Paul Pinto has two biographies. There’s the formal bio that comes with his electronic press kit, which eloquently lays out his accomplishments and professional affiliations (thingNY and Varispeed), and details his work in creating textual electro-acoustic vocal music. It says a lot about an extremely forward-thinking composer, but perhaps not as much as his Bandcamp bio: “He enjoys dressing up in suits and playing with turntables, glue, and some musical instruments.”
It’s an apt description of his new album, Water Music, a beautifully mad result of a composer steeped in contemporary vocal music, jazz, and soundscape-y synthesizers. The artwork alone captures the spirit of the Dec. 2024 Gold Bolus release: a hodgepodge of cut out, collaged images are piled in the corner of a black and white photograph of a child playing in the ocean. All at once, it’s deadly serious and always led by the joy of musical discovery.
The metatextual album invites listeners to consider the hidden histories that live beneath, beside, and within the waterways that our country is structured around, whether they are explicitly referred to in the music or not. River Songs, the five-movement song cycle that anchors the album, opens with harmonized vocals, all sung by Paul. With hard attacks and no vibrato, the monolithic chords feel both aggressive and joyful. He takes his time letting the listener sit in the space left by the echoes of each vocal stab, with a growing wail of feedback gradually emerging. Toward the end of the track, the homogenous texture is suddenly interrupted by a cacophony of percussion (Pinto), tenor sax (Zach Herchen), oboe (Christa Robinson), and trumpet (Nick Afflitto).
“Ancestor Song” starts with an infectious groove between the percussion and a synthesizer imitating a bass. This cascading melting pot lays the foundation for Paul’s voice, singing his own texts based on words by Isabel Castellvi. Paul is not necessarily a virtuoso singer in the way classical listeners are conditioned to think – he lives in a world of distinctly un-classical techniques, never really using a ton of vibrato, and unafraid to explore his falsetto. Sometimes we can hear his voice straining, but it’s never a weakness; Paul knows exactly what his voice is capable of, and he exploits it to the benefit of every moment.
Paul Pinto — Photo courtesy of the artist
Admittedly, Water Music loses a bit of energy after the undeniable forward propulsion of the first two tracks. In “Grebe Song,” low vocal harmonies are processed to create an otherworldly, computerized sound, but this soon gives way to an extended bit of ambient dissonance that doesn’t 100% justify the length of its stay. Meanwhile, the slow build of “Language Song” absolutely earns its six-minute runtime, but on the heels of “Grebe Song,” the sense of creeping dread created by the track feels longer than it is in reality.
Any lost momentum is quickly regained in “Golf Song (golf takes up too much land),” which begins with a real earworm of a tenor sax and oboe duet: an uptempo ostinato that slowly transforms and morphs around itself. I don’t want to give away how this is interrupted a little more than a minute in because the surprise is extremely addictive. Paul’s ability to make the listener comfortable with a musical texture before subverting our expectations (like the free jazz freakout in the first movement) is infectious. He keeps his audience on their toes without taking advantage of their trust or using those surprises as a cheap trick.
The album’s closer, “Shallow Brown,” features Paul responding to a sample of the titular folk song. The track follows a similar structure seen in the back half of “River Songs:” a minimalist texture is repeated and slowly developed, leading to some kind of climax at the end. This connection wouldn’t be as evident if the two works weren’t on the same album, but repeated listens reveal some already used compositional tricks. It’s not necessarily a strike against the piece itself, but hearing and noticing a similar formal scheme can make the effect a little less exciting.
Regrettably, Gold Bolus does not seem to have plans for a physical release of Water Music, which is disappointing since this music is so lovingly engineered and mixed. It would be great to listen to this on a high quality physical format. But physical media collecting aside, Water Music is a great example of functionally using the recording studio as an instrument. It’s an album that lives in the joy of creativity and exploration, stitching both the familiar and unfamiliar into a collage-like mish-mash of every tool at hand.
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