R.I.P. Phil Niblock

I'm saddened to learn of the passing this morning of Phill Niblock, an artist whose fifty-year career spans minimalist and experimental music, film, and photography. Impermanence is swift. Since 1985, he has served as director of Experimental Intermedia, a foundation for avant-garde music based in New York with a branch in Ghent, and curator of the foundation’s record label XI. 

Niblock’s signature sound was filled with microtones of instrumental timbres that generate many other tones in the performance space. Known for his thick, loud drones, he once said, "If the neighbors don’t complain before the piece ends, it’s probably not loud enough. The ones that live a mile down the road, that is.”  His description of a personal epiphany says much about his music: 

“In the mid 1960s, I was riding a two stroke, Yamaha motorcycle up a long mountain slope in the Carolinas, stuck behind a diesel engine truck. Both of our throttles were very open, overcoming the force of gravity. Soon, the revolutions of our respective engines came to a nearly harmonic coincidence, but not quite. The strong physical presence of the beats resulting from the two engines running at slightly different frequencies put me in such a trance that I nearly rode off the side of the mountain.”

In 2014, Niblock was honored with the prestigious Foundation for Contemporary Arts John Cage Award. 

Last year, I was fortunate to have experienced his music at the Big Ears Festival in Knoxville. I arrived at his set a few minutes late, having walked from an earlier performance by another artist, and as I entered the nearly pitch-black Old City Performing Arts Center, I was almost knocked over by the extremely loud wall of drone emanating from somewhere within the dark space. It was quite disorienting and I struggled to find a seat. The only light in the room came from twin screens showing raw footage of black-and-white film documenting fishing and agricultural techniques in southeast Asia without subtitles, comment, or context. As my eyes adjusted to the light from the film, I saw Niblock in a corner offstage, sitting behind a synth and some electronic equipment. Eventually, someone with an electrified bagpipe joined in, adding long sustained tones while standing in various places in the room. It was quite the experience and when the lights finally came on after nearly an hour, most of the audience was too stunned to applaud.  

Phill was born on April 2, 1933 in Anderson, Indiana and was 90 when he passed today.  His music can be explored on the Touch label's Bandcamp page.