Henry Now
13 January 2024 (Barcelona)
Venue: Auditori Tete Montoliu
Writer: Carles Pinós
Photography: Enric Minguillón
Last Friday, 12 January, saw a historic event: the concert by Henry Now, the result of a reunion of former members of the legendary English Rock in Opposition band Henry Cow.
Responsible for this reunion of veterans are Fred Frith (guitar), Tim Hodkinson (sax, clarinet, samples and other electronics) and Chris Cutler (drums and percussion); rounding out the new project is Annemarie Roelofs on violin, trombone and vocals. Far from resting on their laurels, this new incarnation has, in an eloquent play on words, been christened Henry Now instead of Henry Cow — a whole statement of intent, staying on this point-of-no-return path of avant-garde, risk-taking music.
With the venue nearly full — around 400 people — Henry Now played Barcelona for the first time, though as Henry Cow they had already performed there back in 1977, sharing a bill with Suck Electrònic. The concert consisted of a single set in which the musicians explored the limits of their respective instruments’ sonorities. It opened with an improvisation from Fred Frith on bowed guitar, Annemarie Roelofs’s trombone, and various noises from Chris Cutler’s percussion set and Tim Hodkinson’s assorted objects. The music grows steadily more unsettling and hypnotic
Suddenly, Tim Hodkinson moved on to clarinet, working through phrases more at home in free jazz, while the trombone answered back with low tones that seemed to come from beyond the grave, all against a backdrop built by guitar and drums beginning to take on harmonic shape.
The piece felt like a slow awakening, a sluggish, continuous process, as if dawn were reluctant to shake off its lethargy. The sounds of a distorted guitar and a violin helped rouse the music, and before we knew it, it had drawn us deep into a seductive, all-consuming sonic chaos.
The red backdrop curtain inevitably conjured certain Lynchian references, transporting us to other worlds inhabited by strange, fascinating characters. Over a forceful sonic backdrop the violin moaned, and Annemarie Roelofs took centre stage, working through dry, jabbing phrases in unison between violin and scat vocals. Without a break, Tim Hodkinson’s saxophone appeared, and together with the voice and accompanying guitar, they built an atonal music.
Halfway through this first set, the guitar steps in, with Fred Frith striking the strings to generate an unsettling effect, just as two silhouettes of confronting sheep appeared.
For the first encore, they carried on with an unsettling piece with a very forceful opening, where ordered chaos took the throne; suddenly the piece relaxed and Annemarie Roelofs began singing in a free-rock style — a short, intense piece.
The delighted crowd demanded a second encore, and Fred Frith asked the audience, in a sarcastic tone: “Are you sure?” — and then treated us to a third short, intense piece with a greater saxophone presence, where ordered chaos went on ruling.
All in all, the music carried us to the far reaches of sound, on a journey full of evocative textures reaching deep into our innermost selves — primal sounds speaking an apparently unintelligible language that somehow communicates with our most primal self. This was a highly stimulating, demanding concert, not for all audiences, but one that left the crowd satisfied and wanting more. The one downside was its length — 1 hour and 10 minutes, encores included — which felt too short given the complexity of what was on offer.
