Our author David Wunderlich was there when Delphine Joussein, Damian Dalla Torre and Laura Zöschg met for the first time at Galerie KUB. One thing is clear: Nobody can claim that the flute doesn't sound cool anymore.

On entering, the KUB gallery looks like a lecture hall. And that's not just because I'm only just on time here too: The walls are kept in neutral white, neatly arranged chairs lead step by step deeper into the room. At the end of the well-filled rows of chairs is a centrally positioned table, towards which everything is aligned. After a brief greeting, Dalla Torre modestly hurries to his seat. The first loop sounds like the creaking of chairs and carries us seamlessly into the concert.

Three spotlights illuminate the high ceilings behind Dalla Torre and color the room a deep blue. Echoing harmonies slowly begin to change, in the rhythm of a relaxed inhalation and exhalation. His soprano saxophone embeds itself naturally into the sound fabric, so subtle and two-dimensional is its use. Dalla Torre's music conveys an unobtrusive depth that automatically makes you prick up your ears. In the blue room, enveloped by these sounds, I feel like a fish in water.

Slowly, the lights turn green, alienated cowbells can be heard. An allusion to the South Tyrol Jazz Festival, with which this evening was planned in cooperation? Distant thunder rumbles through the soundscape and Laura Zöschg enters the stage. This is not the first time the two have worked together; Zöschg's clear voice has already shaped the dreamlike track "Acryl" on Dalla Torre's album "I Can Feel My Dreams". Tonight, the singer builds up long-lasting layers of vocals, the echo on her microphone repeating in time. First dark, then clear, then they become sighs that swell into sirens. Dalla Torre sits down on a folding chair at the side, the last chord fades out for minutes, the spotlight is on Zöschg. She fragments her voice with a tremolo, octaves it down and adds the flute. The question and answer game that she plays alone with loops and an enormous variety of voices sounds both heavenly and frightening at the same time.

Photo: Simon Chmel

After brief eye contact, Dalla Torre and Delphine Joussein join in with the music. Joussein is all wired up, her flute connected to the dozens of effect devices lying in a semicircle on the stage in front of her. The heavily distorted sound sounds like an electric guitar, whose menacing tones she repeatedly hooks into. Everyone in the trio listens to each other, the music reaches its highest density. The dominance of the sound flows in a circle. Together, the boundaries between strange and familiar, unpleasant and reassuring are blurred. However, the announced "two-hour walk through soundscapes" is then interrupted for a break. What a pity, the view was so magnificent just then.

During the break, I'm happy about the beautiful set, think about work on Mondays and check my emails. Suddenly, the three of them improvise on stage in the courtyard and lead the crowd back into the hall. I overhear several jokes that include something about "Pied Piper". The musicians divide up the large room, take their flutes apart and make them sound like something never heard before. Who would have thought that deconstructed flute music would be on the program today?

Joussein positions herself in front of her effect devices again, Dalla Torre and Zöschg have disappeared inconspicuously. The audience is now led into her universe, the very individual playing of the flute from before trumped once again. Joussein sings, speaks and whistles into the microphone on her flute, plays the keys percussively, chases everything through the bitcrusher, turns the knobs with the tip of her shoe, mixes at least three types of distortion at the same time. When the transverse flute is lowered two octaves for the first time, creating a huge reverb, someone behind me can't help saying "Sheesh". The lighting technician knows exactly what to do and accompanies the noise solo appropriately. The large windows that present the room to the sidewalk regularly attract passers-by. A little girl with a heart-shaped "Hello Kitty" balloon doesn't want to follow her father when he wants to move on. Maybe it's because the immersion doesn't work so well after the break, but after twenty minutes this noise path feels a little well-trodden to me. Interspersed quiet tones would have worked well as a contrast.

Photo: Simon Chmel

All three were able to impressively showcase their very own musical personalities on this evening. What was particularly fascinating was how their first meeting as a trio complemented each other so wonderfully. On the other hand, I was a little disappointed that this trio playing hardly took place in the second half. Nevertheless, the joy of listening to the virtuosity clearly outweighed the disappointment. To be able to sit down, listen and be taken on so many journeys: how great that the room was actually transformed into a listening room in the most beautiful sense of the word that evening.

David Wunderlich