Bold claim: Kara-Lis Coverdale reshapes our sense of instrument and time with two intimate, boundary-pushing piano-centered works. And this is where the stakes get interesting...
Kara-Lis Coverdale had released no new recorded music since 2017 when, at the start of the year, she released From Where You Came. That album served as a retrospective of her years away: sound-bath installations in saunas, performances with Floating Points and Tim Hecker, and commissions for chamber ensembles, choirs, and her lifelong fascination with the pipe organ. While the dreamy, digitally-inflected orchestral textures of that LP could feel burdened by the task of reintroducing Coverdale as a full-fledged album artist, two newer projects pull in a more compelling direction by narrowing the scope. A Series of Actions in a Sphere of Forever centers almost exclusively on the acoustic piano, and Changes in Air loosens that constraint just enough by including organ and modular synths within a drone framework. Together they offer a focused meditation on sustained resonance.
On A Series of Actions, the piano’s percussive nature is obvious: once struck, a note cannot swell to a climax, but its moment can be extended. Coverdale elongates the vapor trails from each key, producing a soundscape that feels literally atmospheric—like weather phenomena unfurling high above the Arctic Circle. The work also foregrounds the piano’s material reality: wood, metal, and ivory, along with the instrument’s physical limits. The sustain pedal becomes a deliberate instrument in itself, noticeable especially in the Ruins-esque “In Charge of the Hour.” In “Lowlands,” microphone placement creates the impression of hearing from beneath Coverdale’s foot, capturing those familiar piano-lesson swishes and creaks. At the apex of “Turning Multitudes,” a composition that threads in elements of Ravel, Sakamoto, and Satie, Coverdale pushes toward a note beyond what the instrument can physically emit.
If the broader arc of From Where You Came framed Coverdale’s return as a modern-Romantic exploration in sound, A Series of Actions and Changes in Air distill that arc into precise, tactile investigations. They treat the piano not as a vehicle for lush color alone but as a sealed system whose mechanics, pedaling, and micro-acoustic quirks can be studied and celebrated. The result is a nuanced argument: sometimes the most powerful music unfolds when restriction sharpens focus, and when the soft, patient listening demanded by drone and chamber textures invites readers to notice what often goes unheard in a louder, busier musical world.
Would you agree that these works mark a shift from expansive, digi-orchestral textures to a more focused, instrument-centered approach? How might this emphasis on materiality change our perception of modern piano-based composition, and where do you see Coverdale’s practice heading next?
