Kimmo Pohjonen at the Sydney Festival

Friday evening, 18th January, I've trudged up Pitt St from Sydney Central station to Angel Place recital hall after a back-tiring four hour bus trip from Canberra, soaked and sweaty from the rain I changed shirts in the toilet and had a couple of rehydrating beers in the foyer with my companions.

A touch after 9:30pm Pohjonen enters from stage left, in an industrial apron and silvery vest cut off at the arms, teutonic, impassive, he sits down, changes a couple of settings on the desk to his right, hoists his accordion to his chest and we're away.

The following hour is, for me, completely absorbing.  What he does is sets up the rhythmic and underpinning bass sounds, loops them with the effects pedals (ably assisted by his sound engineer Jukka Kaven, who swirls the music around the hall and beefs up the bass as required) and then runs away with his melodic and harmonic themes over the top.  He uses these wonderful traditional finnish folk elements and riffs as the jumping off point for a broader exploration of the capabilities of the instrument.

There were a couple of pieces that really stood out for me.  Song 4 started with the valves off and the bellows moving back and forth, the accordion breathing, like the lungs of the sleeping Kalevala giant, Antero, then the sound is looped and augmented and now it's oceanic, the sea in the harbour, and Pohjonen plays an orchestra of harmony through several movements.  The music finishes but the breathing's still there.  Piece 5 has no accordion at all and is purely vocal, with a percussive clicking from an open mouth that sounds like winter's ice breaking in spring, Pohjonen has a good voice but he uses it for effect and avant-gardeish howls.  Song 6, the final of the set before the obligatory encores, is basically the soundtrack to the end of the world. 

Before the clapping is done Pohjonen comes on for an encore, apologising for bringing the weather with him from Helsinki.  He plays two more pieces, the last of which is the one I've included here - it's poor quality but it comes through.  In a way, it felt like a nod to the old Finns in the audience who would have come perhaps hoping for a more traditional display of his ability, though they wouldn't have been disappointed.  It's a beautiful piece, as melancholic as it needs to be but assuring, too. 

It was a wonderful experience, giving me much to consider from musical and technical points of view.  If I ever manage to get my hands on an accordion I think I've got a pretty good idea of how to proceed, of the bellows as lungs, of the importance of breathing, phrasing, of finding the voice of the instrument.

Few links with further info:

Brief interview with Kimmo in the SMH;

Review of the performance, also in the SMH; and

More YouTube videos.