A Hawk And A Hacksaw

An essential preface: this duo is sensational.

A Hawk And A Hacksaw: Jeremy Barnes and Heather Trost. Two musicians of exceptional caliber, well aware of their own versatility and skilled at putting it to use.

He plays five instruments at once, yes, you read that right. An accordion strapped to his arm, a bass drum played with one foot, a cymbal with the other. On his head he wears a sort of hat covered in little bells, connected to a stick that he uses to strike another cymbal just above his head. A complete spectacle for the ears and, above all, for the eyes. Watching him is a unique thrill. Seeing him move, shaking his head to conjure sounds, wrestling free of and taming his own instruments, shouting to break the rhythm, stamping his feet to freeze the moment. A sporadic vocal, hoarse, minimal yet full-bodied. His face recalls men from other times. Other eras. Different stories. The assurance of someone who knows their own abilities. Expressions of joy, silence, concentration, gravity. A monster of technique and artistic sensitivity. Praiseworthy.

The girl, composed and very shy, has at her disposal a violin, a small xylophone and a vintage mini-keyboard. Delicate, timid, reserved, sweet.

From her hands, resting gently on the bow, comes a sound that's enveloping, full, assured. At times melodious and soft, at times gruff, noisy, biting. The keyboard seems to revel under her hands, that delicate touch drawing out notes that are ethereal, dreamlike, wandering, almost unreal. An angel fallen from the sky to delight our senses. Heavenly.

Mariachi dances and klezmer themes, aching Balkan melodies mixed with seductive Middle Eastern airs. A piercing accordion, souls from another era hanging in the air, pastoral themes drifting off, yearnings for tradition saturating the space.

The instruments merge into a single maelstrom that captures us and lays us at their feet, memories of lost civilizations, laments for peoples long gone.

Distant sounds, fleeting, broken, dreamlike, unsettling, evanescent.

Close your eyes and imagine the world this way of playing seems to be fleeing from. Minstrels, stories, sins, loves, kings, queens, smiles, blood, death.

The show consists of eight pieces, plus an encore made up of two more, with no real sense of an ending: the close of a single song never breaks the magical atmosphere that keeps (re)forming inside the venue. One after another, the compositions surprise with their freshness, inventiveness and simplicity. A simplicity that's never predictable, always sharp and coherent. Never have I heard a duo so tightly in sync. Never have I admired a duo able to shape such an intimate, secluded atmosphere, such a full-bodied sonic soul.

Into the same melting pot go pop instincts, a love of traditional music - Middle Eastern above all - nods to classicism, and experimental leanings. It never slips into blatant derivativeness, nor into the tedium that such an adventurous choice could easily produce.

Music for restless souls, searching for a past that's now lost but still capable of being conjured up. A past never forgotten nor erased. More present than ever. Intrinsic to every single note this band plays. Nostalgic souls, this is the music for you.

Ride the wave of great music

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