Sequenza21

We take so much for granted – the sun will go down , the sun will come up – that we never seem to realize that some day it won’t be there or we won’t be here to see it.  Same thing is true of friends you could always count on. So when I got an e-mail from my composer-conductor friend Gerhard Samuel’s companion, Achim Nicklis, that Gerhard had passed away a few weeks ago, I was shocked.  Sure, I sensed he wasn’t well – repeated e-mails saying he’d changed his address indicated as much. – but the sad fact remains. He’s not here anymore.

One comes to know a person through what they say, or don’t say, do, or don’t do, and if that person’s an artist one gets to know them through their work. I first encountered Gary’s music when I was driving my sister Kathi’s car in Belmont Shore, Long Beach, and was so moved  when I heard the La Salle Quartet perform his String Quartet # 1 (1978) on the radio, that I stopped the car until it was over. But isn’t that what art’s supposed to do, and isn’t its awareness meant to make us more aware?

Other pieces had just as much impact. There was his original and very touching “gloss ” on Mondeverdi, Looking at Orpheus Looking  (1971), which he wrote for the Oakland Symphony when he was its extra innovative music director, Requiem for Survivors  and suddenly it’s evening  (1974), which he composed as a memorial piece for his Oakland successor, Calvin Simmons, when he was Mehta’s assistant conductor at the LA Philharmonic; the chamber piece, Nocturne on an Impossible Dream (1980), which he wrote with his mother in mind;  the 1998 chamber work with tenor and saxophone solo, Hyacinth From Apollo, to a poem by his frequent collaborator, Jack Larson, who was the original TV Jimmy Olsen; and the 1994 Transformations for chamber string orchestra and solo violin. And though these were all completely different in style and expressive intent, they couldn’t have been more of a  piece with who Gerhard was – passionate, charming as all get out, refined, yet always full of surprises.

Like that September evening in 1998 – the 19th, to be precise – when Tony Gualtieri and I presented him on KUSF-FM’s 3-hour Classical  Salon, and he, during the time his music was playing, seemed completely at sea, and I said “ Don’t worry, “ as Tony looked across the room at us from “ Studio A”, to our  perch at the little table which was “Studio B”, and then when our mikes went on rose to the occasion like the pro he always was. Which reminds me of a story he told me of what happened when he was conducting one of the Stravinsky ballets. The composer was backstage, hand cupped to his ear, listening intently as his wife, Vera, said “Why’s he doing that? He’s heard it a million times!” And Gerhard said “ Because he wants to hear it again!” which was a lot like him too– completely in the present, where everything is. 

Sequenza21 is pleased to scoop the rest of the world wide web and announce the most exciting news of the day in the world of new music.

On December 4 and 5, the Lost Dog Ensemble, in residence with the Astoria Music Society, will be playing a concert of . . . works by Sequenza21 composers!! The December 4 concert will be in Astoria at the very hip Waltz-Astoria Café, and the following night we’ll be at the Good Shepherd Presbyterian Church on Manhattan’s Upper West Side (right by Lincoln Center –– an institution that will certainly be feeling a little bashful that night).

Okay. Now here’s the good part.

THIS IS A CALL FOR SCORES!!!

The regulations are a bit tighter this time, so read closely, y’all:

• Submissions are limited to the following instruments: flute, clarinet, violin, cello, and piano.
• Pieces using subsets of this ensemble are especially encouraged, though don’t be afraid to send us your Pierrot piece if you think it’s your best.
• Solo pieces are also acceptable.
• Pieces should be a maximum of 12 minutes long, One submission per composer.
• As for electronics, talk to us about the requirements, and we’ll let you know if they’re feasible.

Next, let’s be clear about something: we’re mostly interested in composers who actually blog here or who actually take part in the threads. Now, if you’ve never made your voice heard on S21 and you really want to send a piece, that’s fine. But others who have posted will be ahead of you in line.

Postmark deadline: July 16^th. So time’s a little tighter this time, too. But we have our reasons, friends.

To submit: send me an email (my address is down in the credits bar to the left), and I’ll send you the address.

Anthony Braxton has released a nine-CD anthology of his piano music on Leo Records. Performed by Geneviève Foccroulle, the boxed set includes all of the prolific composer’s piano music written from 1968-2000. The set includes detailed liner notes by Stuart Broomer, featuring an interview with Braxton, and a separate booklet with the libretto and performing directions for his Composition 171, a lengthy work for pianist, actors, prompters, and “constructed environment.”

Ranging from Braxton’s Composition 1, a modernist offering in the post-Webernian vein, to Composition171’s complex narrative and theatricality, this is an excellent overview of Braxton’s evolving aesthetic and questing character, presented with sincerity and impressive facility by Foccroulle. In an era in which record companies are, by and large, shying away from such projects, kudos to Leo Feigin for supporting this ambitious endeavor.

http://www.leorecords.com/?m=select&id=CD_LR_901/909

Eliot was wrong; May is the cruelest month, at least here in the Center of Universe this particular year.  Lingering winter infirmities, a miserable San Francisco spring and, of course, the mixed blessing of having passed that peculiar threshold where one becomes officially old.  I am now a card carrying member of the Medicare set; I am invisible to young women; the next fishing license I buy will not expire until I do.  When I was younger–which seems about 20 minutes ago–I subscribed to that great philosopher Neil Young’s credo:  “It’s better to burn out than it is to rust.”  Now, I’m thinking rusting has a certain appeal; it works for Richard Serra.  Fair warning to all; I plan to be a rage, don’t whine kind of old person.

You know who I think is underrated?  Terry Riley.  A lot of people think of him as a one-hit wonder but I’ve been listening to a lot of his stuff lately and it brings me great pleasure.

 I was at the Matrix Music Collaborators’ season finale concert on May 5^th, and while the whole concert was good the highlight was the last piece on the program: “Girltalk” by young South African composer Braam du Toit. It’s a lush, gorgeous, and sometimes surprising postminimalist meditation/groove which manages to be still and restrained while simultaneously pregnant with occasionally relieved dramatic tension. It was one of the best new pieces I’ve heard in months.

The piece was composed for two pianos, two string quartets, and bass—the pianists were South African duo pianists Cara Hesse and Laura Pauna (friends of du Toit’s from music school), and the string section was headed up by Matrix violinist Yuri Namkung and consisted of other South African players and local friends of Matrix. Musically, it’s constructed out of a series of five movements related through similar motifs and harmonic moves, with much of the harmony coming out of pop progressions. And then, in the very last moments of the piece, it gives away the game and briefly quotes Cindy Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” I asked Braam (via e-mail, as unfortunately he was unable to be at the concert) how that quote related to the rest of the piece, and he explained that the earlier material is designed to be similar to the Lauper tune without ever being a direct quote. He describes the whole piece as theatrical and filmic, and says that it’s also a character study of pianists Laura and Cara. He talks about how when they were in school together he used to stand outside the door of their practice room and listening to both their verbal and musical communication, and that he used that as an inspiration for the structure of this piece, with its motif trading and sense of play.

Having heard “Girltalk,” I wanted to know more about the composer. Born in 1981, Braam grew up in Swellendam, near Cape Town, South Africa. He studied composition with Peter Klatzow at the University of Cape Town, and in 2001 he won the Priaulx Ranier Award for composition. He has worked extensively in theater, writing music for more than 20 theater, dance, and film projects. He cites John Tavener, Hildegard von Bingen, Michael Nyman, Meredith Monk, Monteverdi, Vivaldi, and Steve Martland among his main influences.

Braam doesn’t have a website, but he was kind enough to send me some MP3s of his other work. It’s all good, although “Girltalk” is the masterpiece among the pieces I’ve heard. All of the work he sent me was short—no movement longer than three and a half minues, and most pieces are slow, lush, and atmospheric. Their miniature-like nature put me in mind of William Duckworth’s “Time Curve Preludes.” His dramatic intensity tends to come not from fast and aggressive music but rather from changes in dynamics that bring out a dark edge from material that started out as merely melancholy and meditative. In the second movement of his piece “Tripsongs” (for string quartet, I believe), for example, a violin cycles through a simple fourteen note cell, and gradually the other instruments enter cycling through a swelling chord progression. About two thirds of the way through, the cello starts grinding out the bass line and the mood shifts, becoming almost menacing. But then almost as soon as it began, the intensity subsides and the piece is over. These same structural elements were apparent in “Girltalk” as well; most of the movements could have gone on longer, but Braam errs on the side of restraint. And with so many composers writing long, self-indulgent pieces that run good ideas into the ground, it’s refreshing to be left wanting more.

Speaking of wanting more, as I mentioned Braam has no website to which I can direct you. He will, however, be writing a new piece for next year’s Matrix Music Collaborators season. I’m looking forward to it.

Ralph van Raat’s wonderul Naxos recording of The People United Will Never Be Defeated! (Naxos 8559360) has been getting some great press lately but (you know how cranky you folks are) some people have complained that the CD didn’t contain the timings for the variations.   Take heart, gentle listener, all is revealed here.