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album cover for The Four Seasons CD by Noah Creshevsky

The Four Seasons

Noah Creshevsky

Tzadik

The challenge—and seduction—of sampling is to make what someone else has recorded yours. Most sampling hews too closely to the verb: Sampling, partaking of, nibbling, and, alas, delving no further than to extract a loop for the familiar temporal grid which has dominated music for over a half century. Noah Creshevsky samples, yet instead of just looping he sculpts tiny, poetic fragments into a startling, often luscious palette of timbres and long-limbed melodies; a drum flam, a rising string orchestra scale, and three snippets of bird-like vocal vibratos can collide and caress at once.

Creshevsky’s palette has been multifariously open for decades, heard initially in hard-to-find split LPs released by Opus One in the 1970s and 80s—many of which are collected on the essential compilation disc The Tape Music of Noah Creshevsky 1971-1992 (EM Records, 2004)—to recent albums such as Rounded with a Sleep (Pogus, 2011), The Twilight of the Gods (Tzadik, 2010), and To Know and Not To Know (Tzadik, 2007).

Genres, instruments, and melodies which otherwise might never have cohabited do so freely and in unexpected, delicious ways throughout Creshevsky’s work. On “Cantiga” (1992), strict row-like choral lines, which if heard separately might have won pleased nods from astringent serialists like Donald Martino and Roger Sessions, interweave with flutes and pungently nasal, synthetic horns in a courtly dance, as if Stravinsky’s Agon had actually originated as electronic music. In “Canto di Malavita” from Hyperrealism (Mutable Music, 2003), a churning sitar-laden melody slithers through snare drum and cymbal hits, pausing at 20″ for a cooing female voice, which then reappears at the one minute mark and comes to a thrilling split-second stop at 1’03″. The palette blooms thereafter into frenetically clipped and cut piano scales, with what may be the closing cadence of Stravinsky’s “Madrid” (from the Four Etudes for Orchestra), and string pizzicati, all sealed by a quiet closing bell. Creshevsky makes impossible music possible. Read the rest of this entry »

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