Over the past five years, Philip Samartzis has been building a body of distinct work. The interrelated recordings are identifiable by their adjacent titles: 2021’s Polar Force / Array (with Eugene Ughetti); 2023’s Atmospheres and Disturbances; 2024’s Air Pressure (with Michael Vorfeld); and now 2026’s Atmospheric Pressure, again with Vorfeld.
The starting point for these ventures was a pair of residencies sponsored by the Australian Antarctic Territory Arts Fellowship program. Samartzis was able to capture some incredible recordings in sub-zero temperatures, and they have proven to be a wealth of material in both pure and sculpted forms. As on Air Pressure, Samartzis contributes electronics, Vorfeld stringed instruments and percussion. The new set zeroes in on a 36-hour blizzard at the Casey Research Station in 2016. Amid the hundred-knot winds and white-out conditions, “the station was reduced to pressure, vibration, and sound.”
Simply picturing David Nielson’s cover image of David Ward inspecting dog lines in 1990, one can already feel the cold and intuit the level of difficulty. “Gravitational Overflow” sets the stage with slowly increasing winds and the creak of vanes (personified by Vorfeld’s instruments). The wind and snow create their own music, an undulating drone of literal white noise. Percussion enters as sympathetic partner; one imagines the rattling of glass and iron, caught in a maelstrom of Biblical proportions. Toward the end, these metallic pats and taps take center stage, as if representing the eye of the hurricane.
“Depression” refers to atmospheric conditions, although one would be forgiven for thinking that it might mirror a mood. The isolation of research stations often produces feelings of malaise. The electronics and radio chatter are surprises in the wake of the opener; some portions even sound like turntable scratches or graffiti cans being shaken. The focus is not on the machine hum and motor sputter, but instead, what happens when the electricity fails. The purely percussive section arrives earlier, in the sixth minute, like the last sounds of a man caught in a storm, having lost all bearings, facing death by making music one last time, his only audience the abyss.
“Cold Front” reveals the full depth of the danger. The strings seem as agitated as the snow, the percussion as frozen as the sleet, the electronics as charged as the air. Sound bends around the cymbals like sheets of ice. In the sixth minute, a sound like clomping hooves comes across like a phantasm. The actual storm mixes with the impression of the storm to convey feelings of being trapped inside or wandering outside: stir crazy or snow-blind.
The applause at the very end is well-earned. We’re not sure how many more Antarctic recordings Samartzis has in the bag, but as so few of us are likely to hear them in person, each release arrives as a revelation. (Richard Allen)
