Hannah Peel & Beibei Wang ~ The Endless Dance

Humor, play, fun.  These words are bandied about in the press release for The Endless Dance, a sky blue LP that sparkles like spring.  The vibrant template of the cover suggests an array of flowers bursting from the earth, the artists cleverly disguised in the collage.

Head straight to track two to jump into the fun.  This is where Beibei Wang starts reciting a Chinese tongue twister, turning it into a rap-and-clap with Kuai Ban (bamboo clappers).  This infectious piece has a chance of going viral, in the vein of “APT.”, which was based on a Korean drinking game.  One of the few vocal moments on the album, “Awaken the Insects” overflows with personality and verve.

Or of course one can start at the beginning with “Wild Geese Arrive,” which includes watery splashes (like landing geese), Wang’s marimba and Hannah Peel‘s hiccups.  Did no one try to scare the hiccups away?  The international interaction between instrument and body sound, from Ireland to China, creates a unique atmosphere, an invented location like that of an illustrated book, “somewhere no-one has been to before.”

Quick – how many albums can you name that feature grand piano, daegeum, jawbone and rice bowl?  Now there’s one; the hole in the marketplace has been filled.  The Korean flute is played by Hyelim Kim, one of the happy guests.  Laughter, temple bells and horse hoof percussion populate “Mantis vs Horse,” but no winner is declared; the two creatures are enfolded in the endless dance. One imagines “the 24 terms of the Chinese calendar,” each personified by a playful being.  As the tempo increases, the heart soars.

The organic elements are balanced by Peel’s ebullient keyboards, which tilt the timbre toward the electronic.  The creative notes of Peel’s prepared piano are met by Peel’s corresponding curiosities.  Each artist pushes the other to new heights, an encouragement caught on tape during “Tiger Sex,” in which Peel spurs Wang to “just keep going;” and then ironically Peel’s voice does as well, caught in the vortex of a loop.  Wet synth travels speaker to speaker like a fly unsure where to land.  “Feed the Fireflies” floats on clouds of breath, the notes aloft as long as the feather stays in the air.

The album is pure joy.  But like a lunch hour, free period, recess or spring break, it eventually has to end.  The closing tracks allow the dancer to slow down before heading to the kitchen to enjoy a refreshing glass of water, which will be one’s drink of choice after hearing the water percussion of “Limit of Heat,” like a gurgling cooler or refreshing stream.  The advantage of an endless dance is that it is always waiting when one is ready to join in again.  (Richard Allen)