Author: Paul Muller

CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Microtonalism

Dave Seidel – Involution

XI Records has recently released a new dual CD set by Dave Seidel titled Involution. The album consists of two extended works, Involution and Hexany Permutations, that together comprise well over two hours of electronic music. Strongly influenced by La Monte Young and Alvin Lucier, Involution is an extensive exploration of the sonorities that are possible outside of the conventional well-tempered Western scale. Each track features a series of sustained tones presented in layered and changing combinations so as to systematically reveal the implicit harmonies possible in the selected scale. In this album, Seidel incorporates the Wilson-Grady Meta Slendro scale, the just-intonation Centaur tuning divided into the Scriabin-derived Prometheus scale, the Hindustani Marwa scale and two six note scales. According to Dean Rosenthal’s excellent liner notes: “Involution was made with modular synthesizer and Csound, everything played together in real time and each track recorded as a single take. The pitches are driven by a sequencer in the modular system, and are also sent as MIDI notes to Csound code running on a Raspberry Pi 4.”

The first three tracks of the album comprise the title piece, Involution. The sonorities of each track are fashioned from a separate tuning and each of the these tracks has a duration of 23 minutes. The tracks of Involution are built on three layers: a low foundational layer, a middle register of mixed sine tones and a final clustering of tones above. The layers consist of generally sustained, flowing tones that vary smoothly in sonority and dynamics. The structure of each track is based on changing the mix of the pitches in the chosen scale to slowly uncover the harmonic possibilities as the piece proceeds. Each layer is unfolds at a slightly different tempi, and this induces a pleasing variety that propels the piece along.

Involution 1 is based on the Meta Slendro scale, and begins with a low metallic hum that is like the inside some great whirring machine. This soon morphs to a less mechanical sound and, as the tones thin out, a distant, faint melody of beeping can be heard underneath. This, along with the generally warm sonority in the lower registers, gives a welcoming feel. The various tone clusters are sustained, but not static – there is always something happening to engage the ear. The sonic surfaces are constantly changing and shifting in subtle ways as new combinations of agreeable pitches continuously appear.

Involution 2, based on the just intonation Prometheus and Marwa in Centaur tuning, continues with the same forms and textures. All the layers now take on a slightly higher pitch with some dissonance that brings just a touch of tension. The upper tone clusters occasionally climb higher and sharper – sometimes resulting in a pulsating ringing – and this becomes a bit grating at times and less friendly to the ear. The deeper sustained tones still have a certain majesty that does not intimidate and the low beeping underneath remains a reassuring presence.

Involution 3 is based on a 12-note scale devised by the composer and begins with the familiar low metallic hum, warm but purposeful. Middle-register pitches are now in the mix and very soft beeps can be heard in the lowest registers. The higher tones seem to have a more aggressive feel and begin to dominate, adding a sense of urgency. At times, the lower tones reassert to reestablish the opening warmth, but the higher pitches often appear suddenly. Overall there is a greater mix of low and middle register tones – less warmth and more diversity – that brings a sense of slightly increased tension. Involution 3 is never intimidating or aggressive, but seems to have evolved away from the lush grandeur of the first track. The depth of the sonorities in the Invocation tracks is impressive, especially when the lower tones predominate.

Hexany Permutations, the second work of the album, has six discrete sections of 13 minutes each and rigorously examines the harmonic possibilities of a microtonal six note scale. The form of the piece is similar to Involution, with sustained tones uncoiling in smooth layers, but the process of selecting and sounding the pitches in their various combinations is more systematic. The two-note, three-note, four-note, five-note, six-note chords and the one seven-note chord were pre-selected by a simple algorithm and are not in any sequence driven by musical intent; the idea is to let the harmonies unfold naturally to the ear. As the liner notes explain: “… the full catalogue of combinations of the scale is varied by inversion, retrograde, and other strict yet rudimentary manipulations (‘permutations’) without alteration or interference, each variation becoming the discrete section.” The intent of Hexany Permutations is similar to Tom Johnson’s The Chord Catalogue (1986), a piece in which all 8178 chords in a single octave are sounded on a piano. Seidel has aimed at improving on The Chord Catalogue idea by giving the sustained tones of his Hexany chords the space to ring out in their full sonority.

So, what does all this sound like? Hexany Permutations 1, the first track of this piece, has a bright, almost sunny feeling – we are out of the shadows and into the sunlight There is a plateau of pitches here with no very low tones. Some dissonance eventually creeps in, underlying an arpeggio-like melody, and this darkens the mood somewhat – like a cloud passing overhead, on a sunny afternoon. As the piece proceeds, the constituent tones of the mix now seem to be more varied and less cohesive harmonically – a sense of unraveling.

Hexany Permutations 2 features middle and high register tones, sustained and slightly dissonant, sounding almost like a warning siren with slowly varying mixes of pitch. There is, simultaneously, a reassuring and slightly alarming quality to this. No lower tones are present, and the middle and high register tones mix in different ways. Hexany 3 returns to somewhat lower starting tones, but the middle registers predominate. This has a mostly comfortable feel but the higher registers in the mix are less consonant and add a bit of tension. The ebb and flow of the tones throughout constantly changes the character of the sound in this section as it oscillates between a high dissonance and the warm lower tones.

Hexany Permutations sections 4 through 6 continue in the same manner and begin with a broad middle register wash. The feeling is warm but purposeful. In Section 5 higher tones sound above the comfortable middle and this adds a bit of uncertainty. The swelling and receding pattern of the tones throughout accentuates this contrast very effectively. By Section 6 the upper registers begin in a brightly optimistic wash and morph into contrast with a buzz-saw harshness in their dissonance. There is a sense of the mechanical overtaking the organic across the final three Sections and this seems to be a sadly accurate metaphor for our 21st century modernity.

Despite the neutral presentation of its harmonic sequences, Hexany Permutations is surprisingly successful in communicating a wide variety of emotions and sensations to the listener – as does the entire Involution CD. The use of microtones and alternate tuning in new music has, broadly, been the search for meaningful harmonic syntax while contending with a thicket of mathematical formulations and the difficulties of making new pitches on instruments that have been shackled to an equal-tempered tradition for over two hundred years. Involution is a milestone in the process of getting directly at the core of problem: translating a new harmonic structure into the music of emotional expression.

Involution is available at Bandcamp (also download stream) and Forced Exposure.

Involution was:
Composed, realized, recorded, and produced by Dave Seidel.
Mixed and mastered by Eric Honour.
Graphics, design and layout by Scott Unrein.
Liner notes by Dean Rosenthal.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Video, Violin

Daniel Corral – Hodad



The March 2021 offering from Music for Your Inbox is Hodad, a new video by Daniel Corral performed by violinist Myra Hinrichs. This work audaciously combines the Southern California surf with a solo violin played on the beach to create a unique collaboration between artist and nature. The program notes state: “At the beach, a violinist watches the waves roll in and out. The ocean becomes a score. Spot a wave in the distance. The wave crests; the wave washes up on the shore; the wave retracts and disappears into the sea. Play according to the wave’s movements.” The result is ostensibly a relaxing 21 minute interlude on a sunny beach, but there are surprising musical insights as well.

Nature has historically been a subject for emulation in music and there are many examples from contemporary composition: Olivier Messiaen used birdsong extensively in his Catalogue d’oiseaux, The Wind in High Places, by John Luther Adams perfectly captures the chilly peaks of Alaska, River of 1000 Streams by Daniel Lentz flows powerfully down to the sea and the music of Jeffrey Holmes is full of fierce Nordic weather. And these are just a few of the many recent pieces that could be cited.

Hodad differs from the conventional treatment of nature in music, however, by making the ocean an integral partner in the composition and the performance. This might seem impractical – apart from bagpipes or a massed brass band, acoustic instruments intended for the confines of the concert hall would seem to be no match for nature outdoors. The violin in Hodad is fitted with a pickup, but even so, it would be hard to imagine a greater imbalance than that between a single violin and the Pacific surf. Yet it is this one-sided combination that is the key to the piece.

Hodad opens with the camera looking out to the open sea with the sound of the waves rolling up on the shore. Myra Hinrichs is seen facing the surf, with her violin and music stand. She soon starts off with a soft, sustained tone that begins when a wave washes up to the beach. There is no attempt here to make the violin compete with the surf; this is intentional as the composer is also the sound engineer for this performance. The camera work by Tim Lacatena is properly static, with the ocean and Ms. Hinrichs sharing the scene equally. As the piece continues, the violin seems, at times, to be loosely coordinated with the wave action, but always with soft, sustained tones. It should be noted that the ocean that day was absolutely typical for the season – low rolling waves with an afternoon breeze and a slightly hazy sky. There was no drama in the water, everything on the otherwise empty beach was entirely normal.

The surf, tame by the standards of the ocean, nevertheless completely dominates the sound from the violin. A few tentative pizzicato notes were seen on the video, but these were completely inaudible. The sound mixing keeps the surf in the foreground and invites focus and close listening to hear the violin. The result of this is that the sounds of the surf are more vivid to the listener and a wide variety of details are heard that might otherwise be ignored by the brain. In a sense the ocean has stolen the show, but this is only possible because the surf a participant in the performance. The roll of the incoming waves, the rattle of sand and stone in the surf along with the hiss of a wave running up on the beach are all heard with a new clarity and detail. Without the violin, the listener hears the wash of the surf as a kind of sonic wallpaper – with the violin, the waves become a second instrument.

The fragility of the violin in the salty air and strong breeze is obvious in the video. The disciplined playing by Ms. Hinrichs is critical – meant to compliment the surf and not to dominate or even equal it. Hodad is a metaphor for the relative spheres of influence – the violin in the concert hall and the surf outdoors. One is full of quiet introspection, the other has unlimited energy, but in this piece both can be examined by the listener in the same context. Hodad is an ambitious piece, if only for including a force of nature into the performance. A sunny afternoon spent at the beach will never seem the same.

Hodad is available for viewing through Music for Your Inbox.

by Paul Muller
CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Piano

Alvin Lucier – Music for Piano XL

Grand Piano Records, a Naxos recording label, has released Music for Piano XL, a CD premiere of experimental music by Alvin Lucier performed by award-winning French pianist Nicolas Horvath. Music for Piano XL extends Horvath’s exploration of contemporary composition that has featured works by Philip Glass, Dennis Johnson and Karlheinz Stockhausen as well as the piano music of Erik Satie and Claude Debussy. Lucier’s Music for Piano with Slow Sweep Pure Wave Oscillator XL is the formal title of the single track on this CD, and it is exactly that, with a duration slightly over an hour. Horvath writes that the listening experience is “immersive, intense and enigmatic…”

Alvin Lucier (b 1931) is an American who is noted for incorporating acoustical phenomena as an integral part of his compositions. Perhaps his best known work is I am Sitting in a Room, from 1969. in which a recording of those words is played and re-recorded in a large open room. With each recorded iteration, the sounds of the words are rounded off as the acoustic of the room imposes and reinforces its characteristic resonances. Eventually, a sort of ghostly image of tones is all that remains, stripped of intelligibility but filled with a deep sense of introspection.

Auditory perception forms another important aspect of Luciers work. In these pieces, the listener is often surprised and enlightened by the differences between the sound heard by the ear and the perception formed by the brain. I once attended Lucier’s Outlines of Persons and Things (1975), a sound installation that projected a pure electronic tone from two strategically placed speakers in a reverberant acoustic space. Listeners were invited to walk through the space, altering the intensity and deflecting flow of the sound waves in the room. Special objects were also placed in fixed locations to scatter or focus the sounds bouncing off the walls and people. The result was that the electronic pitch and volume varied according to the position of the listener and in many places the differences over just a few feet were startling.

Lucier’s compositions for conventional instruments also incorporate acoustic phenomena, as Frank J. Oteri writes in the liner notes:

“Given Lucier’s fascination with the impact of resonance on various sonorities, it should be no surprise that many of his compositions featuring conventional musical instruments involve a piano. Curiously, though his music defies conventional concepts of melody, harmony, and rhythm and often explores intervals not easily produced on a keyboard, Lucier frequently composes at the piano in his home, sometimes listening intently to the sonic envelope of single tones as he strikes them over and over.”

Music for Piano with Slow Sweep Pure Wave Oscillator XL represents one of Lucier’s furthest inquiries into the idea that purely acoustic phenomena can sustain and propel a performance piece. The striking of a piano string combined with clean electronic tones gives rise to a variety of interactions and ‘beating’ when the pitches are closely matched. This composition is informed entirely by the character of these interactions – how they arise, persist and decay. The XL version on this CD was created specifically for Nicolas Horvath and has been expanded to over an hour from the original 15 minutes. This was recorded on one take, with the pianist having to continuously evaluate the sounds after striking each precisely notated keystroke and making suitable adjustments in timing or volume as the piece proceeds. The electronic oscillator continuously produces two tones that sweep over a range of four octaves and the distilled purity of these sounds is always in stark contrast to the warmer tones of the piano notes.

So how does all this sound? Music for Piano with Slow Sweep Pure Wave Oscillator XL opens with a steady electronic tone, establishing a clean, almost antiseptic ambiance. A single piano note is soon heard, followed by another, and these seem to be related in pitch to the electronics. This music requires close listening and it is only after a few piano notes are heard that the interactions with the electronic tones become conspicuous to the ear. The piano notes are heard in different registers to match changes in the electronic tones, with the lower tones often producing the most prominent beating interactions. The piano notes start singularly at first and are allowed to fully ring out. As the piece proceeds, two or more piano notes are occasionally heard together, and their interactions with each other – and with the electronics – create a new class of acoustic effects. There is no musical form, structure or melody in the playing, just a series of continuous electronic tones and separately sustained piano notes.

The intensity of the electronics seems to vary over the course of the piece, sometimes in the forefront and sometimes more like a background accompaniment. Similarly, Horvath varies the striking force on the piano keyboard to produce a note that will intersect with the electronics for maximum effect. When the electronics are the most dominant, the brain tries to reconcile the purity of the electronic pitch with the more familiar timbre of the piano. As the sounds interact, they tend to overlap and blur the differences so that the listener is left to decide if it is a sterile tone or a musical note that is being heard. The act of determining and evaluating one’s acoustic perception makes this an engaging and instructive work.

The piano notes and the electronics often change register, moving around between low, middle and higher pitches. Sometimes there is little or no observable interaction between the notes and tones. Often the lower registers produce the most perceptible beating, creating almost a rumble. When several piano notes are sounded together against a closely pitched electronic tone, a more complex series of interactions often results. In general, when the electronic tones and piano notes are both strong – and close in pitch – the interactions are most pronounced. But this falls along a wide spectrum of possibilities, seemingly different for each new combination of pitch and force. Towards the finish of the piece, a wobbly higher tone is heard softly accompanied by piano notes. The piano notes then cease while the electronic tone continues on for last two minutes, finally slowing and fading out at the finish.

Listening to Music for Piano with Slow Sweep Pure Wave Oscillator XL often feels like being in an acoustic experiment, but the listener soon learns to focus and evaluate each combination of notes and tones. The result is a better appreciation of how sounds and music are perceived, and what choices the brain must make to determine the dominant character of what is heard. This performance by Nicolas Horvath is disciplined and precise, providing just the right touch for the piano notes under each acoustic condition. Music for Piano with Slow Sweep Pure Wave Oscillator XL will surely add to Horvath’s reputation as a leading interpreter of the most unusual experimental forms in contemporary music.

Music for Piano XL is available from Grand Piano, Naxos, Apple Music and Amazon.

by Paul Muller
CDs, Chamber Music, Contemporary Classical, Podcasts, Women composers

Podcast: Voices of the Pearl

This podcast examines Voices of the Pearl, a particularly interesting project that combines the rediscovery of ancient religious texts, the setting of these texts by women into chamber music by contemporary composers and the historical role of women in sacred music. Our guests are Dr. Anne Harley, Artistic Director of the Voices of the Pearl project and Dr. Stacey Fraser, soprano. The podcast will explore the music of their third and latest CD album. With Jim Goodin.

by Paul Muller
CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Flute, Los Angeles

Wilfrido Terrazas – ĺtaca

Wilfrido Terrazas
Cero Records

Cero Records has released Ítaca, a new CD of solo flute music by Wilfrido Terrazas. The album contains ten mostly short pieces that explore a wide variety of musical sounds and extended techniques, inspired by epic Greek poetry. Terrazas is a native of Mexico and has performed widely throughout the world. He is currently a member of the music faculty at UCSD and a presence in the Southern California new music scene. His website states that “His work focuses on finding points of convergence between notated and improvised music, and in exploring innovative approaches to collaboration and collective creation.” Ítaca was composed over two months in 2012 during an artistic residency at the Ionian Center for Arts and Culture in Metaxata, Greece.

Ítaca is motivated by Terrazas’ long fascination with Greek culture and especially Homer’s Odyssey. Those familiar with that epic poem will recall that it is the story of Odysseus’ ten year journey to return to his native Ithaca (Ítaca) after the Trojan War. Nine of the ten pieces on the CD directly relate to an episode or a character in the Odyssey. While the poem itself does not follow a strictly chronological order, the descriptions of the album tracks given here are roughly in the sequence that they appear in the Odyssey story line, so as to give some context to the music.

The first track on the CD is Exordio (Epilogo), for flute in C. This serves as an introduction and sets out the pattern for the music in this album: improvisation contained within an overall narrative structure. Exordio begins with a long and low tone sustained by what seems to be circular breathing. Some overtones are also heard so that there is a quiet, preliminary feel to this. As the piece proceeds, the sounds break out into full tones, often with more than one pitch present. This gives a brighter and unexpectedly colorful feel, as if the plot is on the move. The pitches wander and there is no imposition of harmonic or melodic structure. The tones move faster towards the end with a brilliant flourish followed by a sudden finish. The versatility and variety of the unconventional expressions are impressive, mesmerizing the listener – perhaps just as Homer might have done reciting the dramatic opening lines of the Odyssey.

Calipso (Ausencia), on track 2, is inspired by the seven years Odysseus spent with as a captive of the goddess Calypso. This one of the shorter pieces at 3:03 and opens with low, slurred tones and a rolling feel. Odysseus had a life of comfort with Calypso, but nevertheless sought to leave her island for his home. The active melody line combines an interesting texture with increasing speed and a shrill tone. Many notes follow in rapid succession, all with a sure-footed technical proficiency, suggesting Odysseus’ successful, if harrowing, escape.

Nausicaa (Mar), on track 4, is inspired by the aftermath of the escape by raft of Odysseus from Calypso. He is found washed up and unconscious on Schrie, the island home of the Phaeacians. The daughter of the local king, Princess Nausicaä, finds and cares for him. This is a piccolo piece that opens with soft, whispering sounds as well as thin, streaky sounds as if shards of wind are blowing by on an empty beach. The main tone is breathy and only slowly gains some footing and speed – perhaps Odysseus reviving. Now the notes are very precise and rapidly phrased. The tones take on a high, almost mechanical feel – like a squeaky axle. After of few days of recovery, Odysseus is promised a ship for his return to Ithaca by Nausicaä’s parents. Very rapid notes converge on a single sustained pitch, a pure, almost electronic sound, just as the piece ends.

While on Schrie, Odysseus recounts to the Phaeacians his many adventures returning from the Trojan war. Setting out from Troy, he is blown off course on the voyage home to Ithaca. Odysseus and his crew land on a distant island inhabited by a race of Cyclops. Nadie (Odiseo), on track 3, opens with a rapid blast of blurry notes and recalls the encounter with the Cyclops, who has trapped Odysseus and his shipmates in a cave. There is lots of sound here, with runs of high notes and repeating counterpoint below – almost like two parts from one flute. The playing is impressive and brightly engaging, with no breaks or slow stretches. The climactic battle between Odysseus and Polyphemus, the cyclops who had trapped the Greeks, is portrayed by the flute with an almost maniacal speed and range.

After a narrow escape from the Cyclops, Odysseus is given a leather bag by Aeolus, keeper of the winds. The bag contains all the adverse winds that would keep his ship from reaching home. Odysseus sets sail, but just as they came within sight of Ithaca, the sailors opened the bag, thinking it contained gold. All of the winds were released, driving the ship back the way it had come, and on to new adventures. Eolo (Proteo), track 8, begins with a low, almost inaudible sound of air moving through the flute. There are no musical tones – only air. All is mysterious and unfamiliar with only a few tones breaking through from the air. Close listening to the air sounds makes for a sudden surprise when a tone is heard. More very soft sounds are heard at the halfway point, half musical and half breathy. The winds seem to dissipate as more tones are heard that come and go with silences between. There are plenty of extended techniques here with very few conventional sounds. The winds and tones fade at the finish into silence.

At this point in Homer’s story, Odysseus and his crew have arrived at the island of Aeaea, ruled by the witch Circe, who has drugged the sailors and turned half of them into swine. Circe (Niebla) opens on track 5 in a low sustained tone with a slightly wobbling pitch from the bass flute. The sound is drone-like but with some surface variations and pitch bending. This becomes much softer – perhaps under-blown – as if portraying a foggy state of inebriation. Two pitches are heard simultaneously, followed by a very soft tone – continuous and just on the edge of intonation. The playing is very controlled and disciplined, yet with simple surfaces that artfully conjure the thickly befuddled senses of the sailors.

After staying a year with Circe, Odysseus and his crew sail across the ocean to the western edge of the world. Odysseus visits the realm of the dead, as portrayed in track 9, Hades (Tiresias). This begins with a sharp blast of breathy notes, as if scattered by a machine gun and interspersed with breathy, wind-like sections. There are grunts and shouts as well, and the intense virtuosity of the playing builds to a frightening climax. The sounds are very animated and hot to the touch!

Track 6, Escudo (Torre), refers to the shield of Ajax, one of the notable Greek warriors of the Iliad – the Homeric story that precedes the Odyssey. The courage and strength of Ajax was greatly celebrated among the Greeks and Odysseus attempted to visit the deceased Ajax in Hades, but was rebuffed. Escudo begins with a light, sustained tone on the flute in C that warbles slightly in pitch, becoming breathy at times. Runs of fluid notes follow, not conventionally flute-like, but engaging to the ear. The many changes in pitch and intonation are skillfully played. The number of notes rapidly increase to create a complex texture until a long, sustained tone is heard that wanders in pitch, like a tea kettle boiling as the piece ends.

Odysseus and his crew continue their journey, sailing past the island of the fateful singing Sirens. They next encounter the six-headed sea monster Scylla and then face the forbidding whirlpool Charybdis. Escila (Caribdis), on track 7, captures these adventures with deep plunking sounds followed by a rapid flutter of notes in the low registers on the alto flute. This is the shortest piece of the album, but quickly explodes in a blizzard of notes, creating a convincing image of fast swirling motion. The melody is wickedly fast but with a smooth intonation that adds to a vivid sense of danger and panic.

After surviving the dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, a storm washes Odysseus up on the island home of Calypso, bringing the account of his adventures full circle. The Phaeacians are so moved by his story they provide Odysseus with gold and treasure and secretly bring him home to Ithaca. After some score-settling with those who took advantage of his long absence, Odysseus is reunited with his household and returns to power.

Hexagram 57, the final and longest track at over 13 minutes, completes the album. This steps away from the Odyssey theme and is a bit more autobiographical in nature, inspired by the composer’s interest in Chinese culture and recent time spent in Southern California. The techniques and style are similar, but arise more directly from the present and not from the heroic ancient past. Hexagram 57 was written in San Diego and New York between February 13 and April 15, 2018 and the title comes from the classic I-Ching texts.

The piece opens with a soft, sustained tone, drone like, with an unusual intonation that is almost reed-like. The pitch changes, reminiscent of a buzzing bee, with occasional flashes of musical tones. A bit of melody creeps in – not full and round, but with a thin, breathy component and many trills. The extended techniques quickly multiply with breaths, clicks, double tones and a large vocabulary of unusual sounds that appear in rapid succession. As the piece continues there is a short stretch of more conventional notes played very fast and filled with complexity. The extended techniques return again with ever greater versatility and a precise articulation that highlights the masterful playing – always agile and marked by a supremely fluid intonation. At times there is a mechanical feel to the sounds, as if a squeaky shaft is spinning along. There is often more than one sound at once – breathy sounds plus musical pitches – as well as a sort of buzzing plus a breathy whistle heard simultaneously. Towards the end, all of this slowly declines in volume – the pitches cut out and the buzzing finally dies out at the finish. Hexagram 57 is a virtuoso performance that vividly demonstrates the incredible range of sounds produced by a flute in the hands of an accomplished master.

Ítaca successfully operates on the cutting edge of virtuoso improvisation and extended techniques while anchored in the framework of ancient epic poetry. Wilfrido Terrazas continues to push the envelope for state-of-the-art contemporary flute performance.

Ítaca is available directly from Cero Records and also from Amazon Music.


by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

wasteLAnd Ensemble – Voice Fragments

On January 29, 2021 the wasteLAnd ensemble streamed the premiere of Voice Fragments, by Davíð Brynjar Franzson, featuring soprano Stephanie Aston. WasteLAnd is one of the anchors of new music here in Los Angeles and it is encouraging that they are finding ways to stay active during the pandemic. Voice Fragments was commissioned and developed for streaming and represents an adoption of the technology into the art rather than just an online presentation of a typical musical concert. The streamed premiere was of high quality in both sound and video, with Ms. Aston capably carrying the production with her visual presence and superb voice.

The video opens with Ms. Aston framed against a black background, shown from the shoulders up. Her face has a determined look, but full of that cool reserve so characteristic of her performance demeanor. Birds are heard chirping and there is the distant roar of a car along a roadway. After a few minutes of only outdoor sounds, Ms. Aston joins in with a clear, steady tone, held for a few seconds. Electronics enter, and there is another sustained vocal tone with the same pitch, duration and purity. The sounds of nature are heard throughout, including what seems to be the rush of a gentle surf. The image of Ms. Aston goes in and out of focus at times while her vocal tones continue. This establishes the basic format of the piece: the field recording of birds and outdoor nature, a subdued electronic accompaniment and peaceful vocal tones from Ms. Aston. The overall effect is restful and full of nature with the voice adding a welcome human element.

As Voice Fragments proceeds, variations emerge as the effects cascade. A looped vocal is heard simultaneously with the live tone at a slightly different pitch, creating a tender, ethereal harmony. A deeper pitch from the voice adds a sense of depth while at other times a low bass tone in the electronics serves to underline the vocal phrases above. The electronics never overwhelm and the field recording remains a loud chatter of birds, occasionally dominated by mechanical sounds. Ms. Aston maintains the same neutral look on her face throughout while singing with solid discipline.

Towards the middle of the piece, the jet black background dissolves into a large garden window, looking out on a sunny suburban yard. This acts to accentuate the barrier between the human voice and the sounds of nature. The twittering of birds becomes more prominent as the scene is now visually green and natural. Ms. Aston’s voice is heard as before, and her ghostly image appears to float in the center of the window. The scene soon reverts to the black background with Ms. Aston in the center and there is the loud roar of a passing automobile. Vocal tones are heard as the background image changes again, another window looking out over the front yard with a tree in the center. The chirping of the birds seems to increase and is joined by the distinctively shrill squealing of squirrels. Further variations on these scenes follow – another window view, this time of a side yard, the return of the jet black background, Ms. Aston’s image appearing and fading along with more or fewer natural sounds from the garden.

The juxtaposition of the natural sounds with Ms. Aston’s hovering visage and plaintive tones combine to persuasively convey a longing for communion with nature, even if only in the modest garden of a suburban yard. The compelling sounds of the bird calls and squirrel chirps seem all out of proportion to their humble suburban source; the field recording throughout is extraordinary in its detail and variety. The steady vocals in accompaniment serve to magnify the human yearning for a re-connection to nature while at the same time mourning our self-imposed isolation from it. The poignant voice of Stephanie Aston, working with economical musical materials, nevertheless achieves a high level of expressive power.

Voice Fragments succeeds through a solid combination of skilled video technique, excellent recordings of nature and masterful singing. Voice Fragments skillfully captures the tension between the restraints of civilization and the liberating freedom in nature that is our instinctive desire.

Voice Fragments may be viewed directly on YouTube.

by Paul Muller
CD Review, Contemporary Classical

Aron Kallay, Beyond 12 Vol 2

Beyond 12: Reinventing the Piano Volume 2 is a new CD release of piano music from MicroFest Records featuring Grammy-nominated pianist Aron Kallay. Beyond 12 refers to the conventional scale in Western music that has 12 equal divisions to the octave. Kallay, however, goes beyond that limitation by the use of a digital grand piano that configures the keyboard for alternate tuning systems. New pieces were solicited from eight different contemporary composers with only two ground rules: 1) Re-tune the keyboard, from extended just intonation to 88 equal-divisions of the octave and everything in between. 2) Re-map the keyboard, left can be right, high can be low; pitches need not be in order. Beyond 12 – Volume 2 vividly demonstrates the forward possibilities of alternate tuning in new music.

Sidereal Delay (2004) opens the album on track 1. This is the third piece in a suite of four preludes by Jeffrey Harrington and employs a tuning that divides the octave into 19 equal divisions. There is a lovely shower of notes at the beginning – like watching flower petals thrown into the air and fluttering down to the ground. Rapid phrases ebb and flow, then decrescendo to a brief quiet. The alternate tuning is heard, but blends so well into the melody and harmony that it becomes an expected and natural element of the music. After a brief silence, another section begins in similar form and tempo, with a rush of sunny notes running down to silence. The overall feeling is one of buoyancy and good cheer.

Subsequent sections of Sidereal Delay feature comparable structures – some have a stronger presence while others are more restrained. Kallay’s playing is rapid and accurate, without being tedious or pedantic. The expressive warmth of the composition comes through and the overall feeling is full of optimism and good will. Sidereal Delay, at slightly under 5 minutes, is a masterful application of tuning in the service of its amiable musical intentions.

I’m Worried Now, by Monroe Golden, is next and employs an alternate tuning scheme in a much different context – that of emotional tension. Golden, who hails from Alabama, uses an old chain gang folk song as the inspiration for this piece. The composer writes in the liner notes that the tuning scheme consists of “…five Extended Just tunings, (1) 13-limit with a common tone functioning as different partials, (2 and 3) microtonal bass notes with a treble drone in octaves, (4) a lower tetrachord encompassing the black keys and upper tetrachord encompassing the white keys, ranging to the 91st partial, and (5) a I-IV-V relationship with the keyboard divided into three zones, each with partials up to 23.” Despite this formidable description, the resulting music delivers a perfectly balanced sense of anxiety, sharpened by the unconventional pitches that are sprinkled throughout the harmony.

After a quietly tense opening there is a section with rapidly moving phrases in the higher registers and low notes in counterpoint below. This sounds almost ‘normal’ with the faster tempo and rhythms serving to maintain a sense of apprehension even as a lively melody emerges in the bass that borders on the jovial. A slower section follows, when suddenly a strong roar of slurred descending notes jumps out in full fury, reigniting the sense of inescapable dread. More languidly slow stretches follow, mixed with pounding passages and rapid phrases infused with disquiet, adeptly fashioned from the unconventional tuning materials. Towards the finish, the melody of a familiar hymn is heard, and the piece concludes with quietly restful chords. The wide variety of sounds and textures has Kallay all over the keyboard, but he manages to navigate each new gesture with his usual poise. I’m Worried Now brilliantly builds on its alternate tuning scheme to clearly convey emotional uncertainty within an accessible musical syntax.

The longest piece of the album is Clouds of Clarification, by Robert Carl. The composer writes that this piece represents “… a further step in developing an overtone-based harmonic practice.” Carl states that Kallay’s re-tunable digital piano “… is able to preserve the actual just intonation tuning of its twelve pitches based on overtones in relation to their respective fundamental. Thus each will be a truly ‘pure’ interval. “

Clouds of Clarification proceeds in four movements and the first, “Introduction: Ebb and Flow”, begins with strong opening chords that ring out solidly and establish a sense of anticipation. Trills, combined with a series of exclamatory notes, add a feeling of expectation. The tuning is noticeable, but not alien to the ear, and the careful handling of the just intonation intervals makes for a consistently consonant blend of pitches. Next is “Maestoso: Earth Processional” and this movement begins with a low chord that is deep and quietly mysterious. A series of repeating solitary notes add a tentative feel as more chords are heard in the middle registers along with increasing dynamics. Less confident than the opening movement, this ultimately evolves to a softer and more introspective feeling towards the finish.

The third movement, “Scherzo: Wind Dances” is just that – music full of breezy syncopated rhythms, rapid runs and repeating phrases that all combine to provide a sense of energy and freedom. Repeating chords appear with rapid arpeggios that suggest wind gusts and the music often starts and stops in fits, like a swirling breeze. A blast of hammering chords is combined with a sprinkle of rapidly descending notes to add a stormy feel. Turbulent notes spray all over the keyboard, calling on Kallay’s highest virtuosity in this whirlwind of a movement. “Coda: Consumed by Fire” completes the piece and this is also active and energetic. There are stretches with rapid, unconnected passages and gestures that suggest capricious, flame-like movement. As the piece proceeds, the tempo slows and the notes become softer and fewer, longer and with embedded silences as if the fire is burning itself out.

Clouds of Clarification is a technically challenging piece – and the listener is naturally drawn to the velocity and agitation of the notes. The polish of the just intonation tuning, however, provides a sonority that artfully mirrors the surfaces of the natural phenomena portrayed in each of these four colorful movements.

Veronika Krausas has contributed two miniatures to the album, the first being Une Petite Bagatelle written in 2013. Built around 2/7 comma meantone tuning, this piece fully embraces the playfulness of its title. Une Petite Bagatelle opens with a brilliant flurry of notes that reach upward in a series of bright tones. This phrasing repeats and the piece then continues with a strong melody line and deep chords in the bass. The alternate tuning here adds an impish shimmer to the texture that is very appealing.

Terços, the second piece, was commissioned for this CD and opens with a series of meandering phrases that suggest uncertainty. A distinctive melody arises from the tuning with a hard, sparkling surface that is pleasantly engaging to the ear. Another wandering set of phrases and some simple chords that hint at mystery conclude the piece as the final chords ring out nicely. Tercos and Une Petite Bagatelle, although concise, adroitly exploit the aesthetic implications of their alternate tuning.

Involuntary Bohlen Piercing, by Nick Norton, originated as an academic assignment requiring that a new piece be conceived and completed in 48 hours. In order that it should be completely original – and also meet the specifications of Beyond 12 – Norton chose the Bohlen-Pierce alternate tuning scheme. The composer writes: “Bohlen-Pierce temperament uses the 12th instead of the octave as the interval of transposition and inversion, and then divides that 12th into thirteen step equal temperament. The result of it is that everything sounds crazy.”

Involuntary Bohlen Piercing begins with deep, dark chords followed by series of halting, off-beat notes and a smattering of higher register runs above. The unconventional tuning is conspicuous throughout, bringing a recognizably alien feel to the repeating phrases and exclamatory chords as the piece proceeds. The texture soon thickens with booming chords below and runs of higher notes above that serve to heighten the anxiety. The tempo then begins to slow, and the density of notes thins out, but the tension remains. Even as the final phrases die quietly away, a strong sense of the unusual persists. Involuntary Bohlen Piercing is a particularly well-crafted example of how thoroughly the tuning scheme can pervade and influence every aspect of a piece.

The Blur of Time and Memory, by Alexander Elliott Miller, was written in 2014 specifically for the MicroFest Beyond 12 series. The composer writes that this piece “… utilizes a tuning system in which half steps are divided into five equal tempered steps, but selected pitches are removed from the keyboard in segments altogether, allowing the 88 keys to cover a wider range.” The editing out of some notes within an alternate tuning scheme is a common practice by composers working with many divisions of the octave and in this piece it becomes possible to have stretches of conventional harmony as well as completely new effects.

The Blur of Time and Memory begins with an arpeggio and a series of pensive notes in the middle and lower registers. This is followed by several chords that fully expose the alternate tuning. There is a sense of controlled unease in the quiet stretches and a more assertive tension when the density and dynamics increase. The closeness of the pitches in the expanded half-steps add a distinctive blurring effect to the melody. Five divisions to the half-step is surely an exacting challenge for any pianist, and Kallay here further advances his claim to alternate tuning excellence; his sure touch propels the piece forward with a gentle ebb and flow between the softer and stronger passages, as if in a dream. The Blur of Time and Memory is solidly crafted and makes full use of the many pitches in its tuning palette to add new emotional colors to the harmony and phrasing.

Track 11 contains Paths of the Wind, by Bill Alves, composed in 2010 and is dedicated to Aron Kallay. Inspired by the Vayu Purana, a Hindu text, the composer writes that the tuning is “…based on interlocking pathways of numbers, namely two, three, and seven.” Opening with a low, repeated rumbling in lower registers with a single repeated note slightly higher in pitch, there is an immediate sense of expectation. The intrigue builds as more notes and chords are added in the middle registers and the roiling texture produces a beautifully awesome sense of natural power. The alternate tuning is an integral part of the sound, but not the most distinctive element – this remarkable portrayal of the wind is almost completely captured through the thickening texture. As the dynamics and complexity build relentlessly, it seems that Aron Kallay must have at least 15 fingers to produce such a prodigious outpouring of sound.

At 5:00, however, there is a sudden reduction to a few repeating high notes and a running figure slightly below – just a trickle of what had previously been a flood. A sense of peaceful serenity emerges like a gentle breeze after a storm. A few dark chords appear, suggesting a distant menace, but the music gracefully fades to a quiet finish. The thick, repeating phrases, the fluid feel and Kallay’s impressive playing make Paths of the Wind a striking musical description of a powerful natural force.

The final track on the album is The Weasel of Melancholy, by Eric Moe, written during 2013 and commissioned by Aron Kallay. Inspired by traditional Thai music, this piece is constructed from a seven-note scale with half-steps added to produce a 14 pitch palette in equal temperament. Weasel opens quietly, with a serene and mostly conventional feeling. The melody above and counterpoint below combine with the alternate tuning notes to add just the right amount of introspective coloring. This settled and somber sensibility is heightened, but never dominated, by the unconventional tuning and the piece strikes a deft balance between familiar and new pitches within the 14 step scale. Towards the finish the tempo slows as the number of notes thin out and the piece glides to a subdued conclusion. The Weasel of Melancholy artfully leverages its straightforward tuning construction to create a carefully blended depiction of the mournful shades of melancholy.

That all of the pieces on this album employ alternate tuning is a great advantage to the listener. The ear becomes more accustomed to the presence of new pitches and less distracted by preexisting expectations. The exacting performances by Aron Kallay only add to the accessibility of this music. The composers who have contributed to this project are, in a sense, genetic engineers. Each composition on Beyond 12: Reinventing the Piano – Volume 2 widens the listener’s understanding of how tuning is foundational to the DNA of all music.

Beyond 12: Reinventing the Piano, Vol 2 is available from direct from MicroFest Records and Amazon Music.





by Paul Muller
CD Review, Contemporary Classical

Jeffrey Holmes – Rider of Darkness, Path of Light

MicroFest Records has released Rider of Darkness, Path of Light, a new CD by composer Jeffrey Holmes that offers a potent brew of the Old Norse filled with “…primitive myths, transcendent legends, and dramatic elemental landscapes in their primal and violent natural states.” All of this is expressed in “post-spectral, teleological music incorporating elements of mysticism and lyrical expression.” The four pieces on this album are performed by a number of leading Los Angeles area and East Coast musicians along with solo vocalists Nicholas Isherwood and Kirsten Ashley Wiest.

The first track is Urðarmána [Moon of Fate] (2012), as performed by pianist Mark Robson and bass baritone Nicholas Isherwood. The text is in Old Norse, partly written by the composer and partly drawn from historical Eddic poetry. The liner notes helpfully include a full English translation. Urðarmána opens with high, sharp runs of piano notes, all brittle and shattered, falling like shards of broken glass. The bass entrance is deep and profound, full of operatic power and presence, darkly intoning the Norse text: “It was a moon of fate. Amidst both wind and rain…” The piano line weaves in and out, building tension in a series of wandering phrases. Isherwood’s voice often reaches down to a very low register, always with masterful assurance and expression.

As the piece proceeds, the piano accompanies with deep chords and skittering runs, adding to the sense of menace. The steady voice holds everything is balance even as the text tells of prophecy, stormy weather, impending sacrifice and great sadness. At the finish, the bass reverently intones “I will not blaspheme the gods…as you saved me from near death.” Isherwood’s singing in Norse is perfectly convincing and artfully precise as is the piano accompaniment of Mark Robson. The independence of the piano line and the vocals is manifestly apparent, yet they compliment each other perfectly. Urðarmána [Moon of Fate] is exquisitely expressive and a highly evocative portrait of the spiritual state of our Norse cousins from over a thousand years past.

Track 2, Hagall (Haglaz) [Hail] (2015) follows, performed by the Talea Ensemble conducted by David Fulmer. Hail is a common feature of Nordic weather, especially during the late autumn, and signifies the transformation to winter. Inspired by Old Norse runic symbols for the seasons, Hagall unfolds in three contiguous sections representing the nuances of hail, sleet and snowy weather. The liner notes state that the Talea Ensemble evokes “…several references to ‘primordial’ instruments, including: the contra-bass clarinet imitating a Nordic lure, the French and English horns imitating primitive cow horns, non-pitched percussion instruments (such as skinned drums, metal objects, and clay pottery), various ‘non-octave’ scales and complex compound-rhythms, and a variety of microtonalities including several uses of the overtone series.”

Hagall opens with a series of frenzied pizzicato notes in the upper strings, sustained bass tones, rapid percussion and a flurry of woodwinds that create the sense of swirling instability as experienced in the center of a hail storm. The instruments all seem to be going in different directions, but the overall sound is a convincing and cohesive representation of a violent hail and snow shower. A short, sustained tutti section provides an interlude, giving sense of a settled, sustained snowfall. Soon, however, dramatic runs of individual instruments are heard simultaneously, and this, along with some high-pitched dissonance in the woodwinds, intensifies the sense that the weather is again closing in. Strong drum beats and assorted percussion begin a new section that seems to gather strength as the woodwinds and strings re-enter with sharp, stinging sounds, like the blast of ice crystals in a strong wind. More drama follows, alternating between chaos and structure, with the orchestration perfectly capturing the sense of a heavy snow storm in full fury. As the storm abates, a lovely violin solo is heard, as if commenting on the changed landscape under newly fallen snow. The playing of the Talea Ensemble is sure-footed throughout, even in the most tumultuous passages. Hagall is an impressive piece of music that puts the listener right in the heart of an arctic storm.

Track three is Thund [Thundering Waters] (2018), a work for solo piano performed by Jason Hardink. Thund consists of three movements played in succession on the same track, and offers three perspectives on the natural state of water. The first of these, “Vantaskuggsjá [Water-Mirror]” opens with soft, high piano notes interspersed with short silences. This is water at rest, but the piano line quickly accelerates into a series of flowing passages and trills that suggest a gentle stream or tumbling brook. This circles back to a calm surface but with a tension in the run of notes that suggests impending agitation.

As more notes are heard we cross into the second movement, “Hangafoss [Hanging Waterfall].” This has more activity in the higher registers that evoke a sense splashing combined with a downward falling, as ribbons of notes descend with increasing velocity. A churning gradually builds in all the piano registers and this resolves into the final movement, “Élivágar [Icy Waves, Primordial Sea].” Loud, complex sounds increase in density and the roiling texture evokes a wild, icy sea that only subsides at the finish. These movements are not clearly delineated but each consists of alternating stretches of tranquility and energy, much as water behaves in nature. The music constantly shifts and changes, never quite settling into a broad structure. The playing by Jason Hardink is fluid and controlled, moving easily between serenity and drama. Thund is a lively exploration of the intimate Norse relationship with water as gained from generations of seafaring and life in the fjords.

The final piece, Myrkriða, Ljósleiðá [Rider of Darkness, Path of Light] (2016), features soprano Kirsten Ashley Wiest, with Tara Schwab on flutes, Yuri Inoo playing percussion and guitarist Michael Kudirka. The piece proceeds in a series of 15 short tracks, each containing a fragment of the struggle between impending death and eternal light. As the liner notes explain: “With a text in Old Norse written by the composer, an ancient tongue blends two simultaneous stories: a difficult, violent, and painful journey toward the moment of death, represented by soprano and flute duo, and a recollection of the moment of death as remembered from a peaceful afterlife, where soprano and flute [are] joined by guitar and percussion.”

Myrkriða, Ljósleiðá opens with “Nátta (Night Falling).” There are mystical bells clanking, a fluttering flute and soft vocals calling out an incantation of the spirits as darkness falls. This immediately establishes a strong sense of the otherworldly that is present throughout the piece. Other tracks follow, building the story from alternating perspectives of existential dread and solemn repose. In tracks representing the Path of Light, the sounds are restrained and peacefully expressive. Where the Rider of Darkness is present, the feeling is full of tension and anxiety, with the vocals often reaching upward to something approximating a musical scream.

The power, control and range of Ms. Wiest’s voice is especially impressive given the intense emotive requirements over the arc of the story, as well as the many challenging vocal techniques contained in the score. As explained in the liner notes: “Many individual theoretical and stylistic elements are employed: non-octave harmonies, various microtonalities including both equal-tempered and just-intonation microtunings, a variety of “leitmotif” like melodic motives; extended and developed rhythmic talas, large-scale formal proportional symmetries, and extended performing techniques such as: singing into the flute…” All of this blends seamlessly into the ensemble as Myrkriða, Ljósleiðá unfolds.

In one of the later tracks, “Path of Light III”, there is a series of passages consisting of falling notes from the voice and instruments that clearly evoke the sense of one’s final living moments. The text for this is:

“My Path of Light has arrived,
Falling from the dark sky,
Like blood from the Death-blow.”

“Sunset” then follows with strong vocals, sung as if in rebellion against death. “Silence” is next, with a soft and sweetly resigned voice, now at peace. A haunting epilogue of hushed flute tones and the jangling of mystical beads quietly ends the piece. Myrkriða, Ljósleiðá [Rider of Darkness, Path of Light] is a harrowing journey from dark to light, skillfully composed and delivered with transcendent performances.

These days there is much discussion about the value of art in our culture. It should be obvious from this CD that what we know of the Old Norse peoples comes down to us most clearly through their legends and poetry. Often, when we look into the past we see a reflection of ourselves; the drama and the darkness heard in this album surely reflect some of the pessimism of our own tumultuous present.

All of the tracks on this album consistently capture the power of the Old Norse legends, masterfully realized through contemporary musical forms. Even when the complexity of the music approaches its unrelenting maximum, Holmes’ texture is transparently clear, with just the right notes always in just the right places. Rider of Darkness, Path of Light is a compelling journey into the heroic past and a telling commentary on our own present – superbly conveyed in 21st century musical language.

Rider of Darkness, Path of Light is available at Amazon Music.

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

James Tenney – For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night)

The search for ways to deliver new music to audiences during the pandemic continues, and on December 15, 2020, Music For Your Inbox inaugurated a promising subscription system for distributing video links via email. For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night) (1971), by James Tenney was their initial offering and viewers were invited to subscribe or purchase tickets by December 10th, and receive the video link on the 15th. The performance by Stephanie Cheng Smith and Liam Mooney was previously recorded, available for viewing later at multiple times. In addition, subscribers were appropriately sent an original print postcard by dance pioneer Simone Forti, a good friend of Tenney.

James Tenney (1934 – 2006) although not widely known, was clearly one of the most influential composers of the late 20th century. He attended several academic institutions, including Julliard and the University of Illinois and studied composition with Carl Ruggles, Kenneth Gaburo, John Cage, Harry Partch, and Edgard Varèse, among others. Tenney was eventually associated in some way with most of the composers active in the late 20th century. His musical interests were wide-ranging and often crossed disciplines in an ever-expanding exploration of the experimental. He taught at a number of institutions but is perhaps best remembered for his time at CalArts. Some of his many students include John Luther Adams, Michael Byron, Peter Garland, Ingram Marshall, Larry Polansky, Charlemagne Palestine, Marc Sabat, Catherine Lamb, Michael Winter, and Daniel Corral.

For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night) is one of Tenney’s postal pieces. He was apparently averse to writing letters to his friends about his music and instead sent them postcards, each with a score inscribed on the back. There are eleven of these and For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night), was dedicated to Harold Budd – making this video all the more poignant given Budd’s recent passing. The score for this piece, as with the others in the series, is necessarily brief. The instructions are simply “very soft… very long… nearly white…”, leaving much to the interpretation of the performer.

The program notes state that Stephanie Cheng Smith, herself a composer “…sets a table with everyday objects— bowls and marbles — then sends them into motion to build a celestial sonic world.” There were no conventional acoustic instruments used in this performance but rather a collection of metal cups, jar lids and delicate ceramic bowls. A marble was placed inside a container, which was then set swirling around by the performer to create a sound. A thick plate framed by metal formed a base upon which the items were placed when activated. When the marble came to rest and the sound ceased, a new item took its place. Ms. Smith and percussionist Liam Mooney continuously added various new sounds in different combinations as the piece proceeded.

For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night) opened with a single small metal cup that produced a soft swishing sound when energized. When the cup was placed on the base plate, the volume increased and the sound became more sharply metallic as the marble slowed to a stop. More metal cups were applied singly, and then a metal jar lid was added at the same time as another small metal cup. The two sounds were somewhat different – with the jar lid having a somewhat lower register – and the two metallic sounds mixed into an intriguing combination. The jar lid was placed on the outer edge of the base plate and its rolling sounds seemed to explode in volume. Small cups placed on the edge were similarly amplified and the sounds became a continuous stream as more items were added simultaneously.

The jar lids and metal cups were soon joined by small china bowls that rang with a clear tone when the marble was set rolling inside it. When two bowls of different sizes were activated together the two pitches were heard in harmony. This had the effect of adding a musical component to the piece that set off the mostly mechanical sounds of the cups and lids. All three of these elements were added in various combinations so that the overall sound was a pleasant ringing above the purposeful metallic rolling. The number of active items increased as the piece proceeded with the sounds filling the ear. Just at the top of this swelling crescendo a deep rumbling sound was heard, produced by percussionist Mooney rolling a ball in a large metal pot. The distinctively low register formed a sort of bass line to what was now an pleasantly ringing melody. The sounds of the bowls and cups gradually subsided and the rolling bass eventually emerged as a solo. The piece concluded with a quiet whisper from one of the smaller metal cups.

Ms. Smith’s choice of percussion elements for this piece was inspired – the rolling metallic sounds provided the ‘nearly white’ element called for in the score and the ringing bowls served to reinforce this. All the sounds were subdued in an absolute sense, with only limited changes in dynamics. The changes in texture as different items were applied to the base plate served to provide a sense of movement as the piece went along. The gradual swelling and decrescendo over the 18 minute duration of the piece was in keeping with some of Tenney’s other postal pieces.

The audio of the performance was of a high quality and did not seem to mask any of the subtle details in the sounds. The accompanying instructions to the video recommended listening with headphones, and this was a wise precaution given the acoustics of typical computer speakers. The video focused on the items and not the performers and was close enough for the viewer to see how the sounds were being created. The entire performance was, appropriately, dedicated to Harold Budd, as was the original 1971 score.

For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night) was a successful realization of a piece that requires great imagination by the performers. Everything came together nicely both technically and artistically for this first Music For Your Inbox production. Two new video performances are scheduled for January and February.

For Percussion Perhaps, Or… (night) will be available until January 31st to new subscribers and may be purchased as a gift here.

Personnel for this concert are:

Stephanie Cheng Smith, realization & percussion
Liam Mooney, percussion
Simone Forti, art print postcard
Carlos Mosquera, recording & balance engineer
Ian Byers-Gamber, video
Middle Ear Project, concert design

by Paul Muller
Ambient, CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Piano

The Fall – Dennis Johnson’s ‘November’ Deconstructed

Lustmord

Nicolas Horvath

The Fall – Dennis Johnson’s November Deconstructed is a recent vinyl release from the Sub Rosa label featuring the combined talents of Lustmord, the film and video game composer, and pianist Nicolas Horvath. The Fall is based on Dennis Johnson’s November, a 1959 solo piano piece that prefigured minimalism and was an influence on La Monte Young’s The Well Tuned Piano. The Fall updates the original Johnson work, consolidating it and adding a suitably somber ambient track realized by Lustmord. Nicolas Horvath, the award-winning concert pianist who has specialized in minimalist piano works, plays an abridged version of November so that, as the liner notes state, the result is a reduction of “Johnson’s original November to its core element place[d] in a landscape of complimentary sound.”

Dennis Johnson (1938 – 2018) was a reclusive West Coast mathematician and composer writing music in the late 1950s and early 60s. His composing style was highly inspirational, similar to his thought processes in mathematics. Accordingly, November is a long, quiet piano piece with solitary notes, simple chords and generous amounts of silence. There is some repetition in this, but not the driving pulse or rhythms that would characterize the classic minimalism of later composers. November is perhaps more reminiscent of the music of Morton Feldman in its contemplative character and extended length of four-plus hours.

In 1962 Johnson began consulting full-time in mathematics, at one point working for Cal Tech, and he essentially abandoned his interest in music. Some years later, Kyle Gann acquired Johnson’s November sketches, along with an old cassette recording of the piece, and carefully transcribed a formal score. A few select performances of November have since been recorded.

Immersed in a soundscape that seemed to transport us to the essence of a fall evening, the performance unfolded with such a deft blend of elements that it could have been a musical interpretation of a meilleur jeux casino en ligne session. The ambient electronic tones and the methodical piano notes performed by Horvath evoked the same suspense and anticipation one feels when waiting for the roulette ball to settle into its slot. As I shared my impressions with an old family friend who’d recently discovered the thrills of online gaming, his nod was of both understanding and agreement. The piece resonated with him, echoing the tension between risk and reward, a feeling he’d come to know well in his virtual casino exploits. His anecdote, akin to an inspiring blog post, affirmed the universal language of music and chance, linking disparate experiences through a shared rhythm of emotion.

Track 2 continues this development with the piano and electronic accompaniment gradually increasing in dynamics and intensity. The piano line becomes more assertive and hopeful, and the renewed chirping of birds suggests a clearing of the storm. Toward the end of the track, however, the birds fall silent and the piano returns to the lower registers as the sounds of the wind rise, accompanied by rolls of distant thunder. Track 3 now turns grim with a low bass tone and the piano line deep in the lower register. Thunder is heard again, while the piano now includes simple chords and a mix of middle register notes. A feeling of uncertainty prevails as the background organizes into a more recognizably musical sound. The patter of raindrops is heard that strengthens into a downpour, adding to the sense of anxiety. In the final track the rainfall has ended and a sunnier piano line offers a bit of optimism. The birds are chirping again as if the storm has finally passed. There is a more settled feel in the piano and the deep bass tones in the accompaniment now add a renewed sense of confidence. As the piece concludes, the same gentle rustling of the wind as heard as in the beginning, and a feeling of normality is restored.

So what is the end result of this amalgam of 1950s minimalism and 21st century dark ambient? Purists might object to Lustmord’s presumption in establishing the context for the piece – the imagination of the listener might be better able to personalize the experience by hearing Johnson’s piano alone. That said, Lustmord’s autumn storm context in The Fall is certainly valid, if somewhat limiting. The ambient accompaniment is always in the service of Johnson’s piano line, and does not contend for dominance or attention. The colors are appropriate, subdued and artfully realized. The deconstruction of the hours-long November score to sixty minutes does no injustice to Johnson’s intentions, and the playing by Nicolas Horvath is true to the original. Will adding a dark ambient setting by a popular film and video game composer help to attract a wider audience for this music? It is probably worth doing the experiment to find out.

The Fall – Dennis Johnson’s November Deconstructed is available from Amazon, Discogs and other music retailers. This Limited Edition format is two white vinyl LP records.




by Paul Muller