When dealing with such an ethereal, intangible topic as spirituality in music, terminology becomes very important. Especially at the height of trance in the 1990s, at nights such as the UK’s Gatecrasher, the idea of a pseudo-religious experience was encouraged. As Maxi Jazz said on the Faithless record ‘God Is a DJ’: “This is my church”. The parallels are obvious - it’s a weekly collective experience, everyone ‘worships’ at the altar of the DJ, who incidentally does not shy away from it with his so-called ‘Jesus pose’, but who, like a minister, channels a message to the ‘congregation’.
But although the religious symbolism was invoked at these nights with abandon, nobody believed it was an actual religion. And though many clubbers might experience overwhelming collective dopamine-flooded experiences, few would claim they are connecting to a higher power. Most DJs would say they are just playing good records by talented people in the right order. In short, clubbing cannot give you a code for how to live your life. And while it may make you feel better for a night, you’re likely to get short shrift from a promoter or DJ asking for help with your personal moral dilemma.
Ariadne represents a different experience entirely, but one intended to be consumed in public just as much as a traditional clubbing experience. However, like classical music, this is music to be witnessed and considered in a concert hall, not in a dance club or bar. “I never want to play in a bar”, says Christine, “where it's like super loud, people are talking, it’s obviously definitely not the right vibe - we would feel like a huge buzzkill!” For now, they stick to art galleries, and art spaces. Though they did play a club once, recalls Ben: “It was really difficult because it was square and sort of dance floor type thing there's a D.J. booth but the D.J. booth is small.
“We couldn’t fit in and, you know, there are speakers in all four corners, which is a really big problem for us because we get major feedback issues if we’re anywhere near a speaker and we don't want to compromise by either having Christine not heard or not having being as loud as possible.”
So although this is certainly a different take on electronic music, there are also parallels between the meditative repetitive nature of ancient chants and Gregorian and medieval music and the hypnotic nature of a genre like techno. By mixing electronic music with choral, Ariadne are seeking to represent the interplay between the surging forces of technology and a more natural, ancient time “before machines started being a really big part of humanity”, says Ben. “Mixing that with the modern world, which is very loud and harsh and unnatural, especially with things like the internet, our whole world is kind of being abstracted into the digital realm. We both really love contrasting those things and I think they fit together really well.”
The live visuals have become a key component of the experience. They are not pre-recorded, but improvise along with the music due to some programmed intelligence that allows them to be generative. Christine said: “We started visuals, though because we felt like it was a way for people to understand the music better especially with ‘Tsalal’. A lot of times listening to classical music and the pieces are like fifteen minutes, or when you just have no background on classical music it's really boring, or you just don't understand it so you can't get it into it.”
Since the live music is performed using Ableton Push and laptops, along with Christine’s vocals, Ben felt creating visuals would help bridge this disconnect the audience often feels when we can’t see the performers hitting actual instruments: “Before there was recording technology, there was never music without a visual component. There was never a disconnect between seeing the music being played and hearing it and that disconnect can be really powerful in that music is your only concentration, but I also feel like it's unnatural”.
By all accounts, the live show adds up to a powerful experience: “I think people have felt it is very immersive and really spiritual and definitely made them feel very emotional”, says Christine. “I’m not sure what emotions they felt or if they were able to take meaning behind it, but they were definitely changed in some way I guess from the performance. I mean that’s the best compliment, that you’ve changed someone or moved them in some way.”
Christine is an accomplished choral singer, performing at major venues in New York such as the Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall as a member of 32-voice professional choir Manhattan Chorale. How does that compare with an Ariadne performance, in which she uses Ableton to record her own voice on-the-fly and add effects such as granular synthesis?
“I think it’s so fun to have a huge choir of yourself. Like sometimes it doesn’t even sound like you, when you’re shifting it super low, it's just sounds like this crazy bass. It’s a lot more freeing to be able to do it on the spot and then, sometimes, it doesn’t even sound like a melody, something really creepy and weird, by just being able to use my voice as that channel."
Improvisation is a key part of their identity. Ben says: “The whole reason why we started Ariadne is to start a project that is based on live performance and specifically improvisation. So our performances are very improvised. Sometimes, completely improvised. When we were touring for the album, we improvised on the themes of ‘Tsalal’ and Christine sang the lyrics. But in general our performances are improvised.”
“I fought [the improvisation] for a while,” says Christine, “in music school, especially as a classical musician they do not teach improvisation. Unless you’re a Jazz major, it’s not something you ever learn, as a classical musician. You only play or sing what is on the paper and it’s really weird at first to start improvising.
“I remember our first show I was so scared to not know what I was going to play at all. That was really scary and weird and I couldn’t breathe. It's the things you come out with and I feel like you mature so much as a musician and you learn so much from improvising.”
It is during the live improvisation that the duo feel like they are in touch with something bigger than themselves, whether this is a universality of spirit or Gaia or God. “When we're improvising”, says Ben, “there's a lot of times that we feel, you know our... like your ego sort of let’s go and you're, you're more of a channel for, it feels, it feels like something else, you know, you can call it whatever you want.
“And the other way, I feel like, because music is the most abstract of the arts, it's particularly suited to conveying you know, abstract ideas, like divinity or spirituality or emotions, anything that doesn't exist in the real world.”