Luis Lopes: Dark Narcissus

Some argue that one must learn a new language to truly understand the music of Derek Bailey and Cecil Taylor— Bailey's intricate "alphabet" or Taylor's dense vernacular equations. Interestingly, similar sentiments were once expressed about the now- universally acclaimed work of Thelonious Monk. Without a metaphorical key, some listeners may find themselves unable to unlock the mysteries of these towering figures. But does one need to be an anarchist to appreciate the raw noise of Masami Akita, also known as Merzbow, or a nihilist to grasp the tonal destruction of Borbetomagus? Absolutely not. What is required is simply an open mind and perhaps, more importantly, an appreciation for the visceral physicality of the musical act.

Take, for instance, the guitar work of Luís Lopes. The Portuguese musician blends the virtuosity of an improvising guitar hero with the ethos of a DIY punk rebel. His versatility shines across various formats, from large ensembles to quartets, trios, duos, and, as showcased here, solo performances. Lopes embodies the "get in the van" touring spirit famously championed by Black Flag.

This anywhere, anytime, anything attitude is palpable in his solo performances. Over the years, he has released a spectrum of intimate solo guitar works, including the subdued electric tones of Love Song: Post Ruins (Shhpuma, 2018) and the nylon-string meditations of Love Song: Emmentes (Shhpuma, 2021). In contrast, there are his turbulent outings, such as Noise Solo at ZDB Lisbon (LPZ, 2013), Lisbon Paris (Stereo Noise Solo) (Shhpuma, 2023), and now Dark Narcissus Stereo Guitar Solo.

Recorded in real time without overdubs, Dark Narcissus showcases Lopes manipulating separate audio channels via foot pedals, creating a dual-channel dialogue that mirrors a conversation between the left and right hemispheres of his brain. The opening track, "The Cry of the Dark Dark Narcissus," begins tentatively, with single, sustained notes probing the stereo field, as if the guitarist is feeling his way through the darkness. As suggested in the liner notes, there are indeed "scary monsters" lurking. The ominous atmosphere intensifies as the piece progresses, with Lopes's extraordinary ability to juggle a stereo performance—essentially a duet with himself—coming to the forefront.

The tension continues with "I Ascend So I Could Look at You," where sizzling circuits and crackling sparks evoke an android-like soundscape. The final track, "Reminiscences of a Dark Night," culminates in a two-channel noise assault. Lopes employs both mind and body to conjure this session, skillfully balancing ferocity and precision. From tentative beginnings to slabs of sound that grow increasingly dense Dark Narcissus is an exploration of the raw, physical essence of music-making.