A new torrent has been uploaded to DIME.
Torrent: 502371
Title: Ólafur Arnalds – 2014-08-18, Amsterdamse Bostheater, Amstelveen, The Netherlands
Size: 367.62 MB
Category: Classical
Uploaded by: ianmacd
Info hash: 1a340be215d7a37de5a1335779811e6fc4e1ac19
Description
——————————————————————————-
Ólafur Arnalds
Amsterdamse Bostheater
Amsterdamse Bos
Amstelveen
The Netherlands
18th August 2014 (2014-08-18)
RECORDING:
Type: Audience master, recorded from bench in the centre of the 4th row, approximately 10 metres from the stage.
Source: Factory-matched pair of Schoeps CCM 41V microphones (DINa mounted) -> Marantz PMD661 recorder with Oade Concert Mod (-18 dB gain/44.1 kHz/24 bit WAV)
Lineage: Audacity 2.0.5
* Applied variable envelope amplification across recording for consistent listening experience.
* Attenuated audience noise.
* Added fades.
* Split tracks.
* Converted to 16 bit.
-> FLAC (compression level 8) [libFLAC 1.3.0 20130526]
Taper: Ian Macdonald (ianmacd)
SET LIST:
01. [03:32] [intro]
02. [04:07] [banter]
03. [03:46] Þú ert sólin
04. [05:23] Þú ert jörðin (with Lavinia Meijer)
05. [03:22] Tomorrow’s Song Lavinia Meijer
06. [00:24] [banter]
07. [01:34] Erla’s Waltz Lavinia Meijer
08. [03:41] Hands Be Still
09. [05:20] Only The Winds
10. [03:44] Words Of Amber Lavinia Meijer
11. [01:24] [banter]
12. [06:34] Gleypa okkur
13. [05:27] 3326
14. [05:09] Brotsjór
15. [00:20] [banter]
16. [04:04] For Now I Am Winter (with Arnór Dan Arnarson)
17. [05:14] A Stutter (with Arnór Dan Arnarson
18. [04:26] Old Skin
19. [02:20] [banter]
20. [03:25] Ljósið
21. [01:05] [banter]
22. [03:27] Near Light
23. [02:09] [encore break]
24. [02:36] [banter]
25. [06:00] Lag fyrir Ömmu
Total running time: 88:45
MD5 CHECKSUMS:
a33d7e0eea1d657a397255c927a5824e *flac/01_intro.flac
b52c5a2379be75bf03e48992449bf357 *flac/02_banter.flac
20d2778029920f52579acd37cfa93e1f *flac/03_þú_ert_sólin.flac
a459fbdd79de43263c282602f70c67ae *flac/04_þú_ert_jörðin_with_lavinia_meijer.flac
6fdd08b353225e22f93848bc8115016e *flac/05_tomorrows_song.flac
6cf3b5a2e33a6e173647bcd7f5959f38 *flac/06_banter.flac
4909b43d3e2510597f1f4118e0c2c908 *flac/07_erlas_waltz.flac
2a267cedb70d6d297e05b12ca56a71a2 *flac/08_hands_be_still.flac
b7c1e671d57b93e51e39ab1f90a1cd30 *flac/09_only_the_winds.flac
1d1ec4f047512e5b2d890ece259826cc *flac/10_words_of_amber.flac
eb58313078e072579b0991cc2f4d582a *flac/11_banter.flac
46699cfb41fef3e5c321a6c5cbb726d8 *flac/12_gleypa_okkur.flac
2dcafd68b7f07336cd470883142e669e *flac/13_3326.flac
29039eafa0e142efc44e192194f6802b *flac/14_brotsjór.flac
a1f01a8fbd6c2666b490e1c4dd5d9323 *flac/15_banter.flac
ec806e4b451ba9c1ab1300a0a15cc408 *flac/16_for_now_i_am_winter_with_arnór_dan_arnarson.flac
89d3a1d588efc67ea07c00a279abb5f2 *flac/17_a_stutter_with_arnór_dan_arnarson.flac
729275737dd9f782b0bcd5fb63bfb821 *flac/18_old_skin.flac
d2a8f83ed6557c08d4fb7408a50225a1 *flac/19_banter.flac
dd840b5fc44ba944c8f5ecc373b9322a *flac/20_ljósið.flac
c0db27aacdc034ee8b811ddd54efaad1 *flac/21_banter.flac
cb435e7e89f148ddb2af51c4482ac281 *flac/22_near_light.flac
d7680a4e662b9c676f4612fbf7d2e268 *flac/23_encore_break.flac
cbf615766ffa44a752cdf3e9ca4c999a *flac/24_banter.flac
fe638c4d5720cf4649949575c4b506f4 *flac/25_lag_fyrir_ömmu.flac
97f527384e690c0ebaf579807f3d45f7 *flac/checksums.ffp
5376875f7981a456dc4d55430bbb0d8a *tags.txt
24156321e5c7f17c8a7bd8b124dc1261 *titles.txt
NOTES:
The first gig after the summer holidays always feels a little unreal. With my
mind having been on other things for the past six weeks, it takes a concerted
effort to get into the frame of mind necessary to make a high quality
recording of a live performance.
I feel out of practice and it doesn’t help that the venue is a new one for me,
nor that it is outdoors, a detail further complicated by the fact that it has
been pouring with rain all day.
The gig is taking place in the open-air theatre of the Amsterdamse Bos, a
large recreational forest to the south of Amsterdam. Despite its name, the
forest technically falls geographically within the municipality of Amstelveen,
not Amsterdam. I suppose the people who named it thought that its grandeur was
more befitting of a capital city than a small suburb.
This is going to be a tricky recording to get right. I would rather have eased
myself back into the taping saddle with a loud rock band at the Paradiso, but
I am instead faced with an unfamiliar outdoor venue and unassigned seating,
yielding the challenge of balancing the conflicting goals of arriving as early
as possible to secure a good taping position, and the desire to delay my
arrival for as long as possible in order to miss as much of the rain as I can.
There’s the very real danger of equipment damage this evening. Assuming
there’s enough of a dry spell that I can even get set up and start to record,
if the heavens should open again, I will be forced to pack my equipment away
mid-set, which will be difficult, if not impossible, to do discretely.
It’s 19:45 when I stroll into the theatre. I survey the lay of the land and
find an unoccupied spot in the middle of the 4th row, where I plonk myself
down on a plastic sheet as meagre protection against a wet arse.
The minutes tick away as I consider whether to set up my equipment to record
the evening’s support, a local cellist by the name of Maarten Vos. The theatre
is still in daylight and it will be nigh on impossible to record him without
drawing attention to myself.
There’s also the risk of rain during his set. I checked the rain radar before
leaving home and it looked as if there might still be some showers until
20:30, after which it would probably remain dry. Is it worth the risk for an
unknown support act?
On top of that, there’s no obvious place to set up. Everywhere I look, there
are people sitting or standing. I would normally get set up in the toilets,
but if I leave the venue and backtrack to where they’re located, I’ll
definitely miss the start of Vos’s set.
The indecision costs me. I run out of time and the matter becomes academic:
Maarten Vos isn’t recorded. Sod’s Law is subsequently upheld as Vos goes on to
turn in a brilliantly atmospheric set that I now bitterly regret not
capturing.
In the break, I scurry away to find a spot to set up my equipment and return
wired for sound. It’s 20:45 now, but still quite bright. Whilst these are
hardly ideal circumstances for covert recording, I am powerless to influence
them, so I knuckle down to the task at hand.
I’ve had no opportunity to set the recording levels from the support act, but
I’ve heard the volume of the PA and know from experience that Ólafur’s music
will span a wide dynamic range. I’m therefore able to make a good prediction
of how to set the dials. I set a level close to what I’ll ultimately need,
double-, then triple-check my equipment and I’m ready to roll.
If I believed in weather gods, now is about the time that I might say a little
prayer to them, but all I can do now is hope.
The Amsterdamse Bos happens to be located directly under a flight path to
Schiphol, Amsterdam’s tirelessly busy airport, located not much more than a
stone’s throw from where we are sitting. The jet engines of low-flying
aircraft on their way to land will be a regularly recurring embellishment this
evening.
With about three minutes to go until stage time, a few drops of rain start to
fall. This prompts everyone in the audience to don the polythene ponchos they
had recently thought safe to remove.
Two minutes later, the rain has stopped again, but the ponchos remain on and
will therefore contribute to the extraneous ambient noise this evening with
their own distinctive rustling sound.
The proceedings get under way with an introduction by the show’s organiser.
We are told that this is the last in a series of concerts that have been
performed here this summer.
They must have pictured the evening very differently when the show was
announced a few months ago. I know I did. As I approached the venue and walked
past the people checking tickets at the entrance, I saw a sign above the open
hatch of a portacabin, saying (in Dutch) ‘Pick up your picnic hamper here’.
Water was dripping from the hatch.
You have to feel sorry for anyone who pre-purchased a picnic hamper for this
evening. One pictures people sitting on grass, basking in the amber glow of
day’s end as summer draws to a close. Next to them on a blanket, bread and an
assortment of tantalising spreads are laid out. They each hold a glass of wine
in their hand as they laugh, look into each other’s eyes and kiss.
Well, there’s none of that tonight. Doleful-looking punters clad in polythene
sit on sodden wooden benches, cowering from the elements as jet engines soar
overhead.
I’m doing my best to portray the scene in a bad light, but in actual fact,
attending a concert in these circumstances has a charm all of its own. As long
as it doesn’t pour down tonight, I expect to thoroughly enjoy myself.
Ólafur and his band, all but one of whom form a string section, make their
entrance. He begins predictably by breaking the ice with a generous dose of
humour and engaging in a little audience participation, getting us to sing an
‘A’ for use in the first song.
They open with ‘Þu ert sólin’, after which they are joined on stage by
accomplished Dutch harpist, Lavinia Meijer, who accompanies them on ‘Þú ert
jörðin’.
Recording a concert is often satisfying, but it’s particularly gratifying when
one manages to capture a genuinely special event.
Such was the case six months ago when I recorded Ólafur performing with
philharmonie zuidnederland, and tonight is another fine example, thanks to the
participation for one night only of Lavinia Meijer. I’ve seen her perform a
couple of times with Philip Glass and always enjoyed her work, so it’s great
to see her accompany Ólafur tonight, even if it’s only for a few songs.
The rain radar turns out to have been accurate and no precipitation falls
during Ólafur’s entire set. It does get dark and cold, though. The damp air
permeates one’s bones, chilling one to the core. But at least it doesn’t rain!
The aeroplanes come thick and fast throughout the set, but even though the
roar of their engines is pervasive and cannot be ignored, I find that it
actually makes a peculiarly satisfying contribution to the atmosphere of the
show, reminding the listener (particularly the one who wasn’t present on the
night) that this event is taking place in the open air, in the middle of a
recreational forest.
The juxtaposition of nature and gentle music with encroaching humanity and its
noisy machines is food for thought and I feel that it adds to the uniqueness
of the recording.
In spite of the difficult circumstances in which the recording was made, I
thoroughly enjoyed this concert, as I have every time I have been fortunate
enough to see Ólafur perform.
I’m happy to report that this audio document of the evening has turned out
excellent, much better than I had dared hope. The passing jet engines
traverse the full breadth of the stereo image and, with headphones on, you’ll
imagine you’re there.
As always, samples are included to help you determine whether the recording is
worth your while.
——————————————————————————-
You can use the URL below to download the torrent (you may have to login).
http://www.dimeadozen.org/torrents-details.php?id=502371&hit=1
Take care!
dimeadozen.org
