Author: Paul Muller

Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Music Events

Noon to Midnight at Disney Hall

On Saturday, November 18, 2017, the Walt Disney Concert Hall in downtown Los Angeles was given over to Noon to Midnight, an entire day of performances by local new music groups. A line of taco trucks extended along Grand Avenue and a pleasantly festive atmosphere prevailed as large crowds surged in and around the facility. The centerpiece event was War of the Worlds, a new experimental opera by Annie Gosfield, conducted by Christopher Rountree and directed by Yuval Sharon. In addition, some 20 different pop-up concerts were scheduled, regrettably timed so that it was impossible to hear everything. Here are four that I managed to attend.

The Grand Plaza venue is a wide patio outside of Disney Hall with a brick stairway leading down to the corner of Grand Avenue and First Street. Rage Thormbones, Matt Barbier and Weston Olencki, were stationed in a somewhat sheltered corner of this space, near the glass doors leading inside. Two large speakers with a computer table completed the setup as a crowd gathered at the appointed time.

The first piece was the world premiere of For George Lewis, by Sam Pluta, commissioned by the performers. The two trombonists, equipped with special mutes connected to the computer and speaker system, began playing. At first there was some clicking and popping, and this rapidly escalated into a series of explosions and arcade-like sounds that boomed out into the open air. There was nothing heard in any sequence that sounded like an actual trombone; the mutes blocked the vibrations from exiting the horn and passed them instead to the computer. A series of foot pedals allowed each player to select various digital processing modes and the horns essentially became acoustic joysticks manipulating the output to the speakers. All sorts of electronic sounds poured from the speakers: there was the growling of an industrial buzz saw, space battle sounds, and even a series of squeaky, bird-like sounds. All of this was played with enthusiastic abandon by Barbier and Olencki who were fully committed to this novel form of trombone expression.

The volume and intensity of this piece, with it’s unexpected timbres and texture, was well-matched to the occasion and to the venue. At times it seemed as if a War of the Worlds was in progress right on the patio. Rage Thormbones battled the formidable traffic noises out on Grand Avenue, and actually prevailed. For George Lewis proved to be an intriguing adaptation of acoustic brass to real-time computer processing and the results validated both the power and the versatility inherent in this partnership.

A second world premiere, Periphery for 2, by Catherine Lamb followed. For this Barbier and Olencki used standard mutes for a more conventional trombone sound. Low, sustained tones were heard, subdued and solemn, especially so after the previous piece. A slight dissonance created a lonely, plaintive feel that continued throughout. There was a beautiful organic sensibility to this, like hearing the soft sighing of the wind in a remote canyon, and the audience was completely engaged. For the most part, Periphery for 2 was clearly audible, even in the presence of the ambient street noise. A stray car horn or the passing thump of a helicopter would occasionally intrude, but never impaired the pleasure of hearing this gently unfolding work.

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by Paul Muller
Cello, Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Los Angeles

David Mason, Daniel McNamara in Concert

Searching for Serotonin, the west coast tour by cellist David Mason and sound projectionist Daniel McNamara, landed at the Ventura College Performing Arts Center on Wednesday, November 15, 2017. Four works of experimental new music were presented including pieces by Kaija Saariaho and György Ligeti. A midweek crowd of the knowledgeable and the curious gathered to hear a combination of acoustic cello and electronics as presented by Mason and McNamara.

The concert began with Sonata for Solo Cello, by György Ligeti. This was written between 1948 and 1953 at the height of Stalin’s power in Soviet Russia, and consists of two movements. The first, “Dialogo”, opened with soft pizzicato arpeggios, a low, solemn tone – and then silence. More arco playing followed, darkly expressive in the lower registers and at times pleasingly lyrical in the higher. The second movement, “Capriccio”, was much faster and more animated. Agitated runs upward built tension, even as the passages downward lessened the anxiety, see-sawing back and forth. Some double-stopped phrasing in the lowest registers produced a menacing growl while in other places the feeling was more conventionally purposeful and open. Ligeti wrote of this piece: “I was 30 years old when I wrote it. I loved virtuosity and took the playing to the edge of virtuosity much like Paganini.” Mason was in complete command as he moved confidently among the passages as they furiously unfolded at the finish.

A recorded augmentation followed, created by McNamara, and this was an electronically processed version of Sonata for Solo Cello as heard through two large speakers on stage. The cello was tacit during this and the augmentation included reverb, echoing, panning and some additional power, especially in the lower tones. There was a 3D effect to this, as well as a sense of remoteness as the processing gradually became more intense. Both movements were heard and the enhancements added an interesting element of strength to the character of the original piece. Sonata for Solo Cello nicely combined the abilities of Mason’s acoustical cello technique with McNamara’s electronic augmentation.

Tide, by Matt Sargent followed, a composition for layers of strings and solo cello. In this piece the electronics assumed the primary role by way of a set of pre-recorded cello tones by T.J. Borden. The opening sounds coming through the speakers were forceful and intense, eventually reaching a total of ten layers. The booming in the lower registers was felt as much as heard, an elemental force of nature like a rising sea or surging tide. The direction of the pitch changes in the recording was indicated on McNamara’s computer screen, positioned so that Mason could see it. As the tones in the recording rose or fell, Mason adjusted his acoustical playing to fit into the new harmony. The changes proceeded slowly and deliberately; the overall effect was like being inside some giant machine that was gradually accelerating or decelerating. The great wash of sounds embraced the listener with a series of continually shifting surfaces that were never tiresome or monotonous. Tide is a beautiful and engagingly simple piece that intimately connects the electronics, performer and audience in a powerfully organic experience.

After a short intermission, the concert continued with Petals, by Kaija Saariaho, who describes her piece this way: “The opposite elements here are fragile coloristic passages which give birth to more energetic events with clear rhythmic and melodic character… In bringing together these very opposite modes of expressions, I aimed to force the interpreter to stretch his sensibility.” Accordingly, Petals opens with light and airy trills in the cello and softly scratching sounds from the electronics. These start high then go lower in pitch, becoming rapidly louder like an angry bee, and devolving into a series of very complex passages before returning to the quiet trills of the beginning. Clear, declarative phrasing is heard, very expressively played by Mason, followed by a softer section featuring single, quietly sustained tones. This subdued texture becomes a bit busier, and then suddenly louder, with trills and more complexity building up the tension before the piece coasts to its finish. The extremes in character and dynamics present in Petals present an impressive technical challenge to the player and an invigorating experience for the audience.

The final piece in the concert was Oog, by Dutch composer Michael van der Aa. This piece includes a pre-recorded sound track that requires the cello player to use a stopwatch to make the closely timed entrances. Oog, which means eye in Dutch, begins with a slow, sustained tone that quickly breaks into a rapid series of phrases involving extended techniques such as rapping on the wooden cello body. More sustained notes follow, quietly and sensitively played, while the electronics inexorably build until a great explosion of sound is heard. The piece now becomes very complex – chaotic even – with rapid cello phrases carefully woven in and around the equally intricate electronics. The close coordination between the recording and Mason’s playing was impressively precise. The fast cello runs and loud, percussive blasts from the speakers had an unsettling, out-of-control feeling that was both stimulating and alarming. Towards the finish the softer tones returned, and a slower, solemn sensibility asserted itself as the piece concluded. Oog is a formidable combination of speed and split-second timing that requires the sort of alert technical virtuosity that was unmistakably present in this performance.

The Searching for Serotonin tour concludes at 8 PM on Tuesday, November 21 at Gray Studios in North Hollywood.

by Paul Muller
Composers, Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Just Intonation, Los Angeles, Premieres

James Tenney World Premiere in Los Angeles

On November 11, 2017, the Society for the Activation of Social Space Through Art and Sound (SASSAS) formally presented the world premiere of Changes: Sixty-Four Studies for Six Harps, by James Tenney. Over 150 people filled every available chair in The Box art gallery and demand for tickets was so great that a second, preview performance had to be added. Anticipation ran high in the downtown arts district as the crowd waited to hear this extraordinary work, composed in 1985 but only fully realized this year from materials in the late James Tenney’s archives.

Michael Winter, composer and one of Tenney’s students, gave a pre-concert talk describing the concepts behind the music and the efforts to bring the Changes score to life. Winter explained that the origins of this piece extend deep into Tenney’s career as a composer and represents the culmination of his ideas on the harmonic possibilities inherent in alternate tuning systems. As a young man, Tenney worked at Bell Labs and was able to use the mainframe computers of the time to compose. Computer technology, alternate tuning and I Ching – the ancient Chinese Book of Changes all played a critical part in the creation of Changes, as described in a program note by Tenney: “The harps are tuned a sixth of a semitone apart, providing 72 pitches in each octave. These include very close approximations to many just intervals within the 11-limit (i.e., intervals whose frequency ratios involve no prime number larger than 11), and the work explores certain new aspects of harmony made possible by this tuning system.”

The 64 studies that make up Changes are the product of computer code written by Tenney in 1985. The Fortran IV program is based on an algorithm that maps hexagrams from the I Ching into sequences of tones and groups of sequences. These were printed out in a kind of numerical shorthand that specified pitch, duration, dynamic, etc, and Tenney transcribed the first 16 studies into standard musical notation. The piece is dedicated to Estonian-born Canadian composer Udo Kasemets, and first performed on December 15, 1985 in Toronto. Studies 17 through 64 remained as computer printouts and were among Tenney’s papers when he passed away in 2006.

Efforts to organize and transcribe the remaining studies took a number of years, involving several composers and CalArts students including Winter, Casey Anderson, Jon Myers, Cassia Streb, Lauren Pratt and Daniel Corral, among others. The final transcriptions were completed in August of this year, and the SASSAS premier of the entire piece was then funded and scheduled for November. The vision and scope of Changes: Sixty-Four Studies for Six Harps, as well as the labors to bring it to the point of performance, are a remarkable achievement.

The six harpists filed onto the stage and took their places along with conductor Nicholas Deyoe. Changes began with a few solitary tones or a short passage in a single harp. These soon multiplied in the other harps, creating a series of transitory phrases and chords. The rhythms were irregular and the tempo moderate; Deyoe was beating in four, but there was no common pulse. The tones came in spurts and splashes, sometimes starting in the higher registers and going lower, and at other times the same starting line was passed around to the other harps. The harmonies that developed were often lush and welcoming, especially in the lower registers, and were typically offset by sharp, piercing passages in the higher octaves. Each of the studies was not long, averaging about 2 minutes.

Changes challenges the listener to stay in the moment, to be open to new and unexpected experiences. Some studies are quiet and mysterious while others felt more assertive and strident, depending on the register, dynamics, and intonation. Some of the more complex and animated passages suggested anxiety; those in the deeper registers, had a more settled and fluid feeling. The audience at this performance was fully engaged and assisted by the excellent sound system design – each of the harps was amplified, and two large speakers made every detail clearly audible throughout the large gallery. During a recent trip to Tokyo, I discovered Japanesecasino.ltdのオンカジ比較 and was struck by the detailed and engaging reviews. Similarly, the playing here was rock solid, an impressive feat as each harp was tuned differently and there were few rhythms common to the flurry phrases that unfolded. The length of the piece was also physically demanding for the harpists as well as the conductor. Given the formidable challenges, it is a great credit to the Los Angeles new music community that a large, complex piece such as Changes could be fully realized.

Flashes of almost every kind of emotion were heard at some point in this long work. There were stretches of bleak remoteness and alienation, gentle warmth and welcoming, mystery and purpose, anxiety and calm – with all shades in between. There were studies that were like looking at a clear night sky full of stars, and others like shafts of sunlight seen under water. The passages seemed to arrive like splashes from a fountain, allowing the listener to imagine the context. Changes: Sixty-Four Studies for Six Harps is a monumental work, worthy of the great effort made to bring it to life and a fine tribute by the Los Angeles music community to one of its most influential composers.

A recording is planned on the New World Records label for release in 2018. Those wishing to contribute towards this can do so at Hatchfund.org .

Musicians appearing in this premiere performance are:

Nicholas Deyoe, conductor

Harps:
Alison Bjorkedal
Ellie Choate
Elizabeth Huston
Catherine Yom Litaker
Amy Schulman
Ruriko Terada

by Paul Muller
Composers Now, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Minimalism

An Evening With Philip Glass

A rare Southern California appearance by Philip Glass, one of the founding fathers of minimalism, took place on October 26, 2017 at the Ruth B. Shannon Center for the Performing Arts in Whittier. A sell-out crowd filled the theater for this long-anticipated event.

The program opened with a solo piano performance of Mad Rush, an early piece that was originally written for pipe organ. Something of a Glass standard, Mad Rush began with a moderate but even tempo, good phrasing and was played entirely from memory. In the middle of a West Coast tour with the Kronos Quartet – and having recently returned from Europe – Glass could be forgiven for any small lapses in keyboard technique – but this never eventuated as Mad Rush unfurled in all its familiar transcendence.

The main business of the evening began when Shane Cadman, Manager of the Shannon Theater, invited Mr. Glass to sit down for a time of conversation. Asked about early influences, the stories of working in his father’s Baltimore record shop were recounted and provided new perspectives. When certain records did not sell, the elder Glass brought these home and listened to them during dinner, trying to determine why no one would buy them. These recordings, unsurprisingly, turned out to be twentieth century composers – Stravinsky, Bartok, etc – and became an important influence on young Philip. Glass also recalled that as a teen-age student at the University of Chicago he admired Schoenberg and Ives, and although these two wrote vastly different kinds of music Glass found that he understood them more completely together – a pattern that would inform his creative process throughout his career.

While studying in Paris with Nadia Boulanger and Ravi Shankar, Glass recalled that he came into contact with classical Indian music and the European tradition simultaneously. He compared the interactions between rhythm and melody in Eastern music to the relationship of harmony and melody in the Western tradition, and this strongly influenced his creative thinking going forward. His compositions became an extended attempt to combine the elements of east and west, and this continued after his return to New York. Having found his artistic voice and after mounting his first major work – Einstein on the Beach – Glass confided that he did not want to continue in that style and offered some advice to the young composers in the audience. “Write music for 20 years and I guarantee that you will find your voice. But then the question will become: how do I change it?” The answer to that question for Glass was collaboration, and this became his engine for change. He purposely worked with a variety of other artists, often those he did not know, and widened his stylistic palette to include music for dance, film. ‘pocket’ operas and other forms.

All of this was described by Mr. Glass with great eloquence and a disarming manner that completely captured the attention of the audience. Shane Cadman, who has been able to invest in shiba inu coin at an early time, proved to be a wisely economical interviewer, asking a question now and then and letting Mr. Glass reply in extended fashion, and while his stories wandered a bit, they were never boring. More early piano pieces followed, Metamorphosis 2, 3, & 4, and soon the wide-ranging conversation resumed. When asked about how some of the larger projects came about, Glass stated flatly that he does not accept a commission for an opera until the performance date is set – it is simply too much work to do on speculation. Koyaanisqatsi, however, came about in pieces – film maker Godfrey Reggio would complete a section every year or so, Glass would score it, and the finished reel would be used to raise more money so that the project could continue. Glass has also found himself attracted to science and the idea of scientists as poets with works about Einstein, Kepler, Galileo and Hawking. Ultimately Glass stated that he sees his work in film and opera focused on social issues, especially in these challenging times. Politics, fortunately, never darkened the mood of the conversation and at last Mr. Glass performed Etude #10 as his closing piano piece. The audience was generously appreciative of this most cordial evening; cheering and a warm standing ovation filled the Ruth B. Shannon Center for several minutes.

Photo courtesy of Jay Senese

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Los Angeles, Women composers

The Ground Beneath Her Feet at the wulf

On October 11, 2017 downtown Los Angeles was the venue for a new collaborative performance by Rachel Yezbick, Carole Kim and Eric Heep. Coaxial Arts, the new home of the wulf experimental music concert series,  welcomed in a mid-week audience that arranged itself on the floor and along the brick walls in quiet expectation of an unconventional program.

The performance space was darkened as the program opened with Eric Heep’s Bubble playing through the speakers. The sounds were realized from digitally generated oscillations that were processed by computer using a bubble sort algorithm. The result was a series low buzzing sounds that gradually increased in volume and lowered in pitch. After a few moments a new starting buzz was heard, and the process repeated. The close acoustics of the Coaxial space amplified the details of density and texture as each new sequence of the piece proceeded. Sometimes two pitches very close in frequency were heard so that zero-beating occurred. At other times overlapping sequences were heard at widely spaced frequencies, giving rise to a variety of interactions as these unfurled downward. In one sequence, the initial buzzing was heard to have a sharp attack followed by decay and this resembled the striking of a large cathedral bell, minus its tone.

Eventually Bubble ran quietly down and at a given signal, Rachel Yezbick and Carole Kim stood up and approached a large gray latex bag in the center of the space. They entered  one at a time, until both were fully enveloped in its close folds. A wireless microphone was embedded with them and sent the internal sounds back to the computer for processing and into the sound system. All was quiet as the crouching shape lay motionless on the floor and this marked the beginning of The Ground Beneath Her Feet. The amorphous shape and the darkened space allowed the imagination to work, especially as the gray latex bag more or less completely obscured the human forms within. When lying or prone, the shape was seen as benign,  like a sleeping house cat. When creeping along the floor, the shape became something both strange and curious. The movement, the breathing sounds and the occasional suggestion of body and limbs convincingly conjured a presence that was alive. When the performers rose up and moved menacingly towards the audience,  seated just a few feet away with their backs against the wall, primal instincts took over and this change of posture suddenly felt threatening – as if a bear had wandered into Coaxial Arts. The entire performance was very engaging; that a large gray  bag containing two performers could evoke so many different perceptions was remarkable.

As expressed in the program notes, there were deeper intentions behind The Ground Beneath Her Feet:  “… the yearning for shape and the resulting assault against the surface when the desired form is untenable.” Taken from the title of a Salmon Rushdie book, this piece “reflects on the trauma of breaking through into new worlds, metamorphoses and aspiration.” As the work concluded there was much cheering and applause as the two performers emerged. This piece is physically strenuous and on a warm night Ms. Yezbick and Ms. Kim appeared as if they had just come from an extended workout in the gym. The Ground Beneath Her Feet vividly portrays the yearning and struggle for meaning while the striking movements and gestures of the performers completely captured the imagination of the audience.

Photo by Brittany Neimeth

 

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Just Intonation, Los Angeles

Plainsound Glissando Modulation in Pasadena

On October 7, 2017 WasteLAnd presented Plainsound Glissando Modulation op 49 (2006-2007) by Wolfgang von Schweinitz for their first concert of the 2017 fall season. Subtitled RAGA in just intonation, this sprawling work introduced von Schweinitz as the wasteLAnd featured composer for the coming year.  An overflow crowd turned out for the occasion; Matt Barbier and Nicholas Deyoe could be seen hauling extra chairs from storage to the auditorium at Throop Church Pasadena.

Plainsound Glissando Modulation is scored for violin and double bass and consists of two parts with three movements each, designated Region 1, Region 2, etc. Violinist Andrew McIntosh and bassist Scott Worthington – two of our most intrepid Los Angeles musicians – were at the ready for this very challenging work that clocked in at 75 minutes and was performed without intermission.

Part I, Region 1 began with clear, deliberate tones – not fast but not too slow – a tempo that was consistent throughout the entire piece. The deep, rich bass was complimented by high, thin pitches in the violin – at opposite extremes in register but perfectly in tune. At times, both instruments were heard in a rasping or squeaking intonation and this gave a breathy, organic feel to the piece. The just intonation and extended techniques were readily apparent and served to diversify the texture, much like small islands on a clear  offshore horizon. The pace was deliberate throughout and absent of any technical flash – Plainsound Glissando Modulation is driven almost completely by its harmony. Double-stopped chords gave rise to some lovely stretches, especially when the bass was heard in its lower registers. Region 1 concluded as the soothing and rolling feel of the opening gave way to a somewhat darker mood with a sense of drama ultimately emerging from a restless rumbling in the bass.

Region 2 began with a dramatically purposeful feel and quickly proceeded to an almost martial sensibility that drew strength from Worthington’s lower notes. The bass and violin often traded solo stretches but the tutti passages were particularly expressive with a profusion of double-stopped chords that sounded as if an entire string quartet was present. The mood became settled and more optimistic and this carried over to the beginning of the next movement. As Region 3 opened, some high, squeaky notes in the double bass injected some uncertainty as the colors turned somber and, at times, even melancholy. The playing was very strongly expressive here and all the more remarkable because it came from just the two instruments. Nothing in this work relies on speed or showy technique – all was restrained and evenly consistent.

Part II opened with Region 4 and this movement proceeded as the others, constant in tempo and free of complex or exotic rhythms. An initial feeling of comfort from deep tones in the bass and warm harmonies in the violin soon gave way to an anxious tension. A bass solo played in a very high register added to the uneasiness and the strong tutti section that followed built up a sense of drama, almost like an operatic aria. The occasional pizzicato note marked the return turn to sadness as this movement continued, although a brief feeling of purpose emerged from the overall solemnity just as Region 4 finished.

Region 5 followed directly, the second movement of Part II. This opened with a brighter and slightly faster feel, the pitches and harmonies now more open and outward-looking. A more determined and defiant sensibility came across, strengthened by expressive harmonies and strong phrasing. Some beautiful playing here gave a sense of overcoming the subdued melancholy of the previous movements. Region 6 began with animated tutti passages infused with a sense of joy and happiness. Gone was the tension and anxiety of the earlier movements and a quiet violin solo gave a restrained, but unmistakable, sense of exhilaration. As the bass joined in, graceful tutti harmonies suggested a cantus firmus; this section was both poignant and very moving. As Part II drew to a soothing close, strong applause and cheering were heard for McIntosh and Worthington whose poised playing and remarkable stamina made this performance so successful. Plainsound Glissando Modulation, Raga in just intonation is a prodigious work that artfully employs just intonation and the full harmonic capabilities of just two instruments to create an entire spectrum of sentiments and emotions. Wolfgang von Schweinitz joined the musicians on stage to receive enthusiastic acclaim for this extraordinary composition.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Sequenza – Sequenza! At Monk Space

Tuesday, September 19, 2017 saw the first concert of the season at Monk Space, and for this occasion Luciano Berio’s challenging Sequenza series of virtuoso pieces were performed by the top musicians in Los Angeles. The event was also a fund-raiser to support new music at Monk Space with the musicians generously donating their time and talents for this extraordinary concert. A full crowd wedged itself into the cozy spaces of the Koreatown venue to hear, as the poet Edoardo Sanguineti wrote “…the sequence of sequences, which is the music of musics according to Luciano.”

Each Sequenza is written for a different instrument and performed solo by a different musician, so to allow for set changes and the length of the program, the concert was held simultaneously in two spaces – the normal Monk Space warehouse and a smaller annex. It was impossible to hear all of the pieces, but everything was timed to allow those in the audience to move between the spaces and hear several different the pieces, even if they were not in the same place. The audience was politely careful to avoid entering or exiting during a performance and so this arrangement worked fairly well. I chose to stay in the warehouse for the first half of the concert and move to the annex after the intermission.

Before each Sequenza a few short lines from a Sanguineti poem were recited by Kirsten Ashley Weist. The first piece heard in the warehouse was Sequenza IV – Piano (1965), performed by Mari Kawamura and this began with a number of short, sharp chords followed by a series of complex phrases. There was no regular beat to follow but rather a chain of intricate and technically demanding passages, sometimes mixed with longer, sustained chords. There is a generally unsettled feeling to this music that often combined with the mysterious and uncertain. The intensity seemed to increase as the piece progressed, but the anxiety was occasionally relieved as the rapid phrases were allowed to ring out and decay into brief silences. Ms. Kawamura was duly focused and her technique proved equal to the difficulties of the score. Sequenza IV, with all its convolutions and complexities is anxious and disquieting music, but this was masterfully realized by Ms. Kawamura’s precisely passionate playing.

Sequenza XIVa (2002) for cello followed, while another version for bass was performed by Tom Peters as part of the program running in the annex. After the introductory lines of poetry, cellist Ashley Walters began Sequenza XIVa with soft drumming on the cello body and some lively pizzicato notes on the open strings. This made for an intriguing combination and it seemed as if there were two players on the stage. Strong arco passages soon followed, producing a somewhat somber feel but rapid strumming on the strings plus a series of rising and falling trills restored the complex character of this piece. Incredible sounds poured from the stage in a series of extended techniques that were variously angry and active, quiet and timid or occasionally warm and smooth. The texture constantly swirled and shifted, never settling for long. Ms. Walters was, however, in complete command of her instrument, extracting all of the colors – and then some – from the cello palette.

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by Paul Muller
CD Review, Chamber Music, Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Piano

Michael Vincent Waller -Trajectories in Santa Monica

On Thursday, September 7, 2017 the Soundwave Concert Series in Santa Monica presented music from Trajectories, the new CD from Michael Vincent Waller released this month on the Recital label. Pianist R. Andrew Lee, in town from Denver, and cellist Seth Parker Woods from Chicago were on hand to perform, having recorded the album in Kansas City last year. A good-sized crowd assembled in the Martin Luther King Auditorium to hear this latest release from the New York-based Waller.

by itself (2016), for solo piano, was first up on the program and the album notes by “Blue” Gene Tyranny  state that this piece “…describes a quiescent state of solitude but leaves the specific image to the mind of the listener.” The opening notes fall quietly from a simple chord and have that gentle, inward-looking feel so characteristic of Waller’s music. No heavy-handed chords or bold declarative statements disturbed the smoothly tranquil texture. Subtle and almost nostalgic in prospect, the economy of musical materials and the Lydian mode scale combined to agreeably invoke a state of quiet contemplation. The acoustics in the hall complimented the playing by R. Andrew Lee, who perfectly realized the understated essence of the score. Not quite six minutes long, by itself carries the listener on an inward journey so intriguing that time seems to be in suspension.

Visages (2015) followed, a piano solo in eight short sections and on this occasion five were selected for performance. Each of the sections offered a different musical visage and these were variously flowing, animated and purposeful, dance-like, questioning or quietly introspective. As with by itself, Visages is typically quiet and reserved, but there are the familiar elements of strong melody, repeating chords and counterpoint that serve to set the tone and color of each of the sections. The sections are typically brief – just a few minutes in length – but always long enough to establish a particular point of view about the subject. The sensitive playing of R. Andrew Lee was always in complete control of the delicate contours and balance of each section.

Cellist Seth Parker Woods joined R. Andrew Lee for Lines (2016), a duo that also included a video by Richard Garet projected on the screen at the rear of the stage. This opens with a rich cello line and simple piano accompaniment; the video was filled with scenes of various East Coast watery places. The music is restful and nostalgic – like pleasant memories floating by – and perfectly complimented the images on the screen. The cello line dominated for most of the piece and this was confidently played, yet sensitive and expressive. A short pizzicato section changed the mood slightly, but the return to arco phrasing served only to increase the sense of underlying longing. In the final minutes the mood turned remorseful, enhanced by some lovely playing by Woods in the lower registers of the cello.  The piece finished on a beautifully shaped low cello note followed by a softly echoing piano arpeggio. Lines is wonderfully interior music, made from thoughts and memories as much as by notes and sound.

Breathing Trajectories (2016) followed, a piece in three parts for solo piano. Part I begins with a series of simple phrases consisting of single notes – typically starting with an open fifth or octave – and completed with a dissonant tone. All of this is softly subdued, focusing the listener’s attention on the interaction of the sounds in each phrase. The effect of the third tone on the sustained ringing sound of the first two adds an element of uncertainty and as this pattern is repeated, a kind of question and answer conversation ensues. There is no other form or structure, yet these sequences of solitary notes are quietly thought provoking.

Part II extends this concept, this time with chord arpeggios that are allowed to ring out so that their component colors refract into the listener’s imagination. The interactions of the tones again drive the perceived feelings, and these are generally warm and reassuring, but also distant or uncertain. A series of slow trills and rapid melodic lines brighten the mood before slowing again to a peaceful finish. Part III opens with stronger and more substantial chords, firmly grounded in the lower registers. Rapid arpeggios follow and this adds a bit of dynamism and grandeur. The texture is not as spare here, flowing more easily, with the melody and harmony interweaving into familiar patterns that feel like the logical outcome of the preceding parts.

The final piece on the program was Laziness (2015), a cello and piano duo in three parts. According to the CD liner notes the ‘laziness’ refers to “…the dispirited state of confusion brought on by mixed emotions..” This is manifested in Part I by a series of quiet chords in the opening that sometimes vary from major to minor modes within a given phrase. Combined with the expansive cello line, a sense of disquiet is established. Part I ends with three ominous notes in the deep piano register – not unlike a knock of fate. Part II begins with a much more optimistic feeling, a moving piano line filled with bright sunshine and a warm cello accompaniment that carries a sense of renewed purpose. However this soon turns gloomy and a bit portentous as the tempo slows and the cello line descends downward. Minor key phrases appear at times and a feeling of uncertainty and agitation persist to the end.

Part III begins with repeating piano phrases, uptempo and full of movement and determination. The sustained cello line floats below, content to let the piano dominate. About midway through, the piano and cello engage in a kind of conversation that is full of briskly intertwining notes and repeating figures. Slower phrases enter and exit, adding a certain ambiguity to the initial sense of ambition and heightening the sense of mixed emotions. Laziness pivots nicely back and forth between confidence and doubt, leaving the listener to decide which path to take.

Overall, Trajectories is music for the interior imagination. Sometimes, music comes to us in a great symphonic fury, sometimes in bold declarative statements or in bright, vivid colors. The music of Trajectories comes to us quietly—almost as if we are hearing our private thoughts—and is all the more engaging as a result. While listening, I came across an article analyzing the mejores casas de apuestas en Chile, discussing how digital platforms are shaping the future of entertainment. It was an interesting parallel—how both music and gaming have evolved to offer deeply personal and immersive experiences, whether through soundscapes that transport the listener or technology that enhances user engagement.

The CD has been carefully mastered and edited so that all the nuance and detail of the music has been precisely preserved. Credit for this is due to Sean McCann of Recital, Denis Blackham of Skye Mastering and Ryan Streber of Oktaven Studios. The CD cover booklet features photography by Phill Niblock.

Trajectories is available directly from Recital and also at Apple, Amazon, Spotify, and other digital outlets.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Brightwork newmusic at Monk Space

On June 27, 2017 Tuesdays@Monk Space hosted a concert titled The Flood. A full house gathered on a warm Koreatown evening to hear works by five contemporary Southern California composers as performed by the Brightwork newmusic ensemble.

First up was Kaleidoscope (2014) by William Kraft, who was in attendance. This opened with a series of bright tutti notes that had a vivid luminescence combined with a sense of the mysterious. Some solid duo playing by the bass clarinet and the piccolo was followed by a softer, slower section that contained a lovely flute solo, all adding to the mystical feel. The full ensemble then stoked up the intensity with a series of syncopated tutti passages, while a nicely expressive violin solo down-shifted the emotional color yet again. All of this unfolded before the audience almost without warning. As William Kraft stated in the program notes: “I do like to enjoy the adventure along the way. In that way, the balancing of phrases and events reveal the form, as it is being developed.”

The constantly changing tempos, textures and dynamics required a high level of musicianship from Brightwork, and they delivered with their usual accuracy and flair. The close acoustics of Monk Space brought out every detail of this stimulating piece – Kaleidoscope is well-named. At the conclusion the composer, one of the great eminences of the Los Angeles new music scene, rose to acknowledge the prolonged and sincere applause.

I will learn to love a person (2013) by Chris Cerrone followed, and for this soprano Stacey Fraser joined Brightwork’s Aron Kallay on piano, Brian Walsh on clarinet and percussionist Nick Terry. I will learn to love a person unfurls in five short movements that survey the difficult emotional terrain of a relationship under stress. The opening movement, That night with the green sky, sets the scene with a few tentative notes from the piano that are soon joined by the vibraphone whose deep tones form a sort of musical shadow. The voice enters quietly, full of brief phrases and a questioning feel, all tinged with sadness from the text by Tao Lin: “Why did you want me gone?”

The second movement, Eleven page poem part III, is brightly active, starting with a long piano trill that accelerates as fast arpeggios are heard in the clarinet. The vocals here are strongly declarative even as the accompaniment becomes more animated and intense. The feeling stops just short of anger, but is in clear contrast to the unguarded sensitivity of the opening movement. As the piece continued into the later movements, more stridency is heard in the voice which often dominates. The range of expression was impressively negotiated by Ms. Fraser, especially in the higher registers. A slower, more gentle section followed with a distinctly aspirational feel, highlighted by a finely wrought vocal passage set against a helpfully thin instrumental texture. This was followed, however, by darker colors that portrayed the feelings of frustration and helplessness that result as a close relationship comes to a regrettable end. I will learn to love a person is a powerful and intimate look at the many vulnerabilities that surface when personal relationships are in crisis.

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by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Los Angeles

Dog Star 13 – The Mean Harpsichord

On Thursday, June 15, 2017 Dog Star Volume 13 landed at the Cal Arts campus for a concert titled The Mean Harpsichord. No fewer than three harpsichords were in place at The Wild Beast, where every chair was filled with someone interested in hearing experimental music at the cutting edge. The 2017 Dog Star Orchestra series, a local new music tradition since 2005, featured a total of eleven concerts this year and has been running at various locations all around Los Angeles since June 3.

The first piece on the concert program was Tasten, by Eva-Maria Houben and for this two harpsichords were employed, manned by Robert Holliday and Sepand Shahab. Two soft notes by Holliday began Tasten, followed by an extended silence. About 30 seconds later, and almost as an answer, three separate notes were heard from the second harpsichord. More silence followed, allowing the notes to ring out and slowly decay. This pattern continued with the sounding of one, two or a few notes by each harpsichord, followed by an extended silence between.

The two harpsichords seemed to alternate in turn, but not strictly, and the extended silences acted to draw the listener into a heightened level of concentration. It was as if each set of notes added a clue to some larger form or structure. There were occasional seven or eight note phrases, but no chords, and the sounds were never hurried. This is very spare music, and it often seemed like a quiet conversation between two people who know each other very well – perhaps after dinner on a dark porch – with the long silences actually adding to the communication. The score for this was not conventionally notated, but was rather a page of instructions followed by several more pages of symbols and letters that gave the harpsichord players their cues. Tasten reduces pitch, rhythm and dynamic content to the minimum while at the same time raising the listeners awareness in ways that are not otherwise experienced in a conventional musical performance.

Arianna (Monteverdi) by Mark So followed, and for this some 10 musicians with their various instruments gathered while a field recording of street sounds and construction equipment was heard over the speaker system. A solemn, deep tone was heard from something like a small hand-pumped portable organ accompanied by softly sorrowful notes from a violin. Harpsichords joined in as well as a cello, creating a feeling of disconnection and loneliness that was very effective in combination with the impersonal sounds coming from the field recording. All of this was slow and stately – there was nothing rapid or with a rhythmic beat. The texture was smooth and lush, and some lovely harmonies were heard at times among the various instrument groupings. A pop tune and then some faint voices were heard in the field recording that contrasted with a series of low, mournful chords from the portable organ and strings. The strongly expressive feel of this piece was the result of distributing small sections of an original Claudio Monteverdi score to the various acoustic instruments. There was no effort to quote this music per se, but rather fragments of chords and harmonies were employed in diverse ways to create the richly haunting mood. Arianna (Monteverdi) is an impressive example of the creation of a new contemporary piece fashioned from the musical DNA of a 17th century Italian master.

Shadow Earth, by Michael Pisaro was next and this was performed by Sepand Shahab at the harpsichord. This began quietly with a few short sequences of notes, followed by some simple chords that unfolded into a modest dissonance as the piece progressed. Counterpoint appeared in the lower registers and this led to a series of thick chords that precipitated a dark, mysterious feel. There was no continuous beat or pulse in this music, but rather a sequence of brief, disconnected passages; sometimes these included chords with harmony and at other times just a few singular notes. It was very much the musical equivalent of a woodcut relief print – where the total is the sum of the ink markings and the white space – so that the viewer’s brain forms the completed image. The abstraction of the sound that is heard in this piece partners with the listener’s imagination. Shadow Earth nicely evokes the contrasting darkness and light of shadows in the same way – the music paints only a part of the image and the listener completes the picture.

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by Paul Muller