Author: Michael Schell

Michael Schell has been passionate about modern music ever since being spooked by a recording of The Rite of Spring as a toddler. He has two degrees in music, and has had various avocations as a composer, intermedia artist, systems engineer and cribbage player. He's lived in Texas, California, Iowa, Nepal and New York, and now enjoys life in Seattle, where he hosts Flotation Device on KBCS-FM and Radio Eclectus on Hollow Earth Radio.
Contemporary Classical

Music and openness: Schell’s picks for 2022–23

As the pandemic recedes in our rearview mirrors, the flow of new albums of radical music has returned to its pre-COVID level, as has the year-end ritual of Best of lists from critics and other interested parties. Indeed, it’s that post-lockdown deluge of recorded activity, along with the resumption of live musicmaking, that saturated my inbox to the point that I’m combining two years of critical listening and Flotation Device curation into this one article, which endeavors to summarize where Western art music stands today as an integral, global practice that comprises improvised, composed and fixed-media music.

Transcultural exemplars

  • Heiner Goebbels: A House of Call – My Imaginary Notebook (ECM)
    One of the most remarkable items to cross my desk lately is Heiner Goebbels’ latest full-length orchestral project. Starting with a longstanding penchant for juxtaposing dissimilar kinds of music, then borrowing a technique from Gavin Bryars, Goebbels has assembled an anthology of recorded voices culled from old archival phonographs, tasking the live musicians with accompanying them in unexpected ways. Some of the vocal sources seem innocuous enough, like a classical Persian singer delivering a text by Rumi, or Heiner Müller riffing on the text Stein Schere Papier (“rock, paper, scissors”). Others are more ominous, such as a Georgian solder recorded in a German POW camp during WW1. In one movement a Namibian native is accompanied by fractured big band music that suggests a Trinidad night club, which seems innocent enough until you learn that the source recording was made at a German-owned cattle ranch in southwest Africa at the height of the colonial era. Although Goebbels hints at his ideological stance in the title for this section, Wax and Violence, he nevertheless presents his material dispassionately. What’s conveyed here, and throughout the album, is a disorienting ambivalence—perhaps a nostalgia for lost voices and myths, but also a reminder of the tenuous cohesion of human memory, and how deeper meanings often lurk beneath the surface of things.

    Heiner Goebbels by Wonge Bergmann

    At a time when many artists seem intent on bludgeoning audiences with political messages, Goebbels leaves it to us to contemplate the unpredictable and sometimes tragic impacts of new technology and the abutment of cultures, demonstrating that music often communicates more profoundly when things are left ambiguous.

  • Eunho Chang: Sensational Bliss (Kairos)
    A different kind of cultural abutment occurs in a breakthrough album from Eunho Chang which comprises 20 short pieces scored for a combination of Korean and Western instruments and voices, with stylistic inputs ranging from Korean pansori to German lieder and Darmstadt-era post-serialism. In one vignette, Donna Summer and Pierre Boulez appear to be conversing in heaven, a cross-cultural 21st century Pierrot Lunaire from this young and uninhibited South Korean composer.

Big thinking

One of the dominant styles of contemporary orchestral music nowadays is the static, colorful, drone-and-cluster variety that’s closely associated with Scandinavian composers, especially Icelandic ones like Anna Thorvaldsdottir, whose Archora, Aiōn and Catamorphosis were all featured on Flotation Device in 2023. For this list, however, I’m going with three different works in this vein, one of them from an unexpected source.

  • Jóhann Jóhannsson: A Prayer to the Dynamo (Deutsche Grammophon)
    The late Icelandic composer, best known for his film scores (including The Theory of Everything) is represented in this posthumous release from Daníel Bjarnason and the Iceland Symphony Orchestra whose centerpiece was inspired by (and incorporates field recordings gathered by the composer from) a hydroelectric plant in his home country. It combines the now-classic Thorvaldsdottir-esque style with influences from John Luther Adams and Takemitsu’s late orchestral works, building enormous orchestral swells from a slowly ascending bassline.
  • Žibuoklė Martinaitytė by Tomas Terekas

    Žibuoklė Martinaitytė: Hadal Zone (Cantaloupe)
    Although she originates from Lithuania, Martinaitytė eschewes the spiritual minimalism pursued by most Baltic composers in favor of what she calls acoustic hedonism, which embraces the sensuality of Nordic composers like Anna, Jóhann and Anders Hillborg while retaining fidelity to the great sonorist works of György Ligeti, in particular Lontano (1967), which uses diatonic clusters and micropolyphony. Hadal Zone depicts the darkest depths of the ocean using a bottom-heavy ensemble (bass clarinet, tuba, cello, double bass and piano) plus sampled voices and instrumental sounds.

  • Liza Lim: Annunciation Triptych (Kairos)
    One composer not typically associated with the Nordic style is the Southern Hemisphere-dwelling Liza Lim, who built her reputation on rhythmically-complex post-serial works for mixed chamber ensemble (including 1993’s The Oresteia). Yet her Annunciation Triptych—three ambitious orchestral works each inspired by a prominent female historical or mythical figure—shows her diving into the world of sound surface composition. The Sappho/Bioluminescence movement, for example, inspired by the lyric poetry of Sappho of Lesbos, explores the essence of “physical flesh as enlightenment, erotic trance [and] hallucination” (or in more modern terms “phosphorescent plants and genetically engineered creatures glow[ing] in the dark”) and incorporates spectralist elements, including natural harmonics that occasionally clash with equal tempered tones, before ending with a B♭ major chord.

Improv from Braxton and Zappa outward

  • Anthony Braxton and Brandon Seabrook meet at a truck stop

    Ghost Trance Septet plays Anthony Braxton (El Negocito)
    Anthony Braxton might be the most influential American composer alive today who’s not a minimalist, with over half a century at the forefront of applying highly-structured compositional techniques of a sort associated with the likes of Carter, Stockhausen and the spectralists to the world of improvised music. His relentless Ghost Trance Music, tackled here by an elite group of Belgian and Danish musicians, is inspired by the nonstop, stupor-inducing music associated with the Ghost Dance religion, a Native American revivalist movement founded in 1889 by the Northern Paiute shaman Wovoka that quickly spread among Plains and Great Basin tribes, much to the consternation of the US Government. Braxton’s Composition No. 255 consists of 56 sheets of musical instructions for guided improvisation, centered on a tune made up of short, separated notes broken up by triplets that recurs in various guises throughout the 23-minute performance, suggesting the experience of an outdoor ceremony that might go on for hours or days.

  • Kate Gentile: Find Letter X (Pi)
  • Kate Gentile with International Contemporary Ensemble: b i o m e i.i (Obliquity)
  • Matt Mitchell: Oblong Aplomb (Out of Your Head)
  • Brandon Seabrook’s Epic Proportions: brutalovechamp (Pyroclastic)
    Drummer Kate Gentile and keyboardist Matt Mitchell (who collaborated on the massive 6-CD box set Snark Horse, one of my picks for 2021) are among the most prominent younger musicians to follow in Braxton’s footsteps. Their stunning mix of cultivated and vernacular elements, driven by Braxtonian off-kilter rhythms, and such techniques as deriving chords from saxophone multiphonics and rhythms from Carteresque metric modulations (both employed in the subsurface track from Find Letter X) are well represented in their three newest albums. Brandon Seabrook likewise comes from the Braxton lineage, but with a generous dose of Zappa-esque nonchalance thrown in. His brutalovechamp album, named for a late beloved dog, features Seabrook on guitar, banjo and mandolin, traversing a Disney cartoon-ride array of unpredictably-juxtaposed bluegrass, rock and free jazz milieux in the company of his electroacoustic octet Epic Proportions.
  • Zappa/Erie (Zappa Records)
    Speaking of Zappa, one of the most interesting items to emerge from his archives in recent years is Zappa/Erie. Drawn from live recordings by his mid-70s touring bands, it’s notable for the presence of Lady Bianca, the only prominent female singer to tour with Zappa. Listen to her improvised solo in the two-chord downtempo vehicle Black Napkins (heard at 1:30:44 in Flotation Device‘s 2023 Mother’s Day Zappathon, linked below), and consider how her gospel-informed voice helps to mitigate the impact of Zappa’s snarky and often puerile lyrics.

  • Live Forever, Vol. 2: Horvitz, Morris, Previte Trio: NYC, Leverkusen 1988​–​1989 (Other Room)
  • Scott Fields Ensemble: Sand (Relative Pitch)
    Butch Morris, Bobby Previte, Wayne Horvitz by Keri Peckett

    Another key figure in shaping the landscape of the contemporary free improvisation movement is Butch Morris (1947–2013), a lynchpin of the Downtown New York scene who helped to bridge the African-American tradition of free jazz with the predominately white world of avant-rock. He also developed the conduction technique that’s been adapted by younger musicians like Wayne Horvitz in their guided group improvisations. Horvitz is featured alongside Morris and drummer Bobby Previte in a remarkable new archival album that documents their trio performances in New York and Germany during the late 1980s. Scott Fields recalls Morris in the group improvisations of Sand, recorded in Cologne in 2022 and featuring a large group of vocalists and instrumentalists who extemporize from melodies, texts and other raw materials provided by Fields.

  • Keith Jarrett: Bordeaux Concert (ECM)
    Keith Jarrett enters our spotlight through a new release documenting a 2016 live performance in Bordeaux, France, recorded just two years before a pair of strokes left him without the full use of his hands. Although Jarrett largely abandoned his avant-garde sensibilities after 1973 in favor of the gospel-inflected style that drove his lucrative solo career, the improvisations captured here reveal how he often returned to modernism in his later years. Part V is a good example of Jarrett’s discursive atonal playing that’s still characteristically lyrical.
  • Sergio Armaroli, Veli Kujala, Harri Sjöström, Giancarlo Schiaffini: Windows & Mirrors, Milano Dialogues (Leo)
  • Jeb Bishop, Tim Daisy, Mark Feldman: Begin, Again (Relay)
  • Grdina | Maneri | Lillinger: Live at the Armoury (Clean Feed)
  • Craig Taborn, Mat Maneri, Joëlle Léandre: hEARoes (RogueArt)
    Among the more interesting new specimens of European free improv is an offering from a quartet of Italian and Finnish musicians featuring the unusual instrumentation of saxophone, trombone, accordion and vibraphone. Another atypical combination that eschews bass and electronics is made up of Chicagoans Jeb Bishop (trombone), Tim Daisy (drums) and Mark Feldman, who might be the most interesting improvising violinist since Leroy Jenkins. Mat Maneri began his career as a violinist, but switched to viola in his 30s, becoming (with Ig Henneman), one of the world’s leading exponents of that underappreciated instrument as an improvisational vehicle. In Live at the Armoury, Maneri collaborates with drummer Christian Lillinger and the intriguing Vancouver-based guitarist and oud player Gordon Grdina. hEARoes features Maneri in a trio with bassist Joëlle Léandre and Craig Taborn, whose playing combines the lyricism of Jarrett with the jagged rhythms of Cecil Taylor, suggesting a promising way forward for lyrical on-the-keys solo piano improvisations now that the careers of both those masters have reached their endpoint.

(North) American masters

  • Meredith Monk: The Recordings (ECM)
    There’s nothing new to hear in this bundling of all twelve of Monk’s releases on ECM, cherishingly produced for her 80th birthday in November 2022. But a bevy of new articles, archival photos and other accoutrements shed new light on her development between her 1980 breakthrough album Dolman Music and 2016’s On Behalf of Nature, helping to illuminate Monk’s impact on both musical minimalism and new music theater.
  • Steve Reich: Reich/Richter (Nonesuch)
    Reich’s recent works represent something of a throwback to the mid-70s heyday of classic minimalism, deploying large ensembles in service to the familiar spinning of rhythmic patterns that underpin simple modal melodies. Reich/Richter, created for an abstract film by Gerhard Richter, is the most accomplished of the lot, making its two predecessors Music for Ensemble and Orchestra and Runner—also recorded for the first time in 2022—seem diluted in comparison.
  • Terry Riley: IN C Irish (Louth Contemporary Music Society)
    If Reich is the most respected classic minimalist among his peers, Riley was the one who got there first. This new 50-minute traversal of the most landmarky of all minimalist landmarks features Irish folk musicians playing an array of flutes, bagpipes, fiddles and other traditional instruments, the performance culminating in a lively reel.
  • Frederic Rzewski: No Place to Go but Around (Cantaloupe)
    Rzewski fans have long clamored for a modern digital recording of No Place to Go but Around, his 1974 piano variations on an original bluesy theme that ended up being a study piece for his massive The People United Will Never Be Defeated!. Rzewski himself recorded the piece on a scarce, out-of-print Finnadar LP. And Bang on a Can veteran Lisa Moore has now brought it into the 21st century, replete with an obligatory mid-piece improvisation on the Italian labor anthem Bandiera Rossa.
  • Robert Black plays John Luther Adams: Darkness and Scattered Light (Cold Blue)
    Moore’s fellow Bang on a Can veteran Robert Black recounts John Luther Adams’ haunting and delicate music for solo and multitracked double bass. It’s one of Black’s final recordings, and an apt memorial to his advocacy for new music, as well as his agile technique and flawless intonation.
  • Carlos Chávez: The Four Suns/Selections from Pirámide (reissued in Carlos Chávez Complete Columbia Album Collection)
    My favorite reissue of the year comes from the vaults of Columbia Records, which has—finally!—begun offering digital editions of its essential but long out-of-print experimental music recordings from the 60s and 70s. Harry Partch, Steve Reich and Pauline Oliveros are a few of the radical musicians who first reached a wider audience through Columbia Masterworks and its Odyssey subsidiary. Another was Carlos Chávez, once the dominant voice in Mexican art music, but now consigned to obscurity, his mostly neoclassical compositions languishing in the shadows of giants like Stravinsky and Copland. The ballet score Pirámide is a remarkable outlier though—evoking the specter of a now-lost Mesoamerican ritual heritage using acrid orchestral writing combined with choral exclamations that resemble Māori haka songs more than conventional singing. It’s amazing to hear these sounds once again in high-quality digital audio.

Eurasian masters

  • Iannis Xenakis: Electroacoustic works (Karlrecords)
  • Xenakis révolution: Le bâtisseur du son (ARTE France)
    Two noteworthy projects to come out of the 2022 Xenakis centenary celebrations are Karlrecords’ new digital edition (with enhanced bass) of Xenakis’ collected electroacoustic works (including 1962’s Bohor, considered a precursor to contemporary noise and dark ambient music), and Stéphane Ghez’s documentary film Xenakis revolution: The architect of sound, which features archival and home movie footage of the composer tied together by reflections from his daughter Mâkhi. Among the interesting topics are Xenakis’ emotional attachment to Corsica, whose rocky coast reminded him of Greece, from which he was exiled for nearly three decades. “I imagine him here [in Corsica], when I listen to his music” says Mâkhi, who also recounts how his early sonorist masterworks were influenced by the sounds of World War II. The film intercuts footage from the British occupation of Greece—street demonstrations, gunfire, and tracer ammunition lighting up the sky—with excerpts from his percussion sextet Pléïades (performed by Le Collectif Xenakis). Later, cluster and density pieces like Pithopratka (1956) are intercut with the sound of raindrops and images of undulating clouds of fish and flying birds. Pascal Dusapin recalls how Xenakis told him he was constantly endeavoring to recreate the sound he heard when he was hit in the face by shrapnel from a British tank (which cost him an eye and left him disfigured). “His message was: music does not always come from music.”

    Mâkhi opens her father’s notebook from his lessons with Messiaen, begun in December 1951, revealing that his notes were taken in French, not Greek. In another sequence, a tour of the chapel in the Couvent Sainte Marie de la Tourette, which Xenakis helped Le Corbusier design, illustrates the connection between modern architecture and music. The chapel’s natural lighting is designed as a series of “cannons of light” providing just enough illumination to support essential functions (“la louange et la prière” as the interviewed Dominican priest puts it). An animation superposes a graphic representation of the string glissandos of Metastasis over the unconventional angles of the chapel’s windows. And another sequence features Jean-Michel Jarre reflecting on the 1972 premiere of Polytope de Cluny at an old Roman bath in Paris. A groundbreaking sound and light show, including early lasers, it anticipated the elaborate multimedia spectacles we’ve since become accustomed to. “Today’s DJs are all great-grandchildren of Xenakis, without knowing it.” In all, the film makes a worthy and visually pleasing introduction to one of modern music’s most unique figures.
  • György Kurtág: Rückblick (Altes und Neues für 4 Spieler – Hommage à Stockhausen) (musikFabrik)
    This new, valedictory work by Hungary’s leading composer often reminds us of the epigrammatic Kurtág we all know and love, but it also sometimes sounds like Scriabin, late Stravinsky, Ustvolskaya, or even Ravel—as befits an hour-long work whose title means Review, “old and new”.
  • Salvatore Sciarrino: Chamber Music (Brilliant Classics)
    György Kurtág by Lenke Szilágyi

    Two premiere recordings of attractive works by Italy’s most important living composer.

  • musica viva #40 – Wolfgang Rihm: Jagden und Formen (BR Klassik)
    Rihm, along with Helmut Lachenmann, is one of the two great elder figures in contemporary German composition. Yet I’ve often had trouble with his awkward instrumental writing and his frequently clotted textures. Jagden und Formen (“hunts and forms”) in its revised 2008 version, here given its premiere recording by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, is a breath of fresh air, with lively rhythms and unusually clear and colorful orchestration. It’s also a good representative of his chased form approach, wherein musical sections succeed each other in an unpredictable way, rather like an exquisite corpse.
  • Otto Sidharta: Kajang (Sub Rosa)
    A worthy anthology of recent fixed-media pieces by Indonesia’s leading exponent of electroacoustic music. The title piece is reminiscent of much of today’s dark ambient music, but the changes from section to section happen more quickly. Sidharta has collected field recordings all over Indonesia, and the sounds in Kajang often suggest a rainforest or an insect chorus.
  • Bernd Alois Zimmermann: Recomposed (Wergo)
    This new three-CD set features mostly early, mostly unrecorded works—-including orchestrations of piece by Casella, Milhaud and Villa-Lobos—by the late 20th century’s most tormented composer. Most of the selections are fun but trivial compared to Zimmermann’s most substantial works. But the final track, a recording of his valedictory composition Stille und Umkehr, is as gripping as any I’ve heard of this neglected masterpiece.

New and discovered

  • Tyondai Braxton by Dustin Condren

    Tyondai Braxton: Telekinesis (Nonesuch, New Amsterdam)
    Once upon a time there were acoustic instruments, and then in the 1980s sampling synthesizers came along and eventually imitated the sound of acoustic instruments well enough to replace them in many commercial applications. Professionals could still tell the difference though, and this new project from Tyondai Braxton (son of Anthony) seems to suggest that we’ve come full circle wherein elaborate section-by-section studio recording techniques can be used to get acoustic instruments to sound like samplers imitating the sound of acoustic instruments! The result is an interesting aural tapestry that’s not quite natural, not quite artificial—possessing something of a Frankensteinian vibe. Fittingly it was inspired by a story from the manga series Akira, where a boy gains the ability to move objects telepathically, but is unable to control his power, so that it eventually destroys him, hence the title Telekinesis.

  • Yikii: The Crow-Cyan Lake (Unseelie)
  • Yikii: Black Hole Ringdown (Bandcamp)
    A more playful approach to skirting the threshold between authenticity and artifice is explored by vocalist and electronic musician Yikii, who hails from the Manchurian city of Changchun. These quirky fixed-media pieces—featuring her girlish voice accompanied by a brash machine orchestra capable of strange, abrupt transitions—sound like a cross between Björk and The Residents, but in Chinese.
  • Wet Ink Ensemble: Missing Scenes (Carrier)
    Yikii via the artist

    Moving in a more rarefied direction is this release from one of America’s most formidable composer-led ensembles, featuring works from three of its co-founders: Alex Mincek, Sam Pluta and Kate Soper, known for her literary-themed works that combine continuous music with texts delivered by Soper through a combination of singing and recitation—a technique that has a spotty history in Western art music (viz., Stravinsky’s oft-maligned Perséphone), but one that Soper usually manages to pull off. Her best known work is an evening-length piece called Ipsa Dixit, which Seattle Modern Orchestra recently presented with Maria Männistö handling the solo part, demonstrating that it’s possible to perform Soper’s music even if you’re not Kate Soper. Featured in Missing Scenes is Soper’s new commentary on Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale.

  • Heinz Winbeck: Aus der Enge in die Weite (Genuin)
    German composer Heinz Winbeck (1946–2019) is little known in North America. But these premiere recordings of his string quartets reveal his music to be an attractive mix of German modernism and American minimalism that’s deserving of more attention.
  • Cergio Prudencio: Works for Piano (Kairos)
    Bolivia’s foremost living composer is well represented by the sparse, enchanting piano works receiving their premiere recordings in this album.
  • Visions of Darkness in Iranian contemporary music Volume II (Unexplained Sounds)
  • Anthology of Contemporary Music from South Africa (Unexplained Sounds)
  • Anthology of Experimental Music from Latin America (Unexplained Sounds)
    Unexplained Sounds Group continues to plumb the underexposed corners of the world with a new batch of regional anthologies—good places to harvest gems borne of the coupling of cheap laptops with unique perspectives, a testament to depth and global reach of today’s experimental electronic music culture.

Drones and darkness

When hundreds of new albums cross your desk every year, sorting them by style and genre can identify what kinds of music have been deemed “easy” to produce. Postminimalist, drone and slow-changing electronic musics have long topped that list in our domain. But below are some practitioners whose longevity and/or invention sets them apart from an ever-growing pack.

  • Phill Niblock via Festival Mixtur Barcelona

    Élaine Radigue: Occam Delta XV (Collection QB)

  • Phill Niblock: Working Touch (Touch)
    Two of the OGs of drone minimalism, both of them still creating in their 90s, are represented in new releases. Radigue is renowned for her epic fixed-media works dating from the 1970s through 90s, and constructed from complex, gradually-transforming drones created using an Arp 2500 synthesizer. When digital synths took over the electronic music scene at the turn of the 21st century, Radigue found them poorly suited for creating the sonorities she favored. So she began composing for acoustic instruments instead, working directly with performers by rote or through written instructions, instead of through conventional notation. Montreal’s Bozzini Quartet recently recorded two versions of one such work, Occam Delta XV, wherein Radigue allows herself a distended exploration of such quaint things as open fifths and major triads. As for Niblock, long a lynchpin of the Downtown New York experimental scene, a new album from the Touch label features one of his favorite multichannel, microtonal, monotimbral creations: Vlada BC for overdubbed viola d’amores.
  • Sarah Davachi: In Concert & In Residence (Late Music)
    Davachi is one of the leaders of the young generation of drone minimalists, and the range and nuance of her work is showcased by this new compilation album. Stile Vuoto is interesting for its combination of string trio and pipe organ, with the heterostatic, artifact-laden long tones of the bowed strings complementing the steady-state drones of the organ. Lower Visions features Davachi herself traversing its material in four different ways with four slightly different instruments ranging from a Hammond B3 to an E-mu modular synth.
  • Sarah Davachi at Western Front, Vancouver

    Norm Chambers: Seaside Variations and Ajax Ensemble (Panabrite)
    Chambers (1972–2022) was one of the leading figures in the Northwest’s busy electronic music scene before his premature death from sinus cancer. He left a pair of albums in flight at his death that have now been assembled and published by Panabrite. Together they offer a bittersweet glimpse at his rhythmically lively transmissions from across the ether.

  • Marc Barreca: Recordings of Failing Light (Palace of Lights)
    New fixed-media works from the Pacific Northwest’s foremost practitioner of dark ambient music.
  • Evgueni Galperine: Theory of Becoming (ECM)
    Moving halfway from dark ambient back toward the classic montage style of Varèse and Stockhausen, this collection of short pieces demonstrates the “augmented reality of acoustic instruments”, constructed by this Soviet-born, French-resident musician using electronically-processed instrumental recordings.

In print

  • Tom Perchard, Stephen Graham, Tim Rutherford-Johnson and Holly Rogers: Twentieth-Century Music in the West: An Introduction (Cambridge University Press)
    The most notable book on contemporary music to come along this decade is also the first that claims to cover 20th century Western art and popular music in a single volume. Rutherford-Johnson is familiar to new musicians through his Music after the Fall: Modern Composition and Culture since 1989. His new collaborative effort is an informative read, but like any survey of its kind it’s vulnerable to sniping over what it omits or neglects. A more serious objection is that it’s not so much a comprehensive history of music as it is a survey of postmodern music criticism (and media theory), whose copious in-line citations are as likely to refer to academics as actual musicians. Still, it’s a good first step in a worthwhile direction, managing to avoid the patronizing excesses of much current academic writing.

Opera on the screen

The return of new music theater to live stages means that it has also returned to the cinematic realm, both on the Web and through such undertakings as Metropolitan Opera’s Live in HD, which rates special attention as a truly luxurious way to watch traditional opera: in a high-end multiplex with reclining seats, cupholders and (judging from my recent experiences at least) a largely empty theater as well. This latter point is a shame since the multi-miked Live in HD sound is notably better than you’d experience almost anywhere in the audience at the real Met. Plus, the multiple camera angles give you both long shots of the scenery and close-ups of the performers. With the Metropolitan Opera’s renewed commitment to contemporary opera bringing opportunities to see exploratory work done with world-class production values, it’s definitely something to take advantage of, especially if you don’t live in New York.

  • Brett Dean: Hamlet (Metropolitan Opera Live in HD)
    I was ambivalent about this opera when I saw it during its premiere run at Glyndebourne Festival. It seemed unfocused, its opening too derivative of the opening of Death In Venice, the music unmemorable aside from the Act I scene with the traveling players… But I was won over by the Met’s 2022 mounting of the same production, and the textural transparency delivered by one of America’s best orchestras, enhanced by Met in HD’s clarion audio (including the stereo separation of the twin percussion/clarinet/trumpet trios placed in the side balconies). Librettist Matthew Jocelyn displays excellent judgment in avoiding the most famous soliloquys, and consulting the play’s first quarto for new insights on the drama. Allen Clayton seems singularly equipped to enact the title role—both his musical nuances and his gestures and stage movements capture the essence of the character perfectly, repaying the audacity shown by Dean and Jocelyn in daring to adapt this most iconic of all Shakespeare tragedies.

    Brenda Rae and Allan Clayton in Hamlet
  • Terence Blanchard: Fire Shut Up in My Bones (Metropolitan Opera on Demand)
    The bebop-infused musical language of Blanchard’s Fire lies squarely in the tradition initiated by Anthony Davis’s 1985 X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X (which also just received its first staging at the Met), and rarely strays from familiar tonal haunts. But it still offers some imaginative details, including the a cappella rhythmic chanting of the hazing scene, and the handling of the Char’es-Baby character (a boy treble whose lines often shadow or double those of his adult counterpart an octave higher). What impressed me the most, though, is how the cultural and musical appurtenances of the story’s Southern African-American milieu are enlisted in service of a dramatic theme—sexual abuse and the trials of adolescence—that’s universal to all communities. The rural domestic scenes, the Louisiana poultry plant, the fraternity initiation at Grambling State, etc., all function in ways similar to the Parisian and Andalusian trappings of La Bohème and Carmen, while challenging the stereotype that black operas should be about slavery, hagiography or the police.

    Fire Shut Up in my Bones via Metropolitan Opera
  • Jahreslauf vom Dienstag

    from Karlheinz Stockhausen’s LICHT:
    Dienstag
    (Philharmonie de Paris)
    Donnerstag – Acts I and II
    (Philharmonie de Paris)
    Freitag
    (Philharmonie de Paris)
    Le Balcon and Maxime Pascal continue their traversal of LICHT, Stockhausen’s hyper-epic seven-opera cycle (one for each day of the week) with three more days (staged by three different directors), adding to the previously-reviewed Samstag. Donnerstag (Thursday) contains some of the cycle’s most interesting music, starting in Act I with Michael’s Youth, an unusually personal and narrative traversal of Stockhausen’s traumatic childhood, including the wartime death of both parents (his mother shipped off to a mental institution where she was later euthanized, followed by his father’s death on the Eastern front). Act II is the famous Michael’s Ride Around the World, rendered in a modest concert staging with exquisite stereo sound (including the subterranean presence of the Invisible Choirs via Stockhausen’s own 16-track recorded realization), though less visual impact than MusikFabrik’s famous staging from 2009. Dienstag (Tuesday) is best represented by its first act, The Course of the Years, a quintessential 70s-era Stockhausen gagaku-influenced process piece.

    Donnerstag: The mother is taken to an asylum

    Then there’s the troublesome Freitag (Friday), whose sluggish music, dominated by canned 1990s digital synth drones, seems diluted by comparison with the other two operas (both composed earlier), and whose Urantia Book-derived cosmological narrative recounts a bizarre story of racial miscegenation, followed by a procession of increasingly strange “couples”, ranging from a cat and a dog, a crow and a nest, a tongue and an ice cream cone (get it?), and finally a pencil and pencil sharpener (ouch!), staged by director Silvia Costa as the result of student lab experiments. Whatever one’s misgivings about Stockhausen’s dramaturgy, it’s hard not to be astounded by the musicianship on display in these performances, including Freitag’s young choristers and instrumentalists, tasked with performing this notoriously complex and difficult music from memory. Le Balcon’s cherishingly-produced stagings offer much to ponder, including Stockhausen’s prowess as a sculptor of sensuous new sound worlds, and the conflicted emotions aroused by being simultaneously confronted with the bountiful imagination and megalomania of one of modern music’s most profligate geniuses.

    The most toploftical sex scene in all opera: Jenny Daviet (Eva) and Halidou Nombre (Kaino) in Freitag
  • Magdalena Kožená and Vilma Jää in the ending of Innocence

    Kaija Saariaho: Innocence (France Musique)
    Perhaps the most provocative item on the list is Kaija Saariaho’s final opera Innocence in its first video release. European composers often do better than their North American counterparts when it comes to writing for such tradition-laden institutions as orchestras and opera companies in ways that seem contemporary but not pretentious. Innocence carries the sound world of Alban Berg’s Wozzeck into the age of school shootings, culminating in a heart-wrenching scene where a bereaved mother meets the ghost of her murdered daughter for whom she’d continued to buy yearly birthday presents. The girl implores her mother to let her go…then disappears—an encounter that Saariaho sets with in a construct of folk singing and modernist orchestral sonorities, creating an effect that’s shattering but unsentimental.

    If you’re not up for something this wrenching, there’s Reconnaissance, a retrospective album of Saariaho’s choral music from BIS Records that includes several first recordings, and showcases how the late Franco-Finnish composer built a characteristic sound world out of slowly-changing instrumental and electronic textures from which fragmentary melodies emerge.

Prospectus

In my year-end article for 2021, I noted a tentativeness in the musical landscape, the lingering residue of lockdowns and their social and artistic impact. That seems to be gone now, but as the flow of contemporary music emerges from newly-reopened spigots, it enters a world increasingly beset by violence, division, and a propensity for closed-minded tribal thinking. Artists themselves are not immune to the latter. But the trajectory of the challenging and uncompromising music that best represents the contemporary global praxis of Western art music trends ultimately toward openness and individuality. Immerse yourself in its arduous, hard-fought authenticity as you carry your thoughts and hopes into what portends to be a obstreperous year.


Photo collage: Tyondai Braxton by Dustin Condren, Steve Reich via the artist, Anthony Braxton and Brandon Seabrook via Brandon Seabrook, Žibuoklė Martinaitytė by Lina Aiduke, Xenakis and Le Corbusier from Xenakis révolution: Le bâtisseur du son, Magdalena Kožená and Vilma Jää in Kaija Saariaho: Innocence, Frederic Rzewski by Michael Wilson, Gordon Grdina via the artist, trio (Butch Morris, Bobby Previte, Wayne Horvitz) by Keri Peckett, Liza Lim by Klaus Rudolf, Keith Jarrett by Daniela Yohannes, Frank Zappa and Lady Bianca by Alan Smithee/John Rudiak, Salvatore Sciarrino via the composer, Sarah Davachi via the artist, Terence Blanchard: Fire Shut Up in my Bones via Metropolitan Opera, Meredith Monk by Jack Mitchell, Cergio Prudencio via Kairos Records, Stockhausen: Donnerstag aus LICHT via Philharmonie de Paris, Yikii via the artist, Otto Sidharta via Sub Rosa Label.

Film Music, Review

Bernstein as performance: Bradley Cooper’s Maestro

If you’re up for seeing Maestro, Bradley Cooper’s much-heralded Leonard Bernstein biopic, then try to do it now, in a movie theater, before it gets remanded permanently to Netflix. The big-screen experience is worth it, for reasons I’ll get to momentarily. But let me preface this by noting that—as was the case with Todd Field’s Tár—the last place to look for cogent analysis of Maestro as a film is the throng of classical music professionals offering strong opinions about its errors and omissions. Maestro—again like Tár—is permeated by music but is not primarily about music. It’s ultimately a Hollywood love story about a historical figure, like Oppenheimer without the hearing scenes.

Maestro begins with a short prologue featuring an elderly Bernstein seated at a living-room piano. As a camera crew looks on, he plunks out sparse, bitter music that he reads from a handwritten score, before confessing how much he misses his late wife Felicia (née Felicia María Cohn Montealegre). Although not acknowledged in the dialogue, the music comes from Bernstein’s late opera A Quiet Place, a distended portrait of a dysfunctional family, including an estranged gay son whose mother has just died.

Lenny debuts at Carnegie Hall

The story then commences in earnest with a flashback to 1943 and the fateful early-morning phone call informing Bernstein that his services as the New York Philharmonic’s backup conductor would be required that afternoon. The tableau is striking: a groggy Bernstein grasping a telephone in a dark room faintly illuminated by slivers of light leaking past an enormous curtain that resembles a proscenium drape but turns out to be an apartment window. When Lenny leaps out of bed, we see that it’s shared by another young man (later identified as David Oppenheim, a clarinetist who went on to head Columbia Masterworks). Lenny rushes down the hallway which transforms into the wings of Carnegie Hall, from which the nascent superstar emerges onstage for his triumphant, nationally-broadcast debut.

Young black-and-white Lenny (Bradley Cooper) and Felicia (Carey Mulligan)

Soon we’re at the 1946 piano party where he and Felicia meet. With Lenny’s bedroom habits already revealed, the film now enlists the tension between his sexual dependence on men and his emotional dependence on women as the primary driver of the ensuing drama.1 The performative nature of the couple’s future lives is prophesied in a flirtatious vignette where Felicia—an actress by trade, who’s later shown filming Walton’s Façade for CBS—leads Lenny to an empty theater where the two sweethearts reenact a love scene from a play.

The events of the 1940s and 50s are depicted with black-and-white imagery shot in the 4:3 aspect ratio of the classic Edison rectangle. As the narrative advances through the 60s and 70s, the clothes and hairstyles change accordingly, but so does the cinematography, evolving to color and then widescreen photography by the end. The impact is greatest when seen projected in a large theater, but you can sample the effect at a more modest scale in the film’s trailer.

Middle-aged color Lenny

Along the way, we encounter Mahler (Cooper’s widely-seen reenactment of the 1973 Resurrection Symphony at Ely Cathedral), Lenny’s agonizing choice between a career in musical theater versus becoming “the first great American conductor”, his and Felicia’s extramarital dalliances with men, and Felicia’s death from cancer in 1978. A poignant moment comes during a period of estrangement from his family when a bearded, disheveled Lenny introduces Shostakovich’s gloomy 14th Symphony at an open rehearsal as a plea for aging artists to act and create as authentically as possible. Afterwards, we see him drinking, smoking and snorting cocaine with several men. Ironically, neither Shostakovich, trapped in the yoke of Soviet totalitarianism, nor Bernstein, trapped in the closet of sexual politics, were ever able to live their lives truly openly.

Cooper’s portrayal of Bernstein has been aptly praised: a genuine tour-de-force, the result of six years of dedicated study and practice (and up to five hours a day in makeup and prosthetic nose prep). So impeccably does Cooper capture the mannerisms of his subject that archival footage of the real maestro can be inserted over the end credits with no loss of continuity. His counterpart Carey Mulligan is less impressive, giggling too much as young Felicia while adopting a stiff actor’s English as middle-aged Felicia. But her character admittedly presents fewer opportunities for range or development. Among the other cast members, Sarah Silverman stands out as an inspired choice to play Lenny’s snarky sister Shirley.

Also noteworthy—and easier to appreciate in a theater equipped with Dolby Atmos—is the audio production skill on display here. All of Maestro‘s dialog was captured in real time during filming. Even the musical performances were recorded live, not pantomimed, as evinced by the exaggerated “conductorial” bow strokes seen from the concertmaster in the Ely Cathedral scene. It wasn’t that long ago that extensive ADR, pre- and post-recording, and Foley artistry would have been required to deliver these results.

“Listen, there’s something you might wanna know about my brother…”

I would have appreciated more glimpses of Bernstein the craftsman. The penultimate scene, in which the widowed master critiques a conducting student’s gestures during a fermata in the first movement of Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony,2 is a rare occasion where the technique of rehearsing an orchestra is deftly depicted (Yannick Nézet-Séguin was one of Cooper’s advisors on the project). At a disco party that evening, Lenny aggressively flirts with the male student as the young crowd dances to Tears for Fears’ Shout, an allusion to the indiscretions that plagued Bernstein once he no longer had someone in his life to tell him “no”. The film mercifully declines to linger on this however, returning quickly to the scene of the suburban prologue before giving the last, silent, word to the image of a healthy Felicia, the bereft maestro’s quondam muse.

Old widescreen Lenny

The inauspicious track record of composer biopics tempers one’s expectations for a film like Maestro, even as its craft and realism evince a quantum leap from the likes of The Music Lovers and Un grand amour de Beethoven. Beginning as it does with the quote “A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them”, it’s perhaps disheartening that when either Lenny or Felicia asks “Any questions?” in Maestro, they’re met with silence from their audience. Aside from Amadeus—which of course isn’t a true biopic—films of this genre have had trouble captivating viewers who are not already fascinated by their subject. But in its willingness to embrace the complexity and imperfections in its central characters, Maestro succeeds better than most in conveying an insight into the dilemmas and contradictions that have burdened many a creative genius.


  1. Bernstein’s friend Shirley Rhoads Perle said in an interview that she felt he “required men sexually and women emotionally”. ↩︎
  2. “You’re ritarding into the fermata…what happens afterwards? What are you going to do? ‘cause they don’t know. You gonna bleed out of it? Are you gonna drip out of it? …Leak out of it, that’s what it sounds like…” ↩︎
Contemporary Classical

Eisler at 125

Hanns Eisler’s biography might be better known than his music, at least on this side of the Atlantic. Born in 1898, he was German/Austrian, half-Jewish, a committed student of Schoenberg, and a staunch communist. He maintained a lifelong collaboration with Brecht, and like the latter, fled the Nazis for America in the 1930s, where he took up shop in Hollywood, composing well-regarded scores for numerous minor films before being hounded out of the US by post-War anti-communist hysteria. He ended up resettling in the short-lived and little-missed Deutsche Demokratische Republik (East Germany) whose national anthem he penned while languishing under the yoke of Soviet-bloc artistic and political oppression. He died there in 1962.

Eisler’s 125th anniversary this month, coupled with a new recording of his magnum opus, the Deutsche Sinfonie, provides an opportunity to revisit the legacy of this controversial musician, a task facilitated by Brilliant Classics’ ten-CD Hanns Eisler Edition, released in 2014 and featuring several generations of eastern German recordings, many of them originally issued on the Berlin Classics label. Eisler’s life and career followed a similar path to Kurt Weill’s through the latter’s premature death in 1950, and indeed the conventional wisdom tends to regard Eisler as a poor man’s Weill. Traversing these recordings for the first time in several years leads me to conclude that in this particular case, the conventional wisdom is pretty accurate.

Aside from his film scores, Eisler is best remembered for his many Brecht settings, ranging from simple lieder for voice and piano, through cabaret-style theatrical works using a small orchestra, on up to full-fledged martial protest songs for chorus and instruments. The essence of Eisler is the genre of cynical but tuneful cabaret song that’s closely associated with Weill. CD 6 of Hanns Eisler Edition features Gisela May’s classic renditions of many of these songs, and hearing her is a genuine treat. Her clear diction, appropriate use of sprechgesang, and obvious enthusiasm for the material come bubbling through, and the reworked sound of these recordings, mostly from the 1960s, is better than one might expect from a budget label. Among May’s interpretations is the anti-war song O Fallada, da du hangest, which refers to the Goose Girl story recounted by the Brothers Grimm.

CD 7 conveys a generous dose of old Irmgard Arnold tracks as she works her way through the Hollywood Liederbuch. After this come a few tracks with Eisler himself singing songs like Die Ballade vom Wasserrad (a kind of Brechtian Gretchen am Spinnrade).

Hanns Eisler: Die Ballade vom Wasserrad

Some of the most poignant of Eisler’s songs are his late Brecht settings: post-Holocaust poems like In the flower garden. Many others, such as the selections from Die Rundköpfe und die Spitzköpfe (Round Heads and Pointy Heads) are pretty indistinguishable from Weill’s brand of modernist-tinged cabaret, right down to the working class “pit combo” ensemble. Complementing this instrumentation are the many settings for voice and piano. Eisler may have been one of the very last composers to contribute meaningfully to the Romantic art song for this combination, a genre that has since become ossified and moribund.

After landing in the DDR, Eisler’s music got a lot more didactic and tonal. Mitte des Jahrhunderts (Middle of the Century, dating, appropriately enough, from 1950) is heard on CD 9, and it’s a good example of the simplified style. It’s a choral cantata with an interposed orchestral Etude that sounds more like Prokofiev than Weill. CD 10 continues the trend, focusing on choral arrangements of moralizing songs, including a few of Eisler’s most famous agitprop specimens, which to be sure, often originated in the 1930s. One thing Eisler did get out of his stint as DDR’s most internationally prestigious composer (most of his eminent colleagues having long since fled to the West) was the material support of the Communist regime in making these recordings. Aside from the East German national anthem (Auferstanden aus Ruinen, inexplicably omitted from Brilliant’s collection) Eisler’s most famous tune is probably his setting of Brecht’s Und weil der Mensch ein Mensch ist (AKA United Front Song) with its characteristic refrain “Drum links, zwei, drei”. CD 10 (and the set) concludes with a suitably militaristic choral rendition of it. The irony of deploying march rhythms and unison singing in the service of ostensibly anti-authoritarian texts is self-evident. And whereas Eisler’s Weimar-era kampfmusik used instrumental combos and ragtime/jazz-influenced rhythms to connote underclass origins, the effect here is more evocative of a frenzied mob or struggle session.

CD 10 also includes a handful of English-language performances, such as From Narrow Streets and Hidden Places and The Flame of Reason.

So much for the stereotypical Eisler. What’s striking to me, though, is how much instrumental music he left us. Brilliant Classics includes much of it here, mainly suites arranged by the composer from his many film and stage scores. These are a delight to listen to, both because they’re unfamiliar and because they’re more harmonically advanced than his better-known vocal works. Eisler’s Hollywood scores are particularly obscure today because they mainly went into films that did not become classics. The lively Nonet No. 2, culled from his music for the 1941 film The Forgotten Village (itself a curious example of ethnofiction, with a voice over written by John Steinbeck) is characteristic of this style, which shares a common lineage with early Hindemith (e.g., his Kammermusik No. 2 from 1925).

It’s in these works that Eisler’s debt to Schoenberg comes through most vividly. Vierzehn Arten den Regen zu beschreiben (Fourteen Ways to Describe the Rain), composed for a Joris Ivens film, recalls Schoenberg’s Suite, Op. 29, but benefits from Eisler’s penchant for solo winds and open textures (by contrast with Schoenberg’s frequently turgid orchestration). It’s worth recalling that Weill’s earliest canonical music is also heavily indebted to Schoenberg, and many of Eisler pieces for mixed chamber ensemble bear a close resemblance to the sound world of Weill’s youthful Violin Concerto.

CD 8 features solo piano music from the 1920s, closely modeled after Schoenberg’s groundbreaking Op. 19/23/25 pieces. Many compositions in this style emerged from the interwar Germanosphere, but Eisler’s are among the best that weren’t written by Schoenberg, Berg or Webern. This music delights in its unabashed atonality, shorn of the constraints of functional harmony like a nudist shorn of uncomfortable clothes. It occasionally suffers from the same rhythmic rigidity that disfigures much of Schoenberg’s serial music: endless bars of 2/4, 3/4 and 4/4 time with steady eighth notes.

A mid-century German Symphony?

Most of Eisler’s works are miniatures or collections of miniatures. And they tend to be repetitive forms like strophic songs or variation sets (c.f., the aforementioned Vierzehn Arten). Eisler seemed most comfortable in short formats, relying on brief characteristic musical gestures, and an ever-vibrant range of instrumental color (hence the eagerness to employ mixed chamber ensembles). There’s one big exception to this though: the Deutsche Sinfonie, Eisler’s most musically ambitious and distended work. It occupies all of CD 3 in Brilliant Classics’ set in a 1974 recording that features multiple East Berlin musicians under Max Pommer, and is also available in a 1989 live performance featuring Günther Theuring and the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra that’s just been released by Capriccio (an Austrian label specializing in lesser-known European modernist works such as Henze’s Das verratene Meer, Schulhoff’s Flammen and Wellesz’s The Sacrifice of the Prisoner).

Basically, the Sinfonie is an 11 movement oratorio for soloists, speaker, chorus and orchestra. It lasts over an hour, setting several anti-fascist texts by Brecht and one by the Italian novelist Ignazio Silone. Its sound world is comparable to Schoenberg’s Jacob’s Ladder or A Survivor from Warsaw as they might have been adapted by Weill and Brecht. Originally composed in 1935 and 1936, with new movements added as late as 1957, the Sinfonie is “full of political warning to the German people and to those Communists in lock-step with Moscow” as Steve Schwartz puts it. Several of Brecht’s texts tell of German concentration camps, which it’s worth remembering were first opened in 1933, well before Kristallnacht.

Eisler’s works don’t rise above the agitprop as well as Weill’s, and Deutsche Sinfonie can seem as preachy as the most sycophantic cantatas of Shostakovich and Prokofiev. Nevertheless it’s one of his most musically compelling works, containing many fascinating and unnerving moments. It seems to be a precursor to works like Henze’s 9th Symphony, and probably deserves to be more widely heard, at least on disc.

The Sinfonie‘s Praeludium opens with a slow mournful theme entrusted to the violas, kind of a twelve-tone echo of Mahler’s 10th Symphony.

Eisler: Deutsche Sinfonie

A bit of worldly buildup and subsidence sets the stage for the chorus’s entry: a homophonic setting of verses from Brecht’s Germany (Oh Deutschland, bleiche Mutter! Wie bist du besudelt, meaning “Oh Germany, pale mother, how you sit defiled”). The quotation of the Internationale in the trumpets at 4:50 is obvious to anyone who still recognizes that tune. Less familiar nowadays is its counterpoint in the trombones, which quotes a lament for the martyrs of the 1905 Russian Revolution that became known in German as Unsterbliche Opfer (Immortal Victims) and which is also quoted in Hartmann’s Concerto Funèbre and Shostakovich’s 11th Symphony.

Hanns Eisler: Deutsche Sinfonie

All but the last of the Sinfonie‘s movements are twelve-tone, displaying Eisler’s characteristic implementation which emphasizes traditional tonal relationships and the facile extraction of short riffs. A good example of the latter is in the second movement, Brecht’s To the fighters in the concentration camps, a passacaglia over a ground constructed from two pairs of repeated half-steps (which in turn spell out a transposition of the famous B-A-C-H motif). Brecht’s poem features the notable line Verschwunden aber Nicht vergessen (“gone but not forgotten”).

Hanns Eisler: Deutsche Sinfonie

Next up is the first orchestral interlude, called Etude 1. Eisler appropriated this lively movement from the finale to his Orchestral Suite No. 1 (track 4 on CD 1). It leads directly into Brecht’s Erinnerung (Remembrance), commemorating a suppressed anti-war demonstration in Potsdam. It’s set as a kind of post-Mahlerian funeral march. Next comes In Sonnenburg, named after one of the Nazi’s first internment camps. In the 1958 published edition from Breitkopf & Härtel this is cast as a baritone solo, but both Pommer and Theuring do it as an alternating duet between soprano and baritone soloists. On the word leer (“empty”) in ihre blutigen Hände aber immer noch leer sind (“their bloody hands are still empty”) the singer is instructed to perform a fascist salute.

The second orchestral interlude, Etude 2, follows. It appears to have been originally composed for this piece, and is in two broad sections: slow-fast. The main motivic idea is two descending major thirds separated by a minor second (e.g., D♯-B-D-B♭), an idea also foregrounded in the second movement. Movement 7 is Burial of the Troublemaker in a Zinc Coffin, the “troublemaker” being a worker demanding to be paid his wages and be treated as a human being. The chorus dramatically personifies the compliant mob with “He was a troublemaker. Bury him! Bury him!”. Male and female soloists are heard here too, lending the movement quite a bit of coloristic variety. Like several of the other movements, this one frequently has a martial feel to it. After the choral admonition that “whoever proclaims their solidarity with the oppressed will be put into a zinc box like this one”, the movement ends with another soft and resigned funeral march, this one emphasizing triplet rhythms on the first and second beat.

Next up is a four-part cantata-within-an-oratorio, appropriately called Peasant Cantata. It’s the only movement with a non-Brecht text, excerpted from Silone’s 1936 novel Bread and Wine (which the US surreptitiously disseminated among Italian partisans to gin up anti-Mussolini support during WW2). It too opens with march rhythms. Part three uses two male speakers accompanied by strings and soft humming in the women’s chorus. The fourth part is yet another march.

The movements have been getting longer and more complex as we go on, and at 15 minutes, the Worker Cantata (AKA Das Lied vom Klassenfeind or Song of the Class Enemy) is the longest individual movement in all of Hanns Eisler Edition. At last the composer puts forth an extended organic structure, melding stanza form with elements of traditional sonata form. After an orchestral introduction, the mezzo-soprano delivers what sounds like a strophic song, with a folk-like, though serial, melody in straightforward 2/4 time.

Hanns Eisler: Deutsche Sinfonie

The continuation descends stepwise.

Hanns Eisler: Deutsche Sinfonie

After two statements of this comes a new idea, one of those jaunty workers’ marches harkening back to Eisler’s Weimar days. The text here is passed to the baritone who sings a new tune, but then ends with the same continuation theme as the soprano.

Hanns Eisler: Deutsche Sinfonie

An orchestral passage recalls the march and leads to a climax after which (at 5:29) comes one of the Sinfonie‘s most effective moments: a soft kettledrum roll on low A♭ providing the sole accompaniment for the choir as they dramatically enter with a chorale-like setting of “and as the war was about to end”. Some developmental passages follow, climaxing with the mezzo-soprano and baritone soloists singing in octaves (a doubling previously avoided in the Sinfonie). Fragmentation of earlier material in the choir takes us to a scherzo section in 3/4 time (8:26), which features new material and alternation between soloists (still singing in octaves) and chorus.

We arrive back at the march song which, as before, is entrusted to the baritone. An out-of-tempo quasi recitativo passage in the mezzo-soprano leads to the coda, which Eisler launches by having the chorus alternate lines with one of the speakers from the Peasant Cantata. The apogee comes with a repetition of the march idea with the chorus delivering the closing line “and the class enemy is the enemy”.

Movement 10 is the last of the orchestral interludes. Originally conceived as the finale, it’s of also extended length (nearly ten minutes, making it one of the longest instrumental tracks in the collection), using a structure that approximates sonata form. We start right out in allegro 3/4 time. After some introductory bars, a low string ostinato sets in, over which the main theme is stated by a solo horn (at 0:25). If it sounds vaguely familiar it’s because it uses the same row as the viola melody that opens the Praeludium. The first trumpet immediately inverts the tune, and later the violins restate it in its original shape. The tempo slackens for the second theme, heard in clarinets in thirds (at 1:50). Sudden timpani strokes (4:23) herald a change to duple time. At 5:09 Eisler returns to triple time, and starts to develop the first theme, in both original and inverted form as before. At 6:10, the trumpet develops the second theme in canon with the horns. The meter continues to switch between duple and triple, and the development become more fragmentary and the texture thinner until we’re left with an accompanied cadenza for solo violin. The coda reprises the main theme and its dotted rhythm amid multiple layers of crescendo’ing counterpoint, leading to a conclusion which, while not exactly triumphant, is rather more upbeat than most of what we’ve heard before. I personally find the mood of this movement a bit out of character with the rest of the sprawling Sinfonie, despite its motivic integration. An interesting detail reported by David Drew is that the three orchestral movements make up a sort of symphony within the oratorio, with Etude No. 2 taking the role of both scherzo and slow movement.

The work ends with a surprisingly brief choral Epilog, little more than a fragment built atop an A-E♭-F♯ ostinato in the low strings that underpins Brecht’s “this is what you get” lament for the German war dead (the complete text in German is Seht unsre Söhne, taub und blutbefleckt vom eingefrornen Tank hier losgeschnallt! Ach, selbst der Wolf braucht, der die Zähne bleckt, ein Schlupfloch! Wärmt sie, es ist ihnen kalt! Seht unsre Söhne, the key words meaning “See our sons”). This movement was tacked on in 1957, years “after the fact” on the occasion of the work’s publication and full premiere. It’s actually an arrangement of the introduction to Eisler’s cantata Bilder aus der Kriegsfibel, which is heard on CD 9. In its resigned ambiguity it seems to sum up the despair Eisler must have felt toward the end of his life, when so many of his personal and ideological dreams lay shattered. Indeed the compositional history of the Deutsche Sinfonie is itself a microcosm of Eisler’s plight: composed mainly in exile, unperformable in Germany during the Nazi era, and upon Eisler’s return promptly suppressed by communist censors for its Schoenbergian atonality in keeping with the Soviet-imposed dogma that Eisler himself had helped promulgate through his enthusiastic endorsement of the Zhdanov doctrine at the 1948 International Congress of Composers in Prague—a cautionary precedent to today’s bilateral attacks on artistic and academic freedom.

Thanks to a modest cultural liberalization in 1958 the work was finally unveiled, but by that time Brecht was dead and the basic anti-Nazi message was no longer as topical.

Hanns Eisler and Bertolt Brecht in 1950 (photo: German Federal Archive)

Risen from the ruins?

Eisler’s music may not be of the same caliber as Schoenberg’s or Weill’s, but it’s good enough to repay the time spent listening through these recordings. As with most Brilliant Classics releases, Hanns Eisler Edition comes with a few cut corners, notably the lack of song texts and translations. But you do get extensive program notes by Günter Mayer (which can be downloaded, along with track listings, from Brilliant’s Web site). And the budget price certainly makes it a compelling purchase for almost anyone interested in 20th century music—at least if you’re able to approach Eisler’s didacticism in the same spirit that freethinkers are obliged to employ when appreciating musical settings of religious texts. Spend a couple weeks with the Eisler oeuvre, then go on to Brilliant’ Paul Dessau Edition and the new recording of Dessau’s Lanzelot to complete your tour of the DDR’s musical mini-heyday.

Film Music

Harry Belafonte and The Angel Levine

Mostel and Belafonte in
The Angel Levine (1970)

Something I’ve seen little mention of in the tributes to Harry Belafonte (1927–2023) is the dark 1970 urban drama The Angel Levine, which Belafonte produced and starred in. Based on a short story by Bernard Malamud (whose movie credits include The Natural), adapted for the screen by Bill Gunn (Ganja & Hess) and directed by Slovakian filmmaker Ján Kadár (The Shop on Main Street), it’s something of a working class New York knockoff of It’s a Wonderful Life, with Jimmy Stewart replaced by Zero Mostel as the old impoverished Jewish tailor Mishkin (whose wife is dying of a heart ailment), and Belafonte as his unlikely guardian angel Alexander Levine.

Its overlapping cuts (as in the opening montage where Mishkin witnesses Levine stealing a fur coat and subsequently being struck, apparently fatally, by traffic while fleeing), its perplexing shifts between color and black-and-white (and between flashback and story time), and its equivocal ending and narrative ambiguities (how much of the action really happens rather than being imagined) places it within a lineage of lightly surrealist American feature films of which Tár is a more recent example. Indeed it seems remarkable in retrospect that this gloomy, sluggish, sentimental and somewhat abstruse Belafonte vehicle (which marked his first film appearance since 1959’s Odds Against Tomorrow, and which led to a pair of popular 70s blaxploitation pairings with Sidney Poitier), could be released by United Artists and widely distributed in American movie theaters. I remember being confounded by it, along with most of the (predominately adult) audience, when my parents took me to see it during the heyday of family moviegoing in the US.

Of the two principals, it’s Belafonte who seems more comfortable portraying his character: a hustler in life turned angel-on-probation in death, tasked with rekindling Mishkin’s faith within 24 hours in order to earn his wings. It’s his lot to be as harshly judged in the afterlife as on Earth (“Every white mother up there was going through them gates—but me, they put me on probation, same kind of shit I’ve been having down here all my life”). Mostel, by contrast, often seems to struggle with his non-comic role, and one wonders how someone like Rod Steiger might have fared instead. Among the other cast members, Ida Kaminska is notable as Mrs. Mishkin and Gloria Foster (of The Matrix) as Levine’s jaded girlfriend-on-earth Sally.

The music was contributed by the Czeck composer Zdeněk Liška, who’s best represented by his electronic tracks for several Švankmajer animated shorts, as well as the Brothers Quay’s The Cabinet of Jan Švankmajer. This score is straightforward 70s film music, harpsichord-heavy and sometimes Klezmer-tinged (as in the intro’s slow waltz), with nary a hint of the calypso that Belafonte had popularized in the 1950s—though there is a bar scene with 70s funk blaring from the jukebox, and in the closing montage set in Harlem the harpsichord is replaced with a more gospel-shaded Hammond organ. A notable cameo in this sequence is made by Harlem’s old Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation, where a distraught Mishkin searches for Levine, who has vanished following his allotted 24 hours. In the dialog-less conclusion, Mishkin sees a black feather fluttering down from the sky. Is it from a crow, or did Levine really get his wings? Mishkin grasps for the feather, but is unable to reach it.

A product of the “crisis of faith” zeitgeist that also brought forth works like Leonard Bernstein’s Mass, The Angel Levine follows the distinctly Jewish custom of offering no easy answers to its parables on the nature of faith, friendship and love, here refracted through a contemporary prism of race relations. Like life, this obscure film confronts us with the need to cope with loss and ambiguity.


Contemporary Classical

Seattle Symphony announces 2023–24 season

Assistant Principal Cello Nathan Chan (photo: Seattle Symphony)

Seattle Symphony has unveiled its 2023–24 season, replete with familiar repertory (including The Messiah, Bach’s St. John Passion and two Beethoven and Mahler symphonies), plus family concerts, holiday and community events, pop/Hollywood-style programs ranging from Disney and Harry Potter to Joe Hisaishi and David Bowie, and a bevy of blue-chip soloists and guest conductors (Lang Lang, Emanuel Ax, Joshua Bell and Marin Alsop among them). Thomas May has aptly summarized the season’s overall shape and scope, so I’ll focus on its contemporary music offerings, an area where the announced lineup is something of a disappointment.

With no Music Director to provide a coherent vision (the position has been vacant since Thomas Dausgaard’s abrupt resignation in January 2022), and with staff turmoil leading to the departure of Elena Dubinets (the executive behind most of its recent commissions and initiatives, now decamped to LPO) and the discontinuation of the acclaimed [untitled] series (which showcased genres other than conventional orchestral works), the Symphony’s new music programming has become unfocused, even lackluster, with no major commissions forthcoming in the 2023–24 season, nor any mainstage events comparable to 2022’s Buddha Passion, 2019’s Surrogate Cities or 2015’s unveiling (and premiere recording) of the critical edition of Ives’ Fourth Symphony. And although next season’s calendar boasts dozens of 21st century compositions, many of them are in the mold of the mandate-fulfilling, stylistically-inoffensive short works that have become commonplace on North American orchestra programs.

Dalia Stasevska and Lauri Porra (photo: Kari Pekonan)

Nevertheless, there are several highlights to look forward. And what follows is an opinionated listing of some of them:

  • Dalia Stasevska (a successor to Osmo Vänskä as chief conductor of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra) returns to the mainstage to conduct her husband Lauri Porra’s Entropia Concerto for Electric Bass, with Sibelius and Anna Meredith also on the program. Porra is a crossover artist who could be regarded as a Finnish counterpart to someone like Edgar Meyer. He’ll also appear at the Symphony’s Octave 9 space in a chamber work called Cabins & Hideouts. All of these events will be in mid-November
  • Conductor David Robertson, who has an impressive new music pedigree (he was the first American to serve as Ensemble Intercontemporain’s music director), has written a new piano concerto for his other half Orli Shaham. They’ll perform it two weeks after the Porra events, along with Lydia Tár’s favorite Mahler symphony
  • Speaking of Vänskä, he’s slated to return in March—not, alas, to conduct Sibelius. But alongside the scheduled Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev warhorses, his program will include an interesting—and as-yet unrecorded—piece by the Korean-born, London-based Donghoon Shin. Despite its Steinbeck-alluding title, Of Rats and Men, its inspiration comes from Kafka and Bolanõ. In April, Vänskä will premiere another Shin composition (this one inspired by Yeats) with the Los Angeles Philharmonic
  • Alisa Weilerstein arrives to perform Lutosławski‘s Cello Concerto, which might well be his most underrated work, and one in which he rather uncharacteristically establishes an oppositional, dialectic relationship between soloist and orchestra (personal note: many years ago as a student at USC, I played in the Concerto‘s West Coast premiere with Gabor Rejto as soloist)
  • Another April 2024 event features Ralph Vaughan Williams’ often-recorded but rarely-performed Sinfonia Antartica, which the composer adapted from his soundtrack to the 1948 feature film Scott of the Antarctic. This seventh of Vaughan Williams’ nine symphonies is perhaps the least admired of the lot (aside from the non-canonical A Sea Symphony, which is more of an oratorio), often inhabiting an uncomfortable no man’s land between program music and symphonic ambitions. But it’s also one of Vaughan Williams’s most colorful scores, featuring wind machine, organ, and a Sirènes-style women’s chorus. In the manner of last season’s presentation of Messiaen’s Des canyons aux étoiles, the music will be accompanied by a multimedia presentation featuring journal entries and photographs from Scott’s doomed 1910–13 expedition

Steven Mackey (photo: Kah Poon)

The Symphony’s diminutive Octave 9 space will continue its newfound and successful scheme of double Friday night recitals (at 7 PM and 9 PM), which in addition to the aforementioned Cabins & Hideouts event, will include the following:

  • Hub New Music, the Boston-based quartet whose instrumentation duplicates that of the fondly-remembered Seattle Chamber Players (flute, clarinet, violin, cello), will perform on October 6, with a program featuring a world premiere by Nina C. Young, an experimentally-oriented composer who now teaches at USC, along with works by Daniel Thomas Davis and Angélica Negrón
  • February 2 will bring Steven Mackey’s Memoir, scored for string quartet, a pair of percussionists and a narrator. Premiered in May 2022, it’s a theatricalized setting of an unpublished memoir written by Mackey’s late mother (who was also the subject of his violin concerto Beautiful Passing, recently featured on Flotation Device via its premiere recording conducted by David Robertson—if only he would bring that to Seattle!). Mackey is a rock guitarist who got involved in instrumental composition through the influence of the Downtown New York improv scene and the broader international avant-garde—something of an American counterpart to Heiner Goebbels or Steve Martland. His music is often quite engaging in its unexpected juxtapositions of styles, but it can also drift into sentimentality, so I’ll be interested to see where in that spectrum this as-yet unrecorded work falls

Ludovic Morlot at [untitled] 2019 (photo: James Holt/Seattle Symphony)
2023–24 will mark the Symphony’s second full season without a Music Director, and its third full season (added to two COVID-shortened ones) under the leadership of its embattled President & CEO Krishna Thiagarajan. That the organization has returned to a full schedule—and that its musicians have maintained the orchestra’s impressive musical standards—is remarkable under such circumstances, especially given the compounding challenges of the pandemic and the effect of the city’s lingering social and economic ills on its civic and cultural life. Still, it’s hard to look back on the Ludovic Morlot/Simon Woods era (2011–19), with its succession of contemporary music triumphs, often presented through the innovative (and now abandoned) [untitled] series, without feeling a disconcerting sense of nostalgia—a gnawing fear that the glory years of the Northwest’s new music scene have ended, a perception reinforced by the fact that none of the composers, conductors and guest artists mentioned above currently reside in Washington state.

After Morlot’s final [untitled] concert in 2019, I noted how dramatic and reinvigorating his tenure had been for the Symphony, how this “exceptionally charismatic and personable conductor” had “succeeded beyond all expectations at winning the hearts and minds of the city”. Today, Seattle desperately needs another agent of musical rejuvenation. Something that’s not easy to find—but no other musical institution in the region can match the Symphony for prestige, reach and built-in resources. And so as its Board and administration continue their secretive search for the next Music Director, undoubtedly preparing to audition visiting conductors as candidates in the coming season, one can hope that enough hard lessons have been learned, and enough organizational agility regained, that dreams of Emerald-tinted musical splendors will include not just those in the past, but those yet to come as well.

Best of, CD Review, Contemporary Classical

Music edges back: Schell’s picks for 2021

It was a memorable year, not always for the best of reasons. In-person musicmaking began to emerge from the shackles of lockdown, but a year’s worth of normal recording activity lost to COVID-19 began to be felt in 2021 with a diminished flow of new albums. And even what did make it through often testified to the isolation and economic carnage wreaked by the pandemic’s waves, with solo and chamber projects predominating over larger-scale undertakings. Meanwhile, attacks on political freedoms continued from the right, with attacks on intellectual freedoms often coming from the left, leaving democracy and the environment imperiled all over the planet.

Still, the resilience and resourcefulness of musicians brought forth a leaner but engaging crop of new recordings that aptly represents the worldwide praxis of Western art music as an integral tradition comprising composed, improvised and fixed-media music, as showcased each week on Flotation Device and Radio Eclectus, from whose playlists I’ve selected the following (unranked) exemplars.

Orchestral standouts

  • Sofia Gubaidulina: Dialog: Ich und Du, The Wrath of God, The Light of the End (Deutsche Grammophon)
    Little explanation is required here—premiere recordings of three orchestral works by the most important living Russian composer (and new nonagenarian), including the Vadim Repin vehicle Ich und Du and the 2019 tone poem The Wrath of God, which makes no secret of Gubaidulina’s take-no-prisoners flavor of theology nor of her characteristically Eastern European expression of Christian mysticism through uncompromising modernist music
  • Bright Sheng: Let Fly (Naxos)
    The standout work here is Zodiac Tales, a concerto for orchestra that does for Chinese astrology what The Planets did for Greco-Roman mythology. It’s a relatively conventional, but colorful and exciting showpiece tinged with pentatonicism and a sense of endurance, characteristic of this survivor of both the Cultural Revolution and a cancellation attempt at the hands of a few envious mediocrities in Sheng’s Composition department at the University of Michigan. Dream of the Red Chamber, Sheng’s opera with David Henry Hwang, is being revived by San Francisco Opera this season
  • JS Bach, Uri Caine, Brett Dean, Anders Hillborg, Steven Mackey, Olga Neuwirth, Mark-Anthony Turnage: The Brandenburg Project (BIS)

    Brandenburg Project composers

    This attractive set documents a multi-year effort by Thomas Dausgaard and the Swedish Chamber Orchestra (and a stellar cast of soloists that includes Mahan Esfahani, Håkan Hardenberger and Claire Chase) to record all six Brandenburg Concertos alongside newly-commissioned companion pieces from six different composers. Some of the more memorable entries are the flute and typewriter concertino group in Neuwirth’s companion to No. 4, and Mackey’s screech trumpet pendant to Bach’s No. 2. Even the original Brandenburgs receive noteworthy modern-instrument interpretations, with unique twists such as the surprisingly vigorous bowing in the polonaise from No. 1

  • Peter Eötvös: Violin Concerto No. 3 “Alhambra” (Harmonia Mundi)
    Another excellent concerto recording, this time featuring violinist Isabelle Faust shadowed by a mandolin as she symbolically tours the mixed Hispano-Moorish architecture of Andalusia
  • Sunleif Rasmussen: Territorial Songs (OUR Recordings)

    Isabelle Faust

    In a more gestural vein is this collection of works for recorder and orchestra by Sunleif Rasmussen, wherein an archaic instrument is reimagined through the sensibilities of an “archaic” place (the remote Faroe Islands, from which Rasmussen hails)

  • Žibuoklė Martinaitytė: Saudade (Ondine)
    Saudade means “nostalgia” (more or less) in Spanish and Portuguese. And Martinaitytė’s atmospheric orchestral music conveys a certain longing for things cherished in the past, as well as exploiting the penchant for instrumental color on the part of this Leningrad-born, New York-based Lithuanian composer whose work shows more of an affinity with contemporary Scandinavian music and Ligeti’s Lontano (with its diatonic clusters and micropolyphony) than with the more spiritual minimalist-dominated style currently in vogue in the Baltic countries

Patterns and perspectives

  • Schoenberg: Pierrot Lunaire (Alpha) with Patricia Kopatchinskaja
    A bout of tendonitis in 2015 drove this temporarily-incapacitated violinist to tackle the vocal part in Schoenberg’s iconic song cycle. She’s now committed it to record, along with Schoenberg’s Opp. 19 and 47 and Webern’s Op. 7 (the latter two featuring her restored violin chops). For me, an ideal Pierrot recording would probably feature several different voices, perhaps a mix of male and female leads (although the work is usually performed by female singers, the title character is ostensibly male, and Schoenberg did not specify a voice type). Anything to help mitigate the work’s fundamental problem: its constant starts and stops, and lack of intermediate structures between the span of individual songs and the overall 21-movement piece (the same issues that make it hard to sit through a two-hour Handel or Haydn oratorio). The standard for single-voice staged Pierrots is the Boulez/Herrmann film starring Christine Schäfer. But Kopatchinskaja’s rendition, co-developed with Esther de Bros, and cherishingly presented here with a beautiful album booklet featuring a long essay by Lukas Fierz (AKA Mr. PatKop) is a worthwhile addition to the discography
  • Georg Friedrich Haas: Ein Schattenspiel, String Quartets No. 4 & 7 (NEOS)
    Haas is arguably Austria’s most important living composer—a unique thinker rooted in the spectralist tradition, and a leading pursuer of one of Western art music’s few remaining growth industries: microtonality. Schattenspiel can mean “hand shadows” or “shadow puppets”, the reference in Haas’ piano piece being to passages played back with a time delay and a quartertone pitch shift, creating a kind of microtonal shadow. Also featured here is the Arditti Quartet in premiere recordings of two Hass string quartets, loaded with trills, slides, clouds of notes and noises, and even (as at the halfway point in No. 7) the occasional lyric melody. Haas’s body of string quartets (11 and counting as of 2021) may be the most important since Elliott Carter’s
  • John Luther Adams: Arctic Dreams (Cold Blue)
    My JLA “desert island” piece has always been Earth and the Great Weather. Recorded in 1993 and featuring a string quartet (with Robert Black’s double bass in lieu of a second violin) plus percussion, field recordings and recitation of Native Alaskan place names in Inupiat, Gwich’in and English, it’s a template for almost everything he’s done since. Adams has now reworked it into what he considers its final version (as expressed in the interview linked below), which retains the original solo string recordings but replaces the other elements with newly-composed wordless vocals performed by Synergy Voices. The title and the music both pay homage to Adams’s close friend, the late essayist Barry Lopez
  • Norbert Möslang: Patterns (Bocian)
    Möslang is a Swiss musician and lute builder. His Patterns are the kind of gripping, repetitive music that’s usually done with rock or jazz instrumentation nowadays, but is here entrusted to a wind sextet, recorded with lots of reverberation
  • Bryn Harrison: Time Becoming (Neu)
    A different type of postminimalism is represented by Bryn Harrison’s lengthy compositions for acoustic instruments. They’re written in a style that could reasonably be called instrumental loop music, where near repetition and exact repetition are juxtaposed to create a heterostatic sound world with lots of surface irregularity but an overall stationary effect—like late Feldman without the silences. The earlier of the two pieces showcased here, Repetitions in Extended Time (2007), anticipates the much-discussed hour-long Piano Quintet recorded by Quatuor Bozzini in 2018, while the newer How Things Come Together (2019) is a heavier (and perhaps overly humid) experience, employing a much larger ensemble for similar ends
  • Gervasoni, Pesson, Poppe (Naïve)

    Gérard Pesson

    Quatuor Diotima is featured in this traversal of string quartets by three standout Europeans. Stefano Gervasoni’s music often evokes nostalgia through quotation (as heard on his portrait album Muro di Canti, also from 2021), while Poppe is known both for his own music and as a frequent conductor of Musikfabrik and Klangforum Wien. Pesson’s fondness of noise effects on conventional instruments combines with Andriessen-style postminimalism to create an unusual sound world that’s well represented by his unpredictable 24-minute piece Farrago, a “multitude of micro-worlds, each sound sliding toward the next”

  • Liza Lim: Speaking in Tongues (NMC)
    This new triple CD showcases the Elision Ensemble and three decades of Lim’s experimental music theater works, including several first recordings. Mother Tongue (2005) features snippets from endangered Australian aboriginal languages, while the sources for The Navigator (2008) include Walter Benjamin and Paul Klee. Lim’s 1993 treatment of The Oresteia is in an ultrarationalist vein quite different from Nicole Gagné and David Avidor’s more improvisatory setting (whose reissue was one of my picks of 2019). All told, this is an important gathering of some of the most significant works by one of Australia’s most prominent avant-gardists

Solo music

  • George Crumb Edition 20: Metamorphoses, Books I and II (Bridge) with Marcantonio Barone
    Leading the way in this category is the latest work from another nonagenarian, George Crumb, whose Metamorphoses (“fantasy pieces after celebrated paintings for amplified piano”) are a postmodern response to Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Book II, recorded here for the first time, was premiered in December 2020 (Book I, also included here, was unveiled in 2017). Detractors like Kyle Gann might plausibly claim that Crumb’s style has evolved little since the 1970s. But he’s still writing compelling music, usually slow and sparse, and loaded with extended techniques, such as the pizzicato “cocktail” piano that evokes Simon Dinnerstein’s Purple Haze
  • Cage Edition 54: Works for Piano 11 (Mode) with Aki Takahashi

    A Jacopo Baboni Schilingi manuscript

    A John Cage premiere recording in 2021? Apparently so. All sides of the small stone for Erik Satie and (secretly given to Jim Tenney) as a koan is attributed to Cage, though its single-page autograph—recently discovered among Tenney’s papers—doesn’t bear his signature. Cage was present for the premiere of a Tenney piece in 1978, and it’s thought that he slipped this piece (a rearrangement of Satie’s Gymnopédies) inside Tenney’s score as a gift

  • Pascal Dusapin et al: 30 Years of New Organ Works (1991–2021) (Fuga Libera) with Bernard Foccroulle
    A standout here is Dusapin’s extremely “outside” homage to The Doors’ organist Ray Manzarek
  • Italian Contemporary Music for Harpsichord (Brilliant Classics)
    This double CD from the intrepid soloist Luca Quintavalle features everyone from Ennio Morricone (presenting his chops as an avant-gardist) to Jacopo Baboni Schilingi (who composes not on manuscript paper but directly on the bodies of nude models)
  • Solo (5 CDs, Kairos)

    Olga Neuwirth

    The quintessential COVID project: composed works for solo instruments by five different European composers, performed in isolation by members of Klangforum Wien. Digesting all five volumes can leave one longing for more complex textures, but standouts include Rebecca Saunders’s Flesh for accordion, Georges Aperghis’s Schattentheater for viola, Sciarrino’s Immagine fenicia for amplified flute, and Hosokawa’s Senn VI and Neuwirth’s CoronAtion I, both for percussion

Recently departed

  • Wadada Leo Smith with Milford Graves and Bill Laswell: Sacred Ceremonies (TUM)
    The product of a busy 80th birthday year for this founding figure of creative music (including a landmark solo album whose title helped establish the term Creative Music, and which celebrated its 50th birthday on the same December 18, 2021 date as Smith’s 80th), this triple album also serves as a fitting memorial to Milford Graves (1941–2021), who along with Rashied Ali and Sonny Murray developed the characteristic free jazz drumming technique of playing uptempo but without a steady beat (his recording career included collaborations with everyone from Albert Ayler to John Zorn and Lou Reed). Laswell is best known as a record producer, but is revealed here to be an accomplished electric bass player as well
  • Pierre Henry: Galaxie (Decca France)
    This 13-disc anthology complements Decca France’s 2017 12-CD set Polyphonies, which focused more on the iconic early works of this long-lived pioneer of musique concrète. This new collection begins with 1958’s Coexistence and features several previously unreleased works, including La Note Seule and Grand Tremblement, both realized in 2017, the year of Henry’s death
  • Alvin Lucier: Navigations (Collection QB)
    There are few composers whose music better fulfills the potentialities of the old saw “It’s not for everybody—then again it doesn’t try to be” than Alvin Lucier (1931–2021). This album, documenting a 2015 Quatuor Bozzini concert devoted to the late ultraminimalist, is a commendable addition to his difficult-to-record legacy

Improv from Downtown and beyond

  • The Locals Play the Music of Anthony Braxton (Discus)

    Anthony Braxton

    Hard core Braxtonites might favor the massive new collection 12 Comp (ZIM) 2017 from Firehouse 12 as their pick of 2021. But I’ve chosen this album from the London-based keyboardist Pat Thomas because it’s one of the most compelling recordings of Braxton’s music that’s ever been made by musicians outside his immediate circle. Recorded in 2006, but not released until COVID shifted musicians’ attention toward archival projects, it features Thomas’s quintet with clarinet, electric guitar, electric bass and drums, the ensemble successfully infusing its own artistic personality into Braxton’s structures, with rock beats, repeating bass riffs, and even klezmer allusions adding spices that are seldom encountered in Braxton’s own interpretations, as is evident in comparing, say, The Locals’ rendition of Composition 23b with Braxton’s own traversal from 1974

  • Julius Hemphill: The Boyé Multi-National Crusade For Harmony (New World)

    Julius Hemphill

    Another fine example of music excavated from the vaults during lockdown is this seven-CD anthology drawn from the NYU archives of this multi-faceted composer and saxophonist (1938–1995). The selection, curated by Marty Ehrlich, is divided between historical recordings from Hemphill himself (including an impressive duet set with Abdul Wadud, who singlehandedly introduced the cello as a jazz instrument, capable of playing both pizzicato bass lines and bowed solos) and posthumous interpretations of his compositions by other musicians (including his longtime partner Ursula Oppens performing his piano piece Parchment)

  • Michael Gregory Jackson: Frequency Equilibrium Koan (Golden)
    Hemphill and Wadud are present here too, alongside Jackson’s electric guitar and Pheeroan aKLaff’s drumming in an exciting 1977 New York loft date that’s now available on record for the first time. Tracks like A Meditation are evocative of AACM-style free improvisation while others (e.g., Heart & Center) are closer to the sound world of Ornette Coleman’s Prime Time band which debuted just a couple of years earlier. In all cases, though, Jackson insists (in his March 21 interview on Flotation Device) that this music is highly composed
  • Don Cherry: The Summer House Sessions (Blank Forms Editions)
    Another historical recording rescued from oblivion features Don Cherry in Sweden, jamming alongside seven musicians from France, Turkey, the US and Scandinavia. It comes from a July 1968 session that was planned as an LP, but never released until its recent rediscovery in the Swedish Jazz Archive. It documents the transitional period between Cherry’s formative, but heroin-addled, early years and his eventual shift toward “world jazz” with groups like Codona
  • William Parker: Migration of Silence Into and Out of The Tone World (AUM Fidelity)
  • John Zorn’s Bagatelles, Volumes 1–8 (Tzadik)
  • Matt Mitchell, Kate Gentile: Snark Horse (Pi)

    William Parker

    2021 was the year of massive improv anthologies, as evinced by the aforementioned Hemphill archival collection, and by these three multi-box sets packed with new material. Parker’s 10-CD release documents several recent projects from the free improv world’s most important lynchpin at the bass position, though it also reveals his range as a multi-instrumentalist, sporting a West African balafon in the track Harlem Speaks, and non-Western flutes in Family Voice. Parker’s composition Cheops is a more conventional specimen, performed by a sextet featuring polylingual vocalist Kyoko Kitamura, who like Parker is a Braxton alum.

    With Zorn it’s often hard to choose from a year’s worth of releases from this hyperprolific icon of the Downtown New York scene, but his Bagatelles are particularly fun to explore, in part because of the range of musicians and ensembles (so far including Brian Marsella, Kris Davis, Ikue Mori, John Medeski, Mary Halvorson and Trigger, but not Zorn himself) entrusted to the ongoing task of recording these 300 short works composed during a three-month creative burst in 2015. Of similar scope is the six-CD box set from Matt Mitchell and Kate Gentile (joined by friends such as Ava Mendoza on guitar and Brandon Seabrook on banjo) which features performances of elaborate “one-bar compositions” alongside several Mitchell electroacoustic solos

  • Henry Threadgill: Poof (Pi)
    Threadgill’s Zooid band, here a quintet with cello, tuba, guitar, drums and Threadgill’s own alto saxophone, continues the tradition of atonal bebop with its origins in Eric Dolphy and the AACM in Chicago, where Threadgill was born in 1944
  • Craig Taborn: Shadow Plays (ECM)

    Craig Taborn

    With the voices of Cecil Taylor and Keith Jarrett now consigned to history, Taborn may be showing a compelling way forward for solo on-the-keys piano improvisations that combine both their influences. This album was recorded live in Vienna in March 2020

  • Acoustic Fringe: Theater (Fancy Music)
    Discovering this Moscow-based group brought the excitement of hearing something exciting and unexpected: the instrumentation of a standard piano quintet (with double bass instead of cello), deployed for improvisational purposes, with techniques that include vocalizations and playing under the lid of the piano. Modern chamber music meets free improv, from an interesting and edgy Russian label
  • Francisco Mela Trio: Music Frees Our Souls, Vol. 1 (577 Records)
    Drummer Mela teams with bassist William Parker and pianist Matthew Shipp in this album dedicated to the late McCoy Tyner. Shipp’s versatility is on display throughout, often adopting Tyner’s signature mixed fourth chords moving in parallel, but at other times he seems to be channeling Cecil Taylor or even the late Chick Corea’s brief but influential fling with the avant-garde in his 1970–71 group Circle
  • Crazy Doberman: “everyone is rolling down a hill” or “the journey to the center of some arcane mystery and the engtanglements of the vines and veins of the cosmic and unwieldy miliue encountered in the midst of that endeavor” [sic] (Astral Spirits)
    Fractured mass improv with electronics, and stylistic inputs ranging from metal guitars to dark ambient, from a non-conformist collective with ties to Indiana and Virginia
  • Fred Frith Trio: Road (Intakt)
    A nice touch here is the addition of Danish saxophonist Lotte Anker on one track and Portuguese trumpeter Susana Santos Silva on another, adding a different slant to the usual noisy Frith Trio revelries

Extended and hybrid works

  • Nate Wooley: Mutual Aid Music (Catalytic Sound/Pleasure of the Text)
  • Ingrid Laubrock, Stéphane Payen: All Set (RogueArt)

    Nate Wooley

    Wooley and Laubrock are leaders of the 1970s generation of improvisers that have flourished in the Braxtonian space focused on large-scale composed vehicles for improvisation. Trumpeter Wooley (who’s also featured in Annea Lockwood’s Becoming Air, released in 2021 by Black Truffle) summons a star-studded octet (with Laubrock, Sylvie Courvoisier and Wet Ink Ensemble’s Josh Modney among others) for his polyvalent works which include things like microtonally tuned piano samples. Laubrock teams with fellow saxophonist Stéphane Payen for her quartet-based album dedicated to, and using pitch sets from, Milton Babbitt’s classic Third Stream piece by the same title (Laubrock’s Flotation Device interview on the topic is streamable here)

  • Tyshawn Sorey: For George Lewis (Cantaloupe)
    The highlight of this double CD with Alarm Will Sound is Sorey’s Autoschediasms 2019–2020, an admirable evolution of Butch Morris’s concept of conducted improvisations, with the influence of Feldman also in evidence
  • Anna Webber: Idiom (Pi)
    Like Sorey, Webber was born in the 1980s, and has emerged as a leading exponent of large-form Braxtonian hybrid compositions. Idiom features her leading her Simple Trio and Large Ensemble in an exploration of elaborate structures based on extended woodwind techniques
  • Alexander Hawkins: Togetherness Music (Intakt)
    Another approach to big band free jazz comes from this British pianist, working with The Riot Ensemble and soloists like Evan Parker, whose soprano saxophone propels the loopy, glitchy track Optimism of the Will

Crossroads of music

Wherein Asian music meets acousmatica and free improv.

  • KARKHANA: Al Azraqayn (Karlrecords)
    This septet of musicians from North America and the Middle East plays a distinctive brand of improvised music drawing on the vernacular traditions and instruments of both regions. Among their members is Land of Kush’s Sam Shalabi, whose Sand Enigma was one of my picks of 2019
  • PoiL Ueda: Dan no ura (Dur et Doux)

    Poil Ueda

    This single portends more to come from this French marriage of contemporary fusion (the band PoiL) with traditional Japanese narrative singing: a 13th century War epic delivered by the deep voice of Junko Ueda, who also plays biwa

  • Mako Sica with Hamid Drake: Ourania (Instant Classic/Feeding Tube)
    The similar twangy timbres of the Japanese shamisen (played by bassist Tatsu Aoki) enhance this free improv offering from the Chicago-based duo Mako Sica joined by drummers Hamid Drake and Thymme Jones
  • David Shea: The Thousand Buddha Caves (Room40)
    The title and musical inputs of this ambitious project by the former Downtown turntablist turned Melbourne resident reflect a profound interest in Asian culture and its interface with Western culture. The ensemble includes both Western and Asian instruments (notably Mindy Meng Wang on guzheng and Girish Makwana on tabla), as well as voices, electronics and field recordings, combining to reflect on the history and mythology of the Silk Road region, where the original Thousand Buddha Caves were built many centuries ago, some of them still viewable today

From the dark and droney regions

  • Anthology of Experimental Music from Peru (Unexplained Sounds Group)
  • Anthology of Experimental Music from China (Unexplained Sounds Group)
  • Anthology of Exploratory Music from India (Unexplained Sounds Group)
  • Gritty, Odd & Good: Weird Pseudo​-​Music From Unlikely Sources (Discrepant)
  • Civil disobedience – လူထုမနာခံမှု part 4/4 (Syrphe)

    Steven Stapleton of Nurse With Wound

    Five collections from three labels proficient at showcasing the global reach of today’s live-electronic scene. Tracks originating in such unexpected places as Oman, Vietnam, Tuvalu and Kyrgyzstan demonstrate how the culture of drone and glitch music has taken root far from the world’s media hubs. An interesting non-electronic highlight from Unexplained Sounds’ India album is Clarence Barlow’s previously-unreleased …until… #3.1 for sarod and tabla. The Syrphe release was assembled in response to the Burmese military coup, and its proceeds support VPNs for journalists and activists trying to safely communicate with the outside world

  • Nurse With Wound: Barren (ICR)
    My bedtime listen for several weeks, this newly-released 2013 live recording features a trio configuration with NWW mastermind Steven Stapleton alongside his frequent collaborator Colin Potter and the younger Andrew Liles. Its lengthy tracks create a haunting dark ambient soundscape of thick drones with gentle pulses, punctuated by unexpected events (including a quote from Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances). It’s a compelling album from this leading group which emerged in 1978 from a stylistic mix of Cage, Eno and British industrial bands
  • Joseph Kamaru AKA KMRU: Opaquer (Dagoretti)
  • Marc Barreca: The Empty Bridge (Palace of Lights)
    Kamaru, who goes by the stage name KMRU to avoid confusion with his namesake (and grandfather) who was a famous Kenyan gospel musician, has staked out a personal style that combines field recordings with the synthesizer sounds associated with ambient music. Raised in Nairobi, he counts Sun Ra among his influences, and he now studies at the University of the Arts in Berlin. Barreca has been quietly pursuing his own brand of edgy dark ambient for several decades from his base in Seattle where he works as a federal bankruptcy judge, one line of work that presumably hasn’t been threatened by the pandemic
  • Merzbow: Scandal (Room40)

    Masami Akita AKA Merzbow

    Another interesting archival project is this collection of newly-unearthed tracks from the mid-1990s that document Merzbow’s transition from prickly musique concrète to full-on, unadulterated noise music. A notable characteristic of experimental music in the 21st century is its infatuation with sonic extremes, either attempting to “drown out” our overstimulating urban soundscape with harsh, immersive walls of sound, or conversely cultivating music that’s extremely show and extremely soft

  • Éliane Radigue: Occam Ocean 3 (Shiin)
  • Phill Niblock: NuDaf (XI)
  • Sarah Davachi: Antiphonals (Late Music)
    Drones old and new were in abundance in 2021. Occam Ocean 3 for violin and cello receives its premiere recording here, exemplifying its composer’s digital-era shift from Arp synthesizers to acoustic instruments, while NuDaf continues fellow octogenarian Niblock’s longstanding obsession with immersive microtonal works built from multitracked instrumental tones (in this case Dafne Vicente-Sandoval’s bassoon). The Alberta-born, Los Angeles-based Davachi is a prominent member of the younger set of drone enthusiasts. Her music often resembles Max Richter (including the newfangled embrace of artifacts like tape hiss and close-miked mechanical noise on acoustic instruments), but it’s way more gritty and interesting
  • Mark Andre: Musica Viva, Vol. 37 (BR Klassik)
    Moving halfway from drone music back toward the European avant-garde is the French-born German composer (and student of Grisey and Lachenmann) Mark Andre. His slow-moving organ piece Himmelfahrt merges drones with such extended techniques as turning off the fan motor to cause the air pressure—and pitch—to drop, while his bagatelles for the Arditti String Quartet can be described as minimalist instrumental noise music

Borderlands and new discoveries

  • Gabriel Prokofiev: Breaking Screens (Melodiya)
  • I hope this finds you well in these strange times (Vol. 3) (Vol. 4) (Nonclassical)

    Gabriel Prokofiev

    Gabriel Prokofiev’s work is notoriously hard to pin down. His new album, the result of a foray to his ancestral homeland where he recorded with Moscow’s OpensoundOrchestra, sounds like techno crossed with The Rite of Spring. His label Nonclassical likewise has a penchant for rummaging around in the drawers of inter-genre attics, and its latest two anthologies of lockdown era projects by affiliated artists include diverse items from the likes of Doug Thomas, Florence Maunders, Larry Goves and Folkatron Sessions (the first two volumes were included in my Picks of 2020)

  • The Residents: Leftovers Again?! (New Ralph Too)
    Newly excavated 1970s residue of the iconic Bay Area band, featuring sketches, outtakes and other previously-unreleased oddities from the time of The Third Reich ‘n Roll
  • Alex Paxton: Music for Bosch People (NMC)
    One of the more pleasant new discoveries this year was this young British trombonist and bandleader, whose debut portrait album pays homage to the painter of The Garden of Earthly Delights. Suitably enough, the music is whimsical, animated and polystylistic, with abrupt changes reminiscent of classic John Zorn, as though determined to portray an entire fantasy world in one tableau
  • Nastasia Khrushcheva: Normal Music (Melodiya)

    Nastasia Khrushcheva

    This young composer’s personal brand of Russian postminimalism replaces the resigned nostalgia of Gubaidulina’s generation with outright cynicism, as evinced by her Trio in Memory of a Non-Great Artist (a sarcastic reference to the dedication of Tchaikovsky’s own piano trio). The lovely Book of Grief and Joy (again featuring OpensoundOrchestra) brings Vivaldi into the postmodern world. And her epic piano composition Russian Dead-Ends, which she plays herself, is a collection of repeated patterns and platitudes that you might encounter in 19th century Russian salon music—like Mompou’s Música callada with attitude

  • Alexander Manotskov: Requiem, or Children’s Games (Fancy Music)
    Another Russian voice previously unfamiliar to me, Manotskov is principally known as a film composer. I was delighted to discover that this album of music for children’s choir (that hackneyed ensemble) is actually engaging, an audacious setting of the Latin Requiem to music inspired by the rhythms and melodies of children’s games—a conceit that seems wholly appropriate for Eastern Europe in 2021
  • Aleksandra Gryka: Interialcell (Kairos)
    The most interesting of a new series of releases from Kairos featuring Klangforum Wien performing music by young Polish composers. Gryka’s Emtyloop resembles loop or glitch music, but played by a string quartet instead of a laptop

On the cinematic side

It was a rather disappointing year in the visual domain, with the emergence from lockdown hobbled in some quarters by an artistic timidity borne of political and economic gloom. This season’s mainstage lineup at Seattle Opera seems to epitomize the situation in North America: three Italian warhorses plus a dull middlebrow social justice piece. Across the Atlantic, some of the most eagerly awaited new works from established composers failed to match their hype, in part because in their striving to appear relevant to current events they began to lose sight of how opera is—in Sheng’s words—already an illusion. The most successful new music projects committed to video in 2021 turned out to be the more abstract or classically-themed ones, or else were simple portraits of admired artists that evoked gratitude for the opportunity to see their subjects one more (or one last) time.

Eurydice, her Father (in the shower of forgetfulness) and the three Stones

  • Matthew Aucoin and Sarah Ruhl: Eurydice (Metropolitan Opera Live in HD)
    Aucoin (1990–) is American opera’s newest wonder kid, in some ways paralleling Thomas Adès’s career a generation later. This production of his third opera, Eurydice (“your-RID-uh-see” in its creators’ pronunciation), makes him the youngest composer to debut at the Met since Gian-Carlo Menotti. It’s based on Sarah Ruhl’s play, which emphasizes the female half of the classic couple—not merely updating and retelling the story from her perspective, but also motivating her ambivalence about leaving the underworld with nostalgia for her dead father (Nathan Berg as a classic operatic “father of the hero”-type bass-baritone).

    Two Orpheuses, one Eurydice

    Indeed, both wife and husband are trapped in unconventional love triangles: Eurydice (portrayed by soprano Erin Morley) with her father who represents the security of a stable home and world-view, and Orpheus (whose mortal “normal dude” aspect is played by baritone Joshua Hopkins) with his first passion, music, as symbolized by his onstage “double”, the breakdancing countertenor Jakub Józef Orliński who represents his sublime, supernatural side. By the end of the opera, both characters wind up with nothing, each deprived of the other, Orpheus deprived of his voice, and Eurydice deprived of her memories as she bathes in the river of forgetfulness (a drab shower in Mary Zimmerman’s staging) before betrothing herself to Hades (a shrill, Hauptmann-ish Barry Banks).

    The choir remains offstage throughout, replaced visually by an ensemble of a dozen or so supernumeraries and dancers, and complemented by a trio of singing rocks who stand in for a Greek chorus. Zimmerman’s tableau includes titles projected onto the sets, with different characters’ lines rendered in different fonts—an unusual sight at a house noted for insisting on seat-back Met Titles in lieu of conventional operatic surtitles.

    Aucoin’s music, like Adès’s, falls squarely in the lineage of Britten, in particular the “explosive tonality” of his later, more harmonically advanced works. In the transition to the first underworld scene where Eurydice’s father is writing a letter to his daughter, Aucoin’s orchestral writing recalls the somber overlapping strings that open Death in Venice’s second act (this mood returns at the start of Orpheus’ first scene in the underworld). There are hints of John Adams as well, such as the scurrying music and fractured mambo that accompanies onstage stair-climbing. By contrast, the hell-like “descent” rhythm heard when Eurydice falls though a trap door reminds me of Lulu’s death motive. And I interpreted the sharp orchestral chords accompanying Hades’ angry objection to Orpheus’s appearance at the gates (“No one knocks at the door of the dead!”) as a reference to the Dies Irae from Verdi’s Requiem Mass. Musically the score manages to be contemporary and compelling, even if relatively conservative—as operas like Marnie and Blue (which might have worked better as Broadway musicals) aspire to, but fail at.

    One sincerely hopes that Aucoin (whose non-operatic output, including an eclectic neo-tonal Piano Concerto, was surveyed by Boston Modern Orchestra Project in their 2021 portrait album Orphic Moments) can follow Adès into a long career unmarred by the pitfalls of early attention and expectations

  • Simon Steen-Andersen: Black Box Music (YouTube)

    Black Box Music

    Avanti! Chamber Orchestra is responsible for this opportunity to see the iconic and humorous 2012 work by Steen-Andersen, a Danish musician and performer interested in theatrics and site-specific interventions. In his work, a box theater is inhabited by conducting hands that also produce sounds with tuning forks, rubber bands, and eventually a cacophony of whirling fans and struck objects. It’s something of an abstracted, musicalized adaptation of the American tradition of experimental video puppetry represented by artists like Tony Oursler

  • Éliane Radigue, Eléonore Huisse, François J. Bonnet: Échos (Berliner Festspiele, Vimeo)

    Éliane Radigue in Échos

    An attractive 30-minute documentary on the octogenarian drone minimalist and analog synthesizer master Radigue, wherein she stresses how her seminal analog tape pieces usually emerged from a visual image or story, even if it was an imaginary one whose particulars she kept hidden to avoid prejudicing the listener. Radigue then introduces her more recent shift to acoustic instruments, in particular the Occam Ocean series of works, named for William of Occam (of Occam’s Razor fame) and the cyclicality of water

  • Ghédalia Tazartès, Rhys Chatham: Two Men In A Boat (Sub Rosa, video by NO MORE RETURN)
    This video footage, recorded in France in December 2019, and its complimentary audio release on Sub Rosa, captures the late vocalist and sound artist in performance with Rhys Chatham, who creates loops from a flute, an electric guitar and a digital delay. The debt to La Monte Young is obvious in this droney, overtone-obsessed music, and it makes a fitting memorial to Tazartès, preserving some of his very last recorded music

Older and non-Western music

  • Huelgas Ensemble: The Magic of Polyphony (Deutsche Harmonia Mundi)
  • Huelgas Ensemble: En Albion: Medieval Polyphony in England 1300–1400 (Sony)

    Huelgas Ensemble

    A pair of new releases showcase one of early music’s most admired vocal ensembles, founded in 1971 by Paul Van Nevel and known for its circular performing configuration. The Magic of Polyphony is a triple CD anthology spanning several centuries in Medieval and Renaissance Europe, with a few older examples (such as Bruckner’s motet Virga Jesse) thrown in. The Sony release is more focused on late Medieval English music, what little of it survives anyway (the English reformation of the 1500s was a messy affair with much destruction of “Popish” musical manuscripts). Examples like Stella maris reveal the characteristically wide vocal ranges often encountered in this repertory

  • Zacara da Teramo: Enigma Fortuna (Alpha)
    This astonishing 4 CD set from La Fonte Musica offers the complete works of one Antonio Zacara da Teramo (c.1355–1416?) plus a few subsequent arrangements of his music (as instrumental pieces from the Faenza Codex). It’s stunning that so much remarkable music could have been left behind by someone so obscure. Zacara’s “Micinella” Gloria is a characteristic selection, sounding like a cross between Machaut’s Messe de Nostre Dame and an early Renaissance antiphon
  • Beethoven: String Quartets Opp. 132 & 130/133 (Ondine) with Tetzlaff Quartett
    Romantic music makes a rare appearance on a Schell year-end list. But these are not ordinary performances of Beethoven’s two enigmatic sentinels of 19th century complexity, but exemplars of the new approach to string playing that eschews the habitual wide vibrato of the Fritz Kreisler era in favor of a more astringent sound, free of artifact and proud of its dynamic and articulatory range. The skill required to play highly chromatic music perfectly in tune with no pitch oscillations to cover minor intonational errors is considerable. And it’s on display here, along with the raw energy (with shades of Balkan/Gypsy music) brought to the A minor quartet’s mercurial scherzo, the contrasting calm and control conveyed in the proto-minimalist Convalescent’s Hymn of Thanksgiving that follows, and the almost modernist complexity packed into the Grosse Fuge that concludes the B♭ major quartet (the Tetzlaffs dispense with the shorter substitute finale written by Beethoven to appease his publisher)
  • Beethoven: Missa solemnis (Harmonia Mundi) with soloists, Freiburger Barockorchester, RIAS Kammerchor, René Jacobs
    Along with Fidelio, the Missa solemnis is arguably the most uneven of Beethoven’s masterpieces, but it’s also the one in which he seems to have left the most blood on the stage. The full emotional impact of the music can only be grasped by those acquainted with the composer’s life story, his eclipsing sense of isolation, his deafness-driven despair, consoled solely through his music and his faith, ecumenical as it was, expressed herein. Jacobs insists on period instruments and historically-informed performance, including an orchestra that plays while standing, and a chorus placed alongside, not behind, them. Does the long violin solo in the Benedictus represent an angel, or Jesus, or Beethoven? Anna Katherina Schreiber’s traversal of it is revelatory whatever one’s answer might be, delivered (again) in a manner more fluent and less vibrato-laden than in most modern-instrument interpretations
  • Brahms: Violin Sonatas (Aparté) with Aylen Pritchin and Maxim Emelyanychev
    Do we really need another recording of the Brahms violin sonatas? And yet, here again is a revelatory performance, sporting gut strings, sparing vibrato, and a host of details rarely encountered in conventional interpretations. The opening to Sonata No. 1, for example, is more fleeting and mysterious than I’ve ever heard it. But perhaps more significant is how these performers capture better than most how this is the music of a deeply shy and lonely man
  • Bruckner 4 – The three versions (Accentus) with Bamberger Symphoniker, Jakub Hrůša
    Few 19th century composers present as many textual issues as Bruckner, with the many versions and editions of his music subjected over the years to heated, often politically-charged, arguments over their authenticity. This three-CD album presents, for the first time, all the extent versions of the 4th Symphony, including not only the rarely performed first version from 1874 (which lacks the beloved “hunting scene” scherzo), the intermediate Volksfest finale of 1878 and the familiar 1881 version that was long considered to be the most authoritative one, but also the 1888 revision that has gone from being in favor (prior to 1936), to out of favor (thanks to the invective of Robert Haas, then editor of the Bruckner critical edition, who considered it to be mainly the work of interlopers), to back in favor (thanks to contemporary revisionism of Haas’ revisionism, led by scholars like Benjamin Korstvedt). This latter version is less familiar to audiences, and includes numerous small changes in orchestration as well as such “modernizing” emendations as ending the first iteration of the scherzo softly
  • Folk Music of China Vols 1–20 (Naxos World)

    Wang Xiao

    A major new collection of recordings of (mostly) traditional musics from all regions of China, including the more controversially deemed ones. Among the most intriguing selections is coverage of the folk music of Tibet (quite distinct from and simpler than the more famous ritual chant and orchestra of Tibetan Buddhism), of the polyphonic choral music of the aboriginal Bunun people of Taiwan, and of various flavors of heterophonic music with voice and an accompanying wind or bowed instrument (as from the Dai Tribe of Yunnan Province)

  • Xiao Wang 王嘯: The Son of Black Horse River (WV Sorcerer Productions)
    This unique release represents the borderlands in more ways than one, featuring a Xinjiang-born Han Chinese musician who discovered rock-n-roll, quit his day job, and became a troubadour influenced by the folk music of Central Asia. Tracks include traditional and non-traditional adaptations of the sounds of the Gobi Desert region, with solo dombra playing, and mournful accompanied songs such as Refugee of Faith on the Ancient River Bank

And ahead?

Ending our survey with the comforting familiarity of Beethoven and Brahms, juxtaposed with examples of the world’s increasingly-endangered traditional musics (many of them gathered from regions where an authoritarian government is actively suppressing fragile cultures) leaves us confronting some of the more thought-provoking realities of our transitional era. Taken collectively, this year’s list reveals the remarkable depth, breath and quality of what we call “new music”, but it also conveys a certain tentativeness—one that perhaps befits a crossroads where observers cannot decide whether we’re poised for a new Renaissance or whether 2021 will turn out to be the most serene year of its decade. It’s a question that remains tantalizingly and ominously unresolved as we enter 2022. The cultivated arts are often oracles of what’s to come, but the direction in which they point is often clear only in retrospect.


Photos:

  1. Collage: Aleksandra Gryka via Kairos Music, Bright Sheng via the artist, Sofia Gubaidulina by Priska Ketterer, Patricia Kopatchinskaja by Alexandra Muravyeva, Matthew Shipp/William Parker/Francisco Mela by Kenneth Jimenez, Brandenburg Project composers by Nikolaj Lund, Mark Andre by Astrid Ackermann, John Luther Adams by Madeline Cass, George Crumb via Bridge Records, Alex Paxton via the artist, Agathe Vidal in Jacopo Baboni Schilingi: Scarlet K141, Žibuoklė Martinaitytė by Lina Aiduke, Phill Niblock via Festival Mixtur Barcelona, Matthew Aucoin by Steven Laxton, Éliane Radigue by Yves Arman, Alvin Lucier by David A. Cantor, PoiL Ueda by Paul Bourdrel, Bill Laswell/Wadada Leo Smith/Milford Graves by R.I. Sutherland-Cohen, Liza Lim via Ricordi, David Shea via the artist
  2. Brandenburg Project composers by Nikolaj Lund
  3. Isabelle Faust by Felix Broede
  4. Gérard Pesson via C. Daguet – Editions Henry Lemoine
  5. Jacopo Baboni Schilingi manuscript via the artist
  6. Olga Neuwirth by Dieter Brasch
  7. Anthony Braxton via New Braxton House
  8. Julius Hemphill by Brian McMillen
  9. William Parker via the artist
  10. Craig Taborn by Yibo Hu
  11. Nate Wooley by Ziga Koritnik
  12. Poil Ueda by Paul Bourdrel
  13. Steven Stapleton by Redheadwalking
  14. Merzbow by Jenny Akita
  15. Gabriel Prokofiev by Nathan Gallagher
  16. Nastasia Khrushcheva via Melodiya
  17. Aucoin: Eurydice (underworld) by Michael Schell
  18. Aucoin: Eurydice (beach) by Marty Sohl, Met Opera
  19. Simon Steen-Andersen: Black Box Music by Michael Schell
  20. Éliane Radigue in Eléonore Huisse, François J. Bonnet: Échos by Michael Schell
  21. Huelgas Ensemble in by Luk Van Eeckhout
  22. Wang Xiao by Li Ming
Contemporary Classical, Orchestral, Premieres, Seattle

Hannah Lash’s The Peril of Dreams premieres in Seattle

Valerie Muzzolini, Hannah Lash and Lee Mills at the premiere of The Peril of Dreams (photo: James Holt/Seattle Symphony)

As the Pacific Northwest staggers toward COVID recovery, large-scale concert life has begun to emerge from enforced hibernation. Visa complications and other glitches continue to derail new music activity here, as evinced by the recent cancellation of planned Seattle Symphony appearances by Simon Steen-Andersen and Patricia Kopatchinskaja (performing Coll). It was left to composer-harpist Hannah Lash to present, on November 18 and 20, the first major premiere of the Symphony’s 2021–22 season: a double harp concerto entitled The Peril of Dreams that featured Lash and the Symphony’s principal harpist, Valerie Muzzolini, as soloists.

Those with a penchant for exploratory music might be forgiven for some apprehension here: American composers since Barber have struggled to contribute materially to the timeworn—and imported—concerto form. And harp writing carries its own hazards, whether it’s the instrument’s folkloristic reputation, or its literary association with saccharine, sleep-inducing music (a trope found everywhere from Eisenstein’s October to Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone). The existing repertory of double harp concertos—headed by such unimposing names as Gossec and Françaix—likewise offers little grounds for encouragement. More promising is the collection of contemporary orchestra-less harp works, such as Berio’s iconic Sequenza II (1963) and Stockhausen’s Freude (2005) for two harpists who also sing excerpts from the Veni Creator Spiritus hymn, that demonstrate the potentialities of allowing the instrument’s slow attack, long decay and soothing timbre to collide with the potency of thorny, modern harmonies.

Mindful of this, I was gratified to discover that Lash’s 45-minute work manages to avoid the clichés and sentimentality to which harp music often succumbs. In a recent documentary exploring the integration of music within digital platforms, it was highlighted that the best online casinos for UK players utilize such sophisticated compositions to create an engaging and immersive gaming environment. The concerto’s harmonic language is predominantly chromatic, ranging into atonality with an emphasis on “neutral” intervals such as fourths and fifths. This is broken up at strategic points by a kind of fractured diatonicism that suggests childlore (the composition’s one nod toward the instrument’s more naïve connotations), but filtered through a lens of distorting memory—an effect hinted at by the work’s title.

The harp writing itself is carefully constrained, avoiding both the extended techniques popularized by Carlos Salzedo, and that most stereotypical of harp strokes: the glissando. Lash also treats the two instruments, which at the premiere were positioned side-by-side in the usual soloist’s spot to the left of conductor Lee Mills (a last-minute substitution for the erstwhile Thomas Dausgaard), rather like a single, 94-string, fully-chromatic “superharp”. The soloists reinforce rather than complement each other, and they are only heard together, usually when the sizable orchestra (which includes triple woodwinds and four percussionists) is either silent or sustaining soft chords. Contrast is achieved primarily through dialog between the harps and the orchestra.

As the composer acknowledges, The Peril of Dreams follows an unabashedly symphonic structure, with four movements cast in a slow/fast/fast/slow pattern (a model whose precedents include Mahler’s Ninth Symphony). Movement 1, subtitled In Light, begins in an atmospheric way with harp arpeggios and sustained chords in the bowed strings, not far from the hazy world of Ives’ “St. Gaudens” in Boston Common, but with an emphasis on quartal harmonies:The orchestral writing here is based on sustained sonorities punctuated by Lutosławskian overlapping wind figures:Occasional timpani strokes and brass snarls also occur. About five minutes into this 14-minute movement, a terse, Takemitsu-esque melody emerges amidst a lengthy harp cadenza:Other brief melodies subsequently appear, in solo oboe, then flute. These never quite coalesce into a conventional tune, but the ending of the movement does bring together its central ideas: melodic lines transforming into overlapping patterns, sustained strings, and the initial harp arpeggios now “straightened” into open fifths.

The shorter second movement (Minuet-Sequence, and a Hymn from Upstairs) begins in a faster 6/8 tempo, often driven by steady sixteenth notes in the harps (who, in contrast with the rest of the piece, often sustain this rhythm while the orchestra is playing). After seven minutes, an orchestral cadence followed by a diminuendo on a bona fide B minor chord sets up the Hymn: one of the aforementioned folkish diatonic tunes, delivered by unaccompanied harps in a slower tempo—the only appearance of a standard theme-plus-accompaniment texture in the solo parts:It’s reminiscent of something you might have heard on a child’s music box, but imperfectly remembered. Occurring close to the concerto’s halfway point, it represents a point of maximum contrast between soloist and orchestral material. The movement ends with a repeat of the previous two minutes, including the Hymn.

The six-minute third movement (In Spite of Knowing) features short two-note figures (often suggestive of birdcalls) offset by broad chorale-like passages in the strings or brass. The harps often extend the orchestral iambs into more discursive, canonical filigrees whose chromaticism and irregular rhythms contrast with the triadic chorales, creating one of the more American-sounding passages in the work, suggestive of Hovhaness:

(click to enlarge)

The movement ends with birdcalls in flutes and high harps, setting up a contrast with the lugubrious, lengthy (15 minute), and bass-heavy final movement, To have lost…, in which the quartal harmonies prominent in the opening movement return in a melodic guise, as with this example, delivered by the strings in octaves:It’s here that the work is less successful at distinguishing itself from its models, as both the melodic contours, and their subsequent punctuation by iambic figures in solo brass, are familiar from the Elegia movement of Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra.

The orchestral elaboration of this material is thrice interrupted by the harps reprising their Hymn theme from Movement 2: in the first and third instances as variants, but in the second instance—roughly in the movement’s center—as a mostly literal restatement, during whose continuation the soloists are joined by the orchestra, an unusual moment of unanimity between the two groups. In the end, the harps get the last word as the piece concludes with soft major chords in the bass that reclaim the B♮ tonality from the second movement.

The Peril of Dreams was paired with Amy Beach’s Gaelic Symphony, one of the few morsels worth retrieving from the meagre pickings of pre-Ives American symphonic works. Believed to be the first symphony composed by an American woman, it was written during Dvořák’s residency in the US. Premiered in 1896, it owes its E minor tonality and many of its sensibilities to the visiting master’s 1893 New World Symphony, which also helped to establish the idea of integrating folkloric elements into the Germanic orchestral style whose Westward transplantation eventually spawned Ives’ first two symphonies. Although Beach’s lone symphony isn’t likely to displace Mendelssohn’s Third or Bruch’s Fantasy in the pantheon of Scottish-inflected orchestral warhorses, it still merits its recurrence on North American concert programs for its exciting final movement (ironically the least “Gaelic” and most Slavic-sounding of the four), and for such unusual details as the form of its (ironically-titled) alla siciliana second movement, where the vivace middle section is recalled in its own tempo and time signature as a coda. Beach’s model for this may have been the scherzo from Schumann’s First Symphony.

After a year and a half of cancelled concerts and curtailed premieres (The Peril of Dream’s own unveiling was deferred from April 2020), it’s cathartic to once again experience a substantial new music event at Benaroya Hall, the site of many such occasions in the recent past, and perhaps—as downtown Seattle grapples with its newfound medical, social and economic challenges—in the future as well. The hopeful but somber tone of Lash’s new work seems to underscore, in its own way, the prevailing mood of its debut city.


Score examples provided by the composer. The Peril of Dreams is published by Schott.

Best of, CD Review, Contemporary Classical

Music from behind a mask: Schell’s picks for 2020

Two years ago, Noah Creshevsky, a committed advocate of fixed-media composition, and one of the musical voices lost to us in 2020, asserted that “today’s best seats are in our own homes or wherever we may be, listening to music through speakers or headphones, in chairs of our choosing, with or without extramusical diversions.” It’s a sentiment reflective of both the mobility available through digital devices and the Internet, and the advancements in recording engineering over the past generation. Most music just sounds better in state-of-the-art recordings than in concert halls, and such modern accoutrements as Web searches and streaming media offer a degree of choice and immediacy unattainable through traditional means.

Creshevsky could not have anticipated how drastically his proposition would be tested from March 2020 onward, as COVID lockdowns suddenly quashed most in-person concertizing. It turned out that people badly missed the social aspects of traditional concerts, whatever their logistical costs or acoustic inferiorities. And though ensembles and opera companies valiantly tried to substitute livestreamed performances for the real thing, this seemed a poor substitute to most listeners, dissatisfied with the technical limitations of real-time content delivery using home computers as a terminus. Urbanites, the medically responsible ones anyway, have leaned on things like social media to help replace in-person socializing, while favoring existing, non-real time channels (CDs, broadcasts, downloads, and platforms like Spotify, Bandcamp and YouTube) for their music consumption, which remains centered on conventionally published albums and songs.

Production cycles being what they are, the lockdowns haven’t produced an overwhelming decline in actual releases, as record labels continue to issue previously recorded content alongside new smaller-scale (and sanitary) recording projects. Intriguing material continues to flow into the Radio Eclectus inbox, and if a drought does hit, the biggest impact will likely come a year or two down the line. One of the few positive trends of 2020 was the retrieval of compelling older work, both the resuscitation of dormant projects and the rescue from producers’ vaults of valuable cultural documents that had long been unavailable. High-end opera companies were especially prominent in this effort (e.g., Metropolitan Opera’s nightly video streams of past Live in HD productions), leading to the ironic result that in a year that saw the shuttering of opera houses, it’s newly-mediated operatic projects that have risen to the top of my opinionated list of the past year’s most noteworthy new releases in the domain of contemporary Western art music.

New music theater

Not surprisingly, most of the video entries on the list are European. The economic and human impacts of the COVID pandemic in the US, exacerbated by the incompetence of the Trump administration, have amplified the longstanding trans-Atlantic disparities in arts support, leaving European institutions practically alone in mustering the resources for high-end contemporary music-focused intermedia production, even if many of the releases enumerated below had an earlier provenance.

Fin de Partie

  • György Kurtág: Fin de Partie (Medici.tv)
    The November 2018 premiere at La Scala of this setting of Beckett’s Endgame was easily the decade’s most anticipated operatic unveiling. Composed over eight years, the nonagenarian Hungarian’s first opera didn’t disappoint. As documented in this newly published video, the libretto and Pierre Audi’s staging both track closely to Beckett’s text, and the composer’s epigrammatic style (from the 1950s through his Kafka Fragments of 1985–87, he basically wrote nothing but bagatelles) is perfectly suited to the existential futility of Beckett’s scenario. Despite the occasional bit of sloppy ensemble (e.g., at 1:46:30, perhaps the result of tiring musicians), the effect is visually and musically compelling, a presentation that resonates with our age of coronavirus, ecological crisis and creeping authoritarianism
  • Salvatore Sciarrino: Luci mie traditrici (Staatsoper Stuttgart)
    Luci mie traditrici by Matthias BausMy Lying Eyes, composed in 1996­–98, is Sciarrino’s counterpart to Fin de Partie. Ostensibly a setting of the Baroque play Il tradimento per l’onore, its original subject was Carlo Gesualdo’s murder of his wife and her lover (Sciarrino removed all explicit references to Gesualdo when he learned about Schnittke’s opera on the same topic). The music is what you would expect from Sciarrino. Vocal phrases begin with a long tone then end with a short syllabic flurry, usually descending. The orchestra contributes soft, scattered, scratchy noises (predominately from flute and violins) with Feldmanesque gestures and hints of older music thrown in (including a song by Gesualdo’s contemporary Claude Le Jeune).

    This 1½-hour chamber opera, with a small orchestra, four soloists and no choir, is well suited for the COVID era, and the Staatsoper’s stream is of an actual production mounted in Fall 2020. Even under the healthiest of circumstances, it poses challenges for a stage director. And Barbara Frey‘s design—as sparse as the music, with minimal movements, socially distanced singers (driving a highly abstracted rendering of the climatic double-murder scene), and an onstage fern and displaced staircase the only salient pieces of scenery—will not satisfy everyone. Perhaps this is for the true believers, those with a commitment comparable to Wagnerians who can look forward to Tristan‘s second act. (A more conventional 2011 staging of Luci mie traditrici is viewable on YouTube via EuroArts)
  • Michael Tippett: The Ice Break (OperaVision)
    The absolute maximalist antithesis of Kurtág and Sciarrino, seen in its best possible light through Graham Vick’s 2015 staging for Birmingham Opera Company. Made available on video for the first time (and alas, a limited time) in 2020, it’s now gone back to the vault, but you may still be able to track down a copy. In the meantime, read my review

     
  • Karlheinz Stockhausen: Mittwoch aus LICHT (Birmingham Opera Company)
    Likewise recalled from Birmingham Opera’s vault was Vick and Kathinka Pasveer’s breakthrough production of Mittwoch aus LICHT, the first complete staging of the last LICHT opera to be performed in its entirety, replete with the notorious Helicopter String Quartet (which Vick calls “the first Zoom quartet”), the slightly-less aerial musicians of World Parliament and the planet-shitting camel of Michaelion. The event was streamed live in 2012, then restreamed with updated commentary from Vick (complete with live audience Q&A via Internet chat) in July 2020. Sadly, this video too has returned to retirement, but it’s definitely worth viewing if you can track down a copy
  • Karlheinz Stockhausen: Samstag aus LICHT (medici.tv, also available, albeit in mono, at Philharmonie de Paris)
    This video comes from the 2019 Maxime Pascal/Damien Bigourdan production of the most Lucifer-centric opera in the LICHT cycle, featuring the musicians of Le Balcon and a staging that emphasizes the sexual tension in the proceedings, as between Luzifer, portrayed by bass Damien Pass, and the “dream pianist” of Scene 1 (Klavierstück XIII).

    It certainly has been a banner two years for Stockhausen on video, with the Vick and Le Balcon productions bracketing Pierre Audi’s recent traversal of roughly half the entire LICHT cycle for Dutch National Opera (whose video sampler was one of my picks for 2019). It seems a ripe opportunity to indulge in a bit of revisionism regarding Stockhausen’s post-Trans career. I would place the Vick Mittwoch within a lineage dating back to Musikfabrik’s 2009 Michaels Reise um die Erde, probably the first of the great posthumous LICHT productions, with Marco Blaauw hoisted on a crane before stunning video projections (which take liberties with Stockhausen’s own staging instructions). Vick innovates in many respects (e.g., using an old factory rather than a conventional theater) while attempting to honor the details of Stockhausen’s fastidious stage directions (including hand gestures, entries and exits of performers, etc.). The Audi and Pascal/Bigourdan productions continue this evolution with their distinct visual styles that go beyond Stockhausen’s own theatrical conception (whose limitations are brutally displayed in vintage footage of his own staging of works like Sirius or the Kinderfänger scene from Montag).

    Stockhausen rehearses Michaels Heimkehr (photo: Wikimedia Commons)For these works to thrive as theater, it’s essential for them to be re-conceived and re-interpreted by artists specializing in modern stage, cinematic and visual crafts. And though the engagement of future generations is always necessary to establish an artist’s legacy, I’ll suggest that Stockhausen’s work, especially from the mid-1970s onward, will only be fairly assessed once it is disassociated from the man himself, something that will probably not happen until the music passes into the guardianship of artists with no generational link to him or his widows. Perhaps it’s analogous to the way that Stravinsky’s late masterpieces, resulting from his embrace of serialism, could only come about after Schoenberg, his cordially despised rival and California neighbor, had passed away. One must purge Stockhausen’s legacy of the baggage attached to his personality—and the memories of his exaggerated stardom in the 60s followed by his premature dismissal has a has-been in the 80s—in order to reckon with its core essence: a fascination with sound, and a compulsion to break music down into its smallest constituent molecules, to be reassembled anew again and again without preconceptions
  • Britten: Curlew River (YouTube)
    Another recent production of an iconic work of modern music theater was brought out of retirement for the year-of-COVID. It’s Britten’s most unusual stage work, filmed in 2013 with the Britten Sinfonia and Ian Bostridge in Peter Pears’ role as the Madwoman. Netia Jones directed the work for Barbican Centre (and several American co-producers), and the performance was shot in St. Giles’ Cripplegate, the Barbicon’s small, Medieval parish church. The shō-like sustained clusters in the organ, the spaced drum strokes, and of course the all-male singing cast all reflect the profound influence of Noh drama. The scenario is itself adapted from a Noh play, relocated to the English Fenlands and recast as a Christian parable. Jones presents the work in a bona fide liturgical style in accordance with Britten’s vision, but using modern dress augmented by video projections (contemporary stagecraft’s great enabler).


    This sparse, sluggish work, the most extreme manifestation of “austere Britten”—indeed the closest he ever came to the Feldman-like sensibilities of Fin de Partie and Luci mie traditrici—can test a viewer’s patience. Even when the Ferryman implores his debarking passengers to “make haste there, all of you, get ashore”, the musical result is a slow, lugubrious dirge in septuple time. One can also lament how St. Giles’ echoey acoustics smear the audio details in the recording. But the emotional impact of the work comes through clearly, even if it can only be fully grasped by those touched by the loss of a child
  • Viktor Ullman: Der Kaiser von Atlantis (OperaVision, available through April 2021)
    A new production from Deutsche Oper am Rhein of Ullman’s subversive one-act chamber opera, famously composed in Theresienstadt, where it was eventually suppressed by the Nazis (who sent both Ullman and librettist Peter Pien to die in Auschwitz). A parable of power and (maybe) redemption, it’s a stylistic relative of the zeitoper and related experimental genres of Weimar Germany. Ilaria Lanzino’s staging emphasizes the constrained roles of every archetype within the titular Empire, with rigged ropes used to symbolize the Emperor’s power. A compact work well suited for COVID-era stagings

Now on to audio-only recordings.

  • Anthony Gatto: Wise Blood (New Focus) and The Making of Americans (New Focus)
    Narrative music needn’t be conventionally staged to be effective. The earliest radio dramas, including such musically extended ones as Hindemith’s Sabinchen, predate musique concrète by a good two decades, initiating a lineage embraced spectacularly by Anthony Gatto in these two works, which were conceived as a kind of installation (in the case of Wise Blood, premiered as such in 2015 at the Walker Art Center) and as a stage work later converted into a radio opera (in the case of The Making of Americans).

    Wise Blood is adapted from Flannery O’Connor’s first novel. Its action begins on a train with a number of flash-forwards, then settles into a small, post-WW2 Tennessee town whose demons are many and easily roused. Gatto uses a mix of spoken and sung text delivery to portray the web of dysfunctional relationships—kind of a hyper-personalized, non-linear concept of music theater that owes more to Einstein on the Beach than to conventional opera. The Making of Americans, presented here in its later form as a fixed-media piece, is based on Gertrude Stein’s modernist novel, and features contributions from Zeitgeist, the JACK String Quartet, several vocal soloists, and the recorded voice of Stein herself
  • Charles Wuorinen: Haroun and the Sea of Stories (Spotify)
    Salman Rushdie by Moskowitz
    Salman Rushdie
    The ultimate Uptown composer meets the ultimate cancel culture survivor in this 2004 operatic setting of Salman Rushdie’s 1990 novel, recorded here for the first time by Boston Modern Orchestra Project and Gil Rose. Haroun was the first book written by Rushdie under the fatwa and death threats associated with The Satanic Verses. It’s a fantastical—and allegorical—children’s story, which despite its serious undertones relating to censorship and other social issues, contains much humor and whimsy…words that were seldom associated with the late Charles Wuorinen. And yet this piece is uniquely jocular in the composer’s oeuvre, indeed one of his most unusual and ambitious works, probably closer in temperament (and setting) to Henze’s contemporaneous L’Upupa than to Wuorinen’s usual models in Schoenberg, Varèse, Carter, late Stravinsky, and his fellow Ivy League serialists

Scelsi’s heritage and Sorabji’s wrath

Two of the 20th century’s most eccentric and obsessive composers factored into some important posthumous releases in 2020.

  • Klangforum Wien: Scelsi Revisited (Spotify)
    Giacinto Scelsi via Wikimedia Commons
    Giacinto Scelsi
    In contrast to his countryman Berio (1925–2003), whose shadow was long during his life but whose legacy is now largely baked in, the influence of the once-obscure Giacinto Scelsi (1905–1988) continues to rise, thanks to the sway of spectralism, the expanding interest in microtonality, and a desire in Europe to promote native models for 21st century drone music as an alternative to the doubly-foreign axis of Indian music and La Monte Young. Scelsi’s unorthodox work habits are well documented. He recorded his compositions as improvisations on an ondiola (a crude kind of early synthesizer), engaging assistants to transcribe and orchestrate them. These tapes were preserved, and a few years ago Klangforum Wien commissioned several composers in Scelsi’s stylistic lineage to create their own inspired reactions to them, the results eventually squeezed onto this double-CD album from Kairos. Contributors include Tristan Murail and Georg Friedrich Haas (quite possibly the most admired living composers from France and Austria respectively), as well as Michael Pelzel, Ragnhild Berstad, Uli Fussenegger (Klangforum’s bassist) and a few others. It’s definitely one of the standout albums of 2020
  • Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji: Sequentia Cyclica Super Dies Irae (Piano Classics)
  • Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji: Toccata Seconda per Pianoforte (Piano Classics)
  • Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji: 100 Transcendental Studies, Vol. 6 (Spotify)
    Sorabji in 1945
    Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji
    If 2020 was a challenging year for most people, it was at least a fulfilling one for Sorabji fans, with no fewer than three premiere recordings of the cantankerous Anglo-Parsi’s massive piano works. The most noteworthy, and longest, of the three is the eight-hour Cyclical Variations on Dies Irae, a work that has been championed by Jonathan Powell, the pianist of record here. If you’re new to Sorabji, know that this is not eight hours of minimalist or sparse Webernian music. It’s a dense, unceasing, highly chromatic and often rapid barrage of notes, culminating in a four-voice fugue with three separate subjects—like Bach on steroids with 20th century harmonies. What makes this piece unusual among Sorabji’s most epic compositions is the presence of a familiar and easily recognized tune as a recurring anchor, an attractive entry point if you’re ready to tackle your first full-length Sorabji target. Still, if eight hours of continuous listening is hard to make time for, you can listen to 1½ hours of carefully selected excerpts on Radio Eclectus #30. The Second Keyboard Toccata (2½ hours long, performed by Abel Sánchez-Aguilera) and the last 17 of Sorabji’s Transcendental Studies (2 hours total, performed by Fredrik Ullén, thus completing his survey of the complete set) are likewise presented in condensed versions in shows 38 and 75.

    Hearing this music—which lay unrecorded and for the most part unperformed for 70 years—creates several impressions, of which the most salient may be the sheer awe toward a composer with the audacity and focus to fill page after page, hour after hour, with thousands of notes in a prodigious display of immersive counterpoint

More from the old masters

  • Krzysztof Penderecki with Fire! Orchestra, Mats Gustafsson: Actions for free jazz orchestra (YouTube)
    Don Cherry via Wikimedia
    Don Cherry
    In 1971 Don Cherry and his New Eternal Rhythm Orchestra were engaged to perform at the Donaueschingen Music Festival, for which occasion Penderecki composed this structured improvisation piece. The premiere, which featured such now-famous Eurojazz figures as Peter Brötzmann, Fred van Hove and Han Bennink, was recorded by Philips and released on Cherry’s Humus, The Life Exploring Force album. Cherry went on to co-found what came to be called World Music, while Penderecki soon turned away from avant-garde experimentation to a more deterministic style of neoromanticism. And Actions went into the desk drawer, never to be performed again…until now. Mats Gustafsson has not only recorded the work for first time in half a century, he’s also restored it to its full length: 40 minutes compared to Cherry’s 16. It’s a worthy revival of this curiosity in jazz history, and a worthy memorial to the late Polish composer
  • Cecil Taylor, Tony Oxley: Birdland, Neuburg 2011 (Bandcamp)
    Cecil Taylor on Bösendorfer piano and Tony Oxley on drums, recorded at a jazz club outside Munich in November 2011. Little more needs to be said. From the Polish label Fundacja Słuchaj
  • Coriún Aharonián: una carta (2019) (Spotify)
    A revelatory portrait of the late Uruguayan composer Coriún Aharonián (1940–2017), son of Armenian refugees and pupil of Nono, Globokar, Ligeti, Mumma, Wolff and Xenakis. His Una canción (1998) makes a good introduction, a short piece for Pierrot ensemble that applies minimalist aesthetics to a Latin American-inflected sound world rooted in romantic chamber music. Villa-Lobos with Glass’s sensibilities, if you like. From Wergo records, featuring Ensemble Aventure
  • Gentle Fire: Explorations (1970–1973) (Bandcamp)
    Gentle Fire via Paradigm Discs
    Gentle Fire
    Another revelation is this cherishingly produced 3-CD retrospective of the little known British experimental music ensemble Gentle Fire. Active in the early 1970s, and modelled after groups like Musica Elettronica Viva and the live-electronic bands led at that time by Cage and Stockhausen, these six musicians (Richard Bernas, Hugh Davies, Graham Hearn, Stuart Jones, Richard Orton and Michael Robinson) presented mixed acoustic-electronic performances of works by themselves and other composers. Included here are classic open-form works by Stockhausen, Cage, Ichiyanagi, Christian Wolff and Earle Brown (including one of the earliest non-Stockhausen led recordings of his Treffpunkt). Most astonishing of all is 2 Pianos Piece, recorded at Radio Bremen in 1973. A 16-minute beat-driven, phase-shifting atonal minimalist piece, its closest relative among canonical works is Ligeti’s Three Pieces for Two Pianos, written three years later (though it could have been influenced by John White’s Son of Gothic Chord, purportedly composed in 1970 but not available on record until 1978). The composer is Michael Robinson, practically unknown in the new music world (he stopped composing to become a journalist for the BBC). All of the tracks on this album appear here for the first time
  • Salvatore Martirano: Live Electronics (Bandcamp)
    Salvatore Martirano with Sal-Mar Construction via University of Illinois
    Salvatore Martirano with his Construction
    Another precious artifact from the early 1970s live electronic zeitgeist, this freshly unearthed recording captures a live improvisation by Martirano (1927–1995) on his Sal-Mar Construction, an early hybrid instrument with analog oscillators and crude digital sequencers, built by Martirano and a team of engineers at the University of Illinois. Martirano actually toured with this clunky contraption, earning himself a place in electronic music textbooks. This particular performance took place in Chicago, a rare document of the Construction in action. It’s been remastered and released by Nihilist records, and the full box set includes the accompanying live video performance by Dan Sandin, a pioneer of analog image processing
  • John J. Becker: Soundpieces 1–7 (Spotify)
    Moving back two generations brings us to a name commonly found in music textbooks whose actual compositions are rarely heard. It’s John J. Becker (1886–1961), a kindred spirit to better known American atonalists like Ives, Ruggles, Crawford and early Copland. Becker lived in the Midwest, served as music director of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and suffered the neglect of many Stateside composers who worked far from the coastal media hubs. But his percussion piece The Abongo (1934) was an important influence on John Cage, and Becker also pioneered what we’d now call multimedia music theater, so it’s nice to see this double CD set from New World Records that documents his Soundpieces, a series of hard-hitting works for piano or chamber ensemble, many of which are recorded here for the first time. Features Joseph Kubera and the FLUX Quartet
  • Harold Shapero: Orchestral Works (Spotify)
    Yet another textbook dweller whose music has been revived by a new recording. In this case it’s Boston Modern Orchestra Project doing the excavating, a service they’ve performed for many neglected American composers. Harold Shapero (1920–2013) belonged to the American neoclassical generation of Bernstein, Schuman, Fine and early Foss. His heyday extended from the late 40s through roughly 1960, the date of his Partita in C for piano and small orchestra (presented here with Vivian Choi as soloist), which reflects the deep influence of Agon-era Stravinsky. Debuting in the same year as Cartridge Music, Kontatke, Interstellar Low Ways and Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima, it understandably struck its hipper contemporaries as a relic of simpler times. And yet it carries hints of the phrasing and short-term repetitions that we nowadays associate with the likes of John Adams and Michael Nyman, suggesting that now might be an auspicious time to reassess his output through good modern recordings like this one

Masters still at it

  • Alvin Lucier: Works for the Ever Present Orchestra (Bandcamp)
    This year marks the 50th anniversary of I Am Sitting in a Room, one of the most rigorously minimalist pieces of music ever conceived. At 89, the old master of acoustic investigation is still at it, as evinced by this admiring portrait album from Oren Ambarchi’s Black Truffle label. It features a half-dozen ascetic compositions exploiting microscopic tuning differences among similar instruments—a different kind of beat-driven music, as with EPO-5 for saxophone, violin, glockenspiel and two electric guitars with EBows slowly moving up a chromatic scale. Headphones are best for this reductionistic, thought-provoking music
  • Roscoe Mitchell: Splatter (Bandcamp)
    Roscoe Mitchell by Michael Hoefner
    Roscoe Mitchell
    One of 2020’s new octogenerians, Mitchell here pursues two recent areas of emphasis. One involves transcription and re-presentation of improvised material, as with the title track, which was originally improvised by Mitchell, Craig Taborn and Kikanju Baku, subsequently transcribed and orchestrated by Christopher Mega Luna, then performed here as a composed work. Another track, Distant Radio Transmission, was likewise created from a transcribed trio improvisation, but with Mitchell and baritone Thomas Buckner improvising new solos over the performed composition. The other facet of Mitchell’s musicmaking on display here is his longstanding free improvisational practice, this time in the unusual company of a pipe organ, played by Francesco Filidei, an interesting young Italian composer whose opera The Flood was one of my picks for 2019. All of these tracks were recorded at the Angelica festival in Bologna in 2017
  • Frederic Rzewski: Songs of Insurrection (Coviello Classics)
    Yet another formidable octogenarian and veteran of the American avant-garde chimes in with a new and substantive work, perhaps his most compelling solo piano composition since De Profundis. Rzewski’s Songs of Insurrection sets seven revolutionary and protest songs from around the world, among them Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around and the anti-Nazi Die Moorsoldaten. The delivery is exclusively instrumental—soloist Thomas Kotcheff doesn’t sing or speak the song lyrics—and without texts, there’s little basis for an uninformed listener to associate a political message with any of the tunes (something that’s also true of Rzewski’s The People United Will Never Be Defeated!). It demonstrates how the most enduring politically-motivated art music tends to be that which is most abstract. Rzewski’s setting of Grândola, Vila Morena (associated with the Carnation revolution in Portugal) is typical of the set. It begins and ends with Crumb-like knocking on the body of the piano, with an Ivesian fantasy on the song’s melody in the middle
  • Musikfabrik: Erbe, New works for Harry Partch instruments (Wergo)
    Helen Bledsoe with Cloud Chamber Bowls by Astrid Ackermann
    Helen Bledsoe playing Cloud Chamber Bowls
    This new CD from Wergo features Ensemble Musikfabrik performing on their complete replica set of Harry Partch instruments. Built in 2013 for Heiner Goebbels’ staging of Delusion of the Fury, the set is kept in regular use, the object of an ongoing initiative to commission new works for these famous instruments by European composers. Erbe includes contributions by Carola Bauckholt, Sampo Haapamäki and Martin Smolka, the latter recalling how his life behind the Iron Curtain was changed when someone gave him a cassette tape of Partch’s music that had been smuggled into Prague.

    I’ve long felt that Americans are generally best at performing Partch’s music, since we understand the cultural references, and since the build-your-own tradition that he helped launch is so deeply internalized in our experimental music ethos. But Europeans may be better at writing new compositions for his instruments without sounding too derivative of Partch’s style (e.g., Garth Knox’s Crystal Path, reviewed here). Regardless, any endeavor that helps to sustain Partch’s legacy is a good thing in my book, and this attractively-packaged offering deserves praise. It’s a CD-only release as of December 2020, but all three compositions can be streamed from the Radio Eclectus archive (shows 33, 34 and 37)

Undead masters

  • Giovanni Antonini and Patricia Kopatchinskaja by Leonardo Aloi via Alpha Classics
    Giovanni Antonini and Patricia Kopatchinskaja
    Patricia Kopatchinskaja et al: What’s Next Vivaldi? (Spotify)
  • Der Finger: Le cinque stagioni (Bandcamp)
    PatKop takes on Vivaldi in the company of Giovanni Antonini and Il Giardino Armonico, in the process intercutting several of the Venetian’s string concertos with five new works for violin (either solo or with Baroque instruments) by living Italian composers. The results hold their own in the impressive discography of this quirky Moldovan-Swiss soloist. And then there’s Der Finger, a Russian band with a German name and an album whose title means “The five seasons” in Italian. Their instrumentation features sax/bass clarinet plus drums and electric bass, and the result can be described as noise music meets free jazz with bits of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons thrown in
  • Gabriel Prokofiev et al: Beethoven Reimagined (Spotify)
    The obligatory Beethoven entry for his 250th birthday comes from Gabriel Prokofiev, whose spiking of the Ninth Symphony is the most interesting of the semiquincentennial offerings, following in the tradition of Louis Andriessen’s 1970 bicentennial parody, and benefiting from the British musician-producer’s experience grappling with the legacy of famous composer names

Microtones and minimalism

Microtonality is one of the few growth industries in today’s musical avant-garde. Minimalism, on the other hand, is a blue-chip stock that can be counted on to return a steady if predictable dividend. The following entries are representative of the state of both practices, sometimes simultaneously.

  • Hans Eugen Frischknecht: Music for Special Organs (YouTube)
    This intriguing album from a Swiss organist and composer features pipe organs in meantone and quarter tone intonations. It’s a microtonal adaptation of the lineage of sonorist organ compositions that includes Ligeti’s three masterpieces for the instrument as well as the lesser-known but still important compositions of Bengt Hambraeus. And this music does seem to embody the spirit of exploration and sonic expansion that motivated those pioneers
  • Charlemagne Palestine: Ffroggssichorddd (Bandcamp)
    Charlemagne Palestine by Sandra Fauconnier
    Charlemagne Palestine
    Minimalism and microtonality are combined in this newest album from veteran keyboardist and visual artist Charlemagne Palestine, most famous for Strumming Music, an epic essay on tremolos and overtones that he performed exclusively on Bösendorfer pianos. The titular ffroggssichorddd featured here is a customized harpsichord employing Pythagorean tuning
  • Max de Wardener: Music for Detuned Pianos (Bandcamp)
    A similar concept underlies this album, featuring pianist Kit Downes performing music by this British composer. The brief piece Foxtrot is a suitable introduction, akin to microtonal Philip Glass, or the prophetic Michael Robinson piece heard in the aforementioned Gentle Fire album. Another short composition, Doppelgänger, includes microtonal flurries that suggest the successful completion of a level in an arcade-style game
  • Donnacha Dennehy et al: A Way a Lone a Last (Bandcamp)
    The standout piece on this solo album by the Australian flutist Lina Andonovska is Bridget by Donnacha Dennehy, Irish composer and representative of the Bang on a Can school of postminimalism. Multitracked (but not microtonal), and clearly modelled on Reich’s Vermont Counterpoint, Dennehy’s piece was inspired by the great op art painter Bridget Riley (who is still with us, age 89)
  • Gerald Barry: Viola Concerto. From Beethoven: Symphonies 4–6, Barry: The Conquest of Ireland, Viola Concerto (Spotify)
    Mauricio Kagel once said of his student “Gerald Barry is always sober, but might as well always be drunk”. And Barry’s new Viola Concerto is a single 20-minute movement that manages to be austere (mostly monophonic in fact) and humorous at the same time. Barry says he was thinking of exercises, the kind that musicians practice over and over every day. And there’s definitely a jocular drudgery to the proceedings that manages not to degenerate into actual boredom. It’s a standout in this curious series of albums from Signum Classics that pair Beethoven symphonies with Barry orchestral pieces. Thomas Adès conducts the Britten Sinfonia with soloist Laurence Power
  • Norbert Möslang: Patterns (Bandcamp)
    A more solemn approach to repeating patterns comes from this Swiss composer, appropriately recorded with heavy reverberation that enriches his mix of long tones with well-spaced sequences of shorter notes, a contrast that provides welcome propulsion in these four compositions for wind sextet

Concertos redux

Barry’s is one of many prominent concertos to debut on record in 2020, a year that, for whatever reason, turned out piles of solo concertos and solo electronic music. Generations of composers have regarded the traditional concerto format—with its arbitrary isolation of a single instrument before an ensemble that evolved as the apogee of monumental sound projection—as an aesthetic contrivance. But the prospect of showcasing a star performer seems to mitigate the risks of programming a unfamiliar contemporary piece in the eyes of orchestra managers, so commissions for this medium seem to flow more readily than other kinds of orchestral works.

As evinced by the following selections, Europeans seem best equipped to find relevant contemporary expression through the modern orchestral medium. The orchestra is a European invention after all, whereas Americans, at least after Ives, have tended to be more inventive when we’re tweaking the established order rather than trying to adapt it to new zeitgeists.

  • Rebecca Saunders: Still. From Musica Viva #35: Still, Aether, Alba (Spotify)
  • Agata Zubel: Violin Concerto. From Cleopatra’s Songs (Spotify)
    Rebecca Saunders by Astrid Ackermann 1 (color)
    Rebecca Saunders
    Saunders is a violinist herself, but her colorful single-movement concerto Still was written for Caroline Widmann, who performs it here with conductor Ilan Volkov (whose At Home podcasts, featuring obscure contemporary music albums harvested from his extensive home music library, have been a beacon for the new music community during the lockdowns). Zubel’s Violin Concerto, recorded here on her new portrait album from Kairos, is confidently centered in the tradition of the modern Polish avant-garde that brought us composers like Penderecki and Lutosławski
  • Pesson, Abrahamsen, Strasnoy: Piano concertos (Spotify)
    Alexandre Tharaud is the featured soloist here. Hans Abrahamsen’s one-handed concerto Left, alone carries personal meaning (Abrahamsen himself is disabled, having only partial use of his right hand), and establishes a theme of confronted adversity that continues in the ghostly stylings of Gérard Pesson’s Future is a Faded Song, whose closing thumps come from the solo instrument with its lid closed and its player kicking and banging on it like a poltergeist
  • Ammann, Ravel, Bartók: Piano Concertos (Spotify)
  • Ramón Lazkano: Two Prefaces. From Piano Works (Spotify)
    Swiss composer Dieter Amnann’s The Piano Concerto (Gran Toccata) is a new and eclectic statement of postmodern compositional praxis, while the Spanish Basque composer Ramón Lazkano’s Two Prefaces for piano and orchestra sound like they might have been informed by the lineage that Wuorinen championed
  • Pelle Gudmundsen-Holmgreen: For Violin and Orchestra, Allan Gravgaard Madsen: Night Music (Dacapo)
    Two more standout concertos from Denmark. The polystylistic For Violin and Orchestra by the late Pelle Gudmundsen-Holmgreen (1932–2016) incorporates microtonal writing and hints of vernacular music traditions as though the soloist is journeying through a sonically diverse landscape (an accompanying promo video from Dacapo Records shows the composer paddling through a wetland while describing the birdsongs, bleating sheep and other sounds that surround him). Night Music, a violin/piano concerto by the much younger Allan Gravgaard Madsen (1984–), follows a more static path as often characterizes his generation of composers
  • John Harbison: Concertos for String Instruments (Spotify)
  • Christopher Rouse: Concerto for Orchestra, Symphony No. 5 (YouTube)
    John Harbison by Julian Bullitt
    John Harbison
    Crossing the Atlantic brings us to this pair of new American releases, including another offering from Boston Modern Orchestra Project, this time devoted to the venerable John Harbison, probably best known for his opera The Great Gatsby. The Double Concerto from 2009 adapts the format of Brahms’ last concerto and moves from some rather Britten-like lines in alternating major and minor thirds in the first movement to decidedly un-Brittenesque Bluegrass flashes in the third. Harbison’s stylistic soulmate, the late Christopher Rouse (1949–2019), carried the banner of the American postromantic symphonic lineage associated with Barber and Schuman (and contemporaries like Corigliano, Lieberson and Zwilich). His 2008 Concerto for Orchestra, cast in a single half-hour movement, may be his most compelling large-scale work, more variegated and less brash than most of his orchestral music. It’s recorded here for the first time on Naxos by Giancarlo Guerrero and the Nashville Symphony

Rouse’s title offers a segue into other orchestral genres. Such as…

  • Thomas Agerfeldt Olesen: Der Wind bläset wo er will (Dacapo)
    I was not familiar with this particular Danish composer, which was my loss, since the title piece (The wind blows wherever it wants, quoting Jesus in the Gospel of John) is a quintessential postmodern orchestral work, whose musical ideas do indeed seem to arise from unexpected quarters, including elements of pastiche and even a twangy South Asian musical bow called a gopichand. Among Olesen’s other works is a 2013 opera based on Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray
  • Iceland Symphony Orchestra, Daníel Bjarnason et al: Occurrence (Spotify)
    Veronique Vaka via the artist
    Veronique Vaka
    Iceland continues its remarkable streak of orchestral relevance with this latest (“and at least for now the last”) volume from Daníel Bjarnason and Sono Luminus. It’s a survey of five works by Iceland composers (including Canadian transplant Veronique Vaka) that demonstrates the slowly-changing washes of color that we associate with this country’s contemporary music
  • Steven Mackey: Time Release (Spotify)
    Mackey is a rock guitarist by trade, who gradually got interested in instrumental composition, influenced by the both the international avant-garde and the Downtown New York scene. I think of him as an American counterpart to someone like Heiner Goebbels or the late Steve Martland, and the eclecticism and unpredictability of his music is on display in this second album devoted to his works by Boston Modern Orchestra Project

Composed chamber and solo music

  • Younghi Pagh-Paan: Silken Thread (Spotify)
    Kai Strobel: Fair Wind (Spotify)
    Younghi Pagh-Paan via Ricordi
    Younghi Pagh-Paan
    Germany seems to be a popular career destination for Korean composers. Pagh-Paan followed this trajectory in between her better-known compatriots Isang Yun and Unsuk Chin. My introduction to her music was the intriguing 2007 choral piece Vide Domine, vide afflictionem nostram, whose uncompromising atonal idiom (modelled after Schoenberg’s Opp. 27 and 28) mirrors the dogged dedication of its intriguing subject, the itinerant 19th century Korean Catholic priest Choe Yang-Eop. Silken Thread, a new album released by Wergo for her 75th birthday, focuses on her chamber music, including the percussion duo Ta-Ryong, named for a rhythmic scheme found in traditional Korean music, and inspired by the peasant music that she heard as a girl in winter, performed by travelling musicians offering blessings and prayers to the Earth Spirit. On YouTube you can watch a snippet of two Taiwanese percussionists performing the piece in ritual masks. Pagh-Paan also appears on Kai Strobel’s new album with her 2019 solo percussion piece Klangsäulen
  • Oxana Omelchuk: Sieben Intraden (YouTube)
    Oxana Omelchuk via the artist
    Oxana Omelchuk
    Another portrait album from Wergo devoted to a German immigrant: Oxana Omelchuk, born in Belarus in 1975, now based in Cologne. Her music carries forward several postmodern European practices: drones, quotations, polystylism (e.g., cabaret music mixed with prepared piano and pointillist percussion), and even the occasional trace (as in the title track) of the sparse, brass-heavy, Shostakovich-informed music of many late Soviet composers (e.g., Alexander Vustin). Wow and flutter, is another Omelchuk gallimaufry, beginning in post-Scelsi fashion with two detuned trombones, but quickly adding a drum beat, then post-minimalist phase-shifting woodwind beats, before breaking out into a 1920s-style shimmy. Omelchuk’s music, like her birth country, is a cultural borderland
  • John Pickard: The Gardener of Aleppo and other chamber works (BIS)
    The title track is a beautiful—if old school—trio for flute, viola and harp, commemorating a man who ran the last garden center in the besieged Syrian city of Aleppo. People could buy plants there and take them back to their neighborhoods to create “a small piece of vibrancy and color amid the devastation” as Pickard puts it. The man was killed by a bomb in 2016. Pickard studied with Louis Andriessen, and writes symphonies and string quartets in the lineage of composers like Peter Maxwell Davies. This portrait album comes from BIS and features the Nash Ensemble
  • Gerald Eckert: Absence (Spotify)
    Slow, nocturnal, color-centric music comes from this German composer, cellist and painter—but often with a twist, as in his piece Absence – Traces éloignées, for a shrill ensemble of four piccolo players and two percussionists
  • Patrick Higgins: TOCSIN (Bandcamp)
    Higgins is a New York native and guitarist for the band Zs. He identifies his ethos as “punk/noise”, but the chamber music in this release is in a more contemporary, expressionist vein. His third string quartet, which he calls simply SQ(3), has shades of Ligeti, Nancarrow and (once again) Scelsi, with long opening drones that gradually split out in either direction
  • Mahan Esfahani: Musique? (Hyperion)
    Anahita Abbasi and Mahan Esfahani
    With the loss of Elisabeth Chojnacka, Esfahani seems to have assumed the mantle of “world’s most intriguing harpsichordist”. This survey of postmodern harpsichord works is full of gems. Takemitsu’s lyrical Rain dreaming, and Cowell’s Set of four are familiar enough. But Luc Ferrari’s epic Programme commun « Musique socialiste ? »  is a curiously discursive—and notey—work for harpsichord and tape, while Intertwined Distances, by Esfanani’s fellow Iranian expat Anahita Abbasi, stretches Ligeti’s Continuum to the breaking point with help from modern digital reinforcement. Esfahani insists in the liner notes that “no harpsichords were harmed in the making of this recording”

Get your ambient fix

The late Harold Budd (1936–2020), when told by Ryley Walker “I love falling asleep to your records” replied “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks”. Budd’s own “soft pedal” sensibilities are best conveyed through his live recordings, including a pair of delicate improvisations with bassist Keith Lowe captured in concert in 2009 and broadcast for the first time on Radio Eclectus #76. A few albums of more experimental bent (if similar sensibility) came along in 2020. The following all make good bedtime choices for open-eared listeners.

  • Jordan Nobles: Chiaroscuro (Bandcamp)
    First up is a work straddling the border between composed ensemble music and traditional ambient music. It’s from the Vancouver-based composer Jordan Nobles, whose Chiaroscoro explores contrasting textures of light and dark. Scored for chamber ensemble and a small women’s chorus, it’s reminiscent of Neptune from The Planets, but stretched out to half an hour
  • Jürg Frey: Orchester II from Frey & Babbitt Orchestral Works (Bandcamp)
  • Michael Pisaro: Tai Pi (Bandcamp)
    Michael Pisaro photo Kathy Pisaro design Matthew Revert
    Michael Pisaro
    Violinist Erik Carlson leads two dozen musicians in the first recording of Frey’s Orchester II, an important 1987 work by the most prominent of the Wandelweiser Collective composers. This 44-minute succession of single and double tones in constantly changing combinations of instruments aptly portends the Wandelweiser philosophy that pushes the sparseness of Feldman to a Lucier-like extreme. The younger Michael Pisaro is probably the best-known American member of the Collective. His Tai Pi is a new fixed media piece of similar length to the Frey, built from three basic sound sources: a recording of nocturnal frogs, six-note sine wave chords derived from the 11th and 12th hexagrams of the I Ching (their names combine to form the work’s title), and a passage from Schubert’s late A major piano sonata. It’s the Schubert that gets the last word, the piano filtered and reverberated like a vague memory of a distant time and place, an effect that works much better here than in Max Richter’s highly touted Opus 2020, which ends with the coda to Beethoven’s 30th piano sonata
  • Sarah Davachi: Figures in Open Air (Bandcamp)
    Sarah Davachi by Alex Waber
    Sarah Davachi
    A nice option if you’re seeking a more continuous kind of drone music, this double-CD set is culled from a series of live performances in Europe and North America just before the COVID lockdowns started. Davachi plays pipe organ or synthesizer, sometimes supplemented by other instruments, with chorus effects (on digital keyboards) or the natural acoustic complexity and beating of pipe organs (coupled with the reverberant spaces they’re typically found in) helping to propel this slow-changing time-lapse music forward
  • Daniel Menche: Vestige (Bandcamp), Atrophied Divinity (Bandcamp), Nothing Means Nothing (Bandcamp) and Smoke (Bandcamp)
    Any (or all) of these albums makes a good introduction to Menche’s music, which comes from the Phill Niblock school of immersive microtonal drone pieces. This Oregon-based musician works with multitracked strings, oscillators, noise generators and field recordings, which he plays and collects himself
  • Three Point Circle: Layered Contingencies (YouTube)
    With this we move toward the purely electronic, often darker, realms of contemporary drone music. Three Point Circle is comprised of longtime Seattle musicians Marc Barreca, Steve Peters and K. Leimer, who first performed together in Olympia in 1980, then reconvened 40 years later for this album

Darker ambient

  • Fossil Aerosol Mining Project: scaath catfish (Bandcamp)
    Helen Scarsdale Agency is a label with its pulse on some of the most interesting regions of the dark ambient world, often showcasing musicians who use spoken word or other explicit textual references within an somber, slowly-changing soundscape. An example is the track Catfish Splinter, which incorporates snippets of conversations about a shadowy anthropological encounter, from the new scaath catfish album by the likewise shadowy Illinois-based collective Fossil Aerosol Mining Project, self-described purveyors of “songs of enhanced decay and faked resurrection”
  • Bastard Kings of Samadhi: Songs of the Five or Six Eyes (Bandcamp) and Bombastic Tales (Bandcamp)
    W David Oliphant via the artist
    W. David Oliphant
    Consider this a lifetime achievement notice for the solo dark ambient project of W. David Oliphant, an Arizona-based sonic aggressor and longtime associate of the Bishop brothers
  • Matt Evans: New Topographics (Bandcamp)
    Dave Segal, who writes about music for The Stranger, called Evans’ track Cold Moon one of his favorite drones ever (and he’s heard thousands). Evans is based in Brooklyn, and plays drums and percussion for Bearthoven, among other groups
  • Telescoping (Bandcamp)
    Dark downtempo ambient in an improvisational setting is showcased in this eponymous debut album from the Seattle-based quartet of trumpeter Greg Kelley, drummer Dave Abramson and guitarists Al Jones and Robert Millis (of Climax Golden Twins)

Electronic

  • Steve Roden, Small Cruel Party: Stratégies Obliques Ø (Bandcamp)
    Representing more gestural styles of fixed media music is this split LP from Ferns Recordings. Side A features Steve Roden, coiner of the term lowercase music to describe works made up of soft sounds greatly amplified. Here he’s coaxing sounds from instruments and objects in his studio, recorded and subsequently edited by Steve Peters (who touchingly recounts the process here). Filling the B side is Small Cruel Party, stage name of William Key Ransone, who contributes crackling electronic tracks. Both his and Roden’s pieces were created and named using Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt’s Oblique Strategies cards
  • Alex Mincek: Glossolalia, Sam Pluta: Lines on Black (Bandcamp)
    Sam Pluta by Angela Guyton via Rodrigo Constanzo (Vimeo Creative Commons)
    Sam Pluta
    Wet Ink Ensemble is one of the US’s most impressive composer-led ensembles, especially of the mixed acoustic/electronic variety. In this album, two of its members engage the rest of the group in a pair of intense longform pieces. A particularly interesting section is the On Off movement from Lines on Black, which sounds like a concerto for shoot-’em-video game and Pierrot ensemble
  • Steve Layton and Sound-In: All Together Now (Bandcamp)
  • Komposisi Kompos (Bandcamp)
    The great quarantine of 2020 led musicians around the world to explore techniques for real-time remote collaboration. Sound-In’s been doing this for years, hosting transcontinental online jams subsequently edited and assembled by Steve Layton. All Together Now is a good representative of their praxis. Komposisi Kompos, from the Jakarta-based DIVISI62 label, stems from a similar mindset, informed by a recycler’s ethos (the title means compost in Indonesian). Several dozen artists sent in audio recordings following an elaborate set of instructions, and these were combined and cut up by the folks at the home office, the result perhaps not making “normal sense” as John Cage would put it, but nevertheless conveying an essence of non-linear narrative comprised of sounds that hold meaning to the people that collected them

Ear-stretching anthologies

The assembly of musical anthologies was another activity embraced by producers eager to compensate for the COVID-era’s dearth of new recording projects. Several of these albums highlight underexposed gems from places far from the scrutiny of mainstream music journalism.

  • I hope this finds you well in these strange times (Vol. 1) (Vol. 2)
    A two-volume set from Gabriel Prokofiev’s Nonclassical label, featuring “synth improvisations, field recording and homespun lockdown productions”. Featured artists include Ben Vince, Langham Research Centre, Xenia Pestova Bennett and the Ligeti Quartet
  • Juneteenth: A Catalytic Sound compilation in support of the NAACP Legal Defense Fund (Bandcamp)
    A North America-centered retrospective from Catalytic-Sound featuring creative improvised music by Joe McPhee, Hamid Drake, Tim Daisy, Ikue Mori, Ig Henneman, Ken Vandermark, Sylvie Courvoisier and many others
  • Unexplained Sounds Group: 6th Annual Report (Bandcamp)
  • Anthology of Contemporary Music from Indonesia (Bandcamp)
  • Anthology of Experimental Music from Mexico (Bandcamp)
  • Anthology of Persian Experimental Music (Volume 1) (Volume 2)
    Alireza Amirhajebi by AmirAli Piroozbakhsh
    Alireza Amirhajebi
    Raffaele Pezzella’s Unexplained Sounds label is unsurpassed in its zeal for amplifying profound experimental music from every corner of the world, mostly by lesser-known musicians who often go by stage names, demonstrating the global reach and unique subculture of today’s underground live-electronic music scene. Interspecifics, Xerxes the Dark, Patrick Hartono and Alireza Amirhajebi are just a few of the artists contributing short pieces. Not all of the offerings are from the noise/dark ambient/electroacoustic axis though. Ali Ostovar’s Reflections is a quartet for Iranian instruments that drifts in and out of recognizably Persian musical space, while Wukir Suryadi plays on his homemade bambuwukir and Genta Nirvana’s jams feature a Central Java scavenger’s gamelan. These volumes are a treasure trove for anyone with a zeal for rummaging through the global bazaar in search of unexpected perspectives and profundities
  • Retrieving Beirut part 2/4 (Bandcamp)
  • Alternate African Reality: Electronic, electroacoustic and experimental music from Africa and the diaspora (Bandcamp)
    Syrphe is another label specializing in remarkable music created far from the usual media hubs. The name means hoverfly in French, and it’s run by the Congolese-Belgian musician Cedrik Fermont, who focuses on “electronica, noise and experimental music from Asia, Africa and other continents”. The Retrieving Beirut anthology was hastily issued as a fundraising project following the August 4th explosion in Beirut Harbor (the second of its four parts features the most radical works, contributed by musicians and sound artists from multiple countries), while the offerings on Alternate African Reality range from Egyptian loop music through Kenyan synthesizer tracks to Victor Gama’s homemade instruments

Traditional singing meets free improvisation, and other intercultural explorations

  • London Experimental Ensemble: Child Ballads (Bandcamp) and Child Ballads Exclusive Bonus Tracks (Bandcamp)
    Carole Finer by Stefan Szczelkun
    Carole Finer
    Another of the year’s most astonishing releases. London Experimental Ensemble burst onto the scene in 2018 with the first ever complete recording of Cornelius Cardew’s Treatise. These two newer volumes feature vocalist Ed Pettersen’s “straight” rendition of several traditional Celtic ballads, accompanied by the Ensemble’s deliciously noisy but downtempo improvisations. It continues a tradition of colliding musical genres that includes Salvatore Martirano’s own Ballad, wherein a 60s pop singer (“You are too beautiful, my dear, to be true…”) is accompanied by chamber pointillism—like hearing Johnny Mathis with Webern’s Op. 22 as the backup band. My favorites from this collection are Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship (about a kinder, gentler, Scottish Turandot), the more apocalyptic sounding Among the Blue Flowers, and the foreboding plague-era setting of Bessie Bell and Mary Grey which makes a sadly apt memorial for COVID victim Carole Finer—folk musician, avant-gardist and Scratch Orchestra veteran—whose suitably scratchy violin sounds can be heard throughout these tracks
  • Adam Rudolph: Focus and Field (Bandcamp)
    Rudolph earned a spot on my 2019 list for his remarkable Ragmala album, featuring Western and South Asian musicians. This new release, recorded live at Roulette just before the March 2020 lockdowns, is dominated by the long track Tsuzumi, which features Sumie Kaneko singing a 12th century Japanese text alongside a mix of East Asian and Western instruments drawn from the Go: Organic Orchestra lineup. It’s a multicultural counterpart to Child Ballads, sounding like a cross between Takemitsu and the Art Ensemble of Chicago
  • Eunhye Jeong et al: The Colliding Beings, Chi​-​Da (Bandcamp)
    JI Park (cello), Soo Jin Suh (drums), Eunhye Jeong (piano), Il-dong Bae (pansori)
    Eunhye Jeong (center) with trio and Il-dong Bae
    Of a similar nature is this album from Eunhye Jeong’s trio, versed in international free improv, performing alongside Il-dong Bae, one of the masters of Pansori singing. Recorded in Seoul in 2019
  • Eyvind Kang: Ajaeng Ajaeng (Ideologic Organ)
    Another flavor of cross-pollination comes from this versatile musician, born in Corvallis, OR and resident, at various times, in Canada, Europe and Asia. In Tanpura Study, a pair of those ubiquitous Indian drone-makers are played, uncharacteristically, as solo instruments, using a variety of traditional and non-traditional plucking techniques. Time Medicine is a more proper sort of drone piece, featuring two tubas, two bass drums, violin, cello, miscellaneous percussion, and a pair of ajaengs, Korean string instruments with movable bridges akin to a koto, but which are bowed rather than plucked. Kang, a violist by trade, has always been fond of finding new uses for old things
  • Dewa Alit: From when i OPEN MY DOOR (Bandcamp)
    Alit is a Balinese composer and gamelan master. This portrait album includes one contemporary gamelan piece, combined with three compositions for Western instruments, including Open My Door, created in 2015 in collaboration with Ensemble Modern which Alit regards as “opening my door to the [avant-garde, non-Balinese] world”

More improv and avant-rock

  • Doctor Nerve: LOUD (Bandcamp)
  • Mozo Mozo: s/t (Bandcamp)
  • Le Grand Sbam: Vaisseau Monde (Bandcamp) and Furvent (Bandcamp)
    Le Grand Sbam by Paul Bourdrel via Facebook
    Le Grand Sbam
    The roots of experimental rock go back to the late 1960s. The Velvet Underground borrowed from minimalism, Zappa borrowed from avant-garde composers like Varèse and Webern. And most important of all, Miles Davis, from 1969 through his hiatus in 1975, merged the techniques of jazz improvisation with the rhythms and instrumentation of rock and soul music.

    The next generation of avant-rockers, led by Henry Cow and Doctor Nerve, extended the genre’s harmonic vocabulary towards atonality. Doctor Nerve, led by its formidable guitarist Nick Didkovsky, is still at it, as evinced by their latest album, an EP from Punos Records entitled LOUD. As for the younger generation, the ever-expanding range of fusion concepts is represented by a pair of newly-formed European bands. Mozo Mozo typifies the obscurantism popular in some of the more subversive corners of the culture—its musicians go by stage names like Friedmeister (bass), Moritz Morast (guitar), Sir Saxalot (saxophone) and Yungtoyboy28 (drums), and they seem to be from Austria. But one needn’t worry about this in light of their original, downtempo sound world that emphasizes guitar loops and astringent harmonies. Le Grand Sbam is a “bastard music ensemble” from France that performs in strange masks (reminiscent of Star Trek’s Ferengi) and whose characteristic sound features two female vocalists. Their latest album, Furvent, includes an expanded octet configuration with electric cymbalom in lieu of guitar, and sci-fi inspired lyrics comprised mostly of made-up syllables
  • Black Spirituals: Black Treatment (Bandcamp)
  • Brandon Seabrook Trio: Exultations (Bandcamp)
    Black Spirituals, the duo of Zachary James Watkins (electronics) and Marshall Trammell (skins), extends the tradition with a nod toward noise music and the power trio style (and protest orientation) of Harriet Tubman. Their half-length album documents a live performance in Oakland in 2015. Brandon Seabrook’s trio with Gerald Cleaver on drums and Cooper-Moore on diddley bow (in lieu of electric bass) also follows in the Harriet Tubman tradition, with inputs from The Flying Luttenbachers, for which Seabrook plays guitar
  • Fred Frith, Sudhu Tewari, Cenk Ergün: Lock Me Up, Lock Me Down (Bandcamp)
  • Cenk Ergün: Sonare & Celare (Bandcamp)
    Cenk Ergün via the artist
    Cenk Ergün
    Cenk Ergün appears twice on this list. Lock Me Up, Lock Me Down is based on some 2010 recordings with Henry Cow alum Fred Frith and junkmeister Sudhu Tewari (who was once Artist in Residence at the San Francisco Dump), reworked in 2020 by Ergün as he languished under lockdown in Berlin. The result features some of the most engaging music I’ve heard from Frith in years. The other album, an EP from New Focus Recordings, features two works Ergün composed for the JACK String Quartet. Sonore emphasizes tremolos while Celare uses long tones, both exhibiting Ergün’s interest in microtonality and subtly-varied repetition
  • Ken Vandermark and KONSTRUKT: Kozmik Bazaar (Bandcamp)
  • Jennifer Curtis and Tyshawn Sorey: Invisible Ritual (Bandcamp)
  • Simon Toldam and Ways: Fortunes (Bandcamp)
    These three releases come from a more jazz-informed space. Kozmik Bazaar extends the Ornette Coleman tradition with syncopated, atonal tunes that are played at the beginning and end of the track in the standard bebop fashion. Invisible Ritual features Tyshawn Sorey alongside International Contemporary Ensemble violinist Jennifer Curtis. A variety of moods are explored in this eight-track album, including the Feldmanesque third part that features Sorey on piano rather than drums. Fortunes showcases the Toronto-based Ways duo (saxophonist Brodie West and drummer Evan Cartwright) travelling to Copenhagen to record with Danish pianist Simon Toldam. My favorite track is Love, with repeating pulses coming from a drum, a prepared piano, and mouthpiece smacks on an alto saxophone. Kind of a Ligeti-style metronome piece adapted for a free improv trio
  • Ingrid Laubrock: Dreamt Twice, Twice Dreamt (Bandcamp)
    Ingrid Laubrock via the artist
    Ingrid Laubrock
    Saxophonist, composer and Braxton alum Laubrock connects with a line initiated by Michael Mantler’s Jazz Composers Orchestra Association records from the 1960s and continued by her own 2018 Contemporary Chaos Practices: Two Works for Orchestra with Soloists album. In this double CD, five Laubrock compositions are performed two times, once by a sextet comprised of Laubrock, Cory Smythe, Sam Pluta, Adam Matlock, Josn Modney and Zeena Parkins, and once by a big band that features several of the aforementioned musicians as soloists. Laubrock is of the most forward-looking musicians working in the large-ensemble-with-improvisors genre
  • Craig Taborn and Junk Magic: Compass Confusion (Bandcamp)
    We now survey some albums featuring improvised music with unusual instrumental combinations. Keyboardist Taborn is often heard alongside such figures as Roscoe Mitchell and Eivind Opsvik, and he’s well represented here as a bandleader, playing piano and synthesizer with a lineup that includes viola in addition to the usual saxophone, bass and drums. The opening track, Laser Beaming Hearts, features an unexpected coupling of dark ambient electronic drones, Sun Ra-style electric organ rhetoric and a classic rhythmic backing with chromatic riffs
  • Matías Riquelme, Fernando Ulzión: La Trahison des Mots (Bandcamp)
    Riquelme (cello) and Ulzión (saxophones) are Basque musicians adept at levering the generous reverberation in the church in Apodaka, Spain where this album (“the treachery of words”) was recorded
  • Okuden Quartet: Every Dog Has Its Day but It Doesn’t Matter Because Fat Cat Is Getting Fatter (Bandcamp)
    Okuden is a term used in Zen Buddhism, a passion of this quartet’s bandleader Mat Walerian. A reed player by trade, he’s heard here on saxophone, clarinet and flute, the latter often played in a style reminiscent of a Japanese shakuhachi—whereas bassist William Parker sometimes picks up a real shakuhachi. Pianist Matthew Shipp and drummer Hamid Drake round out the foursome

Other media

  • Langham Research Centre: Quanta / Signal / Noise (Bandcamp)
    Quanta / Signal / NoiseAn unusual project from the UK’s most intriguing live-electronic repertory band is available both as an EP and as an interactive app for iOS devices. Four realizations of this piece are available on the album, and you can make your own versions with the largish (245 MB) iOS app (pictured at right)
  • Z’EV and Ellen Zweig: Heart Beat Ear Drum (Vimeo)
    With all the media spotlights aimed at Alex Winter’s new Zappa documentary (with an accompanying soundtrack album that includes some previously unissued performances with Ensemble Modern among others), I’ll aim a modest flashlight on Ellen Zweig’s new documentary about a far less famous, but still worthy, musician: Stefan Weisser (1951–2017), better known as Z’EV—much admired among his peers for his solo percussion performances that featured homemade instruments made of reclaimed and surplus pipes, ducts, appliances and other miscellaneous wood and metal objects from which he could coax interesting sounds. Despite his reputation as a “junk musician”, Z’EV preferred scrapyards and surplus stores over garbage dumps for his raw materials (“I like the object to have a history already—it has to do with the whole found object thing”). The 75-minute film includes interviews with Weisser and several of his collaborators and associates (including Carl Stone), with plenty of performance footage dating back to the 1970s

Older and non-Western music

Alla Francesca by Alain Genuys
Alla Francesca
We close with a few notable recordings of non-Western music and (very) old Western art music, a glimpse of the incredible musical wealths that lurk beneath the radar of classical music stations and Deezer playlists. Many of the recordings of Medieval and Renaissance music cited below were sampled in Radio Eclectus #52.

  • Variations amoureuses: French love Songs from the 13th century (Spotify)
  • Francesco Landini: L’Occhio del Cor (Spotify)
    Variations amoureuses, from Brigitte Lesne and Alla Francesca, surveys the tremendous explosion of polyphonic music in 13th century France, the time period between the masters of Notre Dame polyphony (Léonin and Pérotin) and the most famous Medieval composer of them all, Guillaume de Machaut. L’Occhio del Cor (“the eye of the heart”) from Christophe Deslignes and La Reverdie (an Italian ensemble with a French name), continues the exploration into 14th century Italy, focusing on the most famous Trecento composer, Landini, and his three-part songs, delivered here in a variety of textures from full a cappella to instruments-only.
    La Reverdie and Christophe Deslignes by Fabio Fuser
    La Reverdie, Christophe Deslignes
    Both recordings convey the excitement of these early musicians as they grappled with the potentialities of such new ideas as polyphony and music notation, discovering how lines could fit together, or how consonance and dissonance (and tonal harmony) worked. The parallels with our own post-WW2 avant-garde—with its explorations with tape recorders, improvisation, new instrumental techniques, atonality and timbre—are unmistakable, as are, for some observers at least, the parallels between the age of the Black Death and the more contemporary specters of viral pandemics, and nuclear and environmental destruction
  • Matteo da Perugia: Aurora Consurgens (Spotify)
    Ensemble Rosaces by Romain Fageot
    Ensemble Rosaces
    This unusual album from Ensemble Rosaces uses late Medieval music as a platform for improvisation. Recorders combine with anachronistic guitars, and Alice Khayati’s voice ranges from straightforward delivery of the texts (which are overwhelmingly obsessed with unrequited love) to such modernities as scat singing. It’s an effective approach to old-meets-new that’s close to my own heart, yet still rarely pursued
  • Diego Ortiz: Trattado de Glosas (Spotify)
    This new album from Alpha Classics surveys the ground basses and other harmonic improvisation formulae gathered in Ortiz’s famous 1553 treatise—the earliest surviving musical examples that clearly conceive of chords as basic perceptual units, and not simply the result of voice leading. As unpretentious as these little pieces sound to us today, they represent a staggeringly important development that led not only to the variation-based chaconnes and passacaglias of Bach and Purcell, but indeed to practically all Western art music composed from the Baroque through the Romantic period, and from there to the now-ubiquitous language of global pop and folk music based on the model of a singer accompanied by guitar chords. This is the first music in the written record that sounds fundamentally modern to contemporary ears, a harmonic revolution that’s easy to take for granted nowadays, but in reality one that materialized only after 700 years of evolution and experimentation with notation and polyphony
  • Intermedi della Pellegrina Firenze 1589 (video) (Spotify)
    Available on Blu-ray or as a CD set, this release from Dynamic documents the 2019 Teatro del Maggio production of another momentous development in Western music history: the earliest surviving examples of operatic music, created by a team of Florentine composers as small entr’actes to be inserted into a sprawling (and long forgotten) stage play commissioned for a lavish Medici family wedding. Though the results may seem pedestrian compared to later masterpieces like Monteverdi’s Orfeo, it was the technique of recitativo—a fresher, more natural kind of vocal delivery than the jaded polyphony of Palestrina motets—coupled with the newfangled concept of chord progressions, that set the stage for opera as we now know it. It helped that smart composers like Monteverdi encouraged audiences to accept the conceit of a singing stage character by setting famous stories about a mythological figure that was himself a bard
  • Luigi Rossi: Il Palazzo incantato (Opéra de Dijon, limited period streaming)
  • Antonio Draghi: El Prometeo (YouTube) (Spotify)
    Everyone is trying to do Zoom-style opera production right now. It’s better than nothing, but most of the results have been meagre substitutes for the visual (and social) experience of live stage productions. Interestingly some of the most successful adaptations of traditional music theater to the realities of COVID-era media creation have come from European early music specialists, who for two generations now have been among the leaders in the broader music world when it comes to reviving and reimaging old works in new ways.

    Il Palazzo incantato at Opéra de Dijon
    A pair of compelling opera videos that hit the Web recently feature the Baroque ensemble Cappella Mediterranea, conductor Leonardo García-Alarcón, and Opéra de Dijon in revivals of two obscure 17th century Italian operas. Luigi Rossi’s The Enchanted Palace dates from 1642 (heretofore its only production). It’s an escape story with magical illusions, love interests and warrior challenges, and over a dozen principal roles, all gathered together in a libretto penned by the future Pope Clement IX. Fabrice Murgia’s staging, filmed in a closed hall with masked string players and the chorus remanded to the front seats, emphasizes the illusory nature of the magician Atlante’s palace through a complex two-level rotating set, and visible stagehands and onstage camera operators whose feed is projected on the upper level of the set. The result combines the experience of conventionally-staged operas photographed for television with that of a cinematic opera shot on location. Often the tableau is multi-perspectival, even cubist, owing to the simultaneously viewable stage and camera angle, the impact even furthering underscoring the pervasiveness of Atlante’s deceptions. In the scene pictured above, the palace interior is cleverly recast as a prison visiting room with a glass pane separating the two sopranos, allowing them to be safely close to each other while singing. The music is roughly half recitative, but one of the highlights is the beautiful nymph chorus frottola Di Cupido entro alla reggia, heard a few minutes before intermission, and staged with vigorous freestyle dancing and sensuous revelry.

    Antonio Draghi’s Prometheus dates from 1669, an odd case of a Vienna-based Italian composer writing a Spanish language opera in honor of the birthday of the Queen of Spain. It’s resuscitated here in a (pre-COVID) 2018 production—its second ever—that required García-Alarcón to complete the missing third act. Much of the music sounds like typical post-Monteverdi Italian opera with lyrics translated into Spanish, but some passages—including the astringent overture in minor and several sung numbers—feature Spanish inflections, including a curious frottola-bolero hybrid. The work benefits from Laurent Delvert’s stunning modern production, with nods to Shelley’s Frankenstein, captured on video with imaginative direction that must have required a multi-camera live shoot with individual captures and considerable post-production editing. It’s just gotten a proper audio release on CD (also from Alpha Classics), hence its inclusion here.

    Murgia likens the process of rediscovering these remarkable works to that of making a palimpsest, tracing over an old manuscript to keep it from permanently fading. Period instruments, good diction, modern stagings—what more could you want from Baroque opera?
  • Music from All Corners of the World (Spotify)
  • Excavated Shellac: An Alternate History of the World’s Music (Bandcamp)
    Excavated Shellac via Dust to DigitalPerhaps the most thought-provoking (and ear-rebooting) items on the list are these last two compilations that focus on folk and traditional musics, mostly from non-Western peoples. Music from All Corners of the World comes from Caprice Records, a homage to the label’s Music from… series, with two CDs of recordings gathered between 1965 and 2001 by Bengali ethnomusicologist Deben Bhattacharya and his younger Swedish colleague Sten Sandahl. The sources for Excavated Shellac‘s 100 tracks are much older: 78 rpm records from all over the world—mostly made in the 1920s and 30s—lovingly gathered and expertly restored from the collection of global music enthusiast Jonathan Ward. It’s a great opportunity for blindfold listening (see if you can guess each track’s origin). The selection criteria are a bit scattered: some of the music is non-Western, some is European but traditional, and some is acculturated. And the curation is not as rigorous as with the Caprice albums (basically Ward and his associates are interested in music that’s not easily identifiable as blues, jazz, country, rock or classical). But whatever its provenance, the music sounds fresh and often unexpected, as with one of the earliest recordings of Narayana Iyengar playing a South Indian chitravina (which sounds like a cross between a vina and a Hawaiian pedal steel), or the remarkable hemiolas and “endless melody” of a vintage gisaeng performance from Korea, or the odd 1928 guitar-backed tune sung in Fanti by the Ghanan musician Nicholas De Heer that sounds like it could have been written by Elizabeth Cotton. The accompanying 185-page booklet includes photos and trenchant notes on every track. Released by Dust-to-Digital in December 2020, it’s truly a connoisseur’s delight, too late to recommend as a Holiday gift, but surely you know music lovers whose birthdays are coming up…

On to 2021

Whether Creshevsky was right in his assertion about concerts versus recorded music—and whether the environment for art music in the 2020s will end up resembling the chaos of the early 17th century as the Thirty Years War sent German and French fortunes careening in opposite directions—one can at least admire the pluck, resilience and initiative of the artform to which these remarkable recordings all attest, proof of the breadth and adaptability of a tradition that deserves to endure and thrive.


Photos:

  1. Collage: Agata Zubel by Sabine Hauswirth, Roscoe Mitchell by Michael Hoefner, Gabriel Prokofiev by Nathan Gallagher, Sarah Davachi by Alex Waber, Dewa Alit via the artist, Joe McPhee by Žiga Koritnik, Giovanni Antonini & Patricia Kopatchinskaja by Leonardo Aloi via Alpha Classics, Krzysztof Penderecki by Adam Kumiszcza, Z’EV via the artist, Charles Wuorinen By Javier Del Real, Ig Henneman 2010 by Francesca Patella, Alireza Amirhajebi by AmirAli Piroozbakhsh, Ingrid Laubrock via the artist, Rebecca Saunders by Astrid Ackermann, Tristan Murail via Wikimedia, Younghi Pagh-Paan via Ricordi.
  2. Fin de Partie at La Scala
  3. Luci mie traditrici at Staatsoper Stuttgart by Matthias Baus
  4. Michaelion at Birmingham Opera
  5. Samstag aus LICHT at Philharmonie de Paris
  6. Karlheinz Stockhausen rehearsing Michaels Heimkehr via Wikimedia
  7. Curlew River at Barbican Centre with Ian Bostridge (L) as the Madwoman
  8. Der Kaiser von Atlantis at Deutsche Oper am Rhein
  9. Salman Rushdie by Moskowitz
  10. Giacinto Scelsi via Wikimedia
  11. Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji by Joan Muspratt
  12. Don Cherry via Wikimedia
  13. Salvatore Martirano with Sal-Mar Construction via University of Illinois
  14. Roscoe Mitchell by Michael Hoefner
  15. Helen Bledsoe with Cloud Chamber Bowls by Astrid Ackermann
  16. Giovanni Antonini and Patricia Kopatchinskaja by Leonardo Aloi via Alpha Classics
  17. Charlemagne Palestine by Sandra Fauconnier
  18. Rebecca Saunders by Astrid Ackermann
  19. John Harbison by Julian Bullitt
  20. Veronique Vaka via the artist
  21. Younghi Pagh-Paan via Ricordi
  22. Oxana Omelchuk via the artist
  23. Anahita Abbasi and Mahan Esfahani by Tony Minaskanian via Hyperion Records
  24. Michael Pisaro by Kathy Pisaro and Matthew Revert
  25. Sarah Davachi by Alex Waber
  26. W. David Oliphant via the artist
  27. Sam Pluta by Angela Guyton via Rodrigo Constanzo
  28. Alireza Amirhajebi by AmirAli Piroozbakhsh
  29. Carole Finer by Stefan Szczelkun
  30. L-R: Ji Park, Soo Jin Suh, Eunhye Jeong, Il-dong Bae via Eunhye Jeong
  31. Le Grand Sbam by Paul Bourdrel
  32. Cenk Ergün via the artist
  33. Ingrid Laubrock via the artist
  34. Alla Francesca by Alain Genuys
  35. La Reverdie and Christophe Deslignes by Fabio Fuser
  36. Ensemble Rosaces by Romain Fageot
  37. Il Palazzo incantato at Opéra de Dijon
  38. El Prometeo at Opéra de Dijon

Contemporary Classical

Revisiting Tippett’s The Ice Break

When Michael Tippett composed The Ice Break, he was already in his early 70s. Set in a contemporary country (the US is strongly implied), and with characters caught up in racial violence and drug use, the opera received a tepid reception upon its 1977 Covent Garden premiere. The consensus was that the composer’s insistence on writing his own libretto, coupled with what Michael Berkeley calls “his touching but naive desire to keep in touch with the young and their vernacular”, had driven his dramaturgy into irreparably sophomoric sentimentality.

Thus, when director Graham Vick and conductor Andrew Gourlay focused Birmingham Opera Company’s attention on this fourth, and briefest, of Tippett’s five operas in 2015, it marked only the second time that the work had been staged in the UK. The production has now, for the first time, been made available to stream online through July 30, 2020. And just as Vick’s radical staging commemorated the anniversary of the Birmingham riots of 1985 and 2005, so does its video release place the opera’s themes of social fracture alongside the current milieu of BLM-driven protests.

Nadia (Nadine Benjamin), Lev (Andrew Slater) and their rebellious son Yuri (Ross Ramgobin)

Vick repurposed an abandoned Birmingham warehouse for the production, mocking up its interior as a stylized airport terminal (through which the ambulatory audience is ushered by uniformed “security” personnel), and setting the action rather specifically in the UK. The terminal is the locale for the first of Tippett’s three acts, but in this performance the opera unfolds in a continuous 75-minute span with no curtains or set changes. The story is compact: Nadia has come to meet her husband Lev, who is joining her in exile after spending 20 years in a (Soviet?) gulag for pacifism (mirroring Tippett’s own WW2 incarceration as a conscientious objector). Accompanying Nadia is their son Yuri, who does not remember his birth country or father, and who expresses contempt for the latter’s views on non-violence (“Cowards, they let themselves be stamped on”). Yuri has been radicalized as a young immigrant, and appears to have sympathies with white supremacists (“Here it’s different. We’re not pushed around. Every guy has a gun”).

Also arriving at the airport is Olympion, a victorious prizefighter and black militant. Greeting him is a crowd that includes Yuri’s WWC girlfriend Gayle and her black friend Hannah, a nurse who is also Olympion’s girlfriend. Gayle attempts to seduce the virile Olympion, incensing Yuri, who charges the boxer (“You motherfucking bastard!”). But Olympion easily repels him, then rebuffs Gayle as “trash”. Eventually the scene degenerates into a race riot in which Olympion and Gayle are killed and Yuri is badly injured.

Hannah (Chrystal E. Williams), Olympion (Ta’u Pupu’a) and Gayle (Stephanie Corley)

Yuri is taken to a hospital, where Hannah tends to him and Nadia, who is dying from an unspecified illness. The chorus, augmented in this production by dozens of supernumeraries drawn from the Birmingham community, makes a second appearance as a mass of young, dancing, drug users beguiled by Astron, an extraterrestrial character (or perhaps a psychedelic apparition) voiced in unison by a male and a female singer. The communal trip dissipates, whereupon Hannah cuts a now-humbled Yuri out of his full body cast (in Vick’s staging, Yuri’s bloody clothing is scissored away, leaving him naked, both figuratively and literally). As Yuri struggles to walk towards his father (“Let me go, let me stand!”), the two men are reconciled (“Chastened, together, we try once more”).

Vick’s assembly of choristers and actors seems to include every available exemplar of modern street life and transnational conflict. Rioters, skinheads, cops, S&M practitioners and greedy industrialists are all in the mix, as are pushers, pimps, Islamist executioners and their orange-suited victims, and for the Astron sequence, 60s-style flower children. Brief excerpts of news reports and footage from the actual Birmingham riots are inserted during act breaks. It all lends a degree of novelty, immediacy and intensity to the drama. Yet the one-dimensionality of these personas echoes the shallowness of the main characters: 75 minutes is just not enough time for us to learn much about the principals (only half of which survive to the end), or their personalities and motivation. Nor is it enough time to dramatically prepare Nadia’s death and the bizarre Astron/acid digression. There’s also little that can be done about the daft lyrics, including appropriation of such period slogans as black is beautiful and burn, baby, burn. The real star here is the mise en scène itself, whose impact must have been especially memorable for the live audience, which apparently included a considerable number of first-time opera attendees.

Whatever dramatic limitations may persist through a staging of The Ice Break, there can be few regrets about its music, which typically of late Tippett is unpredictable, rhythmically potent, and confident in its exploitation of contrast and instrumental color. The orchestra includes organ, electric guitar, electric bass, drum set, and a team of eight percussionists. And the sound world parallels that of Tippett’s Third and Fourth Symphonies (also from the 1970s), with the sheer delight and prowess in the elicitation of timbral mixtures pointing ahead to his final masterpiece, The Rose Lake from 1993.

The opera opens with two striking chords which return at various points as a ritornello. Tippett regarded them as “the frightening but exhilarating sound of the ice breaking on the great northern rivers in the spring”, but they also symbolize the binary divisions that drive the opera’s dramatic conflict: divisions of race, of class, and of generations as evinced in the chords’ final recurrence, when the convalescent Yuri labors to stride toward his father (1:17:17 in the video). Indeed, the entire closing sequence seems modelled on the dialectic conclusion to the composer’s Third Symphony (1970–72), which alternates between despair and optimism, with the latter—barely—getting the last word.

Another highlight, and the opera’s one compelling soul-searching aria, is Hannah’s soliloquy (“Blue night of my soul”), tenderly accompanied by flute and harp (37:28). Meanwhile, Tippett’s flair for juxtaposition and polystylism is showcased in the demonstration scenes, which include a characteristic Protestant hymn sung to “the noblest of the klan”, and a violent outburst between opposing camps represented by Coplandesque hoedown strings on one side and ambiguously Afrobeat reeds and drums on the other (42:38). Stylistically, the operas of Turnage and Adès can be viewed as a continuation of Tippett’s lineage newly emerged from the darkness of chronic despondency. More specifically, the riot scenes and racy language in The Ice Break seem an important precedent for Turnage’s Greek (1986–88).

The acoustics in this unconventional performance space must have been horribly echoey, but the production team has managed to isolate the vocal and instrumental sources so well that the sound quality in the video exceeds that of the work’s only commercial recording (1991 with the London Sinfonietta and Chorus conducted by David Atherton). And the diction is surely more comprehensible in the video than it was for the live audience, who in this compact venue barely outnumber the cast.

Published right after the re-streaming of their 2012 premiere production of Stockhausen’s Mittwoch aus Licht, this revisitation of The Ice Break solidifies Birmingham Opera Company’s place among the world’s most innovative and accomplished proponents of music theater. Whether Tippett’s dramaturgy and uneven lyrics can be rehabilitated remains open to debate, but no one is better suited to the valiant effort than Vick and company.

Chorus (bottom left), audience (top left), Lev (at table), actors (on Gucci platform) and orchestra (top right)

Michael Tippett: The Ice Break (1975–6). Produced 2015 by Birmingham Opera Company. With Andrew Gourlay (conductor), Graham Vick (director), Stuart Nunn (designer), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, Birmingham Opera Company Chorus and Actors. Lev: Andrew Slater, Nadia: Nadine Benjamin, Yuri: Ross Ramgobin, Gayle: Stephanie Corley, Hannah: Chrystal E. Williams, Olympion: Ta’u Pupu’a. Video produced 2020 by AdVision TV. OperaVision link

 

Chamber Music, Concert review, Contemporary Classical

Kopatchinskaya and Hong perform Kurtág in Seattle

Few composers have embraced the Webernian aesthetic of brevity more closely than the Hungarian György Kurtág (b.1926). Starting with his earliest canonical work, the Op. 1 String Quartet (1959), he steadily built an international career entirely from bagatelles, usually written for small ensembles and gathered into collections linked by instrumentation and concept, and always unsurpassed in concentrated intensity. Kurtág’s commitment to epigrammatic potency reached an apogee with Kafka Fragments (1985–87), 40 brief German texts from the novelist’s diaries and posthumous writings adapted into an hour of music of such resolute focus that the composer limited its instrumentation to one soprano and one violinist.

Despite the challenges that it poses in sustaining such constricted severity—not to mention the demands it places on the musicians’ technique and stamina—Kafka Fragments is among Kurtág’s most frequently recorded compositions. So it was of great interest when, in the midst of a US tour that brought her to the Pacific Northwest to play Shostakovich with the Seattle Symphony, the acclaimed and iconoclastic Moldovan violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaya (PatKop as she is known among associates) devoted the evening of January 29, 2020 to this one composition, presented in the Symphony’s recently inaugurated and pocket-sized Octave 9 space with Ah Young Hong, a soprano currently based at the Peabody Institute whose advocacy of new music is closely associated with composer Michael Hersch. Not surprisingly, the duo delivered a novel and thought-provoking take on the piece, fulfilling the wish expressed in Kopatchinskaya’s pre-performance remarks of “an enriching and uncomfortable evening”—one whose resonances turned out to be unexpectedly timely.

The interpretive affinity between the two women was evident from the get-go. Like many soloists of her generation, Kopatchinskaya eschews the habitual wide vibrato of the Kreisler/Heifetz school in favor of a more nuanced approach. Hong too is capable of deploying a “cooler” technique, allowing for the gradations needed to convey the mood swings in a song like Einmal brach ich mir das Bein (Once I broke my leg) or for backgrounding the voice in a song like Der wahre Weg (The True Path) where the violin is usually in the lead.

Particularly impressive were the vocal leaps in Wiederum, wiederum (Again, Again) that accompany the line “mountains, desert, wide country to wander through”. Most sopranos try to smooth over these jumps, but Hong attacked them in a dazzling fashion, reminiscent of the wordless exhortation that begins ¿De dónde vienes, amor, mi niño? from Crumb’s Ancient Voices of Children (1970) one of the Fragments’ more palpable stylistic precedents.

Together, the performers delivered sufficient volume to overpower the persistent white noise emitted by the LED cooling fans in Octave 9’s low ceilings, the space’s most distracting acoustic issue. In this regard they were aided by its vaunted Constellation sound projection system, whose computer-backed array of ceiling microphones and loudspeakers is capable of simulating a variety of acoustic environments while accommodating ambulatory musicians (this being essential for a work like the Fragments, where the performer’s stage positions are often specified).

Commenting on the choice of presets, Kopatchinskaya said “I thought about the sound of the burning Notre Dame cathedral (it seems it is not yet programmed in the system), but we now have perhaps something similar to a synagogue in Prague from the last century, at least in our imagination”.

The most striking aspect of the evening’s performance, though, was its emphasis on contrast. With the Fragments’ instrumentation confined to a pair of treble instruments whose range and expressive characteristics largely overlap, the resulting sound world can easily seem unrooted. Accordingly, most of the work’s interpreters have sought to achieve maximum unity of timbre, rhythm and articulation. But the Hong/PatKop traversal frequently exploited differences between the two parts, as evinced in the very first song, Die Guten gehn im glichen Schritt (The good march in the same step), where on the word gleichen (same) the voice begins to straggle behind the violin’s steady pace:

score excerpt

Singers usually take this passage in strict tempo, producing exact syncopation at the divergence. But Hong allowed herself the slightest hint of rubato, suggesting a more neurotic relationship with Kopatchinskaya’s indifferente beat.

And though it was not explicitly coordinated, the musicians’ costuming likewise presented a thematic contrast. Hong wore a long, black, V-neck dress with a long-sleeved black coat and a long silvery necklace that emphasized the resulting oval framing. Combined with her expressive face and “Bohemian” hair, the visage suggested a voice emanating from darkness, in touch with invisible forces but not in particular control of them. At times, the prophesizing of Shakespearean witches came to mind. At others, as during the reprise of Verstecke (Hiding-Places) when Hong clutched her cheeks in a pantomime yell, it was the anxiety of Munch’s Scream that seemed to be channeled.

At this latter juncture, Kopatchinskaya crept behind Hong while playing sul ponticello tremolos like a buzzing mosquito. Her role, suggested by her trademark suit resembling an undersized tuxedo with tails and shoulder cutouts, was more akin to a tramp. A hatless and shoeless Chaplin (for PatKop always plays barefoot) who carries a violin bow instead of a cane. Perhaps a bit of a stretch, but for this American observer at least, even Kopatchinskaya’s expressions and occasional one-footed gestures of musical energy conjured up something of Chaplin’s mischievous physiognomy and comic kicks. Heightened by dim, magenta-hued “darkroom” lighting, with translations projected behind the performers, the presentation affirmed Kopatchinskaya’s vision of the Fragments as “full of musical literary moments that you could ponder for the rest of your life”.

Ah Young HongThe Kafka Fragments were an inflection point in Kurtág’s career, wherein the potentialities of chamber bagatelles and their sequencing into longer and longer assembled forms, are stretched to the verge of collapse. Kurtág’s organization of the 40 songs into four parts, divisions that the performers marked by sitting silently for a minute of rest, helps to mitigate two issues that have always bedeviled the song cycle form: the constant starts and stops, and the challenge of consuming a lengthy totality made up of numerous short units that don’t naturally combine into intermediate structures. One can still sense the composer’s struggle with the oppositional demands of brevity and heft though, and soon after completing the Fragments Kurtág finally began to write longer continuous pieces, often greatly expanding his ensembles in the process. The Double Concerto (1989–90) and the orchestral Stele (1993–94) were among the first manifestations of the newer, more “monumental” Kurtág which has perhaps reached its consummation with his aptly-titled full-length opera Fin de Partie (2018), after Beckett’s Endgame.

In a way it’s fitting that a transitional piece like Kafka Fragments would come to Octave 9 now, amplified by what’s arguably the biggest star power yet to appear at that venue. Fashioned from a generic storefront space at the corner of Seattle Symphony’s Benaroya Hall complex, its uses are divided between educational/community outreach events and contemporary music recitals featuring the Symphony’s musicians and guest artists. One of its goals has been to foster new works “without the risk of presenting them in front of 2500 people” (as Ludovic Morlot put it to me shortly before his departure as Music Director). Today, though, one year after its March 2019 unveiling, a mass exodus of executive-level talent from the Symphony has left Octave 9 shorn of all four of its principal architects: CEO Simon Woods, two key VPs (Elena Dubinets and Laura Reynolds, whose replacements have not yet arrived) and Morlot himself. Like Kurtág at the time of his Fragments, Octave 9 appears to be facing a crossroads.

Despite hosting a succession of noteworthy events, including a remarkable inaugural 24-hour contemporary music marathon, the space has yet to make a noticeable impact on the chronic fragmentation of Seattle’s new music community, whose denizens seem to be deterred by its ticket prices and downtown location (those that I saw in attendance at the PatKop/Hong event were mostly Symphony personnel). Instead the clientele for the venue’s new music events comes mainly from Symphony patrons, many of them downtown-dwelling professionals for whom the featured performers are celebrities. Speaking afterwards with some of these concertgoers, none of which had previously heard of Kurtág, I encountered several variations on “this music is a lot more interesting when you’re close to the musicians and can see their enthusiasm”, a sentiment that shows that the Octave 9 experiment is at least working for this cohort. Success at audience cultivation can portend broader successes down the road, and the potential on display at Octave 9 pleads for a replenished leadership team that will support it with the same vigor and creativity as its founding cadre.


Photos by James Holt/Seattle Symphony. Score excerpts via Stretta Music.