Crash Ensemble are delighted to announce the release of a new album, ‘Blue Haze of Deep Time’, composed by Jonathan Nangle, performed by the ensemble.
The album is now available in both CD and digital formats via Crash Records, and coincides with the world premiere performance and installation at New Music Dublin 2025.
Blue Haze of Deep Time (2021–2025) marks the culmination of Nangle’s residency with Crash Ensemble, following a collaboration for Crash Ensemble’s 10th Anniversary in 2007, the release of his debut album PAUSE (2017, via Ergodos) performed by Crash, and a commission as part of the [REACTIONS] series.
This is Nangle’s first commission for the full ensemble. Jonathan Nangle draws inspiration from his field recordings of the sea, made during walks near his home in Dublin. These sounds form the foundation of the piece, marking the start of a musical journey. Much like Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition, each movement represents a distinct moment in time, inviting the listener to experience the colours, rhythms, and textures of the sea. The titles of the movements—Bláth Bán, Blue Haze of Deep Time, Iridescent Oceans of Gold and White Granite, Inbhear Glas, Marginal Sea and Where Grey Waves Rise and Fall Unseen—reflect Nangle’s personal connection to the locations and emotions evoked by these sounds.
Order on Bandcamp: https://crashensemble.bandcamp.com/album/blue-haze-of-deep-time
Links to listen and buy: https://lnk.fuga.com/bluehaze
LIVE EVENTS:
Blue Haze of Deep Time (LIVE) [World Premiere] at New Music Dublin 2025
Sunday 6th April, 4pm + 9.15pm
Venue: Promenade Performance: National Concert Hall Studio and other spaces
Tickets: €17.50 https://www.crashensemble.com/events/blue-haze-of-deep-time-live-world-premiere
Blue Haze of Deep Time (INSTALLATION)
Throughout New Music Dublin, 2nd - 6th April 2025
Venue: Foyer of NCH
Tickets: FREE
Essay by Donal Sarsfield
STANDING
To record sound, you have to have the ability to stay very still.
Staying still is a skill which I hope they teach in schools, as I want to imagine the children of Ireland will ALL grow up to be great sound recordists, a nation of never-moving sound-farers. Maybe they don’t teach staying still skills in schools, but I will go out on a limb and say staying still is very exciting, especially when you are recording. I recommend everybody try it at least once in their life. You notice things that you might have under-listened to. I am confident under listening was taught in schools, because the proof is everywhere.
Some people have difficulty staying still, and I would say sound recording is not for them; moving constantly offers different rewards.
If you don’t want to stay still while recording, you can always invest in a microphone stand to do your standing for you! They are very reasonable, and considering the cost-to-reward ratio, they are excellent value for money. Priceless, almost, considering the history of recorded sound is almost entirely dependent on the ability to maintain a microphone in a fixed position, no stand, no Star above the Garter.
A microphone stand will help eliminate any extraneous movement but even if you do own your own stand, once you start recording, you can’t move, because the sound of you is precisely what you don’t want. You sound 365 days a year, and for a few seconds or minutes, you have to not sound. A you can ruin your reality. A clear recording is the starting point for working with recorded sound, as the illusion is less believable with the sound of somebody’s phone going off.
When recording, to move is to reveal yourself: game over. To (never) move as if floating is hard work because only nature floats, and NATURE SAYS NOW.
Wherever you are, there is nature.
One of the more advantageous places to stay still is along the coast. Not only is there a constant signal which will cover any of your own insignificant you’s, but there is also always something to look forward to; horizons have a calming quality. They draw the eye. We see the horizon in a way we can’t hear the horizon. Listening out to sea there are no sharp edges, no clear lines, no frame – just points with which one can orientate oneself. Often, I wonder if you could tell the difference between one sea and another through sound alone? A sort of indelible faith in the power of identifying one sea from the other, eyes closed. Down this boreen madness is sure to be divined! A word could save you from madness; so and so recorded this in “such and such” because so and so was at “such and such”, and they wanted to capture “such and such”. Words are easy. Sounds are not. By their very nature, recorded sounds are fixed in time, and yet time is irrelevant if you cannot overcome the challenge of listening to another human being. Each being is different. Each wave is different. They come; they go. One recording of a wave may have slightly more díograis than another, but one can’t stand still as a witness in the court of identity and shout, “That’s Youghal!” No question! No answer! One can only listen, and wonder, whether to listen some more. In certain circumstances, ignorance is more nourishing.
STILL
If recording is mostly a staying still affair as it happens composing is also a staying still affair. If you can’t sit still, you can’t be a composer. It should be the first thing they teach in composition class – here is how to sit. The history of composition is entirely dependent on the ability to maintain a composer in a fixed position. Some composers can’t sit still, and I think you can hear it in their music.
With composing, to move is to reveal yourself: the game begins. To (never) move as if floating is hard work because only Feldman floats, and FELDMAN IS ALIVE.
There are no limits to how you can combine sounds – it just has to be believable.
Field recordings are full of information, just like chords are full of information – wonderful details which we perhaps take for granted. Playing back a sound or a chord, you can discover maybe what you set out to discover – the harmonic spectrum of this or that, the periodicity of repeating patterns, the exact tempo of reiterations. You can also discover new things in old sounds, still. Or you could combine the harmonic spectrum of one recording, orchestrate across an ensemble, and combine it with a completely different unrelated recording, listen back, and decide it works perfectly. Harmony can be harmonious. Nobody can tell this from that, and besides, it doesn’t matter. When composing, all it has to be is seamless, or at the very least believable; what you don’t want to do is draw attention to yourself in the wrong way, like placing a microphone stand in a supermarket.
To never stop believing in a piece is a sure sign that it works. It holds something which is unbelievably believable. I don’t care where such and such is from, I am just glad Jonathan took his recorder, his microphones and his stand with him to stay, still, so he could sit, still, and compose.
Staying still is how we defend ourselves from the complexity of the world.
