Tangente? Rima con Oriente, justo de donde viene Okkyung Lee.
De allí viene pero a dónde llegará es impredecible, aunque sospecho que muy lejos.
En Nihm hay momentos de conmovedora belleza como en Story Of You and Me y otros de violencia contenida como en Deep Blue Knot. Momentos de mágica serenidad como en Tuesday Morning y Sky y algunos desconcertantes pasajes en los que confluyen diferentes sonidos (¿y ruidos?) como en el mencionado On a Windy Day.
Todo eso es parte del universo de Okkyung Lee.
Ingresar en él es una decisión muy personal.
Si lo hace, aténgase a las consecuencias.
No me diga que no le avisé.

–Sergio Piccirilli