Cites
“Eerily ‘at home’ on the airwaves.”
–Jeff Kolar, Radius [2011]
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“The stone is a secret language. And Harrow/Dormant contains words that seem arcane at times, at times seem part of the stone’s arcanum.”
–Jeff Gburek, Orphan Sound [2011]
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“Noé Cuéllar plays his shruti box with a minimal array of preparations, plastic tubing, a metal funnel, and the like [...] the pitch material generated was sublimely colored, employing slow oscillating melodic lines, tone clusters, and even the delicate sound of air passing through the shruti box’s bellows.”
–Andrew Paul Jackson, Does It Make a Sound? [2011]
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“I don’t remember the first time I met Noé, but I do remember the first time I saw his work. He and Joseph Clayton Mills performed in a dark room while standing opposite one another. Noé had an accordian strapped to his back and he played, very softly, while Joseph moved closer and farther away. Depending on their distance from one another, something concealed in Joseph’s hand (perhaps a hearing aid?) changed pitch. That performance epitomizes what I’ve seen of Noé’s work. He is dedicated to creating an awareness around silence within a performative space. The manifestation of the body, as a tool for the range of sound is integral, as are the relationships between performative bodies. His ability to instill the necessary parameters for such an awarenes–particularly in collaborative settings–is, to me, remarkable.”
–Caroline Picard, Bad at Sports [2011]
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“Harrow/Dormant provides at once the possibility for an entrance and an exit. It’s a great gift.”
–Julia Miller, performer and composer [2011]
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“I ran into you in a large electronics store. You told me you got something and showed me your palm. It was purple, a warm shade of purple, close to hot pink or red. You told me you were going to play it, that you were going to perform a piece from it. You stood there facing the chairs by a register counter, very serious, as I stood behind the chairs. You started by putting your right hand by your head, with your purple palm facing the audience. Your fingers took the shape of pipes only they looked more like balloons, similar to the balloons that are shaped into animals or hats at parties by clowns. Suddenly you started to play your instrument – your purple palm. I’m not sure how you were playing it, but you stuck your thumb into your ear and there was music. It was an organ. You were playing an organ. The pipes (fingers) began to detach from your palm. Then the balloon-like pipes would float up and down depending on the pitch of the sound you were creating. You continued to be very serious even though the pipes were floating beside, in front and around your head. It was strange but I was in awe. It was lovely. I kept wondering how you were doing it. I was confused. The low pitches continue to vibrate in my memory along with the the pipes slowly lowering and rising – revealing your serious face as they played.”
–MB ‘s dream journal via e-mail [2011]
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“What I found especially interesting, as an observer, was how the performers employed a level politeness–what might have been less noticeable had they played together before. Further the restraint that was demanded in the very premise of the performance, to create a “Quiet Circle,” enhanced the level of shared/performative listening that was demanded of each musician. To me, it felt like they were dancing with one another, and even though the oral dance was a result of some salvaged (and almost post-apocolyptic/steam-punk) instruments, the process felt so ritualistic as to remind me of a dance in a Jane Austen novel. In other words, members were poised and gracious and, even, happy.”
–Caroline Picard, Lantern Daily [2010]
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“Everything I’ve ever seen curator Noé Cuéllar do is smart (pressed suit rather than SAT) and luscious (folds of thick corduroy rather than lip gloss): ten people playing politely in a circle isn’t just an idea he had, it’s his thing.”
–excerpt from The Green Lantern Press season preview [2010]
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“At first blush, composer/sound artist Noé Cuéllar seems a stoic fellow. After that impression fades, one realizes that he is, in fact, merely economical: no gesture or encounter is made lightly; no talk—however quiet it may be—is small.”
–Dan Mohr, Jam of the Week [2010]
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“[Kilter] Thoughtful, but not controlling; interesting formally; quite astonishing timbrally.”
–Julia Miller, curator of New Music at the Green Mill [2010]
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“Noe Cuellar’s To Obverse is among my favorite pieces from the program. The pacing fit my mood. It reminded me (vaguely) of Estonian organ pieces, slow and low, fundamental frequencies, difference tones. At moments it was John Bull, two part counterpoint, but played at a tempo very very slow, beneath any pulse or dance rhythm. There were also some Messiaen chords of “god” in there, is that accidental? The cue-card size score probably contained the harmonic changes to the tune. The harmonium seems to be a perfect instrument for the size/shape of the Green Mill, in terms of “listening room.” And, Noe’s performance was engaging and singular. Again, I refer to difference tones! The use of multifareous keyboard instruments is an identified course of action for the Green Mill series! We should do a keyboardist festival.”
–Jeff Kowalwoski, curator of New Music at the Green Mill [2009]
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“[Saturn] was rendered with grace, strength, and no gratuitous behavior — every move and note counted.”
–Kurt Heintz, writer, media artist and publisher of E-Poets Network [2009]
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“Saturn is Adam Rose’s dance, done to a live harmonium accompaniment by Noé Cuéllar (who co-curated Sorry with its cartoonishly soporific Norwegian MC, Snorre Sjønøst Henriksen). Abstract, as my boyfriend put it, to the point of expressing only (a very dark) mood, Rose galloped, self-flagellated, and precisely gestured around the stage like a plague-stricken, imprisoned Gollum working through some forced penance to the dissatisfaction of a village of inner demons. [...] One of Cuéllar’s final chords throws operatic intensity over Rose standing with crossed ankles and outstretched arms (the day before Easter!), his head lolled to one side and face twisted into a twitching, silent scream straight out of Munch or Bacon.”
–Zachary Whittenburg, Trailerpilot [2009]
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“Noé Cuéllar’s laptop and subwoofer are behind the audience, creating a cocoon of quiet noise. [...] where so many improv shows relish cacophony and aggression, these musicians were confident and strong enough to let moods and sounds develop slowly, their ideas meshing without seeming chaotic in the least.“
–Adam Kivel, Consequence of Sound [2009]