Listening to BBC’s Late Junction programme recently, I suddenly had to stop what I was doing and just listen. I was hearing for the first time the extraordinary accordion playing of Suzan Peeters. This is accordion playing like I have never heard before: deep, guttural sounds, throbbing bass and fractured high frequencies: things that feel like they should be impossible for an acoustic instrument. Yet, unlike electronic music, Peeters’ accordion is very much alive.
Peeters is a very exciting new name on the Belgian experimental music scene, and her debut album Cassotto is an apt demonstration why. A ‘cassotto’ is the name for a resonating chamber which some accordions have that adds depth to the lower frequencies and detail to the higher frequencies. These two elements are both evident throughout the record, but it is the deeper frequencies in particular that make it shine as an affecting, visceral work.
The record is not long, clocking in at less than half an hour, and so feels like a series of miniatures, each one exploring a different aspect of Peeters’ playing. The first track, Jaco, opens softly – but by no means tentatively – and from the start the depth of sound is obvious, with fragmented, scraping structures on top of rich bass tones. Peeters uses some electronics on the album, on tracks such as Edith, but it is the accordion itself providing the shifting ground that underpins the whole album.
My favourite track on the record is Vroem. This is a drone track making full use of the accordion’s resonating chamber, and it reminds me somewhat of Brìghde Chaimbeul’s Scottish smallpipes playing (which would certainly be an interesting collaboration). The raw power of the accordion is really on display here: Peeters makes the instrument growl demonically, like a beast disturbed from sleep, such that even when she moves to a more melodic finale, the roaring throb is still palpable underneath. It is an incredibly impressive demonstration of just what an accordion is capable of.
It must be said that the album is not all, or even primarily, about the sounds Peeters can conjure. Each track has a strong sense of musical character, of shape, tension and movement. Some of the more delicate moments on the record – Linnen or Ratel, for example – demonstrate the breadth of Peeters’ musical interests, although for me they weren’t the highlights; the raw sonic capabilities of the accordion were what I was here for. It would be good to hear Peeters explore some longer works, developing the ideas that are presented here. Almost every track I felt could have been longer, but perhaps it is better to leave us wanting more rather than overdoing it on her debut recording.
This is really creative music, well worth your time. Peeters has breathed new life into her instrument and given it the spirit of a dragon, disturbing and enchanting in equal measure. The cover art – the shadow of a hand – is an apt metaphor for the music, because what is heard here is far darker than one would ever anticipate. The final track, Mucci, is a fitting end: the deep end is suddenly pulled away, letting the accordion breathe softly, returning to its slumber. I look forward to hearing Peeters bring it to life again.
Cassotto can be purchased on Bandcamp:
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