Near the edge of Colorado, on the liminal cusp of a small town is a giant water tank once used for watering railroad engines, now long emptied. Inside this water tank is a unique sonic environment. The metal surfaces of the circular room, delicately curved floor, and conical ceiling comprise an exceptional reverberation chamber: sounds hang in the air for 40 seconds, washing discernible meaning from words spoken mere feet from the listener. Musical sounds carry, becoming their own instrument and accompaniment.

We travelled to The Tank to experiment, improvise, and make sound in the context of this singular space. An evening concert for locals and those who travelled the five hours from Denver to hear what Anne’s viola and Gahlord’s modular electronics would make of an environment that retained the memory of sound even as more sound was poured into it.

We spent the afternoon before the performance individually experimenting and recording with the help of Greg, our engineer, and Samantha, his assistant. Allowing our ears and musical instincts to become attuned to the space and reverb as eyes adjust to darkness.

For the performance, chairs lined the walls while we were arranged in the center. Both of us were seated on the floor, on rugs keeping the cold of the metal floor from us while we performed. We sat facing one another—Gahlord in front of his electronics and wires and lights, Anne amidst her metallic percussion with her viola at hand. Speakers, cables, mic stands, and other recording equipment created a varied screen of objects between us.

Our improvisation was spontaneous and unrehearsed. It continued through without pause as one long work. We started first with sounds from Anne’s viola, captured into Gahlord’s electronics. From there Gahlord began slowly morphing and bending the sounds with his electronics until they were no longer recognizable. Anne found new sounds in her percussion as we both sought to make use of the properties of the room. As happens in our music sometimes, there were moments when it became difficult to distinguish the source of a sound; Anne’s extended techniques approaching the sound of Gahlord’s electronic clicks, Gahlord releasing fragments of the original audio capture a dozen or so minutes into the performance.

“The Bank of the San Juans” is an exploration of space, distance, and the memory of sound, together in a room with friends and strangers.