Texan composer Olivia Block, who began her musical life in a group named after Nico's The Marble Index, has a foot in several camps ­ electronics, field recordings, composition and improvisation ­ but is beholden to none. Change Ringing is the final part of a trilogy which began with Pure Gaze and Mobius Fuse. Block attempts to reconcile natural elements (environmental recordings ­ a selective literalness) with artifice (electronics and instrumental writing). This is a hard thing to pull off, and few composers have achieved it. But apart from a very brief awkward bout of change ringing near the end of this 30 minute composition, Block succeeds admirably. Block draws on a cast of 15 musicians including Jeb Bishop (trombone), Kyle Bruckmann (oboe) and Bhob Rainey (soprano saxophone), not all of whom are deployed simultaneously, but their teamwork is evident throughout. The instrumentation is interestingly varied and the orchestration suits the tenor of the music, its trajectory and compass. Block's music has moved on since Pure Gaze, as Change Ringing indicates. It'll be interesting to see where she goes from here.
>Brian Marley, The Wire, 9.2006

One of the most wonderful things about the arts is that they don’t have to mean a thing to be meaningful. While there is nothing wrong with intellectually dissecting a work, neither is there with merely sitting down and allowing your senses to take over. Olivia Block’s “Change Ringing” is already being reviewed in Jazz- and Experimental publications alike and will very likely be featured on the pages of some open-minded Classical Magazines. This could make it the subject of a theoretical debate on modernism, post-modernism and the juxtaposition of diverse ingredients. Or it might simply engulf you with sounds and aural images of a seldomly encountered intensity.
Feeding the former, Block has gathered genres at the same table, which usually wouldn’t even dare to look at each other: There are orchestral movements, hints at hunting tunes, Jazz impros, field recordings, clicking and hissing noises and sudden outbursts of industrial distortion. Assembled freely in the studio, this singluar, thirty minute long track includes a wide array of sound sources (15 musicians have contributed with instruments from Bells to a Bass Trombone), among which a short segment of a live performance. The various stylistic passages are well separated from each other, yet seemlessly connected – a clear sign to the pensive mind that “Change Ringing” translates to a credo for allowing differences to peacefully coexist and to come together in a new form of corresponding components. To anyone else, this a fluid, focused and dynamic composition that constitutes a world of its own: A one-note brass intro fades into silently ondulating frequencies and deep clicks and cracks, subsiding into an ocean of tiny glistening icicles, before giving way to a gargling and gurgling crescendo. Metallic scratching ensues, exchanging longing looks with romantic harmonic signals from Oboes and Clarinets and then loosing itself in a dream of cicadas- and cow bells-filled idyill. Only the pristine, yet powerful finale allows the musicians back in, bringing things to a moving close.
Never a mere collection of moments, this is a scintillating continuum. It is not a necessity, but a nice fact that it equally serves the mind and the heart: The more you think about, the more sense it makes. The less you think about it, the more enjoyment you will get out of it. When these thirty minutes have passed, something will definitely have changed. You might not know what it’s all supposed to mean – but, in reference to the title, your ears will be ringing.
>Tobias Fischer, Tokafi, 4.2006

"Change Ringing" marks the culmination of Block's CD trilogy (Pure Gaze and Mobius Fuse being released in '98 and '01 on Sedimental records) as well as the end of her eight year journey toward the realization of the entire project.
The piece itself was composed by Block between 1997 and 2005 and consists of a half hour mash of field recordings, electronics, and live instrumentation from: Jeb Bishop (trombone), Kyle Bruckmann (oboe), Jerome Bryerton (percussion), Mike Flake (clarinet), Carol Genetti (voice), Eliot Gattengo (saxophone), Marcie Gurnow (clarinet), Jay Heltzer (bass trombone), Ernst Karel (trumpet), Chris Novak (clarinet), Liz Payne (bells), Bhob Rainey (soprano saxophone), Sunshine Simmons (bass clarinet), Jordan Voelker (viola), and Christie Vohs (bass clarinet). Having been immersed in sound art for a better part of two years, the sheer volume of new pieces can sometimes dull my ears to what is interesting and what is quackery. What is most appealing is how Block reserves as space for the instruments to occupy unmolested by the click & cut as she cobbles together this final episode. Much of the beauty in the listening comes from a sublime balance between the unmarred orchestrated sound and the highly manipulated electronics. As musicians make their way through Block's dense underbrush of sound where the pleasantries of her field recordings (birdsongs etc.) become a slightly recognizable darkened morass that encompasses not only the canopy but also the carpet of their context, they respond with joyful outbursts not unlike children on a nature walk. To her credit, Black doesn't squelch her minions but allows them an appropriate amount of space to expand the limits of her experimentation.
>Chris Jacques, Foxy Digitalis, 2.2006

Since the late 1990s, Olivia Block has combined compositional rigor with an abiding interest in field recordings and improvisation. She works slowly (or at least doesn’t release too much) but her music is consistently provocative and rewarding. Aside from long-standing partnerships with Seth Nehil among others, Block’s own compositions have been her predominant focus, especially in the trilogy of works of which Change Ringing is the last (the first two—Pure Gaze and Mobius Fuse, both on Sedimental—are required listening as well).
Don’t be fooled by the fact that this piece is only 30 minutes long. It’s got more happening than most records twice its length. Block continues to incorporate horns and other acoustic instruments here (15 musicians are listed, among them trombonist Jeb Bishop, oboist Kyle Bruckmann, vocalist Carol Genetti, and saxophonist Bhob Rainey). But while it’s worth pondering the way in which reference functions in Block’s music—indeed, she’s not at all shy about incorporating obvious idiomatic gestures—what’s really lovely about her assemblage and reconstruction of hours of recordings is the way in which she absorbs source materials into a rich, seamless, percolating fabric that’s all her own.
This piece pops, burbles, pings, and chimes; Block herself regards it as a kind of fanfare to conclude the trilogy (whose earlier pieces were almost elusive in places, shying away from declarations of any sort). For its entire duration, the piece flashes with occasional ideas and allusions: a skipping stereo needle, distant strings coaxed, bowls being rubbed, or voices behind the wall. It’s as fascinating to track these details as it is to pay attention to the entire course of Change Ringing. One third of the way through, the bubbling optimism of the opening segment drops out to reveal a vast growing darkness below. A wave of noise crests quickly, a stentorian trombone at its heart. Lyricism rises again, unbowed but this time a bit more chastened. Ultimately what’s left is a muted forest of feedback with a dull thudding below (to me this passage recalls Robert Ashley’s “Automatic Writing”).
It’s in the final segment of the piece that the idiomatic materials are most provocatively announced—lush chamber arrangements for horns and strings, and crackling electronics—and disassembled. What’s left in the wake resembles the piece’s opening, plangent drones (occasionally flashing with instrumental properties) situated in a field of “nature” sounds that—whether flame, pond, or rushing air—continually call attention to their own artifice. It’s this almost self-reflective sense that, along with the circular properties of the piece—which at time seem to encapsulate the methodologies of Block’s entire trilogy—suggest an openness, a music of eternal return. Gorgeous, essential stuff.
>Jason Bivins, One Final Note, 1.2006

‘Changing Ringing’ is the third and final release in a trilogy. It follows ‘Pure Gaze’ (1999) and ‘Mobius Fuse’ (2001), both released by the Massachusetts-based label Sedimental. This time though, Olivia Block has chosen to release the conclusion on Jason Kahn’s label, Cut. As with the first two in the series ‘Changing Ringing’ is just one thirty minute track. Block utilises a combination of scored segments (fifteen musicians are involved on everything from trombone to voice to bells), field recordings and generated sounds. She combines them all into an extremely subtle composition. The piece starts with a sustained note from the brass section. It dies down quickly and merges into complimentary tones. Around the nine minute mark various woodwind instruments start to sound and a low rumble overtakes the track. This subsides into a crackling field recording that includes the sounds of wind and insects. We are finally left with a cacophony of clarinets and oboes that drift off into sounds of knocking and faint digital beeps. Block’s arrangement of all the elements creates a kind of arc through the track. The piece constantly evolves; for all the threatening sounds one comes away with a sense of serenity and peace.
>Simon Hampson, Cyclic Defrost, 1.2006

Eight years in the making, Change Ringing is the third release in an epic trilogy cycle by composer Olivia Block. However, while thematically similar to 1998's Pure Gaze and 2001's Mobius Fuse, the work stands alone as a complete piece of music, a sometimes calming, sometimes violent, and always interesting one at that. Block begins the thirty-minute work with a trombone blast (performed by Jeb Bishop, one of the fifteen musicians who plays on the work) whose reverb trail she follows with subdued pulses, feedback and skipping glitches. She continues in this fashion, subtly fitting these minimal elements together in a number of patterns until the first scene shift at the six-minute mark where she slowly elides the fade-out of the ensemble with a physically encompassing low frequency tone. For three minutes, Block builds tension by pairing this element with it's polar opposite (a near dog-whistle tone) then interjects another trombone swell and covers the piece in lovely, speaker-ripping distortion. From here, she allows her source materials (field recordings, a concert of performances in the vein of Scelsci by her acoustic players in Boston) a bit more of their original personalities, though Block still continues to slur the lines with her deft programming skills; early-morning bird calls turn into a percolating slew, clarinetists produce droning harmonics not possible with the instrument and is that clanking and wooden creaking perhaps a pirate ship in Boston harbor? However, for the climax of the piece Block stratifies her digital and human camps as she strips the chamber ensemble of DSP and employs a crackling, clearly electronic bed of sound underneath, letting both sound off before sending them on their way. Combining electronics and acoustic instruments is a delicate line to walk, but Block handles this task with grace. She understands the relationship of these two worlds, how to placate organics and animate inorganics and how to combine the two into a unique mélange. The time invested in this work paid off, as Block effectively found that envied spot in the art world that so many try to reach: a unique voice that inspires her peers and captivates her audience.
>Dave Madden, Splendid, 12.2005

Objet à part dans le champ des musiques électro-acoustiques, où les temps sont clairement à l’improvisation, ou plutôt au problème posés par l’ordinateur en tant qu’outil d’improvisation, également isolé dans le champ des musiques minimales et du sound design, issus de bases bien plus clairement intimistes, Change Ringing fera événement, en espérant qu’il trouve une audience suffisante pour le faire passer du régime micro- au régime mega-. Objet à part pour deux choix esthétiques essentiels : d’une part la compositrice s’est entourée d’un orchestre entier pour réaliser son projet (le mythe du home studio s’effondre d’un coup), d’autre part, il s’agit d’une musique extrêmement écrite que ce soit sous une forme traditionnelle (partitions) ou sur celle, plus contemporaine, de l’écran.
Ces deux choix, singuliers par les temps qui courent, déterminent en grande partie la forme de l’œuvre et les diverses émotions et impressions qu’elle met en jeu. Le recours à un grand orchestre, composé principalement d’instruments à vent (hautbois, clarinettes, saxophones, trompettes), insuffle à la composition une grande abstraction, et la soustrait à tout contexte d’écriture subjective ou intimiste. Il est ici question avant tout de rapports entre les timbres, entre les accords et les notes, rapport mis au jour, et même à nu de manière à ne laisser qu’une ossature, une structure rigoureuse, et toute l’écriture se fonde sur le jeu abstrait et épuré que ces éléments entretiennent entre eux. Cette abstraction délibérée des structures musicales a probablement pour origine le fait qu’elles soient fondées sur des fragments instrumentaux écrits, et non improvisés, comme si la compositrice avait préparé les conditions de possibilités d’une simplicité à toute épreuve : débarrasser l’écriture de ses affects improvisés, dégager le matériau de tout expressionnisme, ne conserver qu’une ligne pure, nettement tracée, ligne claire sans zone d’ombre, sans rien qui ne résiste au projet global.
Œuvre élaborée à partir de fragments écrits et retraités, de sons générés par ordinateur et aussi, de manière invisible, d’inserts concrets, Change Ringing évoque les minimalistes américains en ce que, partout, le travail de composition, d’assemblage, de connexion des divers éléments apparaît lisiblement et forme le tout de cette musique, révélation de l’élaboration devenue enjeu, réduction de la musique à son ordre même, comme dirait Stravinsky, à sa tension vers l’ordre. Cette évocation, pourtant, se fait toujours par défaut et en négatif : la musique d’Olivia Block évoque celle d’un Terry Riley dont on aurait disséminé la méticuleuse trame sonore répétitive, elle évoque les glissandi de cuivres de Bernard Hermann, mais évidés de tout romantisme, de tout geste wagnérien ou opératique et si elle évoque Aaron Copland (Fanfare for the Common Man), ce n’est qu’à titre d’insert, de brève trouée finale à l’intérieur d’un glacis électronique.
Malicieuse Olivia Block qui trace des cadres, définit des règles, écrit puis compose avec une précision d’horloger, cite avec maîtrise et facilité, pour mieux, en définitive, se soustraire aux catégories où on l’attend et sur lesquelles elle a déjà quelques bonnes longueurs d’avance.
>Johnny One Shot, Infratunes, 1.2006

Change Ringing ist nach Pure Gaze (1998) und Mobius Fuse (2001, beide Sedimental Records) der dritte Teil einer Trilogie von OLIVIA BLOCK. Die heute in Chicago aktive Elektroakustikerin machte anfänglich in Austin, TX auf sich aufmerksam mit Projekten wie The Marble Index und Alial Straa mit Partnern wie Seth Nehil und John Grznich. Namen wie Nico, Eno, The Hafler Trio, AMM, Pauline Oliveros, Ellen Fullman oder Kaffe Mathews spannen, über bloßes Namedropping hinaus, ein Kraftfeld ihrer ästhetischer Anstöße. Ihr Streben gilt einer Vermittlung von Natur und Kunst, Organischem und Anorganischem, Beseeltem und Materiellem, Gänsefüßchen jeweils implizite. Aus Fieldrecordings und Samples von Instrumentalklängen entwirft sie bei Change Ringing eine Klanglandschaft, die langsam sich in Raum und Zeit hinbreitet. Eingebacken in das sanft rauschende, dunkel und unregelmäßig gewellte Gedröhn, das aber dann doch auch harsch aufbraust und krachig prasselt, sind sonore Atemzüge von Posaunen, Oboe, Klarinetten & Bassklarinetten, Stimme, Saxophonen, Trompete und Viola und der Klingklang von Percussion und Glocken, u. a. geliefert von so bekannten Leuten wie Jeb Bishop, Kyle Bruckman, Liz Payne oder Bhob Rainey. Aber dieser nur vage menschliche Faktor verschmilzt mit dem mikrophonen Outdoorwetter, mit Regengetröpfel, Vogelstimmen und Grasnarbengeflüster. Wieviel davon dem Laptopspeicher entfleucht, sei dahin gestellt. Wenn man so will, dann sind die in den spezifischen Klangfarben der genannten Holz- und Blech-, Reed- und Stringinstrumente wohlklingenden Haltetöne, die kurz vor Schluss sich zu einem kurzen Chorus vereinen, die musikalische Software, die die environmentale Hardware in Blocks ‘Natur-Bild‘ ‚beseelt‘.
>Rigobert Dittmann, Bad Alchemy, 1.2006

Die Tatsache, dass an diesem Album fünfzehn Instrumentalisten (meist Bläser) beteiligt sind, könnte einen zur Erwartung verleiten, man habe es mit einem üppig arrangierten Werk zu tun. Dem ist nicht so: Die Musikerin übt sich in vornehmer Zurückhaltung. Präzis treffen die warmen akustischen Sounds der Instrumentalisten auf die von Olivia Block erschaffenen elektronischen Klänge. Die Komposition verläuft durchgehend, ist jedoch in verschiedene Sektionen unterteilt und umfasst ein breites dynamisches Spektrum. Verschiedenartige Stimmungsbilder entfalten sich, welche trotz dem eher minimalen Ansatz für viel Abwechslung sorgen. Mit "Change Ringing" bringt Olivia Block eine Trilogie, welche mit den Alben "Pure Gaze" and "Mobius Fuse" (beide auf Sedimental Records) begonnen hatte, zu einem grossartigen Finale.
>Tomas Korber, Jazz n' More, 1.2006

Change Ringing follows Block’s Pure Gaze and Mobius Fuse in a trilogy of sorts, and like those beloved pieces, Change is a perfectly paced, not-a-second-too-short, 30-minute suite for chamber group and environment, ever in a limbo state between where found sound ends, instrumentation begins, and where digital processing tangles the timeline.
The piece feels more subtle and more defined than its predecessors: mainly because there is more open space, more quiet, more of the nagging sense of each sound’s designation in both breaking down the transparency of the whole and working within it. Pure Gaze and Mobius Fuse worked first as beauteous, lush journeys aloft on the dream currents of muffled fireworks, bowed strings, night insects and organ wash. Only later would the pieces break down and settle in the mind, letting some kind of science develop out of Block’s diverse archeology. Change Ringing feels intent on rushing that settling.
The opening trombone bleat/fog horn/synthetic blast (you can never tell) acts almost like a volume check, setting up for a close listen. The section of gurgling, chirping tones that follows remind me of works by Matthew Schumacher and their creation of an immaterial surface that rustles, fades, and pops without becoming so effervescent as to engage its own disappearance or shimmer away. Snatches of woody, resonant instruments closely recorded bounce off of pure tones and the slight cracks of something outside, in a blanket of thick, gliding strands. Another fog horn from the silence brings the second phase, the bizarre traffic of fire-cracking static, an earthy rustle, and the parts of a few instruments, no doubt including Bhob Rainey’s sax in full clap and miniature shuffle.
The key, of course, is Block’s recording method and volumetric arrangements; high volume listening really pulls the head in thousand places, and average levels will have you in a pleasant straining for the details. Change’s conclusion is a stew of quiet commotion, outsides, insides, and inbetweens gathering in a blissful flux of indescribable direction. Chamber stings equal underwater poolhall equal screaming blues of sky inside a twist of bark: a squabbling that is not uniform, not even a working together, but a fitting together, a wonderful, befitting fitting together.
>Andrew Culler, Brainwashed, 11.2005

A finely balanced juxtaposition of "field recordings, scored segments for acoustic instruments and electronically generated sounds" constitutes the signature of composer Olivia Block, whose "Change ringing" - in its 30+ minutes - is a good representation of the dynamic phenomena and secret relationships between the single parts that she loves to apply to her music. Fifteen of the most accomplished improvisers (among them Kyle Bruckmann, Jeb Bishop, Bhob Rainey) lend their instrumental voices during the liveliest sections of a disc which - in various instances - recalls the work of artists as diverse as David Behrman, Christof Kurzmann, Lionel Marchetti, Voice Crack; yet, don't be influenced by these comparisons, as the crafty care for the sonic circumstances which Block puts throughout the piece expands the sound up to a high degree of contrasted linearity and morphing electro-biology in perfect self-disposition as the time goes by. A rare case of multi-faceted psychoacoustic structure within the impalpable borders of unpredictability.
>Massimo Ricci, Touching Extremes, 11.2005

With the release of 'Change Ringing' by Olivia Block, she completes her trilogy that started with 'Pure Gaze' (see Vital Weekly 167) and 'Mobius Fuse' (see Vital Weekly 285), both on Sedimental Records. There are similarities to be drawn now: all the three works are around thirty minutes, and all three use extensively sound material Block composed, played by others and used in the compositions. Here no less than fifteen musicians play trombone, oboe, percussion, clarinet, voice, saxophone, trumpet, bells and viola. All of these sounds, as-well as field recordings and electronics, make up a minimal sound - strangely enough, despite the unearthly rumble somewhere half way through. Instruments and sounds alike work here closely together to such an extent that it is hard to tell the difference. The instruments play sustained lines at times, and there is the addition of sustained field recordings. Everything moves in a slow way; slow but moving. Together with the previous parts, this is a more than excellent work, and a pity they didn't fit all on continuous CD.
>Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly, 10.2003

Auf Cut, dem feinen von Jason Kahn geführten Label mit den wunderbaren Pappkarton-Covers, erscheint der finale Teil von Olivia Blocks CD-Trilogie, die vor mittlerweile acht Jahren gestartet wurde. Insgesamt fünfzehn beteiligte Musiker listet der Beipackzettel, eine ganze Menge – vor allem wenn man die CD zum ersten Mal hört, denn der primäre Eindruck ist schon eher minimal denn orchestral. Doch Olivia Block ist durchaus an Subtilität und Nuancen gelegen und so entfalten die zwischen kammermusikalischen Gesten, abstrakter Elektronik und Field Recordings umherwandelnden Klangskizzierungen ihre ganze Dichte erst nach wiederholtem Hören, zu dem auch die angenehme Spieldauer von ziemlich genau einer halben Stunde einlädt. Diese beginnt in bester lowercase-Tradition unauffällig aber detailreich, was ich als konzentrationsfördernden Einstieg durchaus begrüße, bevor sich in weiterer Folge verschiedenartigste elektronisch generierte Sounds – von gemächlichen Noiseflächen, digitalen Knack- und Knistergeräuschen bis hin zu subsonischem Wummern – zu delikaten ambienten Field-Recordings und den prägnanten Klangfarben der melodische Sternschritte ausführenden Rohrblatt- und Blechblasinstrumente gesellen. In den besten Momenten verschwimmen so beinahe unmerklich die Grenzen zwischen ‚echten’ Instrumenten und ‚künstlichem’ Sound aber auch zwischen experimenteller Improvisation und Komposition. Ein bemerkenswert ungewöhnliches Album.
>Tobias Bolt, quietnoise.org, 11.2005

The final album of the CD-trilogy including the titles Pure gaze and Mobius Fude (Sedimental Records, 1998, 2001) opens with a microscosmos of tiny sounds. However, things change after about nine minutes, when a harsh noise wall is introduced. After about 14 minutes the storm is over and “nature3 seems to recover and revive.
Scored segments of acoustic instruments can be heard as of now, creating a sad atmosphere. A wide range of instruments have been featured, played by about 15 musicians. Nevertheless this does not sound like an orchestra, but offers a rich and detailed minimal improv. setting. Lovely done.
>Phosphor, 7.2006

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