Compact disc, Vinyl, and Digital download, 2023. Available from www.denovali.com and www.bandcamp.com.

Reviewed by Ross Feller
Gambier, Ohio, USA

So much of today’s ‘serious’ concert music does its best to ignore trends or sounds from contemporaneous pop music. Occasionally, a concert music composer claims to pay homage, appropriating some myopic aspect of pop music, couching it in highbrow fancy fare, as a way to obtain current cachet. It also helps to establish credibility if these composers played in rock bands in their youth. Mario Diaz de Leon is a composer whose work might be confused with this cachet-seeking enterprise, if one merely takes a superficial listen to his compositions, or a glance at his biography. Taking a deeper look we find out that he is an accomplished composer of electronic and acoustic music, and an active practitioner of “modern classical music, experimental electronic music, improvisation, and metal.” His first electronic album under his own name, entitled Heart Thread, was released in 2022. According to the composer, this album served as a way for him “to explore sacred expressions of abundance – a technology for channeling mystical experience.” The current release under review, Spark and Earth, combines contrasting elements from the composer’s toolbox, including attributes from electronic, heavy metal, and contemporary classical.

Spark and Earth is introduced by “Aqua,” a short piece that establishes some of the aesthetic ground to be covered. At the beginning we hear a ‘clean,’ arpeggiated, electric guitar processed spatially and with some flange added to deepen this effect. Superimposed over this texture are bursts of distorted guitar, drum machine, random synthesizer flurries, and the ubiquitous MIDI handclap. Stylistically, it resembles certain efforts from progressive rock, especially the band King Crimson, as heard in the 1980s.

“Cruces,” the second work, juxtaposes obviously synthetic timbres such as sampled voices with a Bang on a Can-like instrumentation, propelled by minimalist formal structures, suspended chords, and anchored by a solid sub-bass patch. Perhaps the most convincing part of this piece is how it continually evolves within a recognizable and narrowly focused approach to material presentation and development.

The third piece, “Templo,” uses a standard, palm-muted chugging, heavy metal guitar riff as a backdrop. Percussive synthesizer sounds are woven into this texture, eventually temporarily displacing the chugging guitar. Elements heard in the previous piece are also integrated into “Templo.” About two-thirds of the way into this composition we hear a series of artificial vocal sustains, which are followed by barrages of guitar and synthesizer sounds.

“Breath of God” utilizes synthetic and real electric guitar sounds paired with sub-bass synthesizer patches. As in the previous compositions we also hear random bursts of sound, which provide a sense of unpredictability to the music. “Breath of God” contains another quality that is also found in the other pieces from this collection, namely, a laconic terseness, or the sense that the work is prematurely cut short. Oddly, this is reminiscent of some early computer music that was painstakingly composed from line-by-line coding.

The fifth work, “Mirror Spirit,” contains thinly veiled synthesizer sounds that cycle through a lament chord progression. Compared with the previous four works, “Mirror Spirit” utilizes a thinner overall texture, which allows the smaller sonic details to be clearly heard. At times we hear a contrapuntal texture between the exposed lines. The piece ends with single pitch and chord repetitions that organically change speed.

“Lithic Flame” uses a repetitive pattern from the ‘playbook’ of Mike Oldfield’s 1973 release “Tubular Bells.” Oldfield’s piece attained popular status even though it lacked vocals and was primarily produced with guitars, synthesizers, and keyboards. This approach is similar to Diaz de Leon’s on Spark and Earth. The solidity of this connection seems to refer to the word ‘lithic’ in the title.

“Carnelian” employs plaintiff guitar riffs and arpeggios spurred on by percussive synthesizer clusters and sub-bass sustains. Toward the end the texture thins and we once again hear the artificial vocal patch. Like some current uses of auto-tune, this seems to be an intentional choice made by the composer to provide an accouterment that is recognized by the contemporary listener. This work’s title refers to a mineral known for its metaphysical properties, such as strength, creativity, and emotional balance. This would seem to conform to the composer’s attempt to “explore sacred expressions of abundance – a technology for channeling mystical experience” cited above.

The title of the eighth piece, “Kepha,” is the Aramaic term for stone, a concept that seems to be channeled in this work, as well as in the collection as a whole. We hear weightier combinations of the heavy metal guitar and synthesizer. A stumbling asymmetrical guitar riff in five carries us forward. This work is one of the most linear of the nine pieces on Spark and Earth. Its longer length is appreciated in this respect, as it allows the listener to map the sonic territory in real time.

“Elemental,” the final piece, recombines many of the elements found elsewhere on this album. But the materials are more developed and energized. As in several of the other works, the guitar plays a prominent role in the overall texture, providing depth and solidity, as it rhythmically plays off of the synthesizer parts.

In terms of length and development, this collection may appear to be somewhat underwhelming. The listener’s wish for more material is consistently spurned by works that sound prematurely cut short. The composition lengths used resemble those found in pop music, when the three and a half minute radio play standard was a thing. The sense of being cut short provides the work on this collection with an experimental spirit. Additionally, when heard as a whole, the album coheres as a unified form of expression. Still, I can’t help but wonder what the composer might do with similar materials, expanded to accommodate more developed compositional structures. With this in mind it is worth pointing out that Diaz de Leon represents a small group of composer-performers who studied at the Oberlin Conservatory of Music, and who continue to work within a variety of styles and mediums. His comrades in this effort include Deerhoof’s Greg Saunier, and Sleepytime Gorilla Museum’s and Rabbit Rabbit Radio’s Carla Kihlstedt. Both of these musicians freely mix pop and contemporary classical elements within expanded compositional forms.