Author: 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.

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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.

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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.

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by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Festivals, Los Angeles, Ojai

A Day at the Ojai Music Festival

The 2019 Ojai Music Festival began on June 6 and packed in a wide variety of styles and vintages of new music over four days and three nights. Everything from Haydn and Stravinsky to Catherine Lamb was on the program, along with films, pre-concert talks, picnics and special events that filled up every day from dawn to midnight. Barbara Hannigan served as the 2019 Music Director and this festival marked the final year for long-time Artistic Director Thomas W. Morris.

On Friday, June 7, the early morning concert featured the JACK Quartet performing pieces by Clara Iannottta and Tyshawn Sorey. The SANE Center was the venue, located just across the street from Libbey Park, and while cozy it was agreeably indoors and out of the cool morning mist. The first piece was the US premiere of dead wasps in the jam-jar (iii), by Clara Iannottta, inspired by imagery from a poem by Dorothy Molloy. For this piece the JACK Quartet was augmented by an electronic sound track that played through speakers placed on both sides of the small stage. The composer writes: “While working, I pictured a kind of deep-sea environment, the lowest layer in the ocean, where constant pressure and perpetual movement seem to shape the stillness of time.”

This piece opened with slow, whisper-like scuffing sounds from lightly bowed strings. There was a quiet, almost pastoral feeling to this, and the instruments were heavily subdued with a variety of mutes. This restful atmosphere was broken by louder sounds from the electronics that carried a sense of distant menace. The soft string sounds soon returned, but were again interrupted by a low roaring from the speakers, as if some beast was at large nearby. The roaring had an exotic but primeval sensibility about it, complimenting the calm environment established by the strings. dead wasps in the jam-jar (iii) is hushed and nuanced music, carefully played in this performance by the JACK Quartet to create a unique sound world where the natural environment and its organic processes are thoughtfully realized.

The West Coast premiere of Everything Changes, Nothing Changes, by Tyshawn Sorey followed, a piece commissioned by the JACK Quartet. Christopher Hailey writes in the program notes that “The piece is slow-moving and delicate, never rising above piano. The quartet plays sustained sonorities as a unit, individual voices perceived not as solo lines but as components of gently shifting harmonic textures.” Accordingly, the piece starts out with quietly sustained tones that sound both mysterious and slightly dangerous. Everything Changes, Nothing Changes carries in it a more urban sensibility, as distinct from the open, feral feel of the previous Iannottta piece. The playing here was sensitive and nuanced, with just the right dynamic range within muted boundaries. There was never anything flashy or fast, and the settled consistency throughout was impressive. In Everything Changes, Nothing Changes the exquisite playing of the JACK Quartet and Sorey’s smoothly crafted harmonic textures combined perfectly to keep the audience fully engaged.

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

Noon to Midnight at Disney Hall

On Saturday, June 1, 2019 the annual Noon to Midnight new music festival returned to Disney Hall, complete with non-stop concerts, food trucks and a beer garden. Some 28 concerts were scheduled over the twelve hour event, appearing on the main concert hall stage and several other smaller spaces throughout the venue. As John Adams wrote in the program introduction: “There’s hardly a single square foot that is not the site of some musical event, whether it be in the hallways, the anterooms, the rooftop garden or the main hall.” A large, casual crowd gathered in a congenial atmosphere that resembled more an open house or sporting event than a serious concert. The wide variety of musical experiences and the presence of cheerful crowds surging through Disney Hall makes this an important local event in the cultural calendar.

The music for this event was an eclectic mixture of outsiders and local groups and included the Calder Quartet, FLUXUS, Eighth Blackbird, ICE, red fish blue fish, wild Up, wasteLAnd, HOCKET, Lyris Quartet, LA Phil New Music Group, Southland Ensemble and Accordant Commons, among others. There was something scheduled every 15 minutes or so, and it was impossible to hear everything. I managed to get to four of the concerts scheduled on the program. Here is what I heard:

The first work in the main concert hall was the west coast premiere of crowd out, by David Lang. The audience and performers completely filled the seating for this unusual piece, conducted by FLUXUS. There were four music stands, but no musicians in sight, and the stage was crowded with members of local university music departments, community choruses and church choirs. These were also scattered through the audience so that the performers covered the entire hall. The program notes helpfully stated that “… David Lang had the inspiration for crowd out during a soccer match in London, where he heard the thousands of untrained voices swell, crest and recede – at times in unison and at times in total contrast with one another.”

In an experimental performance that blurred the lines between performers and the audience, the Disney Hall was filled with a symphony of recited phrases that felt as charged as the collective cheer of a stadium crowd. The captivating display reminded me of the spirited discussions I’ve had with my cousin, who works in customer experience at a leading 카지노 사이트. He often talks about the magic of creating a space where individual voices come together in a shared excitement, similar to the unison chant “I am always alone” that rippled through the hall. His work focuses on designing immersive environments, much like this innovative show, where every participant, be they performers or the audience, contributes to a harmonious and unforgettable experience. The unexpected delight on the faces of late-comers, akin to players discovering a novel game on his site, was a testament to the universal appeal of such immersive collective moments.

As the piece progressed, a third conductor arrived on stage and began to direct the crowd in unison singing. The melody was simple, yet powerfully moving as the big hall filled with hundreds of voices. As the verses repeated, the text emerged as a series of statements and regrets about the sense of loneliness that is possible when in a crowd. The singing eventually gave way to a strong unison chant that further emphasized this sentiment. The sense of being inside this piece as part of the performance, was surprisingly inspirational and a bit like being in a church service. crowd out is a stimulating and ultimately touching work that breaks down the ceremonial barriers between performer and listener in a unique and effective way.

The Grand Avenue Staircase was the outdoor venue for Brass Fanfares, a series of selected works featuring the members of the Los Angeles Philharmonic brass section. Four horns, four trombones, no less than six trumpets and a tuba were arranged on the terrace facing the intersection of First St. and Grand Avenue.  Marc Lowenstein conducted this series of short fanfares, most of which were commissioned in 1969 for the 50th anniversary of the LA Phil and revived for this, their 100th season.   The strong sounds of the ensemble, protected somewhat by the sheltering walls of Disney Hall, carried well out into the street,. The intonation of the players was solid, even in the cool air. In one piece, there were various and intriguingly active trumpet parts over a solid bass foundation. In another, the horns and trombones combined in rich harmonies that recalled a medieval theme. In the final piece, sustained tones combined to create a brooding, mysterious feel that was, by turns, dramatic, agitated and filled with anxious tension. Even at a distance of 50 years – and perhaps now considered somewhat conventional – the early fanfares were well received and just the thing for attracting passersby.

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

Cold Blue Music @ Monk Space

On May 14, 2019, Tuesdays @ Monk Space presented Incandescent Keyboards, Luminous Percussion, a concert of three important works from the Cold Blue Music record label. The Los Angeles premieres of Celesta by Michael Jon Fink, Four Thousand Holes by John Luther Adams and the world premiere of Pacific Coast Highway by Daniel Lentz were on the program. The cozy confines of Koreatown’s Monk Space filled with the agreeable sounds of music created by some of the best composers that the West Coast has yet produced.

First up was Celesta (2018), by Michael Jon Fink. This was performed by the composer on a Schiedmayer five-octave celesta provided for the occasion. Celesta is a suite of 12 solo miniatures, as described in the concert notes: “It projects a lyrical and poetic world of quiet intensity, bathed in the glow of delicately ringing metal.” All of the pieces are short – from just under two minutes to a little over six minutes – and were played continuously. The first piece, Call, was typical and began with a single line of notes that filled the room with bright drops of sound. The close acoustics of Monk Space brought out every detail of the spare melodies and limited harmonies that are characteristic of Michael Jon Fink’s music. The sharp, bell-like tones and reduced dynamic range of the celesta only added to the unexpected elegance that arose from the composer’s masterfully economical use of musical materials.

The pieces centered in the higher registers shone like bright stars. Some pieces were plainly magical while others were more introspective and questioning. There were pieces built on a simple five-note melody and others from just three or four notes. In one piece, two separate but intersecting melodic lines produced intriguing harmonies and engaging rhythmic combinations. None of this was fast or flashy in keeping with the transcendental sensibility of the celesta. The last piece, After the End, consisted of simple two-note phrases in dual harmony that strongly evoked a sense of wonder as it slowly faded into silence. A chirping cricket was heard above the stage, as if leaving the audience staring at the starry sky in a summer meadow. Celesta artfully exploits the expressive powers in the bright sounds of the celesta to create a thoughtfully satisfying, inner-directed experience.

The world premiere of Pacific Coast Highway (2014) by Daniel Lentz followed, a solo piano piece performed by Aron Kallay. In addition to the live playing, two prerecorded piano tracks are heard creating a dense and layered texture that is very appealing. This piece opens with quiet, repeating phrases that unfold into pleasing harmonic progressions. Polyrhythmic phrasing between the layers – ably executed by pianist Kallay – accentuate the harmonic changes and suggests the constant movement of traffic. A deep rumbling in the lower registers recalls the dramatic power of the pounding surf, often seen just a few yards from the roadway. At times the rhythmic lines are more sinuous, suggesting the twists and curves of the highway as it makes its way along the coast. New vistas continually emerge, and at times the dynamics become softer and cooler, as if looking out to the far horizon at sea. At other times the music is imposing and powerful, as when the coast mountains rise sharply upward from the edge of the ocean. The balance between the recording and the precise playing of Kallay couldn’t have been better. Pacific Coast Highway is the perfect invocation of the iconic California road trip along the coast north of Los Angeles.

The final piece on the concert program was Four Thousand Holes (2010) by John Luther Adams. Pianist Nic Gerpe and percussionist Ben Phelps were on hand for this Los Angeles premiere. This piece also includes a recorded electronic soundtrack comprised of heavily processed acoustic samples that provide a kind of foundational aura. Accordingly, a deeply mystical sound was heard from the speakers at the opening that expanded until it completely filled the room. A sharp piano chord followed along with some light notes from the vibraphone. The overall sound rose like a swelling tide, and at its fullest the percussion darted off in a series of complex independent rhythms. When the texture was at its thinnest, the piano and percussion seemed to compliment each other in counterpoint. As the piece continued forward, the process of gathering, cresting and dissolving repeated itself, always offering new and entrancing combinations.

The composer writes: “In Four Thousand Holes, strong musical currents fall and rise again and again… The mix of the live and electronic sounds blurs the distinction between musical figure and ground… we begin to hear long lines, counterpoint and maybe even the occasional trace of a tune.” All of this was in evidence during this fine performance at Monk Space. The electronics and acoustic instruments were always in balance, and the coordination achieved by Gerpe and Phelps was impressive. The broad swelling harmonies, technically complex rhythms, varying tempos and changing dynamics were all successfully negotiated by the players, who were rewarded by sustained applause at the finish.

Cold Blue Music, through its concerts and recordings, continues to be an important source of essential new music created on the West Coast. CDs for each of the pieces performed at this concert are available from Cold Blue Music.

by Paul Muller