Los Angeles

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
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Separation Songs at Monk Space

On Tuesday, February 18, 2020, Brightwork newmusic presented the Los Angeles premiere of Separation Songs, by Matt Sargent.  A 70-minute work for two string quartets, Separation Songs comprised the entire program. The Eclipse Quartet was joined by the Aperture Duo, Grace Oh and Julie Jung to complete the eight-piece ensemble. Seating in the Monk Space venue was reconfigured to accommodate the larger musical forces and to take full advantage of the close acoustics. Everyone in the audience was within twenty feet of the players, allowing the listeners to be immersed in the warm sonority of the strings.

Separation Songs is fashioned from ten New England hymn tunes written by William Billings in the early 18th century. This is plain, yet stately, church music that carries comfort and warmth in every note. The original harmonies have been delicately processed and woven together to create a continuous flow.  Composer Matt Sargent writes “Throughout the piece, hymn tunes come and go, passing from one quartet to the other: As tunes reappear, they filter through a ‘separation process,’ whereby selected notes migrate from one quartet to the other. The process leaves breaks in the music that remain silent or are filled by stretching the durations of nearby notes, generating new rhythms and harmonies.”

The two quartets were arrayed as mirror images: the  cellos were in the center and the higher strings seated in a semicircle on either side. The brick walls surrounding the performance space brought out every timbral nuance. Separation Songs opened with one quartet playing a Billings hymn in full harmony. The second quartet picked up the tune while the first played long sustaining tones in support. As the piece proceeded, the hymn tunes and sustained notes were passed back and forth between the two quartets in a regular exchange. Nothing was rushed and only slight variations in dynamics, tempo or texture could be detected. Everything was carried forward in the kaleidoscopic unfolding of the harmonies so that a warm wash of sound enveloped the audience in a profound serenity. The playing was very expressive and care was taken by the musicians to coordinate the two quartets in a piece with few landmarks.

Separation Songs rolls along for 70 minutes with almost no change in its character, but the harmonic variations keep the listener continuously engaged. The sturdy hymn tunes bring a sense of strength and wistfulness to this music; a shorter version would make a perfect prelude at a memorial service. Separation Songs is a powerful re-imagining of the early American congregational hymn, and succeeds brilliantly in bringing a sharpened sense of the transcendental into the 21st century. As the last notes faded away, a full 15 seconds of respectful silence followed before the start of a roaring ovation from the audience.

Separations Songs is available on CD from Cold Blue Music.

The Eclipse Quartet is:
Sarah Thornblade, violin
Sara Parkins, violin
Alma Lisa Fernandez, viola
Maggie Parkins, cello

The Aperture Duo is:
Adrianne Pope, violin
Linnea Powell, viola

With:
Grace Oh, violin
Julie Jung, cello

The next Cold Blue Music presentation will be at the Soundwaves concert series at the Santa Monica Public Library on March 18, 2020, and will feature music from several new CD releases.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Los Angeles

Isaura String Quartet at REDCAT

On Wednesday, December 11, 2019 REDCAT, in downtown Los Angeles, hosted the Isaura String Quartet in a concert of new music titled hum. Five works were presented by contemporary composers including two world premiers and a West Coast premiere. A fine mid-week crowd filled the REDCAT venue, braving the fierce holiday traffic.

Darkness is Not Well Lit (2016), by Nicole Lizée, opened the concert and for this piece the quartet was seated on low risers with an floor fan stationed in front of each player. The concert notes explained that this work is “…a sonic imaging of a film noir for string quartet as seen – and heard – from the vantage point of an electric fan.” The performance space filled with the recorded roaring of a large fan at the beginning, and a series of simple phrases rose quietly from the cello and viola. A violin entered next, with a lovely sustained tone that arced above the deep chords in the lower strings. The moving fan blades in front of each player acted on the musical sounds to produce a sort of fluttery feel, especially in the sustained notes of the lower registers. The effect was both curious and beguiling, effectively connecting the playing ensemble to the fan sounds coming out of the speakers. This effect would likely have been more pronounced in a smaller venue, but Darkness is Not Well Lit is nevertheless an intriguing implementation of a surprisingly simple experimental technique.

String Quartet (2014), by Laura Steenberge followed, a piece written for the JACK Quartet and inspired by wild things: wolves, whales, crows and cuttlefish. The opening is a series of strong, sustained chords in the cello and viola that evoke a lonely sadness. The violins join in – without any pulse or beat present – to create a sort of distilled sorrow. The viola tones move up in pitch as the violins shift into a high, whimpering cry as might be heard among wolves in a lonely wood at night. After a short pause, high, thin tones are heard in the violins while the cello scratches out rough and rugged sound below. The upper strings emit a series of screeches that soon coarsen into harsher tones. A series of repeating notes in a tutti chord, that becomes darker and discordant as it lengthens, is particularly effective. Humming by the players adds to the richness of the sound and a short a cappella section finishes the piece. The playing of String Quartet is evocative and skillful, complimenting the organic eloquence of the music.

The world premiere of Quartet for the Beginning of a Time (2019), by David Rosenboom, was next, a complex and sophisticated work that manages to artfully balance earnest abstraction with settled convention. The structure of the piece is based on the relationships of a series of catenaries – curves that guide the diffuseness and clarity of various musical parameters. The composer writes that these relationships include the “…clarity of tonal reference dissolving into atonal fields and re-emerging later, clarity of perceivable pitch evolving into and out of relatively non-pitched sounds, independence versus synchronicity among players, relational simultaneities, temporal densities and speeds, and shifting complex dynamics of simple versus compound time forms and melodic shapes.”

Quartet for the Beginning of a Time opens with sustained tutti chords joined in agreeable harmony, yet with an expectant feel. A series of squeaks and chirps soon break out in the upper strings and this gradually increases until it dominates the texture in all registers. The tutti sections, when they occur, become ever more strident and seem to further the incoherence of the melodies. It is as if the music is undergoing a nervous breakdown. As the piece proceeds the dissembling becomes more intense and the higher parts break into a series of independent and rapid phrases. Pizzicato and extended techniques take over, with much rapping and knocking of the instruments. A loud snapping sound is heard from a cello string, and the ensemble pauses – marking the boundary of two catenary curve sets in the structure. The quartet resumes but the sounds are now clearly chaotic with rapping, squealing and disconnected flurries of pizzicato spraying out in all directions – it is as if the music is falling in and out of lucidity. The long flowing phrases of the opening return, but there is an undercurrent of uncertainty and instability as the piece concludes. The brilliant playing of the Isaura Quartet is a technical triumph, equal to the emotional demands of the music. Quartet for the Beginning of a Time is a remarkable and unsettling work that applies the raw power of mental disintegration directly to the emotions of the listener.

(more…)

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, George Crumb, Pasadena Conservatory, Los Angeles

George Crumb – 90th Birthday Concert in Pasadena

On Sunday, November 3, 2019 the Pasadena Conservatory of Music presented a concert of piano music by Pulitzer Prize-winning composer George Crumb. The occasion marked the observance Crumb’s 90th birthday on October 24. No fewer than three soloists were on hand in the Barrett Recital Hall to perform piano works by Crumb from the early 1970s and 1980. The concert was dedicated to the memory the composer’s daughter, actress and singer Ann Crumb, who had died just a few days before.

A Little Suite for Christmas, A.D. 1979 opened the program, performed by Susan Svrček of the Conservatory faculty. This seven movement work is based on the Nativity frescoes of the Arena Chapel in Padua, Italy as created by Giotto in 1305. The opening movement, “The Visitation” begins with a series of soft, mysterious chords that gain in power as they are repeated. The sharp phrasing and wide variation in the dynamics create a sense of the unknown as well as a certain foreboding. “Berceuse for the Infant Jesu”, the second movement, follows with a calming and gentle feel that is built around a lovely fragment of melody. The quiet tenderness is undercut in the last few phrases, however, by a faint feeling of uncertainty.

Extended techniques are a prominent feature of Crumb’s music and in the third movement, “The Shepherds’ Noël”, there is the plucking and light strumming of the piano strings. This establishes a haunting backdrop to a simple melody from the keyboard that evokes a shepherd’s flute. The stopping of several strings with hand pressure while the notes are played produces a sharp percussive effect, and this is used to advantage in “Adoration of the Magi”, movement four. All of this was negotiated with a smooth elegance by Ms. Svrček. The rapid rhythms and crashing chords of movement 5, “Nativity Dance”, provided a stirring contrast to the slower movements. Lightly plucked strings and strumming accompanied the soft and settled “Canticle of the Holy Night”, movement 6, which contained a fleeting quote from the familiar Coventry Carol to summon an appealing element of folk simplicity.

“Carol of the Bells” closed the piece with deep rumbles rising from the lower registers, alternating with bright flashing phrases that rang out like a carillon in the town square. Towards the finish, a touch of unease crept in that reinforced the thoughtful combination of reverence and wonderment that fills this entire piece. The liturgical season of Advent in our 21st century has been completely overwhelmed by commercialism and forced merriment. In A Little Suite for Christmas, A.D. 1979, George Crumb has restored the proper sense of awe that should inform our reflections on the events of the Nativity at this time of the year.

Makrokosmos, Volume I was next, a piece written in 1971/72. Nic Gerpe was the soloist for this twelve movement work in three parts, for amplified piano. Each of the movements was inspired by a sign of the zodiac. Part One opened with “Primeval Sounds (Genesis I) Cancer,” and this began with a series of soft, dark chords in the bottom register of the piano. Extended techniques were again prominent, including some strong strumming that added to the feeling of distant menace. Loud, stopped notes were repeated and rang out like angry hammering. A great swell of tremolo notes arose from the left hand, evoking a powerful sense of primordial dread. The second movement, “Proteus Pisces”, was comprised of short, rapid phrases that were distinctly playful and a welcome contrast to the previous atmospherics. Played from the keyboard and technically demanding, these were nevertheless heard with a clear precision. “Pastorale Taurus” followed, with more gloom coming from the lower registers of the keyboard. A loud yelling of ‘Christe!’ punctuated the quiet and signaled the opening of the final movement of Part 1, “Crucifixus Capricorn”. A few quiet notes from the keyboard followed and then a cascade of strumming, plucking and vocal cries of agony and despair that was as unsettling as any Passion.

Gerpe was in complete control at all times and moved confidently about the piano. He played the piece without a score – access to the interior of the piano made the use of the music rack impractical – and so this piece was played entirely from memory. When asked about this later Gerpe replied that the physicality of the playing constituted a sort of choreography, and this was much easier to remember than a series of notes and rhythms.

Parts 2 and 3 of Makrokosmos followed in similar fashion. This is music made of sound sequences and not of melody or harmony.  The expressive range of the piano seemed to expand as the piece continued, with each movement featuring new combinations of extended techniques. There was a whistled quotation from a hymn tune as well as new and darker sounds from the lower reaches of the piano strings. Listening to this piece, one soon forgets the initial novelty of the extended techniques and simply admires the new musical syntax. Gerpe negotiated all of this cleanly and with complete assurance.

Makrokosmos Volume II followed after the intermission and was performed by soloist Kathryn Eames. This was the second of four volumes comprising the Makrokosmos series and was also informed by the zodiacal signs. As with Volume I, this piece had twelve movements divided into three different parts. Makrokosmos Volume II contained, if anything, a wider variety of sounds than the previous pieces on the concert program. There were many vivid emotions that came across in the twelve movements: brightly optimistic, dramatic, darkly mysterious, playful, mystical and menacing.

Extended techniques were more extensively employed in this piece and included the placing a sheet of paper on the strings to create a kind of buzzing distortion. A glass tumbler on the strings produced a series of otherworldly sounds, aided by vocals from the soloist. A wire brush applied to the strings produced an intimate, whispering sound. There was the usual rapping, strumming and plucking in this piece as well, and the wider use of these extended techniques seemed to fit more seamlessly into the musical architecture. Ms. Eames presided with impressive finesse over the various phrasings and effects, while also playing the piece entirely from memory.

These piano pieces by George Crumb are a milestone in 20th century musical development and his masterful application of extended techniques will stand as a benchmark of the art. Los Angeles is fortunate to have three piano soloists capable of performing this music at such an accomplished level.

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

Reid and Eyck in Equal Sound Concert

On Sunday night, October 20, 2019 Equal Sound presented a double album CD release concert featuring experimental performer/composer Sarah Belle Reid and Berlin-based thereminist extraordinary Carolina Eyck. The Civic Center Studios in downtown Los Angeles was the venue, and included a potent surround sound system, a balcony and ample room for the hundred or so new music concert goers in attendance.

The first set of the evening was by Sarah Belle Reid. According to the program notes, she is a “Canadian performer-composer, specializing in trumpet and electronics, modular synthesis, and alternate forms of graphical notation for composition and improvisation.” Ms. Reid performed works from her newly released album Underneath and Sonder. This began with a remarkable hybrid trumpet that featured two bells – one of which was muted – while both were connected to the same valving and a single mouthpiece. The formidably convoluted plumbing for this instrument was ingeniously constructed so that the performer could switch sounds between the two bells. Ms. Reid played the horns into a microphone and the acoustic sound was processed by a laptop and amplified by the surround sound system. The opening notes were elegantly sustained and alternated intriguingly between muted and open trumpet tones. The electronic processing provided a complimentary mystical dimension, especially when the muted bell was used. A wide variety of sounds were produced as the bells were moved back and forth in front of the microphone.

After a time, the familiar trumpet tones were replaced by breathy sounds of air moving through the horn. A series of hisses, snorts and whooshing sounds emerged that were well beyond the traditional sounds of a brass instrument. There was primal growling and something like gunshots that, with the high powered sound system, drove sonic levels in the hall to the threshold of discomfort. The amplified snapping of the valves and a thumping sound derived from an unusual intonation soon filled the space with a thoroughly percussive feel and a pleasingly solid groove. There were also stretches of vivid harmony and brilliant processing so that It seemed as if several players were performing at once. The unexpectedly diverse collection of sounds, the electronic processing and her innovative instrument designs have enabled Ms. Reid to significantly extend the expressive potential of the humble trumpet. A long round of enthusiastic applause followed the finish of a superb performance.

Carolina Eyck followed, equipped with a theremin, microphone and processing electronics all connected to the surround sound speakers. After a short explanation on the workings of the theremin, Ms. Eyck began with a comforting melody – perhaps an old hymn tune – to which she added her voice and some agreeable looping. At one point she was singing in harmony with herself and the theremin tones. Her control over the sounds coming from the theremin was remarkable, depending as it does on the position of her hands in space. There were no corny 1950s sci-fi effects, but rather a sumptuously smooth sound with rock solid pitch control. Ms. Eyck was in complete command, playing the theremin, dialing up the appropriate electronic processing and singing with a beautiful soprano voice. There was a timeless feel to her music that seemed to flow from a long folk tradition – the haunting phrases and melancholy notes were reminiscent of old Celtic tunes. Her latest album is aptly titled Elegies for Theremin and Voice.

One piece described a walk along the beach and featured the sounds of wind, surf and sea birds in addition to a sunny optimism in the melody. Perhaps the most affecting piece was an elegy for a young harpist friend who had passed away. The mix of layered voice and theremin soared with an ethereal transcendence, artfully creating a powerful memorial. All of Ms. Eyck’s pieces were well received and contained an appealing combination of voice, theremin and electronic processing that worked seamlessly together. Her set was given a rousing standing ovation.

Ms. Reid returned to the stage for an improvised encore that featured both performers. A different trumpet appeared, this one fitted with valve displacement sensors connected wirelessly to the laptop – another impressive technical achievement. The warm tones of the theremin and Ms. Eyck’s enchanting voice were joined by the many and varied percussive sounds coming from the modified trumpet. These worked surprisingly well together: the expressive complexity of the trumpet contrasted nicely with the graceful sounds of the theremin and voice. A more extended duo would have been been a plus, but the creative possibilities were clearly evident.

The two performers generously made themselves available afterwards for a meet and greet. There was something for everyone in this concert: the dramatic explorations of experimental trumpets and the soulful harmonies of the theremin and voice. The large crowd in attendance drifted out into the warm Los Angeles night in a state of high contentment.

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

Aperplicity in Pasadena

On September 6, 2019 People Inside Electronics presented Aperplicity, a concert of performance art and music performed by two Los Angeles-based duos. Aperture Duo with Adrianne Pope, violin and Linnea Powell, viola, joined forces with Autoduplicity, Rachel Beetz, flute and Jennifer Bewerse, cello, to present five pieces, including a world premiere. The spacious Throop Unitarian Church Hall in Pasadena filled up with a fine new music audience on a warm Friday night.

Time With People, Op. 1 (2013) by Tim Parkinson began the program with two performers sitting at a table holding a few snacks and cans of soda. This setting might have been two people meeting for lunch, or on their break at work. The two began speaking about the everyday issues in their lives – the difficulties of getting up and ready for the day, vacation in Hawaii, peculiar eating habits of the dog, the challenges of growing house plants. Their words were more like a stream of conscience and were not a conversation directed at each other. They simply talked on at length until a buzzer sounded, when one of the performers stopped speaking. Perhaps they were reminiscing about their previous Online Casino ohne Limit experience. A second, different buzzer, sounded and now both conversations were suspended while some familiar classical music was heard through the speakers on stage. A few moments later, the first buzzer sounded and the stream of words started up again from the first person. The other followed as the second buzzer was heard. This pattern was repeated with several variations as the two buzzers were sounded at different times and in different combinations. The topics changed from time to time, but were always about intimate commonplaces and never serious. All of this was very engaging and at times very entertaining – the audience broke into knowing laughter on a number of occasions. Time With People is a powerful commentary on our everyday conversations – we generally talk at people about the everyday banalities of our lives – and do very little listening in return.

Selections from Retrouvailles (2013) by Georges Asperghis followed. This was a series of three short scenes that began with two performers meeting mid-stage, embracing and patting each other on the back. This patting became faster and louder, and was soon distinctly rhythmic. Some French words were shouted, but there were no sung vocals or other music. The rhythms continued in this fashion for some moments before slowing, with the arms freezing in mid-slap at the finish. The second vignette had the two performers standing side-by-side and stamping their feet in a rhythm. Finger snapping, hand-clapping and side-slapping were added to this and the result was a cleverly choreographed bit of live percussion. The final scene had the two sitting at a sturdy wooden table with a wine bottle and a large glass. These were set sliding noisily across the table in a tidy rhythm that morphed into a rattling and pounding as the piece progressed. Some shouting soon accompanied these gestures, as might be heard in a rowdy bar. For the finish, the bottle was opened, the wine poured into the glass and the performers each took a cordial sip. Retrouvailles reminds us that music and rhythm are implicit in our most commonplace interactions, and how much we could add to our everyday life by being mindful of the musical possibilities.

Wash Me Whiter Than Snow (2013) by Jennifer Walshe was next, a piece for violin, cello and images projected on a screen above the stage. This opened with soft sliding sounds as both players bowed their instruments very slowly without fingering. Their free arms occasionally reached up and out while flowers appeared on the projection screen. The players then gently dropped their bows on the strings, producing a soft thump. A raucous recording of percussion was heard, and the players left their chairs and assumed various dramatic poses.

More acting and playing followed as the percussion recording ceased. There was a furious stretch of mimed cello and violin playing, a passage filled with complex pizzicato, and a bit of joyful singing and strumming. When actual tones were produced, the playing and vocals were excellent. On the screen, lions were seen pacing back and forth in a small cage. There was more pantomime playing of the stringed instruments which was followed by a soft scratching of bows on the strings and more acting. The piece ended with some vocals and a rough screech on the bowed cello as the violinist pantomimed an accompaniment. All the acting, singing and playing certainly highlighted the versatility of the performers, – Jennifer Bewerse and Adrianne Pope – considering they are from different groups. Wash Me Whiter Than Snow blurs the line between intention and reality, leaving the audience to sort out their impressions individually.

The premiere of Speech Suite (2019) by Todd Moellenberg followed, and this opened with a single word heard from the speaker. Two performers on stage, cellist and flute, began speaking concurrent phrases that were layered under the words emanating from the speaker. An intricate cello solo followed, and the sounds mimicked the rapidly spoken phrases. The listener’s brain was free to interpret the cello sounds as music or as speech, adding to the intrigue. More spoken phrases were heard from the speaker and the flute now accompanied, accurately mimicking the speech patterns. The two sets of sounds heard simultaneously created a pleasant confusion in the listener’s brain, sometimes the words were heard as music and sometimes hearing the flute tones as speech. The cello, flute and speaker were heard in various combinations in this way as the piece proceeded. Words and musical tones that resembled the patterns of speech delightfully overlapped. The two musicians displayed great skill matching the cadence and rhythmic patter of the spoken words. At the finish, a video of a Congressional hearing into some political foolishness was shown on the overhead screen while the stage speaker kept repeating “Liar!, Liar!” as the accompanying flute and cello imitated the same words. Speech Suite was greeted with appreciative laughter and extended applause.

The final piece on the program was I Delayed People’s Flights By Walking Slowly in Narrow Hallways (2005) by Mayke Nas and Wouter Snoei. Four performers were seated across from four large chalkboards. One performer began the piece by stamping on the floor as the others bowed from the waist while sitting down. More stamping by the others followed, in no particular order and without a common beat. Electronic sounds were heard from the speakers as one performer got up and drew a line on the chalkboard. Other players followed and more lines were drawn until a message emerged: “I Came Into The World.”

This set the pattern for the piece as it proceeded – single lines or single words were drawn until a phrase or message appeared. Some part of this would be erased and more words or letters added to change the meaning. In one sequence “I Approved Of Myself” was modified to “I DisApproved Of Myself” by the addition of just one syllable. “I Indulged in Self Doubt” became “I Indulged in Self Promotion.” All of this happened in fairly short order, the phrases and thoughts morphing at the speed of introspection with the players rapidly moving between the line of chairs and the chalkboards. In one sequence “I Called God Dead” appeared just as a rumble of thunder was heard from the speakers, and the message quickly became “I Called God Infallible”, which became “I Called Art Infallible” which morphed into “I Called Love Infallible.”

The arc of these visible thoughts, beginning with “I Came Into The World”, became evermore philosophical, illuminating the process of self examination in a new and striking way. The various noises coming from the speakers might have represented the uncertainty and buzz of distractions that are part of any mental process. The clear sequence of messages that appeared in written form on the chalkboards, however, tended to remove the normal self doubts that arise in a purely internal  rumination.  At the finish, the players covered all four chalkboards in a jumble of many words written in very small letters, as if ambiguity and confusion had overcome the previous clarity of thought. The players then began erasing all of this to reveal a final message hidden under the jumble: “I Asked For It.” I Delayed People’s Flights… is an extraordinary exploration of the thought process of self examination. The players received an enthusiastic ovation for their efforts.

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

wasteLAnd Summer Academy Concert

On Saturday, August 10, 2019 wasteLAnd presented its first Summer Academy for Composition Concert at Art Share in downtown Los Angeles. The work of eight emerging composers was performed at this event with each having participated in an intensive course of study in contemporary music during the previous week. Their pieces were work-shopped with the musicians of the wasteLAnd ensemble and reviewed by the Academy faculty of Michelle Lou, Michael Pisaro, and Brian Griffeath-Loeb. A fine crowd filled the Art Share performance hall on a warm Los Angeles summer evening in the lively downtown Los Angeles Arts District.

The first participant premiere was To the dust of the well or They wore the sky on their chests a breath, a glance, a sign, (confiding a shadow), by Adam Zuckerman. A string trio consisting of a violin, viola and cello was on the stage, with electronic accompaniment played through the large speakers mounted above. The strings began the piece with soft, sustained tones, but this was overtaken by a low rumbling in the speakers that gradually increased in volume until the strings were only barely audible. After a few moments, the speakers went quiet, issuing just a few sporadic clanks and rattles, and this pause uncovered the soft sounds still coming from the trio. The reappearance of the musical tones and the intriguing harmonies of the strings quickly captured the attention of the listener, despite the hushed dynamic. After a short respite, the speakers again became active, pouring out what seemed to be a stream continuous white noise that once more covered up the strings. The cycle repeated, so that each time the noise ceased and the sounds of the trio re-emerged, one’s listening and focus automatically increased. The brain became conditioned to suspend aural attention when there was noise, as if waiting for the weather to clear, so that the musical tones could be given full concentration when they reappeared. To the dust of the well… is an interesting experiment in the engagement of listener perception by the alternation of loud noise and subtle musical sounds.

Luster was next, by Daniel Allas, and this featured a much larger ensemble that included bass clarinet, prepared guitar, percussion, euphonium and piccolo. Luster opened with a random series of solitary clicks that gradually increased in frequency. This was soon joined by a sustained ratcheting sound, filling the space with a wonderfully rhythmic atmosphere. Sharp piccolo riffs spiked through the air, adding to the free-form feel. A loud, sudden and sustained chord from the winds completely recast the texture, however. The prepared guitar, set flat on a table and bowed with a dowel, soon dominated with a series of rough, scratching sounds that immediately produced a sense of high anxiety. Just when it seemed unbearable, the guitar sounds ceased and a low fluttering came from the euphonium and bass clarinet. A soprano voice called out in a mournful wail, bringing the sense of distress to a maximum. The various parts began to drop out until only the low flutter of the winds remained before all sounds stopped suddenly. Luster fearlessly explores new trails into the unsettled territory of the powerfully distraught.

Evolvement II.B, by Kimia Koochakzadeh-Yazdi followed and this began with the soft sound of an inverted metal bowl rubbed on a large square wooden surface. Airy sounds issued from the flute and clarinet while a low tremolo was barely heard from the viola. The speakers contributed some brief tones before dispensing a deep growl that gradually increased in volume. The instruments remained very soft although the air sounds from the flute were strongly audible and helped to create a ghostly atmosphere. A rubber ball dragged over a drum head and amplified contributed a loud fluttering sound that dominated the the unsettling texture, and added a powerful sense of menace. The instruments followed with a greater volume and the flute again was effective with the unlikely technique of rattling its keys. A hair-raising blast from the piccolo and the rising of the instruments in a great crescendo was heard, followed by the sudden cessation of all sound. Evolvement II.B is an instructive study in the building of tension through unexpected sounds made on standard instruments.

Webkitz, by Kelley Sheehan was preceded by a short explanation of the QR code that was attached to each concert program. At a certain point during the performance, those in the audience with cell phones were invited to take a photo of the QR code, and this would bring up a website that would allow individual interaction with the piece being. An overhead projection displayed a color-coded grid . A simple tapping rhythm was heard in the speakers, and as this repeated it increased in complexity. After a minute or two, a performer entered the stage and sat at the table holding a computer. By activating parts of the colored grid, as projected on the screen, additional rhythmic patterns were formed. The performer than rose from the computer table, crossed the stage, and began adding to the rhythms with a drum. This process occurred a total three times – a new performer arriving at the computer, adding some new rhythms from the grid, and moving to an acoustic instrument on stage, to add more notes. By now there was a great cloud of sounds – the rhythmic clicking in the speakers as well as drumming and mournful guitar sounds coming from on stage.

(more…)

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

Dog Star 15 – Civil Twilight

The 15th annual Dog Star Orchestra series of concerts concluded with Civil Twilight, held at the CalArts Wild Beast and environs, presenting four pieces of experimental music. Three of the pieces were heard outdoors in the mild evening air, on this the second day of summer. Two of the pieces were keyed to local astronomical events – the setting of the sun and the positions of the stars occurring at exactly 8:00 PM on June 22, 2019. The entire concert was devoted to music that was both understated and sophisticated, inviting the audience to listen closely and carefully.

The first piece was to knowe the sprying of the dawenyng and the ende of the evening, the whiche ben called the two crepuscles (2019), by Ryan Seward. This had to start precisely at 8:10 PM on the outside lawn in order to coincide exactly with the point at which the sun was fully below the horizon. It was timed to last until 8:39 PM, the end of civil twilight – the point when light from the sun is considered to be no longer sufficient for ordinary outdoor activities. The players were scattered singly about the lawn and the audience joined them, having been encouraged to move about to experience the sounds in different locations.

A soft soprano voice was heard, coming from high above on a balcony. The woodwind players began a series of quiet bird calls and small bells were rung. A wide variety of sounds were made by the other players; a horn call, some stones rattling across a patio, a purring from some speakers and some softly spoken speech. By changing positions, listeners would come into hearing range of some players and out of earshot of others, so that the mix constantly changed according to location. By staying on the move, the effect was very much like a walk in the woods at sunset, accompanied by a convincing series of quiet forest murmurs. There was, of course, some ambient traffic sounds, but the ‘virtual forest’ seemed to displace this noise from the hearing. The piece gradually decreased in volume as the sun dipped further below the horizon, finally fading into silence at end of civil twilight. With to knowe the sprying of the dawenyng… Ryan Seward has succeeded using reticence and subtlety to create a tranquil organic soundscape that inspires the imagination despite the more irritating outdoor noises of our urban environment.

More quiet music was heard in the second piece on the program, For 5+ Musicians (2016), by Christine Burke. This was heard indoors and the musicians were arrayed in shallow arc at the front of the Wild Beast. The excellent acoustics of the space and lack of outside ambient noise allowed every detail to be clearly heard. For 5+ Musicians began with the striking of highly pitched cymbals followed by a soft electronic tone from the speakers. A low, sustained flute note floated out into the audience as whistling and breaths of air were heard in accompaniment. All was subdued and hushed, with nothing loud or dramatic. At length, a muted trumpet was heard playing a long tone, and as other woodwinds joined in the dynamics increased, but only slightly. Moments of total silence were often observed, adding to the general sense of tranquility. As the piece proceeded, the woodwinds sounded together in slight dissonance, but this was the only trace of tension. By the finish, air moving through the horns and woodwinds was all that was to be heard. For 5+ Musicians is a peacefully reserved work that exists on the edge of aural perception, inviting the listener to experience new and rewarding sonic territory.

pájaros cargando memorias (2018), by Sergio Cote Barco followed, with the musicians assembled on a high balcony outside the Wild Beast, above the grassy lawn. The audience filed outside in the dark to the terraced sitting area cut into the hillside, directly below the balcony. The piece began as a small cymbal sounded along with quiet musical tones and a soft soprano voice that called out into the night. The subdued mix of sounds created a mystical feel, and the texture was never more than sparse. Often only one or two instruments were heard at a time, and all the musical sounds were almost secretively hushed. The playing at this low level was very disciplined, yet sensitive. At times, the ambient outside noises crowded in and obscured the piece, but this only served to focus the listening and created a sort of adversarial context for the music. The soprano voices, with their sustained and ethereal tones carried well and provided a rallying point for the listening audience. pájaros cargando memorias ultimately prevailed against the banality of the ambient street sounds, drifting peacefully out into the darkness like a cloud of pleasant memories.

The final piece of the evening was Ophiuchus (2019), by Marta Tiesenga, and this was also performed on the outside lawn. Ophiuchus is the thirteenth sign of the Zodiac, representing the constellation of a ‘serpent bearer’. As part of the composing process for this piece, the exact disposition of the stars for the date and time of this performance were worked out, and various angles, vectors and relationships transposed into pitches and tones for the notated score. A group of seven acoustic instruments were situated in a corner of one of the buildings and a computer station with speakers placed a dozen yards away, across the lawn. A low, electronic humming was heard at the opening, followed by the solitary ringing of bells from a walkway high above the grass. As the instruments joined in, their sounds interacted with the electronics to create a series of intriguing and mystical sonic patterns. The crowd caught on to this, and soon arranged itself on the grass between the two sound sources to receive the full effect. The low, sustained notes of two double basses were most effective when they changed pitch slightly to initiate a new set of interactions with the speakers. More players appeared, holding small bells and walking about the space, softly ringing out a series of solitary notes. At times they seemed to congregate in one place and this added a bit of density to their sounds. As they dispersed their ringing diminished until all the sounds faded away. A long and reverent silence followed as the starry night seemed to prolong the musical spell. Ophiuchus is an imaginative work with an inventive composing process that captures the timeless human fascination with the stars.

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

Southland Ensemble – Land Images

On June 14, 2019 the Southland Ensemble presented Land Images, an evening of experimental music at Automata Arts in Chinatown. The concert was part of the 15th annual Dog Star Orchestra series, presenting a dozen different new music concerts at various locations around Los Angeles through June 22. A full house packed the cozy spaces of Automata anticipating works by Christian Wolff as well as pieces by three contemporary composers.

The first piece on the program was Groundspace or Large Groundspace, by Christian Wolff and was performed outside Automata in Chung King Court. About a dozen performers carrying various instruments gathered in the center of the court and began by playing quiet, sustained tones. This had a remote and distant feel to it, with nothing fast or rhythmic to disrupt the gentle harmonies. The players then began to slowly disperse into the square, so that their changing positions altered the spatial perspective of the listeners. The tones were consistently sustained and changed every minute or so by signal from a saxophone arpeggio. Some of the players slowly circled the outside perimeter of the square, creating variations in the intensity of the sonic field and adding an element of suspense. The audience was also encouraged to move about among the musicians so that position became an important and unique element of the experience. Chung King Court has buildings rising on three sides and opens onto busy Hill Street so that ambient traffic noise at times dominated the mix. Music and street noise often alternated, and this was effective in shifting the context of the piece and focusing the listening. The musicians eventually regrouped and filed inside Automata, and the concentration of their instrument sounds reasserted a fully musical perspective at the finish.

Once inside the players began performing Sticks, also by Christian Wolff, and for this each player took up a handful of twigs and small branches. They set about breaking these and dropping the pieces noisily to the floor. The small space was soon filled with the crackling sound of breaking sticks. There was no effort to coordinate or organize this process, but the sounds could sometimes be perceived as rhythmic. The ‘timbre’ of the breaking sticks had a vaguely purposeful feel, and so invited a more industrial analogy. Towards the end of the piece, the performers began a warm and sustained humming that added a ceremonial flavor to the proceedings. Sticks has an organic and primal sensibility, as if we are witness to the every-day activities of some long-lost tribe.

(more…)

by Paul Muller