Six very ecumenical, very clear, consecrated spaces.
Just about every belief system has very simply criteria for the creation of sacred space anywhere, anytime—by convening a quorum, smudging the air, or drawing a circle on the ground.
The solo debut of Gabe Celestino, an American in Korea, is a meticulously crafted set of six ambient miniatures informed as much by his beliefs as by the aesthetics of another electronic Buddhist, Eliane Radigue, and her masterpiece, Trilogie de la Morte. Protector’s Tea was apparently recorded in a drab apartment building situated in an industrial zone on the outskirts of Seoul. With minimal means, Celestino ”formed formlessness” and created small, peaceful sacred gardens for himself.
Each piece drifts in and hangs weightlessly midair, unlike Radigue’s heavier drone which, after all, was an eight-year journey attempting to cope with the death of her son. Their titles, referencing leaves, fog, smoke and birds, are the first iteration. “Leaves” begins in media res, a sitar drone competing with the likewise unceasing rush of traffic passing outside. “Human Realm Fog” intones with depth, serious as a church organ. Celestino wrenches timorous piano notes to give them dissonant tails deep in the background of “Smoke Offerings.” Bells are rung at a more challenging, industrial drone on “Not Knowing,” fingers waver irresolutely between two notes on the organ again on “Bird Imprints,” transposed against the quietest, echoing vinyl pop and crackle. Tibetan horns touch the eerily tactile air on “Love All Day,” which closes Protector’s Tea.
Six very ecumenical, very clear, consecrated spaces.
Protector’s Tea is available on Love All Day. Buy at Amazon or iTunes.
