Los Angeles

Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Nadia Shpachenko Recital

On April 2, 2022 in Salmon Hall at Chapman University, Grammy Award-winning pianist Nadia Shpachenko was the guest artist for a recital of piano music that featured two world premieres. Recent pieces by contemporary composers Ian Dicke, Dana Kaufman, David Sanford, Adam Schoenberg, and Pamela Z were included, centering on a theme inspired by the game of soccer. The final work of the evening was Invasion, by Pulitzer Prize-winning composer Lewis Spratlan, performed by an instrumental ensemble and composed in response to the horrific events unfolding in Ukraine, Ms. Shpachenko’s home country.

The first piece on the program was Telstar Loops for piano and electronics (2021), by Ian Dicke. The theme of the first half of the concert was the game of soccer and Telstar Loops drew inspiration from the shape of the Adidas Telstar soccer ball used in the 1970 World Cup. This ball is reminiscent of the shape of the old Telstar satellites that were used to relay television signals between continents. Telstar Loops proceeds in three movements and the first, “Tensegrity”, opens with strong three-note chords that are picked up by the electronics and looped. This produces an echo effect so that new chords work against the decaying sounds to create the spare, almost alien feel of a Telstar satellite in space. As the movement continues, rapid piano phrases appear and are looped, creating a complex, yet playful texture. The electronics and the piano worked well together, the live and looped sounds artfully filling the hall without causing confusion.

The second movement, “Satellite”, is more specifically descriptive of the actual Telstar spacecraft and the piano issued quietly solemn chords that, when looped, produce an open and somewhat lonely feel. As the rhythms picked up and began to flow, the intersection of the sounds in the hall produced a series of intriguing harmonies. Towards the finish, powerful piano chords boomed out creating a sense of grandeur, fitting for Telstar’s pioneering flight.

“Buckyball”, movement three, refers to the geometric shape of the Telstar soccer ball and its resemblance to the geodesic dome, created by Buckminster Fuller. The movement began with a complex melody that included trills and ornaments, all pleasantly multiplied by the looping electronics and amplification. The feeling was warm and inviting and towards the finish there were strong chords that added a bit of drama. The contrast of powerful, then soft chords was especially effective. Overall, Telstar Loops makes a strong musical connection between the Telstar satellite and its namesake soccer ball from 1971. The close integration of the electronics and piano artfully increase the intentions of the composer without distraction and the resulting realization by Ms. Shpachenko at the piano and Adam Borecki manning the electronics panel was impressive.

La Pulga Variations (2021) by David Sanford followed. This piece consists of seven short movements that are based on the relationships of various soccer personalities to Lionel Messi, the famous Argentine footballer. The solo piano movements varied from the majestic to the mysterious. Playful melodies were heard, as well as big, formal sounds and crashing chords, depending on the movement. La Pulga will probably be best enjoyed by those with a wide historical knowledge of international soccer. The styles and personalities of the various players – and even Messi’s mother Celia – permeate each of the movements. As La Pulga proceeds, the emotions from the piano run stronger and carry a sense of greatness, aided by Ms. Shpachenko who knows how to deliver a robust passage. The final movement “Magisterial” sums up the sense of respect Messi’s play has received over the years. La Pulga Variations is the heartfelt musical tribute of a soccer lover to Lionel Messi and his extraordinary professional career.

Balón (2021), a world premiere, by Pamela Z was next. It incorporates the solo piano as well as tape, voice and electronics. For this performance, the recorded voice of Pamela Z was heard through the sound system. Balón is inspired by the geometry present in the game of soccer, as Pamela Z writes: “I find numbers, patterns, and layers appealing, and I attempted, in this piece, to overlay the physical characteristics of the Telstar-style ball with the geometry of the passing patterns the players use to deftly work the ball toward the opposition’s goal.”

The opening of Balón is, in fact, a spoken description of the geometry in the soccer ball itself. Deep piano chords and lovely sustained vocals enter and soon the voice and piano phrases are intertwined to produce a complex, yet engaging texture. The vocals by Pamela Z were most effective and did not suffer from being recorded and projected through the sound system – she has a beautiful voice. Ms. Shpachenko played with precision and never seemed lost, despite the many moving parts and complicated structure. Balón has a warm and sunny feel that evokes pleasant memories of an afternoon spent watching soccer.

Next was Honeyball (2021) by Dana Kaufman, inspired by Nettie Honeyball who founded the first women’s soccer team in Great Britain in 1895. The piece is built around soccer match reviews of the team published at the time, reflecting a generally condescending point of view. The title of the first movement “An Ungraceful Jog Trot” is a direct quote from one of these reviews and these words are heard spoken over the sound system by Ms. Shpachenko. The music replies, absolutely seething with disdain. The piano is alternately playful and angry as the dynamics swing between softer and louder and the tempo, like blood pressure, rises and falls. The second movement, “Change is Slow”, is more dignified and reserved with a simple melody and sedate chords. The pitch set was ingeniously derived by the composer from the playing statistics of the US Women’s World Cup Final victory in 2019. This hymn-like tribute to the pioneering Ms. Honeyball is an effective contrast to the impassioned first movement.

“Coquetry and Cleats”, the final movement, seems poised to renew the fury of movement I. The words of a patronizing contemporary newspaper description of the uniforms worn by the women soccer players are again heard over the sound system. But instead of a caustic reply from the piano, Ms. Shpachenko quickly changes out of her แทงบอลออนไลน์ ไม่มีขั้นต่ํา shoes and puts on bright orange knee socks and cleats. Long white gloves complete this new look, just as the words “dainty white gloves” are heard over the speakers. Nadia then begins to tap out a rhythm with the spiked shoes as more recorded percussion is added through the sound system. The result is sarcastically farcical and constitutes a biting commentary on the lack of progress over the past 130 years for equity in women’s soccer. Honeyball is an inventive and highly accessible work that informs and entertains, even as it makes an important statement.

Last Dance for solo piano (2021) by Adam Schoenberg, completed the first part of the concert program. Schoenberg writes in the program notes: “Last Dance is a quasi neo-romantic work that is meant to capture the moments before someone’s final game. As a collegiate soccer player myself, I vividly remember my final game as a senior. In many ways, my entire college experience was built around the soccer team.” This is a quietly lyrical work that expresses nostalgia for the game and the comradeship it engenders. A light melody floats on top of sweet and inviting harmonies. The feeling in Last Dance is delicate and sweet, summoning the best memories of youth; the perfect way to end the first part of this concert program.

The final work on the program was Invasion (2022) by Lewis Spratlan, and this is a sharp departure from the music that had preceded. The lighthearted soccer theme of the first half was intended to stand alone and this concert was planned well before the appalling recent events in Ukraine. Ms. Shpachenko was born and raised in Kharkiv and has displaced family there, so the news from Ukraine was simply impossible to ignore. The commission for Invasion was completed by Spratlan in just three weeks, in time for its world premiere at this concert. After a short intermission to rearrange the stage, an ensemble consisting of piano, trombone, horn, alto saxophone, mandolin and percussion arrived, all led by conductor Anthony Parnther.

Invasion opens with a booming timpani followed by the horns and piano who combine in a menacing swell of sound. After a few introductory moments, a mandolin solo is briefly heard in a fragment of a Russian folk song, followed by the sounds of marching band music from the horns signaling the arrival of Russian forces. The powerful booming of the timpani returns, clearly announcing the invasion and shelling of the towns. The horns sound loud, angry notes and the piano is agitated and unsettled. The harsh sounds of battle continue and martial snare drum riffs are heard amid the syncopated and broken rhythms from the rest of the ensemble.

A Grand Pause suddenly stills the chaos for a moment and then a quiet melody starts in the piano, gradually turning anxious. The horn and trombone each enter with sustained, plaintive notes, soon picked up by the others in a crescendo that is both frightening and sorrowful. The furious battle sounds return, now with wildly independent lines in the horns; the intensity here is reminiscent of the first half of Henryk Górecki’s Trombone Concerto. The booming of the timpani and the general confusion continued to increase, even as the piece reached its uncertain conclusion. The playing and conducting were excellent given what must have been a difficult score and a short rehearsal time. Invasion is an evocative and powerful musical snapshot of the war in Ukraine. Perhaps this is the opening movement of a work that will ultimately give us a heroic and victorious final ending.

A concert that opens with a series of cheery soccer pieces and concludes with an account of unspeakable horrors is certainly incongruous. But perhaps it is an accurate reflection of our present time – we have gone from a fawning self-centered concern over the trivial to the shocking reality of the unspeakable. Given the uncertainty of the economy, the specter of a renewed pandemic and the lack of live performances these past two years, it is reassuring to know that a concert such as this can be presented at this moment with competence and grace.


Performers:

Anthony Parnther, conductor
Nadia Shpachenko, piano
Pat Posey, saxophone
Aija Mattson-Jovel, horn
Phil Keen, trombone
Yuri Inoo, percussion
Joti Rockwell, mandolin

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

New Universes: George Crumb’s Makrokosmos at 50

On March 15, 2022 Brightwork Newmusic and Tuesdays at Monk Space presented New Universes: George Crumb’s Makrokosmos at 50. The concert, featuring pianist Nic Gerpe, consisted of the first volume of zodiac music by George Crumb as well as twelve new pieces inspired by Makrokosmos . These made up the movements of The Makrokosmos 50 Project, the second work on the concert program and a Los Angeles premiere. George Crumb was born in 1929 and, after a long and creative life, passed away suddenly on February 6. This concert, planned earlier in the year, unexpectedly became a commemoration for George Crumb as well as the performance of one of his more popular works.

George Crumb was one of the most influential composers of late 20th century, winning the Pulitzer Prize for music in 1968. Makrokosmos Volume I, written in 1972, dates from what was a very fertile and artistically productive period in the composer’s career. His use of amplified piano, along with extended techniques and graphical scores, expanded the possibilities of piano music to new horizons. Crumb once noted that with Makrokosmos he intended to write “an all-inclusive technical work for piano ([using] all conceivable techniques).”

Makrokosmos, Volume I is subtitled Twelve Fantasy-Pieces after the Zodiac for Amplified Piano. There is about an hour of music in total, organized into three sections, each with four separate pieces. Each piece also has its own title, and while the work is based loosely on the signs of the zodiac, there is no attempt to characterize them with a personality. The pieces are given titles such as “Night-Spell”, “Primeval Sounds”, “Music for Shadows”, etc and are generally dark and otherworldly, as is the music. During this concert the sound of the piano almost always defied the listener’s preconceived expectations. The amplification and close acoustic of Monk Space made it seem as if one were inside the piano rather than out in the audience.

Pianist Nic Gerpe was certainly kept busy during the performance. Only occasionally were the sounds initiated conventionally from the keyboard and these were generally spare melodies of solitary notes or short, simple phrases. In some ways this trang casino trực tuyến work resembles the prepared piano music of John Cage, but instead of the strings being populated with various bits of hardware, the pianist must lean in to provide the external stimulus. Most of the time Gerpe had his hand inside the piano plucking, strumming or pounding on the strings even as he was also called upon to chant, whistle or sing miscellaneous phrases during the various sections. All of this was done with an amazing smoothness and economy of motion – there were no awkward pauses or sudden gestures as the music flowed forward. It is striking how differently the piano sounds in Makrokosmos, yet Gerpe was completely at home during the entire performance.

After an intermission, Gerpe performed the second work on the program, the Los Angeles premiere of The Makrokosmos 50 Project. This was twelve new pieces, each inspired by the original George Crumb work with twelve individual composers having created short piano pieces based on one of the zodiac signs. In some ways this was similar to a concert given by Synchromy in January where Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Tierkreis zodiac was presented along with twelve new pieces from contemporary composers based on the original. A small instrumental ensemble was used for the Stockhausen concert and the new pieces displayed a wide variety and independence from the style of the original.

Makrokosmos 50, however, was entirely piano music and held closely to Crumb’s vision of a piece consisting mainly of extended techniques. Each of the new pieces generally began with some integral component of the associated section of the Crumb zodiac: perhaps an opening chord or tone cluster, a direct quote, part of a phrase or fragment of a melody. Two of the composers actually submitted graphical scores and all made effective use of the many specialized sounds heard in the original Makrokosmos. The Crumb vocabulary for the amplified piano is highly original and yet was easily absorbed by each of the contributing composers: Juhi Bansal, Viet Cuong, Eric Guinivan, Julie Herndon, Vera Ivanova, Gilda Lyons, Alex Miller, Fernanda Aoki Navarro, Thomas Osborne, Timothy Peterson, and Gernot Wolfgang. The twelve new pieces convincingly evoked the powerful style of the original and served to illustrate why George Crumb is such a significant influence on contemporary composition.

There was an unusual incident during “Ghost of Manticore”, composed by Nic Gerpe, the fifth piece of this second half. The hall seemed to shake as fierce sounds poured from the piano like a volcanic eruption. It was as if the dark powers ,so prominent throughout the Crumb original, were being summoned by the pianist all at once. As the volume crested to its ultimate intensity, an alarm in the back of the hall went off and wailed continuously. The sounds mixed with the tones in the piano strings for a few moments until the performance was suspended and the alarm eventually silenced. It was probably just an old smoke alarm or motion detector that was overwhelmed by the sound pressure, but I prefer to believe it was George Crumb signaling his approval and wanting to join in. The Makrokosmos 50 Project was instructive listening as well as a fine tribute to an immensely influential composer.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Synchromy Concert: Tierkreis L.A.

On January 8 and 9, 2022, Synchromy mounted two live concert presentations of Tierkreis L.A. Jason Barabba and eleven other local Los Angeles composers contributed new pieces inspired by the twelve original Tierkreis (zodiac) movements of Karlheinz Stockhausen. The Brightwork Ensemble was on hand to perform the music and the concert was accompanied throughout with artful cut paper and line drawing screen projections by Erik Ruin. The Ivy Substation Theater in the heart of Culver City was the venue and a lively musical preamble by SpacePants preceded the performance.

Tierkreis L.A. marks a bold beginning for the return of live concerts in 2022. The Omicron virus surge was in full cry, and had forced the cancellation of many public events. Synchromy, however, went ahead with the concert, restricting attendance to 50% with socially distanced seating and mandatory masking. Presentation of a vaccination card was required for admission.

Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007) was a German composer and a leading member of the Darmstadt school, a group of composers that also included Pierre Boulez, Bruno Maderna, Luigi Nono. Stockhausen was active in the the mid and late 20th century in the fields of composition and musical theory. His works include pieces for solo instruments, songs, chamber music, choral and orchestral music as well as seven full-length operas.

Tiekreis, the German word for zodiac, consists of 12 individual pieces and was composed by Stockhausen between 1974 and 1975. Originally scored for twelve music boxes, each piece stands alone and can also be sung or played by any suitable instrument. Each is a simple, melodic characterization of the constellations in the zodiac, and Tiekreis proved to be one of Stockhausen’s most popular works. Tierkreis L.A. is based on the Stockhausen work and consists of two parts: an arrangement by Jason Barraba for chamber ensemble for each of the twelve melodies, followed by an original composition as written by twelve contemporary Los Angeles composers. Altogether Tierkreis L.A. includes 24 pieces of new music that stretches over two and a half hours.

Prior to the start of the concert, SpacePants – Jennifer Beattie and Diana Wade – entertained the incoming audience with dadaist-inspired poetry, vocals and vignettes, all built roughly on the zodiac theme. Volunteers from the crowd were encouraged to spin a carnival wheel that would come to rest pointing to one of the zodiac characters and SpacePants would perform a recitation or sing a vocal fragment that was related. A digital voice processor created some interesting effects and the singing by the two ladies was as impressive as their sparkly pants. A long, corrugated drainage tube, whose length could be stretched from three to over 20 feet, produced some of memorable moments when it was used to amplify the vocals. SpacePants manufactured just the right mix of the alien and the experimental, putting everyone in the perfect frame of mind for the music that followed.

The Tierkreis L.A. program consisted of twelve sections beginning with an arrangement of the original Stockhausen melodies by Jason Barabba for the Brightwork Ensemble. This was followed by a contemporary companion piece inspired by the zodiac segment. The ensemble consisted of piano, violin, cello, clarinets, flute, bass/baritone voice and a generous percussion section. A large projection screen displayed Stockhausen’s original text, and this was typically sung in German at the opening and repeated again in English when the segment concluded. Barabba’s orchestration from the existing source materials felt very much aligned with Stockhausen’s zodiac sensibility and the diverse instrumental textures of the Brightwork Ensemble served to compliment the warm and welcoming charm of the original.

Barabba also contributed a companion piece for ‘Leo’ titled Let Your Roar Be Heard or Do Aliens Have Astrology? The chamber ensemble provided a natural bridge – the timbres and textures overlapped nicely between the Stockhausen material and the new piece. There was a busy opening in the Barabba with fast phrasing in all the parts, but this settled into a proud and strong sensibility that complimented the regal leonine feeling from the Stockhausen. The projections on the screen were water color sketches of a lion in military regalia, and this captured the music perfectly. Barabba’s text, contributed by SpacePants, later became questioning: “Do aliens have astrology? Do they receive messages from the universe…” The music then turned from bold and confident to active and uncertain. Altogether this piece was a fine blending of text, music and images that worked together to amplify the original Stockhausen.

Other contributing composers fared equally well. ‘Scorpio’ was mysterious and spare with a high violin melody in the arranged Stockhausen that was beautifully played. Adam Borecki’s companion piece, S¢ø®¶πº took this further, and added a definite feeling of danger in his violin opening. The projected images reinforced this with an animated scorpion that moved malevolently about the screen in articulated segments. The Brightwork musicians all doubled on melodica for a time, increasing the sinister feel. The music and images together produced a surprisingly frightful experience.

‘Sagittarius’ began with a strong vibraphone line that was picked up by the piano in a jaunty melody. The screen displayed an animated archer shooting an arrow into the air which flew along for most of this segment. Vera Ivanova contributed a companion piece that began with an active, complex feel in the opening. As Ms. Ivanova explained in the program notes: “ When I was asked to write a piece based on ‘Sagittarius’, I had an idea to use as a framework for its form and instrumentation the pattern of alternating meters found in the original piece (5/4, 6/4, 7/4, 4/4, 3/4, 1/4, 2/4, 8/4).” As the intensity of the music increased, more arrows appeared on the projection screen as well as the side walls. The pace of the music was well-matched to the animations and built suspense as to where the arrows might land.

The ‘Gemini’ segment began with a playful feel in the wind instruments and confident optimism in the Stockhausen vocals. The companion piece, Perpendicular Twins, by Vicki Ray, paired the vertical harp and the plucked horizontal piano strings together with a bright pizzicato line in the violin and cello. This combination, along with increasing syncopation in the percussion, effectively added to a pleasing sense of buoyancy. The projections complimented with a series of large solid circles in vivid primary colors that slowly floated across the screen.

‘Capricorn’ completed the concert program and opened with the sharp click of castanets as well as a lovely flute solo. This nicely evoked the dark mystery of a winter night – the season of the year when the constellation of Capricorn is most clearly visible in the sky. Carolyn Chen’s companion piece, Birria, struck out in a much different direction, presenting the Angelino perspective, beautifully informed by our heavily Latin influence. Bírria is a Mexican a stew from Jalisco and this became the metaphor for the diverse and flavorful neighborhoods throughout the city. The piece opens with fast passages in the vibraphone with the winds and strings joining in to form a nice tutti groove. The images on the screen were very effective – animated drawings of landmarks and neighborhood scenes that were instantly recognizable and that seemed to grow directly out of the music. There was an intriguing combination of the exotic and the familiar throughout, and this resonated deeply with the locals in the audience. Birria was the ideal piece to send us out to experience the reality of the city having felt it anew in the music.

All of the zodiac companion pieces contributed by contemporary composers were artfully inventive as well as technically polished. The Brightwork Ensemble provided a common palate of timbres and textures giving a strong sense of unity to the entire Tierkreis L.A. program. The organization necessary to coordinate all the music, screen projections was heroic – the musicians had to rehearse, master and perform over two and a half hours of Stockhausen-inspired new music. A full list of the zodiac pieces and descriptions by all the composers is given here.

Tierkreis L.A. artfully combines the original inspiration of Stockhausen with new perspectives by twelve contemporary composers through a masterful performance by the Brightwork Ensemble.

Perhaps the greatest achievement by Synchromy is that the concert was performed at all. With all the uncertainties of the current Covid surge and the past two years of limited live performances, it took a special commitment to make Tierkreis L.A. a reality. This concert could be a turning point for the renewal of new music performances in Los Angeles as we move forward in 2022.

The Brightwork Ensemble is:

Scott Graff, Bass-Baritone
Aron Kallay, Piano
Brian Walsh, Clarinet
Maggie Parkins, Cello
Sara Andon, Flute
Nick Terry, Percussion
Shalini Vijayan, Violin


by Paul Muller
CD Review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Los Angeles

Chas Smith – Three

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.

Three is available directly from Cold Blue Music, Amazon and numerous CD retailers.

by Paul Muller
Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles, Piano, Review

Video: Musical Interludes – The Vexations

The Pasadena Conservatory of Music has recently produced The Vexations, a new YouTube video that is an overview of the life of Erik Satie as based on the novel by Caitlin Horrocks. Part of the Conservatory’s Musical Interludes series, this video features narration by actress Jane Kaczmarek in the role of Satie’s sister Louise, along with Nic Gerpe and Kathryn Eames performing on the piano. Filmed in the warm acoustic of Monk Space with a credible staging of Belle Époque Paris, The Vexations is an appealing and accessible way to a greater understanding of the life of Satie and his music.

Although a product of the late 19th century, Satie is rightly esteemed by those who follow new music in the 21st century. His place in the Paris avant-garde along with Debussy, Georges Auric, Louis Durey, Arthur Honegger, Germaine Tailleferre, Francis Poulenc and Darius Milhaud put Satie in strong musical company and his influence prefigured the development of minimalism and ambient music decades later. His contacts extended into literary circles as well as visual artists such as Picasso, Georges Braque, Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray and others. Financial success always seemed to elude Satie and he lived the iconic life of a poor artist, huddling in a rundown Paris flat. His centrality to the cultural currents in Paris at the turn of the 20th century and his colorful life make the story of Satie an excellent choice by the Pasadena Conservatory for a dramatic re-telling.

The Vexations opens in Satie’s darkened apartment after his death in 1925. Jane Kaczmarek as his sister Louise, quietly describes the clutter of the place: the composer’s collection of walking sticks, a stack of 86 handkerchiefs, six identical gray velvet suits, the battered piano and mountains of old newspapers. Ms. Kaczmarek sets the scene perfectly. The bare brick walls of Monk Space along and the dim lighting establishing at once the sense of eccentricity combined with poverty that marked Satie’s life. Louise describes how a copy of the score for Vexations is discovered inside a ruined grand piano that Satie had used as a sort of catch-all filing cabinet. The video cuts directly to what might be a cabaret after hours. A few minutes of Vexations is played by Nic Gerpe at the piano, marked by his customary sure touch. Louise then describes some of Satie’s early musical acquaintances and this is followed by Gnossiènne No. 1 (1893), and Debussy’s Estampes, “Pagodes”, both performed with great elegance by Kathryn Eames. This sets the pattern for the video: a narrative description of Satie’s life combined with appropriate musical interludes.

More history and music follow. Satie’s career as a long-time cabaret pianist is described by Louise and exemplified by Ragtime Parade, played by Kathryn Eames. His brief affair with artist’s model Suzanne Valadon is mentioned – Satie’s only love interest during a lifetime of confirmed bachelorhood. Nic Gerpe next plays Embryons desséchés, a trio of pieces about sea life, and dedicated to Ms. Valadon. An explanation of Satie’s idiosyncratic performance notes written on his scores is given by Louise, followed by the three movements of Sonatine bureaucratique, performed by Nic Gerpe at the piano. The sound quality in this video is excellent throughout, and the piano playing captures every nuance of the music.

An important historical perspective is given by Louise with a discussion of ‘Les Six’, a group of young composers who were attracted to Satie’s music later in his life. For Les Six, Satie’s music represented a return to practical simplicity and was a welcome counter to the heavy romanticism of the late 19th century. A generous series of musical examples from Les Six follows: Prélude by Georges Auric, Romance sans paroles by Louis Durey, Sarabande by Arthur Honegger, Mazurka by Darius Milhaud, Valse by Francis Poulenc and Pastorale by Germaine Tailleferre. All are expertly performed by Nic Gerpe and nicely illustrate how clearly Satie’s influence was felt.

The video concludes with Satie’s best known work Gymnopedie No. 1. Although written early in his career in 1888, Gymnopedie is the piece most associated with Erik Satie, and it perfectly captures the tranquil sensibility of late 19th century Europe before the horrors of the wars that were to come. The popularity of the piece has only increased with time, and fortunately did not spoil Satie’s independent outlook. Kathryn Eames plays Gymnopedie No. 1 with exactly the right languid restraint and careful articulation.

There is nothing more to add to the evaluation of Satie’s music – it belongs to the ages. The Vexations video is a carefully crafted vehicle that adds to the understanding of Satie’s life and increases the appreciation of his work. The combination of staging, narrative and music is perfectly proportioned to engage the listener so that the arc of Satie’s musical career is fully visible. With this excellent video, the Pasadena Conservatory has simultaneously enhanced its musical appreciation pedagogy and made Satie more accessible for the rest of us.

The Vexations may be freely viewed on YouTube.

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

Daniel Corral – Hodad



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

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

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

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

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

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

Hodad is available for viewing through Music for Your Inbox.

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

Wilfrido Terrazas – ĺtaca

Wilfrido Terrazas
Cero Records

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

wasteLAnd Ensemble – Voice Fragments

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

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

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

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

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

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

Voice Fragments may be viewed directly on YouTube.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Personnel for this concert are:

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

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Music of Daniel Corral at REDCAT

With most live performance venues dark during the pandemic, musicians and producers have sought to find effective ways to reach their audiences electronically. On November 14, 2020, REDCAT offered Daniel Corral’s Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage and Count In! on a pay-per-view streaming basis. Using the superior technical resources of the REDCAT, the virtuosity of the Now Hear Ensemble and the acting talents of Alexander Gedeon, the music of Daniel Corral was vividly delivered despite the current COVID surge.

The two Corral compositions performed for this event were vastly different in character. Count In! is an electronic/video piece that draws on Corral’s minimalist instincts and flows naturally from his more recent experimental works. The second work, Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage, is a fast-paced pantomime deconstruction of the banality of celebrity whose musical accompaniment owes more to Broadway than to Steve Reich, according to many of the top sites for adults. Both works were carried off with exemplary production values and extraordinary performances, making the case that new music concerts can be experienced online at a high level.

Count In! was first, a video accompanied by the processed voice of Poly Styrene singing “1, 2, 3, 4” from a song by X-Ray Specs. It is begins with a low klaxon-like voice flashing out warnings, like a fog horn on a rocky coast. Higher processed voices join in, but at somewhat faster rates so that the sense of urgency increases with each new entry – the feeling is akin to a convergence of sirens in the street. The mounting chorus of voices bring a sense of growing panic, as in a frightened crowd. Meanwhile, the screen displays two rows of four digits – all zeroes. As the piece progresses some of the digits begin to flash from zero to one, and back again. More digits change, and soon both are rows percolating with various combinations of 0 and 1. A bit later, some of the digits begin changing from 1 to 2 as the pitch of the voices goes still higher. The appearance of more and higher numbers on the screen reinforces the relentless uptick in the average intensity level and the listener’s brain instinctively connects this with the increasingly insistent sounds in the voices. The colors of the numbers seem to go from cool and dark to bright and hot, adding to the sense of alarm.

The voices are clearly human but highly processed, and there are no intelligible words, but a strong sense of distress is clearly conveyed. The type and character of the sounds and the changing digital display act on our modern conditioning – everything we are seeing and hearing indicates a pending catastrophe. The digits on the display eventually begin to flash the number 4 and the voices seem to morph into an electronic bleating. The sounds get more electronic and less human, but remain frenetic. Now a digit goes to 0 – then another, and the voices decrease accordingly. Eventually only the low roar of the beginning voice remains just before all goes silent.

Count In! is masterful in its use of a simple video display and basic sonic materials to act on all our conditioned responses to communicate a state of high anxiety – a thoughtful commentary on the external forces that are at work to shape our contemporary existence.

My podcast partner, Jim Goodin, subscribed to the concert. Here are his thoughts on the first piece:

“Count In! is a 2 x 4 matrix of 0-4 sequences looping throughout the work in evolving colors, from florescent to black light – the latter my favorite. The digital numbers count through the 0-4 pattern per matrix cell, growing to 4444 and reversing to end in all 0’s when the piece concludes. The musicality in the beginning was like approaching sirens, growing to almost seamless tones at a point, and then close to a human chant at about 10 min in. The audioscape grew more and more hypnotic as the morphing combined with the looping count, the overall feeling to me was futuristic in an Orwellian kind of way.”

The feature work of the concert was Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage, described in the program notes as “… a sort of ‘ghost opera’ — creating a memetic hologram of the endless purgatory of celebrity afterlife.” This is based on a 1973 record release that consisted solely of Elvis Presley banter with his adoring audience between songs. There is no Elvis Presley music in this, just his interaction with cheering admirers and screaming young girls, all conveyed with an abundance of suggestive innuendo. This forms the libretto of a pantomime, with Alexander Gedeon playing the character of Elvis and the Now Hear Ensemble providing emotional color in the background music. Gedeon, who also co-directed the stage production, is dressed in a clownish manner with a loud floppy suit and oversize bow tie. His face is heavily made up, but his countenance is generally sad, like a latter-day Emmett Kelly. This sets the tone for the work – Presley is portrayed as a tragic figure, forever trapped in the banality of his celebrity. It is a contemporary deconstruction of the legend, where his music is forgotten and only the Elvis impersonators live on.

The piece opens with Elvis placing a large vinyl record on a turntable, turning it on, and beginning his patter with the audience during a show. All of the words from the recording were lip synched by Gedeon, and this is an impressive feat given the length of the performance. The accompaniment by Now Hear is very solid and forms a running commentary on the Elvis discourse. The mood of the music changes on a dime to fit the emotion of the moment – fast and jumpy, soft and nostalgic, sad or wistful – and everything in between. The composer was at the piano and also played guitar with Brian Walsh on clarinet and Federico Llach on double bass – all gave outstanding performances. Despite these slender musical forces, the quantity and quality of the accompaniment was impressive and provided an effective counterweight to the stream of words coming from Elvis.

Here are Jim’s impressions:

“Gedeon’s interpretation was constant motion of the iconic character, never allowing a breath of rest for the audience and yet never really completing an entire thought. There were a series of false starts by Elvis, beginning with ‘Well well well…’, but never breaking into song. The Now Hear Ensemble was equally mercurial, issuing a stream of changing musical cues that reminded me of 60’s television. The musicians were spot-on in timing and interpretation, with no identifiable reference to any specific Presley song, but following Gedeon’s Elvis. The result was a perfect parallel, the accompaniment following the curve of the piece to ‘that which never happens’, and just keeps going on to the next moment.”

The staging, lighting and video work for the performance was of a very high quality. The sound and images coming over my internet connection carried the concert with a fidelity that was more than satisfactory. A solid effort by the production team, setting a high bar for future streaming concerts. Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage was a technical as well as artistic success, and delivered a pungent criticism of mid-20th century popular culture.

by Paul Muller