Terry Riley turns ninety years old today! Happy birthday from us all at Sequenza 21!
Today, our friends at Red Hot Org are sharing a raga performance by Terry Riley and Sara Miyamoto. A teaser track, it will serve as the b-side for a July release by Kronos Quartet.Both Riley’s raga and the pieces on the a-side are written as anti-nuclear war messages.
Riley is entitled to rest on his laurels, but he is instead remaining an advocate for peace. Thank you for this present, Terry, on your birthday no less!
The Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, Music Director and Conductor
Angel Blue, Soprano
Carnegie Hall, April 18, 2025
Published on Sequenza 21
By Christian Carey
NEW YORK – Virtually since its inception, the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Met Orchestra for short, has given concerts alongside its main role accompanying operas. For over a hundred years, this has allowed the ensemble to stretch itself, performing vocal works, unstaged or semi-staged operas, repertoire staples, and several premieres. Yannick Nézet-Séguin has relished the opportunity to work with the musicians in this capacity. On Wednesday night, the Met Orchestra premiered a suite from Fire Up in My Bones, an opera staged at the Met by Terence Blanchard. They also performed pieces by Carnegie Hall’s current Debs Composer Chair Gabriela Ortiz, Leonard Bernstein, and Antonin Dvořák.
Ortiz’s piece, Antrópolis (2018, revised 2019), was an ebullient opener, recalling the various nightclubs the composer had frequented during her youthful years in Mexico City. The piece is a showcase for percussion, with varied dance rhythms, ranging from mambo and rumba to incipient techno, articulated by timpani soloist Parker Lee and the rest of the percussion cohort.
Symphony No. 1, “Jeremiah,” (1942), was written when Bernstein was twenty-three. Its directness of expression betrays a bit of naivete that makes it somewhat less compelling than his musical theater pieces of the forties. Still, the orchestration demonstrates an impressive grasp of mid-twentieth century music, both the Americana style of Aaron Copland and Roy Harris, and the neoclassical music of Stravinsky, who seems to loom large over the piece. Mahler, a composer for whom Bernstein, throughout his career, advocated strongly, serves as another touchstone, particularly in the inclusion of a soprano soloist in the final movement of Jeremiah. The texts are taken from the Hebrew Bible book “The Lamentations of Jeremiah,” selected to analogize the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem with the plight of Jewish people in Europe under the Nazi regime.
Soprano Angel Blue, standing on a platform in the midst of the orchestra, declaimed the music with an authoritative demeanor that underscored its mournful message, singing with flawless legato and rich tone. Here and elsewhere, Nézet-Séguin was a commanding presence, underscoring the rhythmic vitality of the piece’s earlier mixed meter sections only to build it to a stirring climax by the symphony’s conclusion.
Terence Blanchard’s opera Fire Up in My Bones was staged with jazz musicians, including Blanchard, participating. He created a suite of music from the opera with the Met Orchestra’s forces, sans additional musicians, in mind. Apart from an interlude depicting the sounds of a chicken processing plant, which includes syncopated percussion in playful fashion, Blanchard instead presents the opera’s powerful thematic material depicting human struggle. Charles M. Blow’s memoir, in which, among other experiences, he discusses being abused as a child and coming to terms with his homosexuality, is a compelling story, and the arias from Fire Up in My Bones provide it with the gravitas it deserves. The suite presents selections from these set pieces in sweeping melodies that are romantic in scope. The harmony sits astride Mahlerian late tonality and a fluid use of jazz vocabulary, ending on a charged chord rife with dissonant extensions. Blanchard’s scoring is fluent in a variety of idioms, and even if the suite only tells part of Fire Up in My Bones’s musical story, it is replete with well-paced dramatic contrasts.
The concert concluded with one of the most beloved pieces by Dvořák, his Symphony No. 9, “From the New World.” It was written in 1893, during his extended visit to the United States. Dvořák advocated for composers from the United States to explore their own nation’s folk music, mining it for material, just as he did with vernacular Czech music. Viewing the music of native Americans and spirituals as the most consummately authentic folk music in the US, he recommended that their works be collected and employed by the predominantly white male students who were his composition pupils in New York. One can argue about the authenticity of this practice through a contemporary lens, but it certainly made an impression on US composers of that generation and successive ones.
Musicologists love debating the derivation of the materials Dvořák used in the New World Symphony. He insisted that there were no direct quotations in the piece. Apart from the rhythm of a tom-tom drum, that is likely the case, although its most famous tune, the achingly beautiful theme from its second movement, was later used to create a spiritual-styled song. Much of the music sounds like it could just as easily have been written while Dvořák was in Europe. Whatever the pedigree of its sources, the Ninth Symphony is a fantastic piece and the Met Orchestra performed it gloriously.
Nézet-Séguin approached the piece in energetic fashion, allowing it to speak for itself mostly in tempo rather than using too much rubato. This returned a sense of balance to the phrasal and rhythmic construction of a piece that can, upon occasion, seem schmaltzy in its presentation. The sections of the aforementioned second movement that called for pliable moments seemed all the more noteworthy as a result. This was abetted by superlative playing from the winds and brass, particularly Pedro R. Díaz, who performed the English horn solo in eloquently beautiful fashion. The strings had many moments to shine as well, playing the theme of the scherzo, marked molto vivace, with rhythmically incisive élan. The blend in tutti sections was impressive as well.
While there were no pains to overstate it, the program was nicely tied together by the Symphony “From the New World.” Each composer in their own way explored the cultural and musical traditions that resonated with them. Ortiz’s Latin dance, Bernstein’s Jewish liturgical references and tropes on folk music, and Blanchard’s jazz chords, however different they sounded, came from a place of deep cultural resonance for each respective composer. Thus, the Met Orchestra’s concert was both diverse in its offerings and well curated. A memorable evening of music.
Keith Jarrett turned eighty on May 8th, 2025, and to fete him, ECM Records has released New Vienna, a solo piano concert recorded on his last tour, in 2016, at the Goldener Saal, Musik Verein in the Austrian city. A previous recording, The Vienna Concert, recorded in 1991 and released in 2000,was also a solo outing by Jarrett, at the Staatsoper. It has been cherished by many listeners as a particularly fine example among the many live appearances by Jarrett that have been documented and released. New Vienna is a worthy successor.
As is the case with all of Jarrett’s concerts, the pianist incorporates a cornucopia of styles: free jazz, blues and gospel-tinged ballads, various traditional jazz genres, and neo-classicism. “Part I” uses the language of modern jazz as a vehicle for virtuosity, with cascading arpeggios and muscular clusters set alongside thrumming bass register oscillations. There’s also a hint of acknowledgement of Arnold Schoenberg’s early atonal piano pieces, and “Part II” begins like Farben from “Five Pieces for Orchestra” before moving towards a blues-based harmonic vocabulary (more about Schoenberg later). Jarrett revels in the spontaneity engendered by juxtaposition, and here modernity and the vernacular, two seeming opposites, are set side by side. Ultimately, the different vocabularies blend and synthetic scales bridge the distance between them. All the while, Jarrett’s playing is detailed, vibrant, and assured.
“Part III” opens with a rambunctious ostinato in the bass that soon is joined by fluid hard bop soloing. Jarrett may enjoy exploring free play, but his jazz bona fides are well intact here. In “Part IV,” the pianist performs in the spiritual ballad vein that is one of his calling cards. Given that he would soon step away from giving concerts, the arresting nature of his playing here seems even more poignant. On “Part V,” Jarrett remains in a slow tempo, with limpid runs over changes that move through a series of keys. The patterning may be familiar to jazz aficionados, but the touch, delivery, and fluidity of the performance affords it an eminently assured character. Partway through, there is a shift to a standard-worthy melody. The modulatory character is resumed, with the tune parsed and segmented until a solo turn that combines it with scalar passages from the outset. The extraordinarily detailed inflections here belie the sequential character of much of the music.
The title “New Vienna” also seems to be a bit of a pun, as Jarrett has noted in interviews his connection of the city with its past, namely the history of “new” music from approximately a century ago, created by the Second Viennese School of composers: Schoenberg, Alban Berg, and Anton Webern. The affinity for this modernist movement is explored in the concert. Dodecaphony (12-tone writing) is well represented by “Part VI,” which includes a thorough distillation of Schoenberg’s writing into an eight and a half minute long section that is also contrapuntal in design. It is a hat-tip that the audience gets and responds to with enthusiastic applause. Imagine if there were other crowds who would recognize and appreciate an original riff on Schoenberg.
From Part VI, he goes right into a bluesy modal jazz improvisation in “Part VII,” using a descending lamento bass-line to impart a mournful cast. The piece moves to a major key and briefly is reminiscent of the shuffle patterns that are Randy Newman’s stock in trade.
There is a return to the blues in “Part VIII,” the pianist playing in an ambling medium tempo yet soaring time and again with vivacious solos. The closest to idiomatic that Jarrett hews, the section is also an entertaining showcase for this style of playing. “Part IX,” which closes the concert proper, takes on a triumphally funky character.
For an encore, Jarrett plays a chestnut, Arlen and Harburg’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” in a slow rendition that begins mid-bridge. A song that can become overly sentimental quickly, Jarrett manages it tastefully, wringing the most out of the tune without slipping into the bathetic, using substitute chords and countermelodies to turn the performance into an elaborate valediction.
In 2018, Jarrett’s health caused him to retire. One is grateful that excellent recordings were made of his final live appearances, and doubly grateful that he is around to see his eightieth birthday celebrated with this memorable release.
Boston Modern Orchestra Project, Gil Rose, conductor
Dalit Warshaw (b. 1974) is a multi-threat artist. As a composer and pianist, she has created a distinguished career. Her first orchestra piece was commissioned when she was eight years old, and this prodigious distinction has been followed by a body of work that encompasses music for orchestra, chamber ensembles, vocalists, choruses, and Letters of Mademoiselle (2018), a staged song cycle for the talented soprano Nancy Allen Lundy.
The theremin has become an important part of her work. Warshaw has performed the instrument in high profile settings, including appearances with the New York Philharmonic. Sirens is a recording of her theremin concerto and two other orchestral pieces, performed by the Boston Modern Orchestra Project, conducted by Gil Rose.
Responses (2016) is a triptych that reflects upon three of Brahms’s Intermezzos, piano repertoire that Warshaw has studied. Originally composed for solopiano and performed by Warshaw, it has been transformed into a work for large forces that sounds idiomatic in its instrumental writing. Indeed, Warshaw’s orchestration deftly captures both the sehnsucht of romanticism and her own aesthetic, which encompasses both neo-classical and mainstream contemporary classical elements. While the pieces themselves are earnestly serious (as was Brahms in his later years), one can have a bit of fun with the following listening game: without hunting down program notes, see if you can figure out from which intermezzo each movement takes its inspiration.
Camille’s Dance (2000) is named after visual artist Camille Claudel,whose sculptures La Valse and La Fortune grace the cover and interior of the BMOP recording’s booklet. It is a stirring piece, rife with dissonant harmonies and muscular gestures that epitomize the striking characters depicted in Claudel’s sculptures, as well as her fraught relationship with Auguste Rodin.
The soloist for Sirens is the thereminist Carolina Eyck. It is a three movement work that is inspired by Clara Rockmore and, of course, by the singing duo of temptresses found in Homer’s Odyssey, seen through the vantage point of Franz Kafka’s parable “The Silence of the Sirens.” The theremin was taken seriously as an instrument in part because of Rockmore’s advocacy. Eyck has explored an expansion of its capabilities with the Etherwave Pro instrument, which has an extended bass range. She also uses octave pedals to further extend the theremin’s compass.
Rockmore’s first instrument was the violin, and her theremin performances reflected this; several of the pieces in her repertoire were transcriptions of violin repertoire. Thus, the opening movement of Sirens is titled “Clara’s Violin,” which includes thematic material based on her life story and also themes that are ciphers of names: Clara, Leon Theremin, her partner and the inventor of the eponymous instrument, and the KGB, whose agents hounded and even kidnapped Theremin. One needn’t know any of this to appreciate the abundant vitality and craft of the movement. Warshaw’s own experience as a thereminist and her close collaboration with Eyck have yielded a versatile and challenging solo part that belies the notion of the instrument as being limited to special effects and transcriptions.
The second movement uses the Kafka story as a touchstone, with a stirring duo between theremin and piano that reminds us of the two-against-one scenario that Odysseus endured. The third movement is a wild ride with glissandos galore, a theremin specialty, set alongside a fugue that once again employs ciphers of names as its thematic material: “Theremin” as its subject, with “Clara” and “Dalit” used as two countersubjects. The combination of these two elements shows Eyck and her bespoke electronics to best advantage. It also highlights the extraordinary facility of BMOP’s musicians. Careful preparation and the dynamic leadership of Rose are clear in the performances of all three of the programmed pieces, but the jubilation with which the concerto is rendered makes it a strong finale to a thoroughly engaging recording. Recommended.
The Friday evening concert was titled The Holy Liftoff, continuing the theme from the morning. There was a solo viola piece by Leilehua Lanzilotti, the USC Cello Ensemble led by Seth Parker Woods, with music by Sofia Gubaidulina, Julius Eastman and Terry Riley. The ever reliable Steven Schick conducted and the JACK Quartet joined with Clare Chase in the final work.
First up was ko‘u inoa by Leilehua Lanzilotti, a composer, violist and interdisciplinary artist based in Hawaii. “ko‘u inoa” means “my name” or “in my name” and is a Hawaiian term freighted with identity, ancestry and community. The piece was inspired by Hawai‘i Aloha, a traditional 19th century Hawaiian anthem. As Lanzilotti explains in the program notes: “Hawai‘i Aloha evokes not only a homesickness for place and sound, but this action of coming together — a homesickness that we’re all feeling right now, where music and human interaction are home.”
ko‘u inoa began with the composer/soloist walking in from offstage playing a low, repeating phrase that was soft and mysterious. Rising tones in this opening created a nice minimalist feel and the timbre of the viola seemed ideally suited to this warmly eloquent music. The texture thickened agreeably as Ms. Lanzilotti double stopped, sounding two notes at once. The piece proceeded as if a natural process was unfolding, understated and beautiful. Optimistic and expressive, the dynamics increased towards the finish without violating the intimate and reserved emotion in the music. The quiet ending was greeting with extended applause. ko‘u inoa and Leilehua Lanzilotti succeeded brilliantly in conveying the sweetness of Hawaiian sensibility in an elegant and intimate viola solo.
Mirage: The Dancing Sun, by Sofia Gubaidulina followed. This was performed by the eight massed strings that were the USC Cello Ensemble, all led Seth Parker Woods of the USC music faculty. The excellent program notes by Thomas May set out the ambitious intentions of the composer: “The late Sofia Gubaidulina’s Mirage: The Dancing Sun, scored for eight cellos, treats sound as spiritual metaphor, evoking the interplay of light and shadow, faith and uncertainty — an expression of her preoccupation with the sacred and the unseen.”
High, squeaky sounds from the upper register of the cello opened Mirage: The Dancing Sun along with some strident pizzicato. Seth Parker Woods played more sustained tones on top of the busy texture, and this established a contrasting and questioning feel. This was followed by lush tutti phrases, lovely in tone and harmony, but with a tinge of sadness that set a contrast with the active opening. Good ensemble playing was on display as the various cello lines began to diverge and intertwine. Woods stayed in a solo role, commenting on the complex phrases coming from the ensemble. The slower tutti passages returned and alternated with active and tense stretches. The cellos were not monolithic and they seemed to act in separate sections of two or three. Now very rapid and chaotic sounds with extremely high notes swirled in an around mid-registers. This was followed by a slower arco section full of warm expression, certainly a expressing a convincing contrast between the forces of light and dark. The dynamics and tempo increased as the cellos soared upward to another section of rapid and chaotic notes. A sudden decrescendo, followed by silence, completed Mirage: The Dancing Sun. Much applause followed, not least for the discipline and technique of the USC Cello Ensemble. This was a challenging piece, ably performed as part of an important music festival.
The Holy Presence of Joan d’Arc, by Julius Eastman followed and the USC Cello Ensemble was augmented by two additional players. Julius Eastman grew up singing in church, attended the Curtis Institute and by the 1970s was a significant figure in the New York Minimalist scene. Sadly, Eastman died penniless and alone in 1990; he was just 49 years old. His music has enjoyed something of revival, sparked by the efforts of composer Mary Jane Leach, who has worked tirelessly to collect and organize his existing scores. Seth Parker Woods was instrumental in bringing Eastman’s Gay Guerilla to the 2022 Ojai Festival in a powerful and memorable performance.
The Holy Presence of Joan d’Arc begins with a series of pulsing declarative tutti phrases from the cellos. There is an ominous feel to this and a single dramatic line of of sustained notes rises above the texture, adding further tension. There is a sense of danger and menace with the edgy, but controlled, playing from the ensemble. The many colors, emotions and contrasts conjured from ten identical cellos was impressive. More tension was added as the piece continued with dissonant and intertwined phrasing, all with that steady pulse underneath. A sudden, expressive cello solo was heard followed by faster tempo and more insistent passages. The pulsating and menacing sections seem to alternate and contend with slower, more reflective stretches. There is a brief Grand Pause, then a final cascade of more chaotic sounds. The piece concludes with a quietly gradual slowdown that leads to a long sustained tone at the finish. All of Eastman’s passion and intensity were on display and this seems the more remarkable as it came from just ten cellos. Much applause followed for the players and the music.
After the intermission, The Holy Lifoff by Terry Riley was the final work on the concert program. This was just one part of a large scale work, still in process. The JACK Quartet and Clare Chase were the performers. The program notes give a clue about what to expect: “Groovy, buoyantly irreverent, and transcendent, The Holy Liftoff reflects what Chase calls ‘a multi-modal way of making music,’ echoing the communal, DIY spirit of Riley’s In C (1964).” Terry Riley, one of the Mount Rushmore figures of American Minimalism, will turn 90 this month and composed this lively piece expressly for Clare Chase. Riley is now living in Japan and could not make the trip to Ojai, but he was connected to the concert by the magic of video streaming. Clare Chase called for the audience to shout out a greeting to him, and this was done with affectionate vigor.
The Holy Liftoff runs to almost a full hour in performance and is a playfully disparate collection of styles, timbres and emotions. There are sections with warm flute passages, stretches that are almost inaudible and parts where independent lines rapidly break out, diverge, then combine again. There are fast and frenetic tempos as well as comfortably placid stretches. One section featured a bright repeating line in the cello with an infectious flute melody joined by a violin in counterpoint. At one point a classic minimalism groove developed, sunny and optimistic. Clare Chase had three flutes at her stand and used them all. She seemed to be playing continuously throughout the entire piece. The JACK Quartet reliably produced lush harmonies as well as rough or squeaky tones, as required.
As the piece barreled to its conclusion, ragged and skittering sounds were heard from in the strings with a strong pulse from the flute. The sound of blowing wind from the sound system evoked a chaotic feel. This was followed by a return to conventional consonance and harmony, even as some chaotic phrases in the strings try to break through. A powerful cadenza full of sharp, spiky notes was issued by the flute and the piece came a sudden finish.
The applause was long and sincere, in no small part for the stamina and endurance of the performers, notably Clare Chase. The Holy Liftoff was a tour de force for the players, a triumph for Terry Riley and a spectacular treat for the Ojai audience.
Attending the Ojai Music Festival in person is one of the great musical experiences on the West Coast. The mountains, the town, Libbey Park and great music make Ojai the place to be in early June. One of the festival’s best kept secrets, however, is that the concerts in Libbey Bowl are live-streamed over the internet. Not only that, the sound system is exceptional and the camera work excellent. If you can’t get to the Ojai Festival in person, the next best thing is to watch the streamed video. This is what I did this year and it was a real convenience.
On Friday, June 6, the first piece up in the 10:30 AM concert program was Pulsing Lifters by Terry Riley, a world premiere arrangement by Alex Peh for a keyboard trio. Pulsing Lifters is just one segment from Riley’s larger work, The Holy Liftoff, parts of which were spread across concerts during the entire festival. As the program notes by Thomas May state: “Open-ended by design, The Holy Liftoff unfolds across a series of modular scores that invite myriad realizations and improvisational approaches.” The performers for Pulsing Lifters were Alex Peh, Corey Smythe and Craig Taborn, manning two pianos, a harpsichord and separate electronic keyboards.
Pulsing Lifters opens with a soft tinkling of electronic notes that evoke an unexpected combination of spacey and organic feelings. The acoustic pianos soon joined in with some leisurely additional notes. Slow, pulsing tones were heard rising up from deep lower registers. Strong harpsichord phrases occasionally added some energy and made for an interesting contrast to the surrounding electronic sounds. It was as if the listener was drifting along in the 21st century and was suddenly yanked backwards 300 years. Terry Riley is one of the founding fathers of late 20th century minimalism, but Pulsing Lifters was clearly something different. As the piece trailed off to its quiet conclusion, one got a sense of just how far Riley has evolved. Approaching his 90th birthday, Terry Riley is still a vital and creative force.
Impressions, by Anna Thorvaldsdottir, followed. This was a solo work for harpsichord performed by Alex Peh. This is a quiet, intimate piece that completely redefines the venerable harpsichord in a way that fully engages contemporary sensibilities. The program notes explain that: “Thorvaldsdottir develops a novel timbral vocabulary using six small superballs, a superball mallet, a small metal object for sliding along the strings, and two electronic bows (E-bows), which produce continuous, bowed-like tones without percussive attack.”
Impressions opens with softly plucked tones, followed by solitary keyed low notes. As the piece proceeds, Peh alternately struck notes directly from the strings or keyed conventional harpsichord tones. Small rubber superballs were rolled across the strings, sometimes singly or several at once. A small metal rod was also used to excite several adjacent strings together. Two electronic bows were deployed on the strings and these produced a lovely arco tone. Slow and deliberate, all of this produced a continuous series of unusual sounds that were completely alien to the normal harpsichord timbre, and this served to expand the listener’s aural palette. Notes struck from keyboard were used sparingly and Alex Peh was kept mostly busy with the strings inside the harpsichord. This piece is largely comprised of a mix of engaging and experimental effects produced directly on the strings. Anna Thorvaldsdottir’s Impressions has gifted our old friend the harpsichord with a 21st century syntax for contemporary music.
Next was Cory Smythe performing Countdowns, a solo piano piece based on the music of John Coltrane. Smythe’s acoustic piano was fitted with a detuning mechanism which allowed the playing of quarter tones from two separate midi keyboards. The result is a seamless blend of conventional and present day sounds.
Countdowns begins with deep chords. Strumming on the piano strings produced dark clusters of tones and soon electronic sounds are heard underneath. There is a heavy feeling to all of this, broken occasionally by some light phrases in the higher registers. Smythe stays active attending to the keyboards, strings and electronics, all more or less simultaneously. The phrases in this mix are occasionally somewhat faster, but seem to come and go without any larger structure. Some of the rapid phrases seem to overlap, reminiscent of Coltrane’s ‘sheets of sound’ style. There was a dazzling flurry of notes at the finish. This piece was inspired by Giant Steps, but there are only flashes of the hard bebop style that we associate with Coltrane. Countdowns seems to be trying to connect directly with Coltrane’s deeper spirituality using 21st century musical syntax, a worthy – if daunting – effort.
The final work on the program was Duo Improvisation for Ojai, performed by Craig Taborn and Corey Smythe. This allowed the two performers to stretch their musical legs in an extended improvisational format. Corey Smythe was again stationed at his formidable array of piano and electronics with Craig Taborn at a second acoustic piano. As Thomas May explains in his Ojai program notes: “Taborn describes their approach as an ‘information-rich, improvisational process’ shaped by structural elements proposed in advance.”
Duo begins with low notes plucked directly from piano strings. Soon, some higher electronics and piano notes are heard, all at a deliberate pace. There is a very experimental feel to this with a variety of tones and timbres that are combined by extended techniques. Soon, a driving pulse is heard underneath with a series of complex phrases from each keyboard. These interleave between each other, occasionally producing a rapid blizzard of notes. At other times the tempo, dynamics and rhythms are more restrained and the feeling is more ominous. Towards the finish, an active and complex texture is heard, with individual notes pouring out of each piano. The dynamics and tempo quickly moderate and the piece quietly drifts along, ending on a deep piano note in the low register. Duo Improvisation for Ojai, is an impressive piece performed by two outstanding talents and was a lively conclusion to a concert filled mostly with introspective music.
The June 6 Friday Morning concert was a polished and innovative start for the day, and included lots of unusual keyboard techniques that were both memorable and impressive.
Gwenifer Raymond will release her third full length recording Last Night I Heard the Dog Bark (We Are Busy Bodies) on September 5th, 2025. Ahead of the release, she is sharing the track “Jack Parsons Blues.” A gentle vocal abetted by the tang of a strummed steel string acoustic guitar gradually gives way to layers of syncopated overlapping guitars. The intricate instrumental is typical of Raymond’s considerable capabilities as an instrumentalist. It may be hard to think of September releases at the outset of the Summer season but, when it arrives, Raymond is affording us ample consolation for encroaching Fall.
Unseen World is a new release by composer Mara Gibson on the Mark Masters record label. The album consists of five works composed between 2020 and 2024 that are inspired by vivid visual art that is both expressive and complex. Various instrumental ensembles are employed including a piano and cello duet, a brass quintet, trumpet duet, woodwind duet and a large chamber orchestra. The meticulous writing present in the scores, the outstanding technique of the musicians and remarkable efforts by the soloists make Unseen World an impressive realization of contemporary musical expression.
The first piece on the album is Swansongs (2022). This is a three movement work that features Albina Khaliapova at the piano and Eduard Teregulov on cello. The piece is inspired by Swedish artist Hilma af Klint (1862-1944), and was commissioned by the performers.
“Hilma’s Symmetry (and Chaos)”, the first movement, opens with a deliberate series of strong and dissonant piano chords that rise successively in pitch. This soon changes to a rapid, running line in the piano accompanied by long sustained tones in the cello underneath. A sense of anxiety builds as the lines weave in and around each other. The cello adds to the tension with sharp pizzicato phrases and bright arco passages. About two thirds through, there is a sudden slowdown, with a mournful cello solo accompanied by single notes from deep in the piano. The movement ends with a solitary low note in the lowest piano register. The piece is just three and a half minutes long and the liner notes suggest that this movement is reminiscent of the “…expressionistic paintings of the beginning of the 20th century.” A very apt description.
“Hildegard”, the second movement, opens with a low growl in the cello followed by a quickly running stream of piano notes in the upper registers. Right from the beginning there is a sense of heightened tension. The cello soon joins in with faster gestures and the lines again weave in and around each other, alternating between conflict and cohesion. The low tones from the cello contrast nicely with the higher moving notes in the piano. About midway, the piano and cello are heard in the same middle/low register and this replaces the tension with a feeling of chaos and confusion. The tempo slows from its frenetic pace, and quietly subdued notes are heard from the piano at the finish. The fast tempo, changing dynamics and complex texture of this movement highlight the seasoned technique that the two musicians have brought to this piece.
The final movement, “Lock and Key”, begins in a completely different direction with soft piano notes. A mournful, sustained tone is heard high in the cello, bringing a painful feel to this. The cello continues in its slow, expressive line with the piano grimly accompanying underneath. The two performers of this piece write in the liner notes: “Hypnotizing harmonies of the movement force the listeners and performers to detach from the fast-paced reality and focus on their inner world.” “Lock and Key” is a satisfying contrast to the first two movements and provides a fittingly solemn ending to Swansongs.
Next is Fight|Flight, (2020), written in close collaboration with the Atlantic Brass Quintet, who premiered the piece in 2022. The piece was inspired by both the human responses to danger and the making of honey by bees. A strong buzzing sound is heard at the opening, produced by the brass players using only their mouthpieces. This establishes the unmistakable context of frenetic flight. Warm brassy tones are soon heard, as if we are in the presence of a large swarm of bees. A sharp and loud trumpet call enters, announcing the more militant ‘fight’ motif. Soon all the brass players are exchanging sharp phrases back and forth, as if sparring. The various horn lines soon dissemble into a general melee. The technique and dynamic interplay in this section is impressive and the result sounds like more than just five players. The congenial mouthpiece buzzing returns in the last minute of the piece, as it slowly fades to its finish. Flight Fight is an inventive combination of the diverse sounds that can be conjured from a single brass quintet.
Pranayama (2021), is a woodwind duet performed by Melody Wan, flute and Thomas Kim on clarinet. The inspiration for this piece comes from yoga breathing practice and the painting “Ringing Lung”, by Anne Austin Pearce. Low, slow clarinet tones open the piece suggesting intentional patterns of breathing. The flute joins in and the flowing tones weave their way through various registers and colors. There is a meditative feel to this with just the slightest tinge of sadness. A rapid trill in the flute, then followed by the clarinet, add some energy and optimism along with loud and quick runs up and down a series of scales. The dynamics rise and fall suggesting the movement of air in breathing. As the piece proceeds, the occasional dissonance and pitch bending add intensity to the textures, matching the fluidity of the visual art. The piece ends as quietly as it started. With its many moods and nuances, Pranayama rests squarely on the virtuosity of the performers, and they do not disappoint.
Snowball (2024), was inspired by a Susan B. Anthony quote: “The older I get, the greater power I seem to have to have the world. I am like a snowball – the further I am rolled, the more I gain.” This piece is for two trumpets, performed by Jena and Matthew Vangjel who recorded this piece just a week before the birth of their second child.
Snowball opens with a muted solo trumpet repeating a line of solid, declarative notes. The second trumpet enters, similarly muted and in the same register with a lovely harmonic interleaving of the two parts. The mute on one trumpet is then changed and this provides a striking contrast in timbre. As the piece proceeds, the mutes are alternately changed – or removed – producing an ever-changing series of surfaces and colors. The tempo and rhythms are steady and direct, but with a just enough complexity to engage the ear. Towards the finish, the dynamic levels increase, bringing out the familiar forward boldness inherent in two solo trumpets. Snowball artfully reveals many surprising sonic possibilities, all lurking in the conventional trumpet.
Escher Keys (2021) is the most ambitious work of the album, a full blown bassoon concerto in three movements with a duration of 26 minutes. The soloist is Darrel Hale and the 39 piece chamber orchestra is conducted by Scott Terrell. Lithographs and a woodcut by the artist MC Escher provided Gibson with the visual inspiration for this piece and the result is a rich mixture of intense abstraction and powerful expression. As the liner notes explain: “Each movement juxtaposes traditional and non-traditional instrumental relationships between Hale interjecting his statements and the orchestra responding with atmospheric tessellations…”
“Ascending and Descending”, the first movement, opens with solemn, sustained tones in the strings with a quiet drum beat underneath. The bassoon enters in the same fashion and immediately rises to the top of the texture. Woodwinds and the brass join in with bold notes of dissonance accompanied by tense rhythms in the strings and anxious tones from the bassoon. Rapid runs by the soloist and short repeating phrases in the orchestra add to the tension. About midway, the tempo slows and the sustained tones briefly return with the bassoon leading the way. An ascending run of pitches in the winds and brass add energy, followed by a lonely bassoon solo that brings an isolated and melancholy feel. The bassoon playing is very expressive here and the solo continues with slowly descending notes to quiet conclusion. A final deep tone is heard in the string bass at the finish.
Movement two is “Three Worlds” and this begins with solitary and tentative growls from the bassoon, slow and sustained at first, but escalating into bouncy and rapid rhythms. Now the bassoon is heard in a higher register, accompanied by the strings and an oboe trading short, snappy phrases. More woodwinds join in and the various lines alternately separate, then join in tutti chords. There is a wonderful mix of cascading and descending pitches always on the move, playfully chasing and swirling around each other. Towards the finish, a solemn bassoon solo produces a more introspective feeling and the piece ends quietly on a low tone. “Three Worlds” exhibits excellent musicianship and coordination between the soloist, especially given the many complex responses summoned from the orchestra.
The concluding movement for Escher Keys is “Day and Night” and “Waterfall”. There is a subtle, rural feel to this, as the liner notes explain: “Beginning in the sky of the first image, the listener moves back and forth, side to side.” The movement opens with high, sustained flute tones that establish an air of mystery. The solo bassoon enters with a moving line – at first with a curious feel, then with bolder declamatory passages. The rapid notes could suggest the activity of birds in a field. Long, flowing orchestral passages are soon heard underneath, suggesting a pastoral river scene. This becomes progressively more complex as the various orchestral sections follow with independent lines that weave in and around the soloist.
After a brief silence there are low, growling tones by the solo bassoon that suggest a bit of sadness and frustration. Warm string tones enter as the bassoon and a solo violin exchange phrases, building tension. A breathy sound is heard from the bassoon, followed by a more conventional, solitary notes. Concerto for Orchestra springs to mind; “Day and Night” delivers a level of atmospheric mystery similar to the Bartok classic.
Strings enter with ascending figures comprised of blurred pitches. Loud percussion and the bassoon are heard in the foreground – more anxious now. The concerto concludes with a long sustained tone in the bassoon and a high, questioning violin note. Escher Keys is abstract music inspired by abstract art. The vivid expression heard in the ear matches the intensity of the optical experience of the eye. The fidelity of the music to the visual is result of Mara Gibson’s masterful score, the precise playing in the orchestra and the virtuosity of soloist Darrel Hale.
Unseen World is available as a digital download or physical CD from Mark Custom.
Summers have been getting progressively hotter in much of the world. Here in the Northeast United States, we have had a mild Spring, but anticipate that summer will be a scorcher. Happily, singer/songwriter Katie Schottland ‘s project Swimming Bell has returned to serenade the season.
Swimming Bell’s latest EP, Somnia (Perpetual Doom, 2025) adopts a summery vibe. “95 at Night” both embraces the heat with fevered blur and seeks to assuage it with soothing vocals, pedal steel, and an undulating beat. The end of a summer romance could find little better to accompany burgeoning tears than the ballad “I’m Always Down,” with honeyed vocal harmonies and the twang of loping surf guitar. “Found it at the Bottom of the Ocean” has a seaside ambience of gentle singing, guitar glissandos, and supple rhythm courtesy of bongo drums. The closer, “Mushrooms in July,” seems self-explanatory.
Somnia concludes after sixteen minutes, and many listeners will want more. Swimming Bell has recorded two full length albums, Charlie (Adventure Club/Permanent, 2024) and Wild Sight (Adventure Club, 2019), both well worth seeking out.
NEW YORK – Alisa Weilerstein is a supremely gifted cellist, and it is hard to imagine being anything less than riveted by her playing. At Zankel Hall last Tuesday, she made decisions for her Fragments project that seemed to be needlessly distracting.
There are six Fragments programs all told, each based on one of the Bach Suites, joined by new pieces commissioned for the project. Fragments 3 featured the third cello suite alongside pieces by Joseph Hallman, Thomas Larcher, Jeffrey Mumford, and Carlos Simon. A design team helped to bring Weilerstein’s concept to life. The set, by Seth Reiser was elegantly simple, a multi-sided screen behind Weilerstein, and costume designer Molly Irelan did a fine job creating a chic yet downtown look for the cellist. The effective lighting, also by Reiser, included various spotlights as well as a moving magic lamp that accompanied moments of intensity. Director Elkanah Pulitzer did not seem to overtly interfere with Weilerstein’s usual performing demeanor. Perhaps ordering and pacing were part of her remit.
The fragmenting of the pieces themselves is where things got challenging for listeners. Instead of presenting each of them in toto, individual movements of all of the pieces, Bach included, were excerpted out of order. In addition, audience members weren’t given a listing of the ordering of these sections, having to wait until after the concert to download a program, using a QR code found in the booklet. In remarks that were printed for consumption beforehand, Weilerstein exhorted the audience to “just listen.” This, by the way, is every reviewer’s nightmare – playing “name that tune” with pieces that you have never yet heard.
It is laudable that so many new works for solo cello have come from this project. However, one feels for the composers, who, instead of being given a bow, were represented by the fragmenting of their pieces into a mix without metadata. It can be said with confidence that all four of the commissioned composers know cello writing authoritatively, including a catalog of extended techniques that featured Weilerstein’s adventurous streak and admirable facility to excellent advantage. Indeed, Simon and Hallmark seemed to invigorate their writing with extra doses of well-integrated 21st century virtuosity.
It was a bit disorienting to hear the Allemande, the second movement of Bach’s suite, appear as the penultimate fragment. Out of order though its movements may have been, the performance of the Bach suite was engaging, played with consummate care and thoughtful phrasing. Most of the program relied on the juxtaposition of old and new music. Only Mumford, with a few ostinatos in an otherwise dazzlingly modernist endeavor, provided a hat tip to Bach. Weilerstein finished the recital with the third movement of Thomas Larcher’s now here, which culminated with a rocket-fueled flourish, dazzling lamplight included.
Photo: Richard Termine
In the bygone times of analog mixtapes, curation seemed a prerequisite. Playlisting mixes has now become the way that many people usually listen on digital platforms, often passively and without worrying about the aforementioned metadata. When it comes to music consumption, an encroaching facelessness of content seems to be what’s trending. Revising the recital is a welcome endeavor, and annotating program booklets needn’t be an ossified affair. When engaged, just listening is fine, and may be preferable to constantly rifling through the program notes instead of fully attending to the performance. Perhaps supertitles briefly listing who is being played could be a compromise, a mix without undue preconceptual baggage.
All six installations of Fragments will be presented this week at the Spoleto Festival over four nights: May 26, 28, 29, and 31. Bring your cell phone and click on those QR codes as soon as the applause concludes.
