The Hands of Caravaggio is an astounding album in nearly every possibility of the word. Any other reviewer but me would be quick to call it extremely pretentious, and many could write it off as noise, but it is not.
The Hands of Caravaggio is a dark and surreal Alice-in-Wonderland soundscape where the only sound you think you recognize is the piano, and even that, you have surely never heard played in such way.
The album is the product of a collaboration between M.I.M.E.O., the “Music In Movement Electronic Orchestra”, and John Tilbury. This album consists of a one-take performance in what sounds to be a large music hall. The twelve members of M.I.M.E.O. were situated with their instruments around the piano in a Last Supper formation, as an echo to some of the art that inspired this performance. The thirteenth member, Cor Fuhler, is credited as playing “inside piano,” or manipulating the acoustics of Tilbury’s piano in real-time, by damping, plucking, striking, and desounding the piano strings directly.
This is definitely an avant-guarde album. It is abstractionist. There is no narrative. You will not find yourself anticipating what the next note will be, if you can even call anything on this album a note. The most striking and surprising thing about this album is how good it actually sounds. The sounds mix and resonate seemingly against what could actually be possible, given the selection of sounds. There is the barely discernible human mumbling, the overlapping sine waves, the abrasive string scraping. There is the sound of white noise, a large piece of sheet metal being wiggled, and one sound which I can only imagine as the sound of a thousand-eyed worm monster screaming from underground depths… and then there is the ubiquitous jazzy-sounding piano play. It is a meeting of the acoustic and the electric. They do not seamlessly blend together, but they rather complement and strongly contrast each other. Although it is clear much thought has been given into what some of the electronic parts would sound like, the piano part consists of only spur-of-the-moment decisions. John Tilbury’s hammer strikes give the concerto an overwhelmingly human sound that cuts through all of the bleeps and drones and “noise” of the electronic orchestra.
Caravaggio, 1571-1610
For someone who’s ears are custom to mainstream or classic rock, pop, hip hop, or any instruments deemed “traditional,” or “common,” this album will be a change of scenery. Scratch that, it’s more like traveling to another dimension. But this dimension will captivate and surprise you, and it will calm you and scare you. When the album is over, you may just ask yourself if you really just did that.
If you’re wondering where the album title came from, yes, it means something. Caravaggio is (early photographic technology has brought us the image to your right) was a 16th century Italian painter whose dramatic pre-Baroque art is said to have inspired this album into existence.