Electro-Acoustic

CD Review, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?

No Cosmos (CD Review)

No Cosmos -You iii Everything Else (Lighter than Air)

Montreal-based trumpeter  Scott Bevins has played in the band Busty and the Bass and collaborated with Pierre Kwenders and the collective Moonshine. You iii Everything Else is the debut of his No Cosmos project, which combines fusion-inflected jazz with experimental electronica. 

 

“Watercolor Ghost” is propelled by  a circular electric piano riff with high soprano Sarah Rossy scat-singing on top of it. Bevins and saxophonist Evan Shay continue with the tune, lightly adorned here and there, but emphasizing basic contours of the melody. Drummer Kyle Hutchins creates economic, flowing grooves that buoy the music.

 

After a hushed spoken word introduction, “Lydia” combines bell-like synth sounds with hand-claps and octave trumpet and saxophone. Bevins and Shay both take solos, Shay’s smoky R&B and Bevins a post-bop excursion rife with echo and angularity. 

 

“You (nine twenty)” is an example of the groups willingness to allow the unusual and conventional to abut. There are overdubbed, almost yowling, vocals as its intro, but the main section is a sedate jazz melody, layered by trumpet, saxophone, synths, and voices. The coda has the voices repeating, but an octave lower. Even though the arrangement is a bit incongruous, it is a fine tune.

 

Bevins has said that he wants his trumpet-playing to sound like,”a short circuiting fuse box and velvet.” It is a reasonably correct description. The core of his sound is warm, but Bevins can bring an edge to bear when necessary.  On the brief “0 to me to me to me,” the trumpet begins almost media res with a fusion solo that combines both of these qualities. 

 

“everything else” has served as the album’s single. Forceful drumming, Fender Rhodes, and female vocalists creating widely spaced harmonies are the background upon which Bevins and Shay’s corruscating lines provide a brief duel. Midway through the album, the track gains additional prominence as it is featured on trustednongamstopcasinos.com, where its dynamic interplay enhances the immersive experience for players. A pause in the activities, then all of the participants return, giving it their all. Trumpet and saxophone, now in a duet posture, lead the piece through a riotous section into an atmospheric close. The last tune, “Portrait,” begins with a mournful trumpet tune and gospel piano voicings. As in “Lydia,” the group gets to stretch out (I wouldn’t mind that happening a little more frequently). Bevins explores a plummy lower register, eventually picking up the tune in unison with Shay. Ululating singing alongside a slow drag from the rhythm section ungird the tune with a doleful cast. Rossy adds her voice to the winds, an octave higher. Hutchins goes into overdrive with a welter of fills pushing things forward, the result an interlude of hot jazz-rock. The coda returns to Bevins playing in a gentle valediction.

 

No Cosmos is ebullient in its eclecticism, and the personnel are excellent. Recommended. 

 

-Christian Carey

 

CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?

Chamber Music from Hell – Chris Opperman (CD Review)

Chamber Music from Hell

Chris Opperman

 

Chris Opperman, Synclavier, piano 

Kurt Morgan, programming, electric bass 

Mike Keneally, electric guitar 

Ryan Brown, drum set 

Jason Camelio, trombone 

Brianna Tagliaferro, cello 

Marco Minnemann, drum set 

The New Jersey Percussion Ensemble (Peter Jarvis, Payton MacDonald, Mike Aberback, Paul Carroll) 

Ursula Joy Opperman, Synclavier 

 

Purple Cow Records

 

When you have two Synclavier players on a recording that begins with a comic spoken introduction (“Where is Everybody?” – these reappear periodically in a robotic voice), it is tempting to suggest that the composer, Chris Opperman, must be writing a post-Zappa homage. Without a doubt, Zappa, Mike Keneally, Adrian Belew, and other artists in the art rock vein are sources of inspiration for Opperman; Keneally even makes a cameo guitar solo, tearing it up  on “Are We Living in a Computer Simulation?” 

 

These inspirations are only part of the mix, alongside Opperman’s own distinctive post-tonal concert music. He creates vivacious, complex, and tautly compact pieces on Chamber Music From Hell. A series of number compositions, each around a minute, are cases in point. They combine an acerbic pitch language with pith and wit. “Shades of Beige” is densely scored, and “Longest, Blackest Scarf” is a windswept piece with the rhythmic challenges that Babbitt posed for the RCA synthesizer: here the music is half live/half Synclavier. “Spider Yo-yo” is a grooving canon,  “Dancing Mimic” an ebullient piece for flute and cello, and “Hooded Stick Thinker” adds synth to this complement, with speedy lines in octaves concluding the set. 

 

New Jersey Percussion Ensemble performs “Owl Flight,” with scratches, timpani thrums, and a slowly stroked cymbal introducing the nocturnal sojourns of this most mysterious bird. This is followed by a mid-tempo rhythm with a florid tabla solo played atop it. A full-throated blast from the whole group ends the piece; perhaps the owl has found its prey. “Waking Up” begins sotto voce, a s synth pad providing a modal ostinato over which soaring string melodies are layered. “The Black Ball” is a polymetric prog rock song with more than a hint of “Supper’s Ready” by early Genesis; Ryan Brown plays a rousing drum solo, then joined by bassist Kurt Morgan, and then a full onslaught of keyboards. 

 

Chamber Music from Hell concludes with another suite, the Cribbage Variations. The first few are examples of Klangfarbenmelodie, with angular melodies corruscating throughout. “Mid-December” includes a puckish flute solo played in canon with synth. “Babbitt Time” also finds the muse of the RCA Synthesizer irresistible; Opperman crafts a compelling rendition of Milton Babbitt’s pitch language too. “At the Grave of Anton Webern” adopts the pointillism of the Second Viennese composer and is, of course, short in duration. 

 

Opperman’s piano takes center stage on “The Play,” while “Level Pegging” is a series of synth fanfares. “Muggins” features fast flute flourishes and synth brass interjections. “The 144,000” is a piano solo which begins with mid-register ostinato, followed by thunderous octaves, and then a reprise of the gentle repetitions. “Knock knock Bach” is a fugue for synthesizer and trombone, a demented recasting of the second Well-tempered Clavier fugue. Cribbage Variations’ finale, “The Show,” features dissonant arpeggiations, at first in the soprano register, then in bass octaves. These two registers overlap, and a huge crescendo moves the piece into major with the entire ensemble playing a syncopated groove. The chords are spiced up with extended tones and a gradual diminuendo brings the piece, and album, to a close.

 

Opperman is an imaginative arranger of the heterodox forces at his command. His music is varied and always distinctive. Recommended.

 

-Christian Carey

CD Review, Electro-Acoustic, Experimental Music, File Under?, Pop

Radical Romantics – Fever Ray Returns (CD Review)

Radical Romantics

Fever Ray

Mute

 

It has been nearly six years since Plunge, Karin Dreijer’s last album under the moniker Fever Ray. Equally well known for their band The Knife, on which they collaborate with their brother Olof Dreijer, Karin has made distinctive electronic music for over twenty years. Their latest, Radical Romantics, is a welcome return. In gestation since 2019, it is some of the finest work released by the Fever Ray project.

 

Another welcome return is one of collaboration. Olof helped to produce some of the recording and co-wrote four of the songs, the first collaboration between the siblings in eight years. Other co-producers and performers include Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (Nine Inch Nails), experimental artist and producer Vessel, Portuguese DJ and producer Nídia, Johannes Berglund, Peder Mannerfelt, and Pär Grindvik’s technicolor dance project Aasthma. Long-time collaborator, Martin Falck, joined Dreijer in creating an impressive visual corollary to the recording. Indeed, Radical Romantics is a project in which videos and artwork are a strong component, not the promotional devices that they so often are for other releases. 

 

The first four songs are a set written by Karin and Olof. “What They Call Us” started life some time ago as material for two unrealized movie soundtracks. Thrumming live drums alongside drum machine, an insistent synth riff, and electronic interjections demonstrate the number of iterations of the genesis of “What They Call Us.” However, this working approach is not uncommon on Radical Romantics. The end result, like much of the rest of the album, is music chock full of multifaceted layers, as well as far flung allusions in its lyrics. Another tune the siblings co-wrote, being supported by a video, is “Kandy.” It has an irrepressible “Whoo” vocal ostinato, an alto register lead vocal, and squirms with synth melodies. Tabla on “Shiver” and hand claps and a bass drum on “New Utensils” provide fulsome grooves. Both also feature modular synths that create a swarm of glissandos. Karin’s vocals encompass a variety of colors and superlative control. Gone is the stridency that typified some of their work in the Knife, replaced with a supple upper range and honeyed lower register. When they want to, as on “Even it Out,’ a steely edge appears.

 

The hit single, thus far, is “Carbon Dioxide,” on which Vessel helps to craft a club track with a soaring vocal by Karin and strings by Sakhi Singh and Seb Gainsborough. “Carbon Dioxide” includes an unusual tune, the Baby Elephant melody. Like many of Radical Romantic’s songs, the backstory recalls a diverse selection of inspirations and influences. Fever Ray has said they wanted the music to,  “Have the feeling of when you first fall in love …to be nice, happy, full of everything, extra everything. The Baby Elephant melody is the happiest melody of all time. The track contains wording from 1 Corinthians 13:1 because those words made a great impact when hearing them in Kieślowski’s Blue film. And a line from Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s, Gift from the Sea.” 

 

Another standout is “Even it Out,” on which Karin collaborates with Nine Inch Nails. Reverberant vocals create a texture over which a second line, a rousing chant, is placed. NiN supply a terse electric guitar, bending notes, and an alt-rock drum pattern. The song imagines settling scores with your child’s bully, a feeling many parents have likely had (hopefully, as here, it remains a fantasy). Reznor and Ross also assist on “North,” which Karin describes as “stillness after collapse.” As its title suggests, there is a chilly atmosphere, with whispered vocals, a syncopated rhythmic loop, and an architecture of overlaid synths. Mining their father’s record collection, Karin got to know Bob Marley’s music. On “Looking for a Ghost,” a line from Marley’s “Satisfy My Soul” appears alongside an unlikely compatriot – a Porno for Pyros snippet – as well as words by the eminent Swedish author Barbo Lindgren.

 

“Tapping Fingers” is a sad song, one that Karin suggests is the saddest song they have written, about trying to communicate with your partner, listening for a morse code message in their tapping fingers, repeated over and over again as they fall asleep. Vocals in octaves, a descending chord progression with fat bass underneath, and regular synth punctuations adorn the song. The final track is seven minutes long, but makes much with a small amount of material. “Bottom of the Ocean” consists of Karin performing repeating vowels that echo with long repeated bass tones underneath. It is a suitable denouement to cool down from an album of imaginative instrumentation and excellent songwriting. Recommended. 

 

  • Christian Carey
CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?, Minimalism

Mivos Quartet Plays Steve Reich (CD Review)

Steve Reich: The String Quartets

Mivos Quartet

Deutsche Grammophon

 

Steve Reich wrote his three string quartets for the Kronos Quartet, who have premiered, recorded (for Nonesuch), and continued to champion them. With Kronos still active, why does another quartet record these pieces? Mivos Quartet makes a strong case that there is room for other interpretations of Reich’s string quartets.

 

I remember well being at the Carnegie Hall premiere of Steve Reich’s piece for string quartet and multimedia WTC 9/11, performed by Kronos Quartet. Its incorporation of sound recordings, a dead phone line, air traffic controllers, and those trying to escape the building, was harrowing. Like his first quartet, Different Trains, Reich creates instrumental motives out of spoken word passages, imitating their contour and imparting pitch. The final movement, in which Jewish prayers are said over remains from the site, is extraordinarily moving. By the end of the work, many in the audience were visibly shaken by its visceral impact. Kronos has since recorded WTC 9/11, in a gritty rendition reminiscent of the energy of the live performance. 

 

Mivos plays with equal poignancy, but also with  a laser beam clarity that brings an entirely different palette of textures to bear. The recorded voices too have been remastered to emphasize incisiveness of utterance. Even with the constraints of overdubbing and vocal samples, there is freshness to Mivos’s approach to phrasing, taut and lithe. 

 

Triple Quartet features three quartets overdubbed throughout the piece (no vocal samples). Mivos play up the polyrhythms that festoon the work. Just when you think the groove is interlocked for good, Reich throws another intricate rhythmic relationship into the mix. Lest things become too motoric, glissandos and solo turns enliven the texture. Triple Quartet doesn’t have the narrative arc that defines the other pieces here, but it is a fine piece of abstract music 

 

Different Trains is an iconic work. At the beginning of the Second World War, Reich was shuttled back and forth on trains between separated parents. The “different trains” are those destined for the death camps in Poland. Its first movement features voices from Reich’s train rides, a porter, and governess, and clangorous train sounds. As in WTC 9/11,  Reich creates melodic phrases that mimic the contours of the sampled speeches. The second movement is terrifying, with speakers who are survivors of the Holocaust describing their trips on trains to the death camps. Air raid sirens are added to the train sounds, which move on a different polyrhythmic pathway. The final movement describes the end of the Second World War, bringing voices from America and Europe together to consider what has transpired. The last section moves from the emphasis on rhythm to a major key cadence accompanying the description of a deportee with a beautiful voice. One of the masterpieces of the late twentieth century, Different Trains is a piece that delves into issues of ethnicity and religious persecution that are, sadly, all too present in today’s society.  

 

The renditions by Kronos are irreplaceable, but Mivos creates compelling complementary readings. Recommended.

 

-Christian Carey



CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?

Favorites 2022: Andrew McIntosh – Little Jimmy (Recording Review)

Andrew Mcintosh

Little Jimmy

Yarn/Wire

Kairos

Composer and sound recordist Andrew Mcintosh has worked with Yarn/Wire, a quartet of two pianos and two percussionists, for over a decade, and this Kairos portrait CD demonstrates their keen musical connection. The title work references a special scene: recordings of Rosenita Saddle in Angeles National Forest, where Mcintosh routinely walked. It has since been ravaged by damage from wildfires. Sounds from wildlife, particularly wind, birds, and crunching underfoot during nature walks, connect Little Jimmy’s title work and solo piano piece “I Have a Lot to Learn” with feelings of the loss of the Little Jimmy trail camp and verdant memories of vitality.  

 

Pianist Laura Barger opens the CD with “I Have a Lot to Say” (2019). Harmonics provide ritualistic punctuations. These alternate with brief, widely spaced enigmatic chords. Russell Greenberg plays the solo percussion piece “Learning.” Featuring pitched percussion accompanied by environmental sounds and sine tones, the piece is a beguiling tone poem in which birdsong and mallet percussion create a sonorous treble register that the electronics halo with lower sonorities. The resultant blend creates a gradually evolving sound world that evokes connections between the natural world and the organicism of spectralism. 

 

“Little Jimmy” features all four of the performers in Yarn/Wire – Barger and Julia Den Boer, pianists; Greenberg and Sae Hashimoto, percussionists. Bowed vibraphone and quick altissimo runs from the piano begin the piece in tintinnabular style. In the second movement, wind and birdsong are haloed by slowly evolving pitches from bowed and pitched percussion; the pianos chime in with Messiaen-like birdsong of their own. The third movement is a brief interlude that brings back the initial treble gestures. The fourth movement, the longest at ten and a half minutes,  is intriguing. Here, bowed percussion and strummed piano strings combine to create shimmering, slowly evolving textures. The last section of the movement moves towards great aggressiveness, with a clangor of repeating patterns and low sine tones. It is well-crafted, but goes on too long with the same rhythmic attacks and dynamic relentlessness. Alternating piano chords and pitched percussion chimes elaborate the prior movements’ harmonic structure in movement five. All of the various materials from previous movements are combined, leading off with birdsong and electronics, then piano harmonics and mallets. Feedback against birdsong is an interesting choice, and it seems to foretell the tragic end of Little Jimmy Trail. Repeated piano harmonics, triangle punctuations, and the insistence of birdsong and sine tone underscore this portentousness. Chimes toll, wind howls, there is a crescendo in the piano drones and bowed percussion, but nothing can repress the insistence of the nature sounds. A last tolling closes the piece with a sense of mourning rather than closure. Andrew McIntosh is a multalented creator. Little Jimmy provides his multiple muses, the natural world and longtime collaborators, a chance to interact in myriad, often beautiful, ways. It is one of our Favorites of 2022.

 

-Christian Carey

 

CD Review, Choral Music, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?

Tyondai Braxton – Telekinesis (CD Review)

Tyondai Braxton

Telekinesis

Nonesuch/New Amsterdam

 

Telekinesis is Tyondai Braxton’s largest piece to date.  It is inspired in part by the Japanese manga classic Akira, the story of a young boy’s discovery of his telekinetic powers and the disaster that ensues. Commissioned by the Southbank Centre in London and Musica Nova Helsinki Festival, Telekinesis is scored for electric guitars, orchestra, choir, and electronics. It is the latter that Braxton has thus far been associated with, but Telekinesis includes large sections of notated music, blending with the electronics to make thickly layered amalgams. 

 

The performers on the Nonesuch/New Amsterdam recording are the Metropolis Ensemble, conducted by Andrew Cyr, the Brooklyn Youth Chorus conducted by Dianne Berkun Menaker, and The Crossing conducted by Donald Nally. The coordination between these various forces and the electronics is superb. I am reminded of a performance by The Crossing of James Dillon’s Nine Rivers, where the choir held its own against formidable acoustic and electronic elements and created powerful chords built from intricate harmonies. The same is true of the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, who are given challenging parts that bely their ages, yet turn in a superlative performance. The super-orchestra that is created by the various elements remains engaging throughout.

 

The piece is cast in four movements. “Overshare” begins with shimmering strings to which are added spooky synth arpeggiations and oscillating percussion. The way in which the ensemble is gradually incorporated to bolster the electronics sneaks up on you. Strummed harp imitates the rolled synth chords, brass adds to the vertical component, and insistent drumming provides forward momentum. Towards the end of the movement, disjunct melodies softly turn around sustained unisons with the harp and crescendoing brass filling out the frame. 

 

“Wavefolder” begins with insistent repeated tones in varying tempos, the electronics particularly pungent, brass building stalwart verticals and flutes imitating the soaring synth lines. Wordless choir joins the proceedings with sustained vowels. Dissonant strings and insistent synth lines compete with percussion for the foreground. The choir periodically adds wordless sustained chords. Flute solos imitate the lines from the first movement. There is a gradual denouement that imparts sounds of fetching delicacy. It ends with a surprising electronic punctuation.

 

“Floating Lake” starts hushed. A sudden interruption by the string figure and the “telekinetic” motive that appears in each movement muddy the waters only to have the music quickly return to placidity. This alternation reoccurs throughout the movement, the interruptions becoming longer and more emphatic. Phaser bleeps add a sci-fi cast to things. One senses that Akira is coming to a climax in this imaginary soundtrack. 

 

The final movement, “Overgrowth,” is an intense conclusion, employing every member of the forces in an ominous movement that presses forward with thrumming beats and dissonant verticals. The Crossing’s male singers respond in lower registers to the string chords and children’s choir. Bleak brass solos give the music a tragic cast. A new synth motive arrives about halfway through, providing a disjunct foil to the chords from the ensemble and choirs. Added to these are held bass notes and a martial pattern from the timpani. The synth theme is transferred to brass and low strings add another ostinato. The texture abruptly thins, and another wandering synth melody is presented. Soft brass chords are followed by a pause. Then pianissimo percussion leads the piece to its enigmatic conclusion.

 

An ambitious and imaginative piece, Telekinesis is Braxton at his best.

 

-Christian Carey

 

CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, Los Angeles

Jack Curtis Dubowsky – Bolsa Chica Calm

Jack Curtis Dubowsky has been a familiar presence in Los Angeles contemporary music for many years. He may be best known for his original scores for vintage silent films, as well as for performing them live while projecting the movies in various outdoor venues around town. Dubowsky has also scored feature films, orchestral and chamber works, as well as choral music including the acclaimed Harvey Milk: A Cantata. He is a member of the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences and the author of three books.

Bolsa Chica Calm is Dubowsky’s latest electro-acoustic album, and he writes that this music “…references ambient, environmental, and experimental music, from vaporwave to Wendy Carlos’ Sonic Seasonings.” The album comprises two 30-minute pieces – Bolsa Chica Surf and Bosa Chica Rain – both inspired by the composer’s avid passion for surfing and the Orange County coast.

Bolsa Chica Surf opens the album and appropriately begins with the calming regularity of waves lapping on the beach. Synthesized instruments soon enter in their turn, with gentle harmonies and simple melodies. The new phrases are independent and repeat so that each entrance adds a new layer of sound to the growing texture. Some high-pitched electronics whirl in the air, and might be sea birds calling across a beach. The soft, pulsing undercurrent of the surf forms a foundation on which the instruments are heard, and this produces a pleasing California sensibility. The repeating phrases of the music complement the patterns in the surf – seemingly the same but each having individual differences. This synchronization of the musical with the natural engages the listener in the same way as standing on a beach watching the waves roll in – all similar in form but separately distinctive.

As the piece continues, a harp is heard repeating a simple ascending phrase, accompanied by lower register electronics and the surf sounds. Three-note bell tones are soon heard dominating at the top of the texture. The tempo has increased slightly and there is a more purposeful feeling as the acoustic instrument sounds enter, each with its own repeating phrase. This pattern produces a feeling of quiet meditation on the beach, even as the piece is one long crescendo, building as instruments join in with new sounds.

At about the halfway mark everything fades to a moment of silence, then a new piano phrase is heard with the harp. There is a steady repeating phrase in each voice with only elementary harmony in the simple piano chords. A cello begins with rich deep tones in slow, stately passages. A flute enters on top, arcing above and there is a more conventional feel to this section with familiar instrumentation and fewer electronics. At 24:33 a distinctive electronic voice enters with sustained tones, changing the mood a bit. Towards the finish the percussion enters, and the feeling becomes one of expectation. A broad tutti chord is a final flourish, and then only the surf sounds continue for a few moments more.

Bolsa Chica Surf is a minimal, but pleasant rending of a quiet day on a California beach. The patterns of the waves and the music imitate one another and merge in the ear to form a continuum of music and nature. This is not dramatic or technically flashy, but is rather a peaceful echo of nature that leaves room in the mind of the listener for quiet meditation.

Bolsa Chica Rain is similarly structured, but evokes an entirely different range of emotions. The sound of a steady rain softly drumming on a metal roof is accompanied by some marvelously liquid percussive sounds. Violins and a cello join in with a mournful melody that perfectly captures the disappointment one feels at having to change outdoor plans because of the weather. At about 3:00, what sounds like a dulcimer enters with repeating phrases that float above sustained tones from synthesized horns. A wood block adds a strong beat as the rain has now receded into the background. Repeating bell-like phrases are heard at the top of the texture and a series of descending notes by the keyboard add to the layers of sound. By 7:00 these sounds have faded and after a momentary pause, the keyboard issues a run of solitary chords that create a slightly more somber mood – like when you feel trapped indoors by the rain. Electronic tones now offer a slightly brighter feel and new layers appear in simple, but uplifting passages. The strings enter again, now providing real optimism as if you have found something interesting to do indoors. As Bolsa Chica Rain continues on, it imparts that sense of liberation you might feel upon realizing that being stuck inside all day because of the rain isn’t so terrible after all.

The architecture of both pieces in Bolsa Chica Calm is similar; they are built up with layers of changing and independent phrases as various instrumental groups enter and fade out. This makes for accessible and engaging music without being boring or repetitive. The patterns in the music mirror the patterns of nature, and this imparts a welcoming sense of serenity. Bolsa Chica Calm is just that, and much needed in our often frenetic lives.

Bolsa Chica Calm is available for download here.

CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?

Christopher Trapani – Horizontal Drift (CD Review)

 

Christopher Trapani

Horizontal Drift

New Focus Records

 

Christopher Trapani’s latest portrait recording for New Focus features pieces for solo instruments, several with electronics. The composer’s work with microtones and hybrid tuning systems is spotlighted. Trapani has a compendious knowledge of microtonality, and he brings it to bear eloquently in the programmed pieces.

 

The album’s opener, Târgul, is written for vioara cu goarna, a Romanian variant on the stroh violin, a violin with an added horn to provide greater projection. It also can provide fascinating timbres, as Maximilian Haft’s performance illuminates. Dan Lippel plays the title track on quarter tone guitar, abetted by real time electronics edited by a Max patch. It is a standout piece, with sinuous passages of quarter tones and glissandos followed and morphed by electronics. The use of complex arpeggiations is riveting. 

 

Linear A is performed by clarinetist Amy Advocat. It uses still another tuning, the Bohlen-Pierce scale, which repeats at the twelfth instead of the octave. The electronics provide clarinet duets that make the already surreal environment of the scale enhanced by buzzing overtones. Lots of florid playing, which Advocat executes with aplomb. 

 

Lost Time Triptych is an amalgam of influences. Written as a companion piece for Gerard Grisey’s Vox Temporum, it has three detuned pitches that play a pivotal role in the music. Each of the Triptych’s movements is subtitled with a phrase from Bob Dylan. Marilyn Nonken plays the piece with detailed balancing of its intricate harmonies and supple dynamic shading. Forty-Nine, Forty-Nine is for a 31-tone equal tempered Fokker organ that is controlled by MIDI rather than an organist. With a feisty analog demeanor, 

 it is reminiscent of some of the electronic pieces from the Columbia-Princeton Center, 

 

The recording closes with Tessaræ, a piece written for the viola d’amore. This instrument has sympathetic strings, and Trapani deploys it to emulate folk music from Turkey and India that also has instruments with sympathetic strings. The viola d’amore’s capacities for harmonics and drones are set against a mournful mid-register melody. It is an affecting work that demonstrates Trapani’s capacity for emotional writing as well as technical innovation. Marco Fusi plays with a strongly delineated sense of the counterpoint employed in the piece.

 

Horizontal Drift is a compelling recording, demonstrating Trapani’s craft and imagination in equal abundance. Recommended. 


CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic

John Luther Adams – Houses of the Wind

Cold Blue Music has released Houses of the Wind, a new album of electro-acoustic music by Pulitzer Prize-winning composer John Luther Adams. This was inspired by a 1989 recording of Alaskan arctic winds blowing through an aeolian harp. In listening to that original recording again, John Luther Adams writes: “The voices of the wind singing through the strings of the harp brought back vividly the clarity of light, the sprawling space, and the sense of possibility I had felt.” The recent pandemic lock down presented Adams with the studio time to electronically reshape the recording and the result is a five-movement piece consisting of variations on the same ten-and-a-half minute original. This was accomplished using voice layering, time stretching and pitch manipulation to fashion continuously changing patterns and textures of sound, as animated by the wind itself. Houses of the Wind is both a distillation and summation of the strong environmental influences present over the entire arc of Adams musical career.

All of the movements share the same general character – there are no formal rhythms or structures; the composer uses variations in the mix of pitches and changes in their intensity to express patterns in the wind. The overall effect is a wash of tones that change character relatively slowly and possess an organic sensibility that evokes the natural atmospheric phenomena. Each movement describes a separate category of wind. For example, the title of the first movement, Catabatic Wind, refers to a wind that carries high-density air from a higher elevation down a sloping terrain under the force of gravity. In Southern California, we have the Santa Ana winds, flowing from the high deserts down to the coast, and this is a catabatic wind. Accordingly, the first movement begins with high, brightly metallic tones, piercing and penetrating to the ear as the volume builds. The intensity suggests a bright, clear arctic day on a high plateau. The sounds swell and crest as the mix of pitches vary, gradually adding tones in the middle and lower registers as if describing a wind that is running ‘downhill’. About halfway through, the volume and intensity subside and there is a more reflective character as the piece quiets down, with middle and lower pitches predominating. Throughout the album, Arctic nature is invariably characterized as a positive force. Catabatic Wind, starts out forcefully and is generally one long decrescendo, unfolding with a regal impartially.

Mountain Wind follows and as might be expected, this movement is less settled. Beginning with low, softly droning sounds that gradually increase in volume, there is a sense of expectation as higher pitches are added and then fall away. These cycles continue, varying in duration and intensity with the middle and higher pitches spiking in volume – a metaphorical gusting of winds in the mountain passes. The sounds reach ever higher in pitch and volume – almost to the point of pain – recalling the sharp bite of the wind in an arctic mountain blast. There is also a mystical element to this movement that befits the imagined mountain scenery. Towards the finish the tones subside, becoming more distant and the pitch content becomes lower as the sounds get softer. At length, we are returned to the low drone of the opening. Mountain Wind artfully portrays the changing wind movements typical in mountainous terrain.

The middle movements, Tundra Wind and Canyon Wind capture the differing characteristics of the wind in these environments. Tundra Wind contains a mix of higher register pitches and a pulsing that evokes a swirling wind on an open landscape. The pitches seem more varied and active in this, giving a strong sense of motion. This is perhaps the most open and welcoming movement, a bit nostalgic, but never grim or angry. The intensity rises and falls as winds will do in an open space – a very beautiful portrayal. Canyon Wind provides a contrast, opening with high pitches that are brilliantly loud and hard on the ears. With lower pitches in between, the bursts of higher tones suggest the gusting of wind in a narrow canyon. About halfway through, there is a quiet lull, followed by the entrance of middle pitches that indicate a building breeze. This increases in volume and rises in pitch, but blows steadily without gusting before fading at the finish.

The final movement is Anabatic Wind, and this refers to a gentle wind blowing up slope due to the sun heating the surface of the ground. This movement opens with a low hum, quietly pulsing to create a feeling of solemnity. New pitches enter from the middle registers, not in force, but just enough to lighten the deep tones below. Additional higher pitches enter, swell up briefly, and then subside again as if in no hurry. The feeling becomes more optimistic with the added entry of these new pitches, less gloomy and ultimately bright enough to suggest a brilliant sun above. By 6:30 higher pitches dominate making for a harder sound, always increasing. The overall feeling, however, is a mix of the urgent and the settled; Anabatic Wind never seems aggressive or dangerous. In contrast to Catabatic Wind, the first movement, the gradual, continuous crescendo heard in Anabatic Wind is the reverse of the catabatic process, and makes a fine book-end to complete Houses of the Wind.

That five variations on the same original recording can be so distinctive while exhibiting the same general form is a tribute to the artful manipulation by Adams of density, volume and pitch within a limited context. This adds to the elemental feel of the piece and allows the wind to portray itself through the original recording. The direct articulation of wind into sound through the medium of the aeolian harp makes Houses of the Wind a unique convergence of music, emotion and nature.

Houses of the Wind is available from Cold Blue Music directly as well as from numerous CD retailers.



Birthdays, Composers, Contemporary Classical, Electro-Acoustic, File Under?

Moog Celebrates Herb Deutsch with First Episode of GIANTS Series

On Wednesday, February 9th, Herb Deutsch turned ninety years old. Deutsch has been an icon of sound synthesis both as a composer and hardware designer. One of the inventors of the first Moog synthesizers, he designed the keyboard interface that served as the basis for countless synths that followed. Moog Music is using this auspicious occasion to kick off GIANTS, a series of films about synth pioneers. In the video below, Deutsch describes his life, musical inspirations, and the early days of creating versatile hardware to perform and record electronic sound. 

 

After the film about Deutsch, you will soon be able to view a number of films that celebrate pivotal figures in electronic music on Moog’s YouTube channel. Future episodes will feature Suzanne Ciani, Bernie Krause, and Daniel Miller. Alongside the recent Sisters with Transistors documentary, the documentation of electronic music’s early luminaries is a welcome opportunity to reassess its legacy. 

On a personal note, as a fellow Long Islander, Deutsch’s long tenure at Hofstra University and co-founding of the Long Island Composer Alliance helped to provide many events that opened my ears to the possibilities of sound, and for that I remain ever grateful.