Simon Hanes' "Gargantua"

Photo by Jacob Garchik.

The cognitive scientist David Huron has written that people's emotional reactions to music are driven by our expectations, which in turn are based on our knowledge of music in general, as well as a particular genre or piece of music. Composers can create tension, release, and surprise by toying with these expectations. On his new album Gargantua -- out March 27 on Pyroclastic -- the composer Simon Hanes (a familiar of Lower Manhattan eminences John Zorn and Hal Wilner) confounds our expectations masterfully, but with a more graceful arc than other masters of the collage and quick cut like Zorn and Frank Zappa.

The pieces that make up Gargantua are inspired by the scatological satirical novels of 16th century French author Francois Rabelais, the daunting beauty of the Nordic wilderness, and the primordial myth and potential violence of Hawaii's volcanoes. They are realized by a large ensemble of strong elements: three drum sets, three electric basses, three trombones, three French horns, and three soprano voices. 

The result is a music that fuses the influences of Hildegarde von Bingen and Tibetan Buddhist choral singing, baroque music and edgy modernism, alpine horns and heavy rock. The combination of vocal polyphony (those harmonized glissandos!), low brass, and rock rhythm becomes a whole that is totally unique and deeply spiritual. You can hear the confluence of these elements in the opening "A Series of Waves Tremble in a Sea of Blood," where Tibetan Buddhist texts translated into Italian bump up against texts from Dante's Inferno.

In "Gigantes," a heavy riff and simple major key melody struggle for dominance, finally dissolving into chaos. "The Number of the Beast is 666" is a stately march reminiscent of Zappa during his Grand Wazoo big band period, while on "Submit to the Fabulosity," the singers (later echoed by the horns) scream imprecations at the composer over a disco beat, giving way to the best aural simulacrum of an erupting volcano since Trane's Meditations. "Moirai" has the singers, representing the Fates of Greek myth, singing texts from Dante, Pliny, and Petronius on phenomena -- Hell, volcanoes, and war -- that defy human conception.

The percussion-heavy trance music that begins "Lucifer/Aureum Chaos" has a majestic ritual quality that becomes otherworldly as the voices and horns alternate passages of staccato and long tones. The album closes with a study in contrasts: the simplicity of "I Am" (an old piece re-orchestrated) and the serial complexity of "Hekla 1970." Hanes' brilliantly realized compositions bring us to the brink of an abyss of wonder and terror. Yet another triumph for producer David Breskin, and for the ever-exploratory Pyroclastic label.