Concert review

Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Just Intonation, Los Angeles

Microfest LA Brass Concert

On a rainy Saturday night, March 10, 2018, Art Share LA hosted an all-brass concert of microtonal music performed by Trio Kobayashi and members of the CalArts Brass Ensemble. Six pieces were heard, including two world premiers, all presented by Microfest LA.

Plainsound Chorus (2017), by Wolfgang von Schweinitz was first, performed by Trio Kobayashi. This was a section of Cantata, a new work to be premiered in full at RedCat on May 23. Strong upward scales began the piece, and each of the three instruments – horn, euphonium and tuba – followed an independent line that gave this a busy, song-like feel. The alternate tuning was impressively realized with the valved instruments, and the predominance of low tones provided a solid foundation for the many unfamiliar harmonies. The warm brass sounds elicited a choral sensibility and the steady pulse focused the texture. As the chords moved in and out of the familiar, presenting various possible perspectives, the experience was reminiscent of viewing a cubist painting. Plainsound Chorus is a promising preview of the larger work to come.

Gravlax (2015), by Matt Barbier followed, and this was the world premiere. The composer was joined by a second trombone player and a trumpet, all muted. A static electronic recording that featured a continuous deep rumbling sound was heard through the speakers at the front of the stage, and the density and volume proved almost impenetrable. The instruments were played softly, so that they were were almost inaudible against the electronic background, and this served to focus the concentration of the listener. The muted trumpet was perhaps most effectively heard when it occasionally rose above the jumble, and these soundings provided a bright and welcome contrast. The trombones were also briefly heard, and served to add some color to the roar below. Gravlax is related to those very quiet pieces where the economy of sound magnifies its impression – in a similar way, the short flashes of brass tones rising out of the churning background multiply their effect, sharpening the listener’s acuity and expanding perception.

The premiere of Chaconne (2018) by Andrew McIntosh, was next, performed by Trio Kobayashi. This began with sustained tones in the tuba and euphonium, soon joined by the horn. The result was a series of warm, brassy chords that filled the room with some lovely harmonies. The presence of moving tones within the chord was most effective, nicely integrating the pitches selected from an alternate tuning. Seemingly disparate tones were impressively melded into the organic whole. The simplicity of this approach, combined with the cordial sensibility of the brass, made for a most pleasing combination. The intonation and tuning of the sustained tones by Trio Kobayashi was precise, with fluid dynamics in the texture that engaged the listener. This piece was finished by McIntosh concurrently with Shasta, a much larger brass ensemble work that received its premiere at Disney Hall three weeks ago. The two are very different in scope and palette. Where Shasta feels more like a narrative, Chaconne is an insightful exploration of the relationships between tuning, chords and their constituent pitches.

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by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

John Adams Conducts Green Umbrella Concert at Disney Hall

The latest installment of the LA Philharmonic Green Umbrella concert series rolled into Disney Hall on Tuesday, February 20, 2018. Music by Julius Eastman, Anna Thorvaldsdottir and a premiere by Andrew McIntosh were performed. A screening of the iconic anti-war piece L’s G.A. by Salvatore Martirano, with live performance art by Ron Athey as Politico, rounded out the program. Only a few empty seats could be seen as an eager audience settled into place.

The first piece was AURA, by Icelandic composer Anna Thorvaldsdottir, performed by the Los Angeles Percussion Quartet. This was played completely in the dark – no stage lights or house lights in the entire space. The LAPQ was just barely visible in dim outline on stage, hunched over their percussion instruments. They wore lighted green wristbands on each arm so that their movements could be seen throughout the hall. AURA began with chiming sounds and a soft rattle followed by what sounded like a bowed vibraphone tone plate. More intriguing sounds followed. The darkness, the moving green lights and the mysterious tones instantly created an atmosphere that gave full rein to the listener’s imagination. It was as if we were observing some secret ritual in the dead of winter in pagan Iceland. Ms. Thorvaldsdottir is well known for building convincing sound worlds out of unusual musical materials, and it would be hard to overstate how effectively this was accomplished here. The playing by the LAPQ – who had performed this piece before – was nonetheless remarkable given the extended techniques involved, the many notes and instructions in the score and the total darkness of the stage. AURA is a captivating experience that, despite the modest musical forces and subdued dynamics, works on the imagination in  surprising and powerful ways.

Shasta, by Andrew McIntosh followed, an LA Phil commission and world premiere conducted by John Adams. The stage was filled with a brass ensemble, timpani, percussion, a piano and harp. The composer is an avid hiker and recently climbed Mount Shasta. He writes of this experience: “Mt. Shasta is a unique mountain among California peaks, since it is a massive isolated cone located at the southern end of the Cascade range. Most of California’s major peaks are in the Sierra, which are completely different in nature, since the high peaks in that range are all surrounded by other peaks of similar height. This gives Mt. Shasta panoramic views from the top unparalleled in any other place in California, as well as a peculiarly lonely and melancholy feel.”

McIntosh is a string player by training, but has written for various other ensembles; Shasta is his first major work for brass and the piece proceeds in several short movements. The opening is filled with upward moving scales, arcing glissandos and a strong melody in the trombones so that the feeling is one of climbing a perilous mountain trail. At one point, some bowed xylophone notes sting like a blast of icy air. A trumpet sounds above some sustained tutti chords as if to announce that the summit has been reached, and here the music takes on a more mystical feel with quiet notes in the horns and piano. Towards the finish, the dynamics further soften and muted trumpets provide a strong sense of standing atop the remote heights. Shasta is an evocative and convincing portrait of both the exertion and the exhilaration of mountain climbing, and was received with sustained applause.

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by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Premieres

Panic Duo Concert in Pasadena

On Sunday, February 18, 2018, the Pasadena Conservatory of Music hosted a faculty recital featuring the Panic Duo of Nick Gerpe and Pasha Tseitlin. A full concert program of contemporary music was performed, including a world premiere by Gilda Lyons, a Los Angeles premiere from Laura Kramer and music by Anne LeBaron, Jennifer Higdon, Juhi Bansal and Reena Esmail. Barrett Hall was completely filled for the occasion, and an extra row of chairs crowded the stage to accommodate the overflow crowd.

Fissure, for violin, piano and electronics (2016), by Anne LeBaron opened the concert. This piece was premiered by the Panic Duo in December, 2016 and is inspired by the Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allen Poe. The electronic recordings for this piece resulted from a visit by the composer to an upstate New York mansion that is said to be haunted. The title of the piece refers to the large structural crack in the Usher house that ultimately collapses at the end of the Poe story. Fissure opens with Gerpe entering from offstage, staggering into his seat at the piano. A short arpeggio is heard followed by a dramatic crash. Tseitlin arrives, walking slowly to center stage with soft mewing sounds emanating from his violin. A clattering is heard in the speakers accompanied by some uptempo runs in the instruments, all casting a mysterious and unsettling spell. The tension continues to build as the piece moves forward, with quiet stretches and piano trills alternating with agitated violin passages brimming with psychological anguish. The sounds of rushing wind and a deep rumbling from the recording added to the atmosphere. A sense of the theatrical persisted to the finish, with the violinist pacing restlessly about while playing softly, and then exiting offstage. Fissure is a remarkable portrayal of the Poe story, with all of the emotion and drama skillfully drawn out by the Panic Duo.

Whip the Devil Round the Stump (2017), by Juhi Bansal, followed. This began with complex and rapid runs in the piano accompanied by a series of slurred scales on the violin. The two instruments then traded phrases back and forth, often in counterpoint, and this made for a nicely interweaving texture. A slower section intervened, led by a solemn violin line and some low notes in the piano. The uptempo pacing returned at the finish with more shared passages and a moving, active feel. Whip the Devil Round the Stump is a robustly dynamic piece that extracts the maximum amount of energy from just two players.

Jhula Jhule (2013) by Reena Esmail was next and this piece was described as a “fantasia on two Indian folk songs.” Opening with a quiet, ethereal trill in the piano, the violin soon joined with slower phrases that invoked a warm and wistful feeling. An Indian lullaby was clearly one of the inspirations for this piece; the violin supplied the singing voice and the piano line gave a sense of nostalgic distance. The contrast between the piano and the sweetly light melody in the violin was especially effective – Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending came briefly to mind. The playing, especially in the violin, was strongly expressive resulting in a beautifully peaceful sensibility. Jhula Jhule is restful and tranquil – music that sits comfortably in the listener’s ear.

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by Paul Muller
Chamber Music, Composers, Concert review, Contemporary Classical, File Under?, New York

Sheila Silver Composer Portrait at Merkin Hall

Sheila Silver

 

The Music of Sheila Silver: A Celebration

Merkin Concert Hall

February 8, 2018

By Christian Carey

Published on Sequenza 21

 

NEW YORK – Composer Sheila Silver has taught at Stony Brook University since 1979. On February 8th at Merkin Concert Hall, an all-Silver program celebrated her tenure at the university. In addition to colleagues and students past and present, the hall was filled with area musicians – including multiple generations of composers – who were most enthusiastic in their reception of Silver and the estimable renditions of her work.

 

Even when composing instrumental music, Silver often bases her work on literature and describes it in terms of its narrative quality. The earliest piece on the program, To the Spirit Unconquered (1992), played by Trio de Novo – Brian Bak, violin, Phuc Phan Do,  cello, and Hsin-Chiao Liao, piano –  is inspired by the writings of Primo Levi, a survivor of the Holocaust who was imprisoned in Auschwitz. One of Silver’s most dramatic compositions, in places it is rife with dissonance and juxtaposes violent angularity with uneasy passages of calm. In the video below, Silver mentions trying to imbue it both with the searing quality of Levi’s struggle and, at its conclusion, some sense of hope based on his indomitability in the midst of horrendous experiences. Trio de Novo are a talented group who performed with detailed intensity and imparted the final movement, marked “stately,” with exceptional poise.

 

Soprano Risa Renae Harman and pianist Timothy Long performed an aria from the opera The Wooden Sword (2010),  in which Harman displayed impressive high notes to spare. Her acting skills were on display – comedically sassy – in “Thursday,” one of the songs from Beauty Intolerable (2013), Silver’s cycle of Edna St. Vincent Millay settings. Soprano Lucy Fitz Gibbon, joined by pianist Ryan McCullough, presented another, more serious, Millay song, “What My Lips Have Kissed.” With Bak providing additional atmosphere, they also performed an aria from Silver’s current work-in-progress, the opera A Thousand Splendid Suns. Gibbon sang with considerable flexibility and purity of tone, at one point exuberantly spinning around while effortlessly holding a high note. Currently part of the group workshopping the opera, she seems perfectly cast. The songs and arias displayed a sumptuousness that served as a fine contrast to the denser language of the piano trio.

 

Dawn Upshaw was slated to perform with pianist (and longtime Stony Brook faculty member) Gilbert Kalish. Sadly, Upshaw had bronchitis and couldn’t sing on the concert. Gibbon valiantly stepped in, learning Silver’s On Loving, Three Songs in Memory of Diane Kalish (2015) in just two days. Her performance on the concert was supremely confident, betraying none of the last minute nature of the switch. Indeed, the three songs – settings of Shakespeare, St. Vincent Millay, and Khalil Gibran, were among the most stirring of Silver’s works on the program, displaying an autumnal lyricism and wistful poignancy. Kalish, a renowned accompanist, played with characteristic grace.

 

The second half of the concert showed still two more aspects of Silver’s work: a short film score and a more overtly political chamber piece. The first, Subway Sunset (1999), is a collaboration with her husband, the filmmaker John Feldman. It intersperses scenes of busy commuters with a gradually encroaching sunset adorning the sky near the World Trade Center. Although filmed before 2001, the duo dedicated it to the victims of 9/11. Seeing the towers on film will always be haunting. The musical accompaniment, a duet played by bassoonist Gili Sharret and pianist Arielle Levioff, created a solemn stillness that left space to contemplate the various implications of what used to be a normal scene for twentieth century commuters.

 

The program concluded with Twilight’s Last Gleaming (2008), a work for two pianists and two percussionists that is a commentary on the post 9/11 state of affairs. Its three movements’ titles – War Approaching, Souls Ascending, Peace Pretending – give a broad outline for the work’s impetus. Twilight’s Last Gleaming requires stalwart performers and Kalish, joined by pianist Christina Dahl (also on Stony Brook’s faculty) and percussionists Lusha Anthony and Brian Smith, provided a committed and energetic account of this challenging and penetrating piece. The large percussion setup included a considerable assortment of gongs as well as various pitched instruments and drums. The percussionists engaged in a complex choreography between parts, at times catwalking around the gongs’ stands to arrive perfectly in time for their next entrance. In the piece’s final section, an extended musical deconstruction of “The Star-Spangled Banner” takes place with all of the musicians engaging in an increasingly fragmented presentation of the tune. The piece closes leaving the penultimate line  “The Land of the Free…” cut off by a musical question mark: a powerful ending to an evening of eloquent music.

 

 

 

 

by Christian Carey
Bang on a Can, Composers, Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Orchestral, Orchestras, Review, Seattle

Seattle Symphony unveils David Lang’s symphony without a hero

David Lang’s symphony without a hero received its premiere on February 8/10 by its commissioner, Seattle Symphony and Music Director Ludovic Morlot. As usual, Lang spells his title in all lowercase letters, a gesture of acquiescence that particularly befits the resigned tone of this work’s namesake, Poem Without a Hero by the Soviet writer Anna Akhmatova. Lang, who is quite the Russophile, took his inspiration from Akhmatova’s wartime lament for her hometown Leningrad (St. Petersburg), besieged and abused at the hands of both Nazis and Stalinists. Lang’s reflections present as a single-movement essay that, regardless of one’s feelings toward postminimalism or orchestral composition in general at this stage of the 21st century, surely deserves to be ranked among his most compelling works.

Lang conceived symphony without a hero as the unfolding of “a melody that goes from the beginning of the piece to the very end—a 28 minute tune”. This melody, closer to 23 minutes at Morlot’s tempo, lies in the bass instruments: a gruff pseudo-ostinato that constantly tries to climb a C♯ minor triad (C♯ G♯ C♯ E) without ever literally repeating itself. It’s somewhere between a “real” tune and a clumsily-executed arpeggio exercise (imagine the fragmentary musical gestures of The Little Match Girl Passion, but louder and harsher). Above it the high strings, coupled with other treble instruments, spin a tonally ambiguous web of overlapping sustained tones derived from the bass tune, creating an effect akin to the angelic choir atop Ives’ texture in the Prelude to his Fourth Symphony. There’s little going on in the middle registers—it’s as though each instrument is compelled to choose between bass and treble. As Lang puts it, the two sides “don’t talk to each other”.

As from a tower that commands the view
From nineteen-forth I look down.
As if I bid farewell anew
To what I long since bade farewell,
As if I paused to cross myself
And enter dark vaults underground.

(1941, Leningrad under siege)
– Anna Akhmatova, translated by Nancy K. Anderson

David Lang (photo: Dacia Clay/Second Inversion)

Lang has spoken about being led into composition through his early encounters with Shostakovich. And the tone of his symphony is akin to Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony shorn of its triumphalism and cumulative effect. I kept thinking of that piece’s notorious first movement, but with its melodic and harmonic details blasted away, leaving just the repetitive martial rhythms as symbolic foundations to the bombed-out buildings of wartime Leningrad whose smoldering shells remain but whose trappings of life have been pulverized and left to circulate as a disorganized cloud in the smoky air. As if to reinforce the siege metaphor, Morlot positioned the drums at the left of the orchestra with the lower strings and brass on the right, effectively enveloping the jumbled and pleading voices of the treble choir. There’s definitely an edge to this music that you don’t always get with Lang.

Halfway through the symphony the quasi-ostinato stops, leaving the web of treble instruments standing alone. Most prominent here are the violins, supported by some high woodwinds, harps and a celeste. The bass reenters, but now with an alternation of sustained chords a half-step apart, reminiscent of Philip Glass (for whom Lang once worked as a copyist, meticulously typing the lyrics of Akhnaten into the score). As before, bass and treble proceed independently until the bass finally drops out entirely, leaving the violins (just as in Ives’ Symphony) with the last word.

To complete the evening Morlot paired Lang’s symphony with its putative opposite, Strauss’ Ein Heldenleben (A Hero’s Life) from 1898. The antebellum naiveté of that old warhorse has long screamed out for revisionism, and programming it after the brutal honesty of the Lang only seemed to emphasize its insouciance. If there was a moral to the evening, it was that true heroes are the ones bearing hard witness to bitter truths. In that light we can be grateful for Seattle Symphony’s long record of supporting contemporary music, a record that one hopes will continue despite the imminent departure of both its Music Director Morlot and its President/CEO Simon Woods.

by Michael Schell
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Opera

Descent Into Madness in Pasadena

As part of their continuing new music series, the Boston Court Performing Arts Center in Pasadena presented Descent Into Madness, A Concert of Cautionary Music on February 9, 2018. The centerpiece of the evening was a performance of Miss Donnithorne’s Maggot by Peter Maxwell Davies, featuring Canadian soprano Stacey Fraser and Brightwork newmusic. Anthony Parnther, conductor, Jack Van Zandt, who studied with Peter Maxwell Davies, and Terry Smith, stage director for this production, were also on hand for a pre-concert discussion of this spellbinding work of mid-20th century British experimental opera.

The first half of the concert was given over to three contemporary works, including two by Southern California composers. Un-intermezzi, by Veronika Krausas, opened the proceedings with Aron Kallay as piano soloist. The titles of the individual movements are taken from the novel Un Lun Dun, by China Miéville.

The first intermezzo, “each dreams the other” began with a quiet repeating phrase, and conveyed a lightly mysterious feel. Darker chords followed, adding tension, and these alternated with the softer passages. The program notes state that this movement : “… is the composer’s version of the floating quality of Brahms’ Intermezzo in B minor, OP. 119, no.1.” This provided a gently evocative prelude to the next section, “a bowl for shadows.” Written in the “whimsical style of Erik Satie”, there is more mystery here, with a solitary line of notes that are nicely offset by counterpoint and stronger passages that occasionally build to a mild anxiety. Good contrast in the dynamics and a sensitive touch by Kallay sustained this delicate balance. The last movement, “a chorus of night-things”, opens with a wonderfully active splatter of notes – a summer shower of optimism. This movement bubbles cheerfully along like a running brook in a spring pasture. A solemnly dark passage intrudes from the lower registers and as the movement proceeds, alternating with the sunny confidence heard in the opening. These contrasting passages continue throughout, increasingly varied and building to the finish. Un-intermezzi is a pleasing homage by the composer to literary and musical influences, brought forward to a contemporary sensibility.

Organism, by Jason Barabba was next, scored for clarinet and flute. The music stands at center stage were arranged so that the two players faced each other. A high pitch from the flute floated upward to begin, and this was nearly matched by clarinet so that their dissonance resembled the whistling of a strong wind. Skittering passages followed, and these soon morphed into a series of intertwined and independent phrases woven together into a dazzling matrix of brightly organic sounds. The composer writes in the program notes: “One of the great features of both the clarinet and the flute are their ability for great subtlety, control and intricate dynamic shading. In this case the undulating opening section was designed to highlight the instruments’ dynamic control in their higher ranges.”

There were no common harmonies or pulse – each line was independently played with the rapid runs and trills nearly colliding but for the precise playing of flutist Sara Andon and clarinetist Brian Walsh. Even with all of the notes flying out into the audience, there was enough of an arc to the phrases so that the listener could naturally follow the flow. While every bit as complex, active and animated as a Jackson Pollock painting, Organism engages and dazzles, but never overwhelms.

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by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, Los Angeles

Eclipse Quartet in Pasadena

On Saturday, December 16, 2017 People Inside Electronics presented Electric Eclipse, a concert featuring the Eclipse Quartet and a world premiere by Zeena Parkins. Also presented was music by Mari Kimura, Tom Flaherty, Ian Dicke and Missy Mazzoli. There was a special appearance by shakuhachi player Kojiro Umezaki, who presented an original work with the Eclipse Quartet. Every seat was filled in the Throop Church Hall, complete with speakers and what seemed to be several miles of cables.

The program opened with Spirit Away the Flesh (2017), by Zeena Parkins and this was the world premiere. The program notes describe this piece as “ an electro acoustic work using quad speaker diffusion that merges field recordings, vintage synth, and recordings of the Eclipse quartet creating a topography for three artists to reveal their motivations for artistic practice.” The recordings began with the sounds of insects and twittering birds, as captured in various locations along the east coast, from Florida to Long Island. Eclipse supplemented this with a series of soft skittering phrases that soon led to a broadly gentle harmony. Spoken text followed from the speakers; the words of the three visual artists were heard throughout the piece. At certain points the quartet players would strike small metal bowls that sent a pleasant ringing sound out into the audience.

Deep, anxious chords next appeared in the strings, and these became agitated, like so many angry mosquitoes. A feeling of uncertainty and anxiety crept in, contrasting with the more reassuring organic sounds from the field recordings. The playing, the field recordings and the spoken texts were all carefully balanced and blended. The feeling throughout oscillated between tension in the strings and the soothing sounds of the bells and rustic recordings. Spirit Away the Flesh is an engaging work, with many interwoven elements that were nicely coordinated and impeccably performed.

I-Quadrifoglio (2011) by Mari Kimura, followed. This is a four movement piece reflecting on the effects of the 2011 earthquake in Japan and the subsequent meltdown at the Fukushima nuclear power plant. “Quadrifoglio” means four-leaf clover in Italian and the movements of this piece are titled “faith, love, hope, luck.” The program notes state that “I-Quadrifoglio is not only a prayer, but a plea for the international community to keep watch and demand more information; air and water are connected globally and affect all our children’s future.”

I-Quadrifoglio opened with high, thin sounds in the violins followed by sustained tones in a nicely blended tutti harmony. A rolling feel predominated, followed by trills of anxiety and a series of interweaving melody lines. The electronics seemed to quietly echo the playing of the quartet, and this was very effective. The middle movements featured some very lovely passages, expressively played. Contrasting sections of strong pizzicato ricocheted around the quartet and through the electronics. There were extended techniques, rapid phrases and runs that were scattered among the strings, but all were negotiated with just the right amount of liveliness and precision. Towards the end of the piece a dance-like rhythm appeared that morphed into a very complex texture that swirled and surged to the finish. I-Quadrifoglio is a technically challenging piece that draws out many strong emotions while also demonstrating the virtuosity of the Eclipse Quartet.

Recess (2016), by Tom Flaherty, was next. The first movement, “Spin,” began with a strong opening tutti chord and a series of sforzandos that rolled around the quartet, followed by sustained tones that created an anxious feel. The tension continued to build in the rapidly dynamic passages that followed. The tight ensemble of the Eclipse Quartet was nicely balanced with the energy in this piece. For all the innocence of its title, Recess at times stirred memories of early and mid 20th century Soviet era expressionism.

The second movement, “Swing”, while slower and more restrained, continued the sense of tension. A soft echo of the strings could be heard in the speakers, lightly processed by the electronics. A series of descending tones was very effective and lent an almost supernatural air as this movement as it came to a calm finish. The final movement, “Tag” returned to the rapid pace with a frenetic tempo and swirling texture that, like the playground game, seemed unsure as to where it was headed. Exuberant and unrestrained, this is very visceral music and Recess concluded to enthusiastic applause.

(Cycles) what falls must rise (2009) by Kojiro Umezacki followed the intermission. For this piece the composer joined the Eclipse Quartet playing the shakuhachi, a traditional Japanese end-blown flute. Cycles is based loosely on a haiku by Masaoka Shiki:

entangled with
the scattering cherry blossoms
the wings of birds

The piece begins quietly, with soft sounds in the electronics and sustained tones from the shakuhachi. The strings enter, producing a reserved, calming feel as if the sun is rising on a still morning. This spiritual sensibility is enhanced by a dramatic melody in the shakuhachi that weaves in and around the sustained chords in the strings. The lower strings follow, taking up the melody that is eventually passed to the violins, producing a more strident and purposeful feel. A strong tutti sound emerges, providing a fine contrast to the quiet mysticism of the opening section. Powerful trills in the strings and strong notes from the shakuhachi increase the sense of tension and drama – like a squall building in intensity. This eventually subsides – to complete the cycle – dying away at the finish. (Cycles) what falls must rise is an engaging work, grounded in traditional Japanese sensibility, yet equally at ease with the western string quartet and contemporary electronics.

Unmanned (2013) by Ian Dicke, followed, an unsettling piece first heard in a 2016 People Inside Electronics concert. Exploring the use of deadly military force by remote control, Unmaned is a work that brilliantly combines contemporary music and electronics with sharp political commentary. Missy Mazzoli’s iconic Harp and Altar (2009) concluded the concert, a stirring musical portrait of the Brooklyn Bridge and the surrounding waterfront.

by Paul Muller
CD Review, Concert review, File Under?, jazz, New York

Bill Frisell and Thomas Morgan at the Jazz Standard

Bill Frisell and Thomas Morgan at Winter Jazz Fest 2016.
Photo: Claire Stefani

Bill Frisell and Thomas Morgan

The Jazz Standard

December 10, 2017

Sequenza 21

By Christian Carey

NEW YORK – Like the dearly departed duo of Jim Hall and Charlie Haden, guitarist Bill Frisell and bassist Thomas Morgan make a sound much greater than the sum of their parts. This is not an issue of amplitude – their set on Sunday December tenth at the Jazz Standard was perfectly scaled for this intimate space. However, in terms of richness of rapport, musical detail, and imaginative improvisation, they can stand toe-to-toe with many larger groups. In part, they seem like a bigger ensemble because of the sheer number of notes per bar that their interplay encompasses and the quick shifts that occur between registers on their respective instruments.

 

There is another touching and musically fulfilling aspect to the pairing. While Frisell is the “veteran,” chronologically speaking, Morgan needn’t and doesn’t adopt a subordinate role: their interplay is on an equal footing. Frisell and Morgan began with “Days of Wine and Roses,” a venerable pop song turned jazz staple by pianist Bill Evans and memorably interpreted by guitarists such as Wes Montgomery and Joe Pass. Here, there was no feeling out process; it was an interweaving dialogue from the get-go. Frisell and Morgan seldom look at one another; such is their sense of each other’s unfolding strategy that they seldom need to do so. They seamlessly “duck” above and below each other, covering several octaves in their musical repartee.

Small Town (ECM, 2017).

Some of the set took tunes from Small Town (ECM, 2017), Frisell/Morgan’s live recording of a March 2016 stint at the Village Vanguard. A standout that appears on the CD is the fetching ballad by Morgan, “Pearl,” a tune with a turn around that contains just a whiff of “My Only Love” and is adorned with chromatic changes. Frisell supplied an original of his own, “Strange Meeting,” originally recorded back in 1984 on the guitarist’s ECM album The Rambler. While Morgan generally takes a polyphonic and harmonic approach to bass playing, here he imitated the pulsations found on the original recording (courtesy of Jerome Harris and Paul Motian), his instrument thrumming with intensity.

 

Both Thelonious Monk’s “Misterioso” and “Subconcious Lee” by Lee Konitz gave the two opportunities to switch gears to demonstrate facility in the bebop idiom. Later, the Carter Family’s “Wildwood Flower” presented another avenue of inquiry long in Frisell’s kitbag: the refraction of Americana and folk music through a jazz lense.

 

In a year fraught with violence and strife, it seemed especially appropriate for the set proper to end with Burt Bacharach’s “What the World Needs Now is Love,” a tender, but not overly sentimental, take on yet another iconic pop song turned standard. Warmly received, the duo returned for an encore from the Bond song catalog, John Barry’s “You Only Live Twice.” You can hear another Bond film theme by Barry on Small Town: “Goldfinger.”

 

Worthy of mention is the hospitable atmosphere at Jazz Standard. Their “quiet policy” makes it most conducive to listening, and the audience on Sunday readily complied, seeming earnestly engaged throughout. The servers are attentive, but they observe the quiet policy too. In addition, the Standard supplies customers with the best food to be had in a New York jazz establishment. Planning to see Billy Hart in February!

 

Set list

Days of Wine and Roses (Henry Mancini)

Misterioso (Thelonious Monk)

Pearl (Thomas Morgan)

Strange Meeting (Bill Frisell)

Subconscious Lee – (Lee Konitz)

Wildwood Flower (folk / Carter Family)

What the World Needs Now (Burt Bacharach)

encore: You Only Live Twice (John Barry)

Upcoming concerts by Frisell/Morgan

February 15 Mill Valley CA

(Sweetwater Music Hall)

February 17 Eugene OR

(The Shedd)

February 18 Portland, OR

(Revolution Hall, Portland Jazz Festival)

February 19th Seattle, WA

(Jazz Alley)

by Christian Carey
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