Cellist Leila Bordueil and organist Kali Malone capture the resonance and interplay of their respective instruments by the contemplative glow of candlelight, one night in an old church on Music For Intersecting Planes.
Release date: March 20, 2026 | Ideologic Organ | Leila Bordueil Instagram | Bandcamp | Website | Kali Malone Facebook | Instagram | Bandcamp | Website
Consciousness seems to be often taken for granted, and doing so leads to a misunderstanding of what it is, or perhaps what it may be. It has been a while since I have read about consciousness, but the works of Daniel Dennett and Susan Blackmore and other philosophers of the mind captured my attention for a while. Some believe consciousness to be a separate process from the physiology of our bodies while others deny this duality and consider it to be simply a biological process. Religious folks tend to think of the notion of ‘self’ is the definition of the soul; indeed that when our physical forms cease to be that our consciousness will remain in whatever version of an afterlife they subscribe to. While I don’t have the necessary research or qualifications to go too deeply into these concepts, today’s review got me thinking about these matters.
Music For Intersecting Planes by cellist Leila Bordueil and organist Kali Malone is closer to what you would expect from Malone if you are familiar with her work. Like her last collaboration album, Magnetism with Drew McDowell, and much of her previous work, there is a strong emphasis on tonality. However, Malone relinquishes some of her meticulous nature to compliment the often less restrained Bordueil. The four pieces on this record were recorded by candlelight at nighttime in Temple Saint-Théodule in La Tour-de-Paliz in Switzerland, Bordueil on cello and feedback and Malone on organ and raw sine waves (wild that this is my second review this year of a duo of women recording experimental music inside a church). Each track was recorded live, in one take, and all of the idiosyncrasies of the recording and the space are left in the final mix. What audiophiles call ‘artifacts’ (like the sound of a door closing during a jazz session) are here intentionally. The end result sounds raw but distinctly alive.
So, cello and organ with high frequency embellishments in an old church with the ambient sounds of the neighborhood and the resonance of the church itself are our various axis points that create the planes, and we get to hear all of these things move, whether intentionally or not, throughout the record. Since the beginning of consciousness is our sensory intake, and since this record is minimal, experimental modern composition/drone music, we must be attuned to each element to grasp and appreciate what is happening here. From that starting point, and with intentional and attentive listening, Music For Intersecting Planes creates a consciousness of its own, even if it seems primitive in its approach. There is a relentless amount of nuance and subtlety as each vibration of the strings and each push of air through the pipe organ collide and hum through the temple.
The first two tracks serve as the title suite in two parts. The music breathes, literally. Each note preceded by audible inhalation. There is a pause, and then the music is exhaled slowly, allowing the reverberations and resonances to collide and interfere with each other. At one magical moment during “Intersecting Planes II”, church bells are heard during one exhale; the next wave seems to respond with deeper feedback. During a quiet moment, a passing motorcycle is heard. Another gives us a mysterious low rumble, maybe a distant truck or perhaps some lingering tone in the bellows. The shifting of weight on a wooden bench also occasionally punctuates these cycles. All of these details demand quality headphones and higher volumes to notice. I have to imagine listening at low volume on a car or bluetooth speaker would be far less interesting.
“Pilots In The Night” takes more of a drone approach. Low frequency feedback creates an ominous presence making the first half of the album feel staccato in comparison. As the drawn out notes emerge, you can get a sense of the level of patience and care that Bordueil and Malone give to their respective instruments. Music may be wiggly air, but here, each soundwave is masterfully produced, once again letting the intersecting planes of each element collide like the slow and dense motion of tectonic plates creating mountains and valleys over thousands of years. If all of the above sounds a little daunting and dense, the final track, “Endless Dance Of Eternal Joy” serves as a little upbeat coda to the album. It is brief, but the plucked strings and brighter tones cleanse the palate.
Music For Intersecting Planes is a short affair, but in its 35-minute runtime, there is a lot of complexity to chew on. These pieces of music don’t move with melody. Instead, they vibrate and clatter, careening into your ears like a rattling old locomotive, but if every part of that train was musical. While this album easily falls into the drone and experimental categories of music, Leila Bordueil and Kali Malone are masters of their craft, the former’s looseness and experimentation meeting the latter’s diligence and thoughtfulness head-on to create a meditative and thought-provoking work that rewards each replay with new details. A consciousness of sound, filled with textures and tones, interrupted by the outside world like little intrusive thoughts, and an overall sense of hypnotic contemplation awaits you here.
