Best of 2021 – Happy 80th Birthday Wadada Leo Smith!
Wadada Leo Smith turns eighty today, and Sequenza 21 wishes him many more years of health, creative improvisation, and composing. Smith has been a driving force as a member of AACM for over five decades, a keen collaborator with jazz and concert musicians, a Pulitzer Prize finalist, and a faculty member at CalArts and elsewhere.
2021 has been a prolific one in terms of record releases by the trumpeter and composer. He is joined by wind player Douglas Ewart and drummer Mike Reed on the Astral Spirits CD Sun Beams of Shimmering Light. The standout opening movement is a sixteen-minute long suite “Constellations and Conjunctional Spaces” which begins with fragmentary utterances that build into long, florid lines that are succeeded by riotous free play. A short coda sees motives from the top of the piece reexamined in light of what has transpired in between.
TUM has released four recordings by Smith this calendar year, with a seven-CD collection of string quartets on deck for early 2022. The only single CD among these is A Love Sonnet for Billie Holiday, which features a trio with his frequent collaborators pianist Vijay Iyer and drummer Jack DeJohnette, marking the first time all three have worked together. It is a winning grouping, as are the two included duos with DeJohnette.As Smith points out in the liner notes, the approach here alludes to his work with Anthony Braxton and Leroy Jenkins on “The Bell,” a piece from his debut album in 1969. This affinity is both in terms of interaction and collaboration, but also in a harmonic language more recognizable in Smith’s earlier music.
The Great Lakes Quartet, which includes saxophonist Leroy Jenkins (on some tracks Jonathon Haffner), DeJohnette, and bassist Henry Lindberg, is the personnel on the TUM double CD The Chicago Symphonies. There are four pieces here, Gold, Diamond, Pearl, and Sapphire, subtitled “The Presidents Symphony: Their Visions for America; Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg and Barack Obama at Selma!” How can a quartet play “symphonies,” one might wonder before listening. But upon engaging with these recordings, it is clear that the formal designs, development of thematic material, and use of all of the instruments’ capabilities to the utmost engage with music writ large.
A triple CD of solo trumpet music might seem like a long sit, but Smith’s individual performances on Trumpet are riveting. He recorded these fourteen new pieces, many of them extended, sculpted works, in a single weekend at St. Mary’s Church in the town of Pohja, on the Southern Coast of Finland, which provides a great acoustic for Smith’s luminous sound. Finally (for now), Sacred Ceremonies, a three disc recording with bassist Bill Laswell and Milford Graves, visionary drummer of the New York “new wave” free jazz scene, who passed away in February, 2021 and to whom the recording is dedicated. The first CD features a duet between Smith and Graves, the second, Smith with Laswell, and the third is a trio. The level of rhythmic layering in the trumpet and drums duos is truly astonishing. Quotation plays a large role, with Smith imitating Graves’ gestures but choosing melodic lines from blues, standards, and even nursery rhymes to cross-pollinate the music. Laswell adds elements of funk and avant-pop to the mix; Smith responds in places by playing through a wah-wah pedal and employing minimal patterning. The trio is a summit of experimental practices, and the polyglot musical language they form together is inimitable and now, sadly, with the passing of Graves, irreplaceable.
Three is a new CD release from Cold Blue Music by musician and master-machinist Chas Smith. Now residing in rural Grass Valley, California, Smith lived for many years in the San Fernando Valley, and this put him squarely in the center of the Los Angeles aerospace and movie industries. Smith was a student of James Tenney and Harold Budd, which led to later friendships with both men. Smith’s long experience as a machinist has resulted in the ability to fabricate specialized musical instruments and intriguing sound sculptures. His industrial metalworking is no doubt still in use, and his sound sculptures have been heard in a number of feature films. Several of these mechanical creations, with evocative names such as Que Lastas, Bertoia, Lockheed, Towers and Parabaloid, are heard on this new CD. Smith is also an accomplished steel guitarist and performs on two of the tracks. Chas Smith follows in the footsteps of pioneer Harry Partch and others who have conceived, designed and built their own instruments in order to realize a unique musical vision.
What does all this sound like? The press release declares that Three evokes “…a world of expansive musical tapestries, carefully woven textures, that evolve via slow, constant processes of change.” All of the tracks share a common form: an ambient cloud of sound, always in slow motion and subtly changing its emotional coloring.
Distance, the first track, opens with a buzzing and zooming sound while a sustained musical tone enters underneath. There are a variety of sounds present, but they all work together with exceptional coherence to create a warm glow. There is a sense of movement and power in lower registers that quietly rises and falls, as if passing by the listener at a distance. A low humming, like the beating of a multi-engine propeller aircraft is suggested, but this never dominates. No fewer than seven of Smith’s sonic sculptures and his steel guitar are included on this piece, yet these elements are perfectly realized and artfully mixed; they are always musical yet never lose their suggestion of the mechanical. The sounds are consistently engaging, but raise no expectations through tension and release. In the last two minutes bass pedal tones predominate, gradually reducing the sensation of movement and power as Distance fades to a deep finish, completing a captivating journey.
The Replicant, track 2, has a very different feel, starting with a deep, spacey sound that carries a mysterious, alien coolness and a sense of vast emptiness. There are artful combinations of musical tones and steely sounds, but in this piece a greater contrast is heard with the mechanical, now mostly in the foreground. Steely sounds in the middle registers seem to quiver like long, vibrating rods. Chimes are also heard, slightly less resonant than, say, church tower bells, but still well-shaped and full of presence. At about seven minutes in, deep, throbbing bass tones are heard, like the snoring of some great sleeping beast. As the piece proceeds, the texture is consistently rich but always changing on its surface. There is a gradual decrescendo in the final stages, as if we are slipping away in a dream.
The Replicant clearly features the mechanical sounds more prominently and while they often dominate, they are never intimidating. Smith’s realizations occupy a perfect middle ground between sound and music in the listener’s brain, and this works to expand one’s aural perception. Beautifully mixed and processed, The Replicant beguiles and engages.
The final track is The End of Cognizance and this acts as a summing up of all the sounds heard on this album. The structure is similar to the earlier tracks, but fewer of Smith’s sound sculptures are included. The End of Cognizance has an upward-looking feel, managing to be simultaneously introspective and optimistic. Bright, mechanical chiming dominates, especially in the upper registers, with continuous tones accompanying in the bass. The experience resembles being inside a large wind-up clock and the mechanical undercurrent is artfully combined with the sunny sounds of the chimes. As this piece proceeds, a soft growling is heard in the deep registers as the metallic sounds become lower in pitch, darker and more ominous. An increase in the harsher metallic sounds soon overtakes the more musical elements below. By 10:00 all this attains an intent that now feels malevolent. At about 14:40, several higher pitched chimes are heard, solitary and spaced out, like welcome beacons of hope shining forth from the gathering gloom. The chimes descend again to the lower registers, like the sinking of a ship, with a long decrescendo and the thinning of texture until the piece fades to a finish.
The End of Cognizance, as with the other tracks, is masterfully realized and brings beauty to the ear. The mix of musical and mechanically generated sound is seamless. The recording was by Chas Smith in his studio at Grass Valley and the mastering by Scott Fraser in Los Angeles – and the results are truly impressive. Three achieves a level of integration between the sound sculptures and a steel guitar that reach out to new musical horizons. We can all look forward to hearing more from Grass Valley.
Bernhard Lang (b. 1957) writes in a number of different media, from chamber music to theatre works. His solo piano music is reflective of the composer’s omnivorous interest in various musical styles and his adroit sense of scoring, which allows the piano to have an orchestral impact in the two multi-movement works on his latest Kairos CD.
In liner notes for the CD, Lang remarks that he is interested in free improvisation and DJ electronica as well as contemporary concert music. One can hear this in the angular digressions and motoric rhythms that populate his piece Monadologie V: Seven Last Words of Hasan (2008-2009). The introduction’s use of off-kilter repetition, the stentorian attacks on a single sonority in the piece’s second movement, Hodie mecum eris in Paradisum, and the looping arpeggiations in its fifth movement finale, all reflect an interest in uneven reiterations. Looking a little deeper underneath the surface, Lang marries these rhythms with disparate harmonic languages. The introduction features Eastern modal writing, the third Messiaen-like color chords, and the finale co-opts post-minimalism a là John Adams. An average composer might be able to juxtapose these elements without harming the end result, but Lang is anything but average in his conception of Monadologie V, in which the traversal of “cellular automata processes” is unified by cohesive formal organization designed from Franz Joseph Haydn’s Seven Last Words from the Cross. While it coheres around Seven Last Words, the piece reacts to rather than merely mimics the original Haydn work. I am not familiar with the other Monadologie pieces, and look forward to tracking them down.
The recording also includes three Intermezzi (written in 2015-2016). The use of “cellular automata processes” persists here. Instead of Haydn, some of the material deals with the figuration, metric evasions, and elusive harmonic progressions of Johannes Brahms, only fitting given his predilection for writing intermezzi as well. The spontaneity of these pieces is not happenstance. According to Lang, the first Intermezzo was entirely improvised “on a gray afternoon.” Another aspect of Lang’s musicianship, his experience as a jazz pianist, takes a role here, with extended tertian sonorities and biting seconds reminiscent of bebop. Bebop plus Brahms? Entirely plausible in Lang’s musical output. The second and third intermezzi use algorithms built from the first to develop organically related, yet disparate creations. Intermezzo 2, Abstract Machines 1, plays with strands of whole-tone scales stacked with dissonant seconds. It is like a broken crank, a bumptious deployment of the verticals from the first intermezzo in relentless fashion. In the third intermezzo, an adagio, Lang arpeggiates the original harmony, blurring offbeat treble dissonances.
Those skeptical of the yin-yang of human improvisation and algorithmic composition would do well to attend to these works, which use both techniques quite successfully.
Nigel Dean, violin; Patrick Behnke, Tanner Pfeiffer, viola; Tal Katz, Julian Tedaldi, cello
Antoine Beuger
Jankélévich Sextets
Another Timbre CD at168
Apartment House – James Opstad, double bass; Mark Knoop, accordion; Heather Roche, bass clarinet; Mira Benjamin, violin; Joe Qiu, bassoon; Bridget Carey, viola
At twenty-eight years of age, Sivan Silver-Swartz is the youngest member of the Wandelweiser collective. A native of Ohio, he received his undergraduate degree at Oberlin College and then relocated to California to get his Master’s at CalArts. He has remained in Los Angeles since getting his degree in 2019.
Silver-Swartz’s work fits in well with the interest of Wandelweiser composers in the New York School, notably late pieces by John Cage and Morton Feldman. Six of his string player friends perform Untitled 6, an hourlong piece that takes its cue from the slow, soft music Feldman favored and that Cage adopted in his Number Pieces. Silver-Swartz pursues a quasi-aleatoric device in the score, with one chart of events that “change and do not return” and one of events that “change but do return.” The design of the events structure is the composer’s, but it gives the musicians considerable latitude in realization. There is a fair bit of overlap and harmonic presentation in Untitled 6 and the tuning reveals overtones from just intonation. The pace is steady and gradual, sumptuously so.
Antoine Beuger is one of founding members of Wandelweiser. From 2003-2005, he wrote a series of pieces, each for a different ensemble, that referenced cultural or intellectual figures in their titles, including Canto, Ockeghem, and Tschirtner; these three have all appeared on the label Another Timbre. The group Apartment House recorded the fourth in the series, Jankélévich Sextets, written for an interesting hybrid ensemble consisting of three strings (violin, viola, and double bass), bass clarinet, bassoon, and accordion. Vladimir Jankélévich (1903-1983) was a philosopher and musicologist. A French child of Russian-Jewish parents, he fought in the Resistance during the Second World War and later taught at the Sorbonne.
Jankélévich Sextets is also an hourlong piece that is primarily slow and soft. The performance instructions indicate that tones should be “very quiet; long to very long,” and that rests should give time to breathe or be much longer. Each pagelong section starts with a unison pitch in all voices (notes may be played in any octave) followed by an additional six pitches on each staff, with some repeated notes. Beuger indicates that the number of these sections used in a performance, as well as their ordering, is free.
Generally, the Sextets are, in this recording, presented in a thicker texture than that of Untitled 6. Given the freedom of ordering provided, the sense of trajectory alongside spontaneity is noteworthy. Octave displacements and freedom of pacing result in complex verticals, which are frequently fascinating. Arresting too are the places where simple intervals are given voice. For example, a multi-octave presentation just shy of twenty minutes in is a powerful point of arrival.
Neophytes who think that Wandelweiser pieces must all ‘sound the same,’ because of the affinity of its members’ aesthetic aims, would do well to compare these two works. They may be contained in similarly constructed vessels, but each has an individual character all its own. Kudos to the performers of both pieces for their tremendous attention to detail and keen sense of collaboration.
“The name of the album is about this feeling that I have. I believe that playing music is a non-cerebral thought form; thought in the sense of being a channel to see, to reveal, a channel that opens through intuition, observation and attention but not through thinking.”
Argentinian composer Sergio Merce frequently records at home, but the results aren’t rough hewn as a result. Employing a microtonal saxophone of his own design, synthesizer, and an electronic wind instrument, Merce creates music that encompasses drones, layered sine waves, complex overtones, and periods of silence. The first piece, “Forma Circular” is an enclosed shape. It repeats twice on the recording. Often, a single interval is isolated for a period of time, to be followed by silence and then a more complex, microtonal sonority. An additive process of building from a simple interval to a stack of harmony is another common approach in the piece. Partway through, pitched pulsations animate the soundscape, moving the proceedings from a prevailing feeling of stillness to a mid-tempo presentation. Even when it is absent at the beginning of the second pass through the form, a subliminal urgency is still felt.
In “Forma Continua,” straight tone intervals are morphed with microtonal beating. Single sine tones act as interludes between each wave of distressed dissonances. Merce prioritizes seconds among the intervals, but nearly each one gets to take a turn at being central to the music. Silence plays less of a role than sustain in this piece, with one attack beginning while another sustained chord is held. At times the instruments are recognizable as distinct entities. At other points in the piece their textures overlap, creating beautiful blurred sounds. Merce’s hand-fashioned instruments and home recording practices are in service of sophisticated music-making.
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 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.
“I’m sitting on a galaxy. Stars and moons blanket the deep red spa chairs. I rest on constellations. Space itself supports me. Luna lifts me.”
Thus begins Anna Heflin’s debut recording, which encompasses a spoken word play, sound art, and string duets filled with secundal dissonances and sustained drones. Heflin acknowledges a debt to Mozart in the violin/viola duo textures of the music, as well as to Bartôk’s own dissonant writing, but these touchstones do not encompass the variety of microtones and the scratching textures that are brought to bear in her music. The spoken word interludes range from the spaciness in the above quote to more mundane questions about everyday life. The Redundancy of the Angelic is an unusual assemblage, but a quite compelling one.
Claire Rousay
A Softer Focus
American Dreams Records
Claire Rousay creates sound collages that combine spoken word, ambient sounds, and warm synths. Place making is a central issue of A Softer Focus, her latest recording on American Dreams. Crackling street noise in “Preston Avenue” introduces us to Rousay’s varied sound world. It is followed by a contrasting track of sumptuous minimal synths on “Discrete (the Market).” “Peak Chroma” (video below) draws out a minor chord, successively adding overtones and a mournful melody. Eventually, the harmony progresses, with each chord is given a weighty presence corroscated by fragmentary speech samples. “Diluted Dreams” alternates sounds of children at play and traffic noises with minimal repetitions and extended held tones. Altered vocals and industrial percussion populate “Stoned Gesture.” “A Kind of Promise” closes the recording with glacially paced piano and cello (with spoken word around the edges). An enthralling listen.
“Peak Chroma’ is one of two tracks on a softer focus featuring sung lyrical content. The lyrics for it started as an iPhone Notes entry. This entry was a reminder to not fall into traps of nostalgia and the second-guessing that sometimes follows that. Reminiscing on something that not only is in the past but is something that is never coming back.” – Claire Rousay
Stephanie Cheng Smith inhabits sound sculptures of two different varieties for the extended compositions on her latest A Wave Press release Forms. The first, “Birds,” uses b-z-bowls, which the composer describes as, “an instrument of suspended, vibrating plastic bowls that are filled with and muted by various objects (i.e. bells, balls, beads, clips, and cups).” B-z-bowls create a plethora of textures, from subtle shakes to swaths of white noise, and Cheng Smith does an excellent job using these deliberately restricted means with artful pacing. “Fish” is for violin, dark energy synthesizer (!), and laptop. It was performed within Anja Weiser Flower’s “Cosm, Organization-Construction, Second Instance” at Human Resources Los Angeles. Thus, the performance occurs within an artwork, using it both as an acoustic and aesthetic site. Thrumming, serrated synths against an insistent bass drone accompany violin harmonics and glissandos. This texture is replaced by bubbling percussion and short wave style distortions in an extended middle section. Gears shifting in grinding gestures signal a final section in which the electronics begin to spin out, joined by upper register scratched violin textures. The registral spectrum is filled out with muscular noise envelopes down a couple octaves from the main fray, only to have the top drop out and the bass register plumbed with muscularity. A denouement of progressively spaced out static attacks followed by an oscillating third on dark synth concludes the piece. The album title points out one of the most compelling aspects of Cheng Smith’s compositions: their unerring formal designs.
Matt Sargent
Tide
Erik Carlson, violin; T.J. Borden, cello
The first iteration of “Tide” was in 2015 for double bassist Zach Rowden, who overdubbed a ten instrument cluster of sustained notes and pealing harmonics. The composer, Matt Sargent, fed sine tones to Rowden while he played, each one exhorting him to match it in realt time, creating an evolving of upper register harmonics. The current release captures two new versions of the piece, both for higher instruments and correspondingly more stratospheric results. The first is for ten overdubbed violins and ten overdubbed cellos. The two instruments’ span of harmonics interact, creating a texture that is sometimes gritty and at others glassine. The second version is for ten violins. Its shimmering harmonics are offset by downward glissandos that provide a counterweight to the altissimo highs. Both new versions of Tide supply significant and intriguing diversity within prevailing sonic density.
Taylor Brook
Star Maker Fragments
Tak Ensemble: Laura Cocks, flute; Madison Greenstone, clarinet; Marina Kifferstein, violin; Charlotte Mundy, voice; Ellery Trafford, percussion;
Taylor Brook, electronics
Star Maker Fragments is a setting by Taylor Brook of fragments from Olaf Stapledon’s 1937 novel Star Maker. A history of billions of years and an early example of multiverse theories, Star Maker is one of the most ambitious early science fiction books and remained influential for generations. The ensemble and Brook create a suitably interstellar landscape, one that encompasses extended techniques and sounds both lush and at times akin to the bleeps on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. It is left to vocalist Charlotte Mundy to carry the narrative components of Star Maker Fragments forward, which she persuasively does through spoken word and singing. One of the most imaginative sections of the piece is “Musical Universe,” which in the book is depicted as a universe that contains only music and no physical space. Tak and Brook respond to this prompt in a rapturous vein. Brook is an abundantly creative composer to watch.
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.
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
Pianist Philip Thomas is a prolific artist. A member of Apartment House, he recently participated in their recording of Ryoko Akama’s compositions for Another Timbre. Also on Another Timbre is Thomas’s gargantuan CD set of piano music by Morton Feldman, which includes several previously unreleased pieces.
Two of the pianist’s other recent projects focus on other members of the New York School. His deep dive into Cage’s Concert for Piano (again with Apartment House) has resulted in a book, recording, and an interactive online project, Cageconcert (cageconcert.org) that also includes apps to work with segments of the piece and make one’s own versions. He has also released a recording of Christian Wolff’s piano music. Finally, Thomas has recorded a CD of composer-pianist Chris Burn’s work, including transcriptions of improvisations by the late guitarist (and author of one of the key books on improvisation) Derek Bailey. As the interview below demonstrates, Thomas’s performance and recording schedule shows no signs of let-up. (Note: Philip and I talked before the pandemic, so some of his future projects are now TBA).
How did you and
Martin Iddon come to collaborate on a book about Cage’s Concert for Piano
(1957-’58)? Were the book and recording in process before the website and apps
were conceived or was the idea of multiple presentations part of the initial
concept?
This goes back a long
way! I had it in my thoughts that, having performed the piece a number of
times, with Apartment House but also with others, including the Merce
Cunningham Dance Company for the dance ‘Antic Meet’, it was a far richer piece
than had perhaps history had credited it. It’s such a well-known piece, not
least from its visual appearance, and its historic performance value has
influenced what we think of as a Cage-ian performance practice. Plus the
premiere performance and recording is notorious from its depiction on the
Twenty-Fifth Retrospective Concert album. But I felt strongly that there was
much that is not more widely known when digging a little deeper, both about the
way it can be performed, about the graphic notations of the ‘Solo for Piano’,
and about the instrumental and conductor parts. And I was aware that
performance as both historical and contemporary practice has a lot to say about
the music, not least because of the unusually long time one has to spend with
the piano part in order to arrive at something which is playable. So I set to
thinking about this as a major research project and immediately thought of
Martin as being an ideal collaborator, particularly due to his brilliant book
about Cage and Tudor, as well as his Darmstadt book. So over lunch in London
one day we dreamt up the project, which over the following year developed and
formed to include the book, the website and apps, as well as the involvement of
Apartment House. Then there was the inevitable long wait until we found out our
grant application was successful. The grant was for a 3-year project but
inevitably aspects of that spill over into the months since – and I’ve just now
finished the index for the book! The apps grew from a simple idea that we
thought might be nice to a far more complex concept than any of us could have
imagined, forming a vital part of the project. The team expanded to include two
research assistants, Emily Payne and Chris Melen – Chris being the developer of
the Solo for Piano app – with additional help from others, including Stuart
Mellor who designed the Concert Player app.
As a pianist who
specializes in experimental music, Concert for Piano seems like a natural work
to explore from multiple vantage points. When did you first become acquainted
with the piece, and what does it mean to you as an interpreter?
I’ve mostly played it with Apartment House. I think possibly the earliest occasion was in 2008 when I organised a 50th anniversary concert of the 25-year retrospective concert. My experience then was as it continues to be, that this is an exceptionally rich and lively piece, full of surprises, and one which is a total joy to perform – each moment is alive and fresh, and my experience as a performer is of being part of music being made, rather than something which is ‘re-played’. We don’t rehearse, everyone works on their own materials, and then it’s put together, so for everyone playing the experience is as new as it is for the audience. In the spirit of embracing the unpredictable, much like aficionados who seek out betting sites not on Gamstop to experience the thrill of the game without restrictions, the musicians and audience alike are invited to a unique event where anything can happen. Just as players on those betting platforms revel in the unexpected outcomes, so do we find a visceral pleasure in the spontaneous creation of our art. This is true of many pieces by Cage of course, but this piece seems to heighten those senses and the material is so exaggerated in its range here – noises, pitches, highs and lows, louds and softs, etc.
The website and apps
provided detailed and varied material from Concert. Will you share with us some
of the features you consider to be highlights?
There’s so much
there, a few of my favourite things include:
Interviews with
Apartment House – I love to hear the musicians of Apartment House talk about
what they do. These interviews are brimming with insight. I especially like the
films which combine their different insights, such as the ‘Performing the
Concert’
film and the last 10 minutes of the conductor film.
Watching the films of
our performances of the ‘Concert’ and also Christian Wolff’s ‘Resistance’ is a particular
thrill, because, as I suggested above, there’s so much unknown in the
performance itself that it’s great to get a stronger sense of the kinds of
things the other musicians are doing.
This one is not yet
on the website but will be appearing very soon – I have made a studio recording
of the complete ‘Solo for Piano’, which has never been done. It’s completely
different from the version I play with Apartment House – for this I recorded
each notation individually, according to a space time measurement of 3 minutes
per page, and then Alex Bonney has mapped them together like a patchwork quilt,
to get a complete 3 hours and 9 minutes performance of the Solo. You can hear
it now actually on the Concert Player app as it’s this recording which we use
for the app.
For the uninitiated person
finding this on the web, what do you think they apps will demonstrate to them?
I hope firstly that
it’ll just be a great entry into the music – that this is music people play and
love to play, and is really great to play, instead of perhaps either that it is
too ‘far-out’ or obfuscatory, or, the flip-side, that it is entirely open and
‘free’! For users trying out the Solo for Piano app, I hope it’ll both be a
great way of playing with the notations and their conditions for performance,
to see what might be possible and conversely what is not possible with each,
and to play with the multiple possibilities the notation offers; and that it
will also be an aid to performance. Of course each pianist will want to try it
out in their own way, but at the least I hope that for some notations this will
be a time-saver, offering possibilities to randomly generate multiple outcomes
and to print them off in usable formats. An obvious criticism of the app is
that it removes the fun of working these things out yourself – I think it
manages to keep the fun of playing with each notation, whilst cutting down on
the work needed to write these things out. And we’ve been careful to always
show where and how we’ve made interpretative decision when others might make
other choices, so it’s clear that this is both a facility AND an
interpretation.
And then the Concert
player app is simply a delight to hear – there are 16,383 possible instrumental
combinations of this piece, and we have a handful of recordings available.
Clearly, a recording of a work such as this can only hint at the slightest
possibility of how this piece may sound. But the app allows users to randomly
generate or select combinations, plus select pages, their durations, their
sequence, and then hear how that might sound. We’ve taken great care to ensure
the space-time properties of the music are upheld (measuring by the pixel!) and
so really this is a pretty accurate – no matter how inappropriate that word is
to this piece!! – realisation. I still listen to it regularly and am surprised
all the time by the combinations. It’s a thrill, so I hope people will just
dive in.
You have been
performing Morton Feldman’s music for over a quarter century. Still, the
recording you did for Another Timbre last year was a mammoth undertaking. How
long did it take to record? How do you keep so much detailed, long repertoire,
with irregular repetitions, in your brain and fingers?
Somehow it didn’t
feel like a mammoth task, more like a real pleasure to play these pieces again.
Perhaps surprisingly, I didn’t feel any kind of pressure to give a ‘definitive’
statement on the music – my performances on disc just happen to be a
representation of how I play this music today, after many years of thinking
about and playing it. If I were to record it all again in 10 years it may be
quite different, who knows? It was though a particular pleasure to discover a
few pieces that I hadn’t played before, namely the unpublished works I explored
at the Sacher Foundation in Basel, and the transcription I made of the Lipton
film music.
I recorded the music
over a period of about 2 years, in different sessions. It’s funny how the music
at times just sticks in terms of fingering, rhythmic detail, whilst at other
times what should be very familiar to me still seems strange. Certainly,
whereas I thought this project might draw a line in the sand for me – no more
Feldman! – I feel it’s done the opposite, opened up more possibilities, more
ways of thinking about the music. In particular, Triadic Memories, which
I’ve probably played more often than any other single piece of music, changed a
great deal for me in preparation for the recording and what I thought I knew
now feels more experimental, more curious, than ever. There’s a part of me that
sometimes tries to avoid Feldman’s music – it’s almost too gorgeous at times,
and I need to find something else, something of rougher hue, but those chords
keep pulling me back! Thankfully, there’s so much more to the music than just
beautiful sonorities, and in particular the music’s form and narrative feels to
me to be so strikingly original.
Are there surprises
among the previously unrecorded pieces?
Certainly, the
addition of struck drum and glass to the Feldman sound is pretty surprising,
bringing to mind much more the 1940s music by Cage, and here included as part
of a set of three pieces composed for the dance. In fact there’s a surprising
number of pieces composed for dance collaborations, not just for Cunningham,
but also for Merle Mersicano, as Ryan Dohoney has written about in considerable
detail recently. One of these is Figure of Memory which sounds nothing like
Feldman and more like some kind of sketch of a Satie piece, consisting simply
of repetitions of three short phrases.
Another recent
release is of music by Chris Burn, including a transcription of an
improvisation by Derek Bailey. How does that translate to the piano?
Well Chris is a
wonderful wonderful composer, and a brilliant pianist and improviser. And so he
is fully aware of the slightly perverse nature of what he was doing in writing
these pieces, not least as someone who used to play with Bailey. But these
pieces are not just really lovely pieces of music, but they also reveal
something about Chris and how he hears and thinks of music, as well as being
revealing of Bailey’s own work, and in particular of his love of Webern and his
close attention to pitch. So when the guitar-ness of the pieces is removed a
different side to Bailey’s music is revealed which is simply different but to
my ears no less remarkable.
As if 2019 weren’t
busy enough for you, a compendium of Christian Wolff’s piano music was released
on Sub Rosa. In the notes you say that “In all my performances of Wolff’s
music, I aim for interpretations that both interest and surprise me, allowing
the notations to lead me to new ways of playing and thinking about music,
whilst at
the same time trying
to lead the notations toward the unexpected.” When discussing the piano music
with Wolff, what were some insights he offered? What piece will most likely
surprise listeners?
The recent double
disc follows on from an earlier three-disc set, and hopefully precedes another
three-disc set to follow. Christian’s music is, when it comes down to it, the
music I feel closest to. I love the potential for change, for surprise, for
play. On the whole I tend not to ‘collaborate’ with composers (I trust them to
do what they do well and then it’s over to me) and so I love the moment when I
begin a new piece, I put it up on the piano and I start to think ‘ok so what am
I going to do with this’. This is where I am at my most creative, and
Christian’s music works especially well to that effect. I’ve never asked him
for his approval of what I do and most often he doesn’t hear my interpretations
until after I’ve performed or recorded it. Though the very first time we met,
in 2002, I played ‘Bread and Roses’ to him, waited for his response, and learnt
fairly quickly that his typical response was ‘Sure!’. He tends not to validate
not to denigrate peoples’ performances of his music and I appreciate that. He
doesn’t want to say ‘yes, this is how it should be played’ preferring instead
for the individuality of the player to find new solutions, new ways of playing.
And so I do hope with each performance I give of his music that I might offer
something that would surprise him, that might suggest possibilities in his
music which he’d not considered.
In this recent set
I’ve included a few pieces which are not published, so that surprised him too!
So three variations on Satie, pieces he composed for John Tilbury, which he
never quite convinced himself as worth publishing but hopefully he’s convinced
now they’re out on disc – they’re wonderfully eccentric pieces. Also his
Incidental Music, which he has played and recorded (wonderfully, on Mode) but
which he’d not heard anyone else perform. He was delighted, so that’s great.
And for anyone familiar with Wolff’s music I hope that my playing brings both
recognition and surprise too.
What will be your
next recording/recital? What will Apartment House be up to in 2020?
Next concert, in Cambridge in April, features a brand-new piece that Toronto-based composer Allison Cameron is writing for me, which I’m delighted about. And Simon Reynell’s always dreaming up new ideas and introducing me to younger composers and I’m always happy to play a small part in that project. And as a result of the Feldman release we’ve been able to commission one of my very favourite composers, Martin Arnold, to write a large-scale new piece for me. But that won’t be for a while. Lots of ideas, lots of pieces I want to play, but actually I’m hoping for a bit of a quieter year this year!
Christian
Carey is a composer, performer, musicologist, and writer. His work has been
published in Perspectives of New Music, Intégral, Open Space, Tempo, Musical
America, Time Out New York, Signal to Noise, Early Music America, Sequenza 21,
Pop Matters, All About Jazz, and NewMusicBox. Carey’s research on
narrativity in late music by Elliott Carter, presented at IRCAM in Paris on the
composer’s 100th birthday, appears in Hommage à Elliott Carter (Editions
Delatour). He is Associate Professor of Composition, History, and Theory at
Westminster Choir College in Princeton, New Jersey.
