Concert review

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
Choral Music, Concert review, early music, File Under?

Blue Heron Sings Ockeghem in Cambridge

Blue Heron. Photo: Kathy Wittman
Blue Heron Sings Ockeghem’s Missa Prolationum First Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts By Christian Carey Sequenza21.com March 9, 2019 CAMBRIDGE – Blue Heron’s Ockeghem@600 project has steadily worked its way through much of the composer’s repertoire. On March 9th at First Church, one of the most special evenings of this series was performed: Johannes Ockeghem’s Missa Prolationum. The mass is constructed almost entirely out of a set of double canons, presenting imitative counterpoint throughout and at every scalar interval (a feat only matched by Bach’s Goldberg Variations, but Bach’s include single, not double, canons). The jaw-dropping intricacies of this work’s construction, and the comparative irregularity of its presentation on concert programs, made me more than happy to make the trip from New Jersey to Boston to experience it live. Johannes Ockeghem, who died in 1497, was during his lifetime highly esteemed as both a composer and singer (some say the low bass lines one sees in his music would likely have been performed by Ockeghem himself). A number of composers and theorists referenced his music, employing it in paraphrase and parody works and holding it up as a paragon of craftsmanship. One of Josquin’s most affecting pieces is Nymphes des bois, a Déploration on the death of Ockeghem. So why isn’t he a household name today among choral enthusiasts? The challenges posed by pieces like Missa Prolationum keep them beyond the reach of any but the most skillful and dedicated ensembles. This is where Blue Heron’s Ockeghem@600 project comes in, raising both awareness for the composer and demonstrating that, while formidable, his is eminently singable music. Scott Metcalfe, Blue Heron’s director, carefully curated the program both to elucidate and to entertain. The concert opened with a brief canonic work by Jean Mouton, Ave Maria gemma virginum, which served as a talking point for a brief but animated lecture by Metcalfe. The singers of Blue Heron helped him to illustrate several musical examples that explicated the process of canon and how it was used by Ockeghem. Further demonstration of canonic procedure was provided by Prenez sur moi, one of Ockeghem’s most famous songs. The program continued by interspersing some of Ockeghem’s songs with movements of the mass. Given the compositional rigor of Missa Prolationum, the inclusion of other music smartly broke it up into more manageable chunks for listeners. It also served to demonstrate the composer’s versatility; the chansons may not include double canons like the mass but are equally inventive in their own respective ways. Throughout, Blue Heron sang with impressive tone, flawless intonation, and incisive rhythmic clarity. Indeed, the latter characteristic was particularly efficacious. One of the chief rewards of their rendition of the mass was being able to hear, clearly delineated, a veritable labyrinth of interlocking rhythms. As is their practice, Blue Heron shifts around the members of the ensemble (numbering nine singers plus Metcalfe directing and playing harp) from number to number. The upper part features both male and female voices and the rest of the singers, when singing solo, are heterogenous in tone color as well. However, when they join voices, the group adopts a resonant and supple blend. The performance was inspiring, and the onstage remarks were spot-on in terms of content, level of detail, and duration. In addition to memories of the fine music-making, audience members left with another keepsake: a lovingly curated and detailed program book that was remarkably in-depth for such a document. It was yet another indication of the level of commitment that Metcalfe has brought to the Ockeghem@600 project. Blue Heron’s forthcoming recording of Ockeghem’s complete songs is not to be missed. -Christian Carey
by Christian Carey
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Improv, Los Angeles

Mitchell and Lough in Santa Monica

The latest installment of the Soundwaves Concert Series was heard in the Martin Luther King, Jr. auditorium at the main branch of the public library in Santa Monica on Wednesday, April 17, 2019. Flutist Nicole Mitchell, a regular winner of the Downbeat Critic’s Poll, and sound artist Alex Lough were on hand for an evening of improvisation featuring several flutes and an impressive array of electronic circuitry.

Ms. Mitchell came equipped with two flutes, a piccolo and a microphone with some distortion and looping capabilities. Across the stage, Lough presided over two tables covered with circuit boards, control panels, patch boards and assorted boxes and cables. Although this looked formidable, the electronic gear was purposefully designed to be both simple and understated – there were no computers or large amplifiers. The output of all this emanated from a single six-inch speaker, specifically under-powered so that it would not overwhelm the acoustical sounds of the flutes and voicing of Ms. Mitchell. In fact, the entire setup can run on batteries and has been used in remote locations.

During an intimate concert that unwound into an avant-garde improvisation, the renowned flutist Ms. Mitchell held the audience in rapt attention with her melodic flute sequences. It wasn’t long before the serenity of her performance elegantly intertwined with the more contemporary soundscapes provided by the electronic accompaniment. This harmonious duality resonated deeply with my friend, an audio engineer at an established 안전 슬롯사이트, who often muses about the meticulous craftsmanship required to create a secure and engaging online entertainment environment. The concert’s improvisation mirrored the dynamic interplay he cultivates daily—balancing intricate electronic data streams with the user’s seamless experience. The electronic tones, which never dominated but danced alongside the flute, reminded him of how technology, when well-integrated, can enhance and not detract from the human element, a philosophy he applies to his work with the precision and creativity of a maestro.

As the session proceeded, the improv took on various characteristics and colors. In one stretch there was a rushing sound from the processed voice that evoked a windswept and remote feeling as the electronics added a deeply profound string tone. Later, an exotic, Asian feeling in the flute was complimented by sustained tones in the electronics. The vocals by Ms. Mitchell added a welcome human element in contrast to Lough, who could conjure a wide range of alien sounds. At one point Lough was producing 60 Hz buzzing noises from pressing his finger on the end of an open cable. Another time he was seen squeezing and shaking a small cassette tape player so as to bend its audio output. As the improved finished, a catchy tune that could have come from an old video game was heard with a pleasant, pulsing groove and smooth flute accompaniment that gently brought the audience back to the familiar. As the final notes faded away, there was sustained applause from an appreciative crowd.

Most combinations of acoustic instruments and electronics in new music involve a prerecorded track or computer processing of the acoustic sounds in roughly real time through the stage sound system. In this concert, however, the intention was to make the electronics an equal partner, played by a Lough in the same sense as Ms. Mitchell played the flutes and sang. As the two musicians improvised and traded phrases, there was a real sense of a dialog based on an equal partnership. The electronic sounds were naturally very different, but the interaction of the players was perfectly conventional and centered in historical musical practice. This Soundwaves concert by Lough and Mitchell explored the combination of electronic technology and acoustic music in an intentionally different and creative way.

by Paul Muller
Chamber Music, Classical Music, Composers, Concert review, Concerts, Conductors, Contemporary Classical, Seattle

Boulez and Berio highlight Morlot’s farewell [untitled] concert at Seattle Symphony

Seattle Symphony’s [untitled] series was inaugurated in 2012 by its then-new Music Director, Ludovic Morlot. Three Fridays a year, small groupings of Symphony and visiting musicians set up in the Grand Lobby outside the orchestra’s main Benaroya Hall venue for a late night of contemporary music. This year’s series has been devoted to the European avant-garde, starting with Hans Abrahamsen’s Schnee in October and continuing this past March 22 with two landmarks of Darmstadt serialism: Berio’s Circles and Boulez’s sur Incises. The latter performance, which featured Morlot conducting the work’s regional premiere, offered an opportunity to contemplate the legacies of both the late composer and Morlot himself, who departs at the end of the season after an enormously impactful eight-year run.

Morlot conducting sur Incises (photos by James Holt/Seattle Symphony except as noted)

That the program would center on plucked and struck instruments was obvious from the seating arrangement, which snaked around the extensive percussion setups required for both pieces, not to mention a total of three pianos and four harps. Indeed, the only true sustaining voice among the deployed forces was the soprano in Circles. Dating from 1960, this work’s title is generally held to refer to its unusual structure: five settings of E. E. Cummings, of which the first and last use the same poem, as do the second and fourth. The evening’s performance emphasized the work’s continuity as a single 20-minute span, beginning and ending with ametric but strictly notated music, while reaching peak spontaneity in the middle section where Berio employs the proportional notation developed by Cage in Music of Changes, along with “improvisation frames” where the percussionists are given latitude within a set of specified pitches and instruments:

Seeing the work live, with the instruments positioned in accordance with Berio’s meticulous instructions, reveals an additional meaning to the title: the two percussionists (in this case Symphony members Matt Decker and Michael Werner) are frequently obliged to pirouette to execute their parts.

Rounding out the quartet was Seattle Symphony harpist Valerie Muzzolini and Maria Männistö, the Symphony’s “go to” soprano both for Finnish language works and for modern compositions with extraordinary demands, including Circles’ array of whispered, intoned and conventionally sung sounds originally designed for Cathy Berberian. Berio also frequently directs the singer to cue the three instrumentalists behind her (the score explicitly states that there should be no conductor). Not surprisingly it was Männistö (the English pronunciation rhymes with banister), who gave the last performance of Circles in the Northwest (with Seattle Modern Orchestra in 2011).

Critics usually position Circles within the heyday of post-WW2 musical pointillism. But I also see it as a primary source for George Crumb’s mature style. Its instrumentation—with piano/celesta substituting for harp—is duplicated in Night Music I (1963), the earliest Crumb piece that sounds like Crumb. And the ambiance of Circle’s middle movement, as well as Berio’s concept of extended staging, can be seen as starting points for Crumb’s own textural sparseness and emphasis on ritualized instrumental performance.

Michael Werner and Maria Männistö in Circles

With sur Incises (1996–98) Seattle at last received an entrée-sized portion of Morlot-conducted Boulez. Other than the brief and relatively mellow Notations I–IV (whose recording was one of my 2018 picks), Boulez’s music has been strangely absent from Symphony programming, even under the Directorship of his compatriot and mentee, so the showcasing of this formidable 40-minute piece felt particularly momentous.

Like most of Boulez’s music from the 1970s onward, sur Incises includes several passages that feature a steady beat and rapidly repeated notes. A good example is the Messiaenesque gamelan heard halfway through the first of its two “moments”, which coupled with the work’s unique instrumentation (three trios of piano, harp and mallet-centric percussion) gives the impression of a post-serial Reich (though Robin Maconie claims Stockhausen’s Mantra as a precedent). Another remarkable passage is the Nancarrow-like tutti about five minutes before the end. At other times, dazzling flurries are juxtaposed with calmer passages (the above links are to Boulez’s own performance with Ensemble intercontemporain, available in the 13-CD Deutsche Grammophon set of his complete works, which I review here).

The dominant motive in the piece, though, is a short-long rhythmic gesture akin to what drummers call a flam. It’s audible in the first piano right at the beginning, and recurs throughout the work, often with the short note in a different instrument than the subsequent clang. To pull off such highly coordinated music, the performers must not only know their parts cold, but must also coalesce into an incredibly tight ensemble. Only then does the ultimate interpretive goal become attainable: articulating the composite lines that traverse the three trios, and emphasizing the multilevel climaxes, anticipations and resolutions that drive this unceasingly complex music forward. As guest pianist Jacob Greenberg put it, “every phrase in the piece has a goal”. Not only was the band up to the task, but, in contrast with the introverted, austere sound world of Schnee, whose October performance benefitted from a measure of Dausgaardian reticence, tonight’s sur Incises profited from Morlot’s ever-present exuberance. Wouldn’t a future guest engagement with him conducting Rituel (in memoriam Bruno Maderna) be a treat?

The stereotype of Boulez as the ultimate cerebral composer is belied by his extraordinary command of instrumental color, something that always gave his music an edge over the legions of academic composers with a similar bent. Morlot and company’s rendering of this score reinforced Boulez’s proper place within the long line of French composers—from Berlioz, Debussy, Ravel and Messiaen onward to the spectralists—who have been infatuated with color and organic, self-generating form.

Ligeti: Poème Symphonique at the first [untitled], October 2012 with Ludovic Morlot in the background (photo: Michael Schell)
Boulez’s death in 2016 marked, if not the end of an era, the passing of its last undisputed superstar. And as Morlot took the microphone after the performance to acknowledge the [untitled] audience for the last time (the season’s final [untitled] event will have a guest conductor), a similar sense of poignant conclusion fell over the house. Though Seattle and its Symphony shared a longstanding, if erratic, history of support for contemporary music prior to Morlot’s arrival, there’s little doubt about the reinvigorating effect of a tenure that has brought forth not only the [untitled] concept, but also the Symphony’s new Octave 9 space (dedicated primarily to small-scale new music events) and an impressive series of regional and world premieres on the mainstage. One local musician prominent in new music circles told me “I was about ready to give up on Seattle before Morlot came”. And the feat of turning out a large and enthusiastic crowd for two thorny exemplars of Darmstadt dissonance in this most outlying of Lower 48 metropolises speaks for itself.

As a concluding round of hoots and applause died down, one could observe more than a few lumpy throats and damp eyes among the assembled Seattleites who left Benaroya Hall contemplating the departure of an exceptionally charismatic and personable conductor who has succeeded beyond all expectations at winning the hearts and minds of the city.

by Michael Schell
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Los Angeles, Premieres

Transient Canvas in Los Angeles

On March 27, 2019, People Inside Electronics presented Wired Wednesday, a concert featuring a set by Amy Advocat and Matt Sharrock, the Transient Canvas duo – as well as a sound installation premiere and a new piece for augmented trumpet. All of this was at Live Arts LA, a dance studio whose spacious performance floor was ideal for the occasion.

According to my friend, who’s blogged for a list of online poker sites that range from unknown to the biggest ones – the first piece on the concert program was the world premiere of bzbowls (2019), a sound installation by Stephanie Cheng Smith. This consisted of some 15 plastic bowls suspended between fine wires, and each bowl fitted with a tiny vibration motor – like the one that vibrates your cell phone when you get a call. These were wired into a control panel so that the speed and intensity of the vibrations could be varied. As the motors were activated, Ms. Smith added various objects to the bowls, changing the pitch and timbre of the sound. Ping pong balls tended to lower the pitch and raise the volume. Small beads and bells generally resulted in a higher pitch and created a more musical sound. Adding a few tiny clothespins to a bowl produced a distinctive growl. Plastic cups were occasionally placed over the contents of the bowls and this tended to muffle the vibrations, but at times also seemed to amplify the sounds. An overhead projector gave the audience a view of what was being placed into, or removed from each bowl.

The 15 motors and the items inside the bowls produced an active overall sound, and it was a bit like being inside a small machine. There was a distinct sense of motion, but not necessarily of movement. The objects in the bowls were removed and replaced gradually so that the character of the sound was continuously changing between a low roar and a high ringing jangle. The motor controller had a pulse mode, so that the vibration motors cycled on and off for a second or two, and this had the effect of further exaggerating the sense of motion. Although generally percussive in nature, the sound seemed to gradually shift and change almost as a living organism. The ingenuity applied by Ms. Smith to a collection of simple materials made bzbowls an intriguing, miniature sound world based on artfully controlled vibration.

Next was The Sameness of Earlier and Later Times and Nows (2019), by Sarah Belle Reid, and this was also a world premiere and this was scored for augmented trumpet, laptop and modular synthesizer. The augmented trumpet is an impressive extension of the standard instrument and according to the concert notes “…uses sensor technology to capture gestural data such as valve displacement, hand tension and instrument position which is then converted into control information to interact with other instruments and systems.” Ms. Reid performed with great poise as she played the trumpet into a microphone where the sounds were processed by the synthesizer and PC before re-emerging through the speaker system. Maybe a third of what was heard during the course of this piece could be described as standard trumpet sounds, and even here the confident intonation by Ms. Reid left nothing to be desired. The tone from the horn was smoothly elegant, and the looped delay and processing only added to the intrigue. The feeling of the piece was both innovative and comfortably familiar. The sensors on the trumpet added greatly to the variety, including a new subset of percussive effects. Clicks, thumps and pops from the valves and triggers on the horn entered the mix, as well as the roar of breathy sounds in the absence of tones. As The Sameness of Earlier and Later Times and Nows amply demonstrated, Ms. Reid has greatly extended the possibilities of the humble trumpet into new territory by the application of innovative sensing technology and sound processing.

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by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Just Intonation, Los Angeles, Strings

Music of Ben Johnston in Pasadena

On Friday, March 15, 2019 the Lyris Quartet and the Kepler Viol Quartet joined forces at the Boston Court Performing Arts Center for an evening of the music of Ben Johnston. The concert was produced by Microfest and featured two of Johnston’s well known string quartets, as well as two rarely performed works. The Kepler Viol Quartet was on hand for the pre-concert talk to demonstrate the bass, tenor and treble viola da gambas used in Fugue for Viols, one of the concert pieces. The intricacies of viol construction, tuning, vibrato, intonation and bowing were explained to a surprisingly knowledgeable and engaged audience. The viola da gamba in the history of tuning was discussed and details of how Johnston re-purposed the fretting for just intonation were also covered. Ben Johnston, who studied with Darius Milhaud, Harry Partch and John Cage, was elected into the American Academy of Arts and Letters last year. At 93 years of age, Johnston may be one of our most influential but least familiar composers. His birthday falls on March 15, making this concert the perfect occasion to celebrate his music.

The first piece on the concert program was String Quartet #4, “Amazing Grace” (1973), performed by the Lyris Quartet. This is probably Johnston’s best known work and consists of a series of seven variations on the familiar hymn, all in different forms of just intonation. The opening section is the cantus firmus, in magnificent full harmony, with a rich and textured feel. Other variations featured expressive counterpoint, wistful introspection, and at times a certain stridency. The hymn tune appears just often enough to keep the audience fully connected. The ensemble playing by the Lyris Quartet was strong throughout, and also included striking solos from the violin and viola. The final variations combined complex passages with a pleasingly dense texture that was abetted by the unconventional harmony. Amazing Grace is perhaps the most over-exposed hymn of our time yet String Quartet #4 brings a vibrant new freshness to this old standard.

Duo for Two Violins (1978) was next, performed by Alyssa Park and Shalini Vijayan of the Lyris Quartet. John Schneider’s helpful program notes describe this piece as fulfilling “…one of the composer’s hidden agendas: to explore what would have happened to the traditional forms and language of Western music if the pure intervals of the Renaissance had not been abandoned.” Accordingly, Duo for Two Violins consists three movements – a fugue, an aria and toccata – lifted directly from Baroque sensibility. “Fuga”, the first movement, was anchored in the familiar formal structure, but the harmonies gave this a refreshingly modern feel. The second movement, “Aria” opened with a soft scratching sound in one violin and a quietly mournful melody underneath. The interplay between parts and the harmony produced by this combination was very alluring and the delicate playing only added to the overall charm. “Toccata” finished out the piece, and the busy opening of this movement was a nice contrast, providing an appealing bit of complexity and bounce in an uptempo finale. Duo for Two Violins is an elegant re-imagining of historical forms and tuning practice that gives new insight into the music history that might have been.

The Kepler Viol Quartet took the stage for Fugue for Viols (1991) and began the lengthy tuning protocol for the bass, treble and two tenor viola da gambas that make up the ensemble. According to the program notes “…Fugue for Viols has only ever been performed at a few early music concerts in the Midwest in the years that followed its composition…” Originally written for George Hunter, an early music colleague of Johnston’s at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champagne, the structure of the piece is squarely in the traditional fugal format. The subject begins in the bass and proceeds to the treble and tenors in the usual way. The audience could hear immediately that the viola da gamba quartet is a smaller and more intimate musical experience. The dark coloring in the bass added a sense of the ancient while the just intonation harmonies were warm and woody to the ear. The timbre of the viols and the unusual chords were at the same time an old curiosity and a new experience. The playing was clean, and the Kepler Quartet brought new life to the old instruments in a most satisfactory way. Fugue for Viols is an intriguing update to the rarely heard viola da gamba quartet, at once familiar and innovative.

The final work on the program was String Quartet #9 (1988), whose four movements further explored Johnson’s interest in recreating classical forms set free from equal temperament. “Strong, calm, slow”, the opening movement, is just that, with sturdy chords rising upward with a solid and settled optimism. The tutti playing was rich and full, adding to the lovely harmony. The second movement, “Fast, elated”, featured rapid phrases in the violins and viola with an appealing counter melody running through the cello. The strong, purposeful feel was supplied by a fine tutti ensemble. Always in motion, there were moments of stridency, especially with the pizzicato phrases in the cello. “Slow, expressive”, the third movement, was full of warm four-part harmony with a deep bass line adding to the sense of calm and comfort. A handsome violin solo was heard, accompanied by moving lines in the second violin and viola along with pizzicato phrasing in the cello. The playing here was precise and elegantly expressive. “Vigorous and defiant”. the final movement, opened with a strong, declarative statement that mixed in a bit of tension. Fast moving phrases in the upper strings crested to a defiant statement, then began again with a strong pulse and rapid tutti ensemble. The playing was exquisitely tight, with the quartet on a solid footing despite the fast tempo and unconventional pitches scattered through the passages. All of this built up to a big finish that was received with extended applause from an appreciative audience. String Quartet #9 is a masterful construction based on old forms while using new musical materials, brilliantly performed by the Lyris Quartet.

by Paul Muller
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Piano, Seattle

Piano Drop at Seattle’s Jack Straw

Destruction and reclamation, gimmick and avant-garde

One of the odder fads bequeathed to us by the 1960s is the ritual destruction of musical instruments. It’s a custom most famously associated with the likes of Jimi Hendrix and Pete Townshend. But what bursts out in popular culture often has precedents in the avant-garde, and the origins of this particular brand of onstage iconoclasm can be traced to the Fluxus movement, specifically its founder George Maciunas. In a nod to classical tradition Maciunas chose the piano, rather than the upstart electric guitar, as the foil for his aggression, directing performers of his 1962 Piano Piece #13 to nail down the keys of the chosen target (Sonic Youth famously performed the piece in 1999). Maciunas’s legacy was continued by fellow haute culture exponents Raphael Montañez Ortiz and Annea Lockwood, the former using an ax, the latter using an array of execution methods that included burning, burying and drowning.

The instrument (photo: Jack Straw)

It was Ortiz that provided the inspiration for the Pacific Northwest’s most famous entry in the klavierzerstörungen tradition. To help gin up publicity for a 1968 outdoor concert benefitting two local arts organizations (including the now defunct KRAB-FM radio), promoters arranged for a secondhand upright piano (purchased for $25) to be dropped from a helicopter. The stunt succeeded in its goal, with a few thousand young attendees journeying to a rural farm in Duvall (25 miles outside Seattle) for a day of folk, rock and choreographed demolition. In the event, safety concerns limited the plummet to a modest 50 feet, producing more of a dull thud than a thunderous clang. But it was still enough to obliterate the case, keyboard, hammers and dampers, leaving only the frame, soundboard and the top five octaves of strings.

The addled contraption lay half-buried in its grade-level tomb for 50 years before being exhumed by Jack Straw Cultural Center, the successor organization to KRAB-FM and a Northwest counterpart to New York’s Harvestworks and Roulette. The carcass was deposited on an exhibition table in Jack Straw’s New Media Gallery, where it was made available for the explorations of several West Coast musicians. The missing bass strings precluded performances of “under the lid” standards by such early masters as Cowell and Crumb, and the missing keyboard ruled out what could have been an intriguing variation on Lachenmann’s Guero. So the invited artists set out to create new works for this unique instrument, working under few restrictions other than an appeal to accept its deformed intonation and to limit the duration to a Cagean 4’33”.

Amy Denio (L) and friends (photo: Levi Fuller, Jack Straw)

Thus it happened that on February 23, 2019 a standing audience assembled around the beleaguered corpse to watch 16 composers and ensembles strike, stroke and probe its innards. The acts included a folk band and an oral history reminiscence (both evoking the hippie spirit of the 1968 event), but most of the new works were composed miniatures in the American experimental tradition. Many of them emphasized standard Cowell/Crumb on-string playing techniques, occasionally aided by digital effects or EBows. But Music for a Dropped Piano by Seattle’s ubiquitous multi-instrumentalist Amy Denio stood out in its use of bowed piano technique. And Aaron Keyt’s Piano Gusting saw four performers directing their breath through straws at clip-on contact microphones attached to the strings, the signal thence fed into small handheld loudspeakers, creating a chorus of metallic piano-like tones modulated by breath rhythms—one of the evening’s most remarkable sound experiences.

Two other composers found unexpected points of reference. Luke Fitzpatrick, a violinist by trade who recently resuscitated Partch’s Adapted Viola from decades of case-bound oblivion, levered his experience salvaging moribund instruments with his piece 3144. Attacking the Duvall piano with finger taps on the soundboard and plucks and strums on the strings, Fitzpatrick directly evoked the sound world of Partch’s plectrum instruments. Simultaneously he intoned the piano manufacturer’s stamp and serial number (“Ivers and Pond Piano Company No. 5, 3144”) using the same delivery he has developed for his performances of Partch’s Li Po Songs.

Hendrix immolating his guitar (photo: Ed Caraeff 1967)

Dave Knott also found an external reference, gently laying a small guitar (that had itself been dropped and detuned) on top of the piano’s remains like a vicarious empath, conjuring up images of saplings rising from the decaying nurse logs common in the nearby forests. While Knott strummed the baby guitar, his fellow Eye Music members David Stanford and Susie Kozawa played the doomed piano like a huge prepared autoharp.

The vaunted instrument destroyers of the 1960s tended to enlist their actions as anti-war agitations, or as demonstrations of the fragility of life and culture. But the performers showcased at Jack Straw embraced a different, more redemptive tradition, one closely associated with the Pacific Coast: that of reclamation. Whether it’s Cage, Harrison and Partch making percussion instruments from junk, or Edward and Nancy Kienholz building sculptures and installations from society’s discards, the tradition is one that regards art as a regenerative act that reminds us of the essential musicality and expressiveness in the tiredest and poorest things around us.

Piano Drop featured works by Jeffrey Bowen, James Borchers, Bradley Hawkins, Ski, Gust Burns, Austin Larkin, Brandon Lincoln Snyder, Bruce Greeley, Home Before Dark, Jay Hamilton, Count Constantin and Stanley Shikuma in addition to those mentioned in the review.

by Michael Schell
Boston, Concert review, early music, File Under?, New York

Blue Heron in New York (Concert Review)

Blue Heron. Photo: Liz Linder

Blue Heron: The Lost Music of Canterbury

Music Before 1800

Corpus Christi Church

February 10, 2019

Sequenza 21 

By Christian Carey

NEW YORK – On February 10th, the Boston-based early music ensemble Blue Heron made one of its regular appearances at the Music Before 1800 series at Corpus Christi Church in Morningside Heights. Directed by Scott Metcalfe, an ensemble of a dozen vocalists performed five selections, all votive antiphons, from the Peterhouse Partbooks. 

Copied by John Bull during the reign of Henry VIII, the partbooks now reside at Peterhouse College of Cambridge University. The tenor book is missing, as are large sections of the treble book, but musicologist Nick Sandon has spent his career reconstructing pieces from the collection. Apart from a few performances and recordings made by British and Canadian ensembles, Blue Heron have been the principal advocates for this rediscovered cache of polyphonic music written for the Catholic Church. Bull compiled the music just a few years prior to the establishment of the Church of England, which brought with it entirely different liturgical practices that rendered the music obsolete. Many partbooks were destroyed during the ascendency, successively, of Anglicanism and Puritanism. This makes Sandon’s contribution all the more noteworthy, in that it restores enough music to significantly add to the choral repertoire available from the pre-Reformation period.   

Blue Heron recently released The Lost Music of Canterbury,a five-CD boxed set of music from the Peterhouse Partbooks with selections by a range of composers, from the well-known Nicholas Ludford to the entirely obscure Hugh Sturmy. The quality of both the music and recorded performances is extraordinarily high. Blue Heron have a beautiful sound custom crafted for this repertoire and display impeccable musicianship. Sadly, none of the antiphons presented on the Corpus Christi concert have yet been recorded by Blue Heron. Indeed, there is a massive amount of music left in the Peterhouse collection yet to be documented. While the group has moved on to other projects – they are currently at work on recordings of the complete songs of Ockeghem and works by Cipriano de Rore – one hopes that at some point funding might allow them to commit the votive antiphons from the Peterhouse repertoire to disc. They proved most compelling in a live setting.  

Votive antiphons were extra-liturgical and traditionally performed in the evening, after Vespers and Compline, by a group of singers gathered around an altar or icon. Marian antiphons were most common and were represented on the concert by two pieces, Arthur Chamberlayne’s Ave Gratia plena Maria and Ludford’s Salve Regina. The former is a vibrant piece articulating a thoughtfully expanded trope of the “Hail Mary” text. Described by Metcalfe as “a word salad,” it does indeed contain a great number of independent lines in overlapping declamation. The sole piece attributed to its author, it provided a tantalizing glimpse of the idiosyncrasies permitted during this time of musical innovation and diversity. Ludford’s uses a more traditional text and is gentler in demeanor; as Metcalfe suggested, a valediction wishing those gathered to hear the antiphon a peaceful evening. 

The other three antiphons invoked various saints. O Willhelme, pastor bone, by John Taverner, was the lone short work here, clocking in at around three minutes; the rest were each about a quarter of an hour in duration. The piece has a fascinating backstory for those who study the history of the Tudors. It was written for Cardinal College, Oxford, where Taverner was instructor of the choirboys, to its patron Saint William, Archbishop of York. It also includes a verse uplifting Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, who founded Cardinal College. Yes, that Cardinal Wolsey, the one who ran afoul of Henry VIII because of his thwarted attempts to obtain a divorce for the monarch. The piece itself is full of Taverner’s characteristic sustained high lines and contains some lovely harmonies. 

Blue Heron at Corpus Christi Church. Photo: Alex Rainer.

One of the composers that Sandon has helped to reinvigorate with his scholarly writings, as well as score restorations, is Hugh Aston. Blue Heron have been champions of Aston since 1999, their founding year. The composer is well-represented on the Lost Music of Canterbury, which, among several pieces, includes his own Marian motet, Ave Maria dive matris Anne, a work of eloquence and fervent yearning: one of the highlights of the CD set. The concert program featured Aston’s O baptista vates Christi, a supplication to Saint John the Baptist. One can see why Blue Heron would like to sing O Baptista: the text asks for protection for the choir, and what choir doesn’t sometimes need protecting? Of course, no such safeguards were necessary at Corpus Christi Church: Music Before 1800 attracts a friendly audience for the group. 

While the aforementioned antiphons impressed, the most remarkable composition on the program was the first one the group performed, O Albane deo grate by Robert Fayrfax. This piece features prominently in Fayrfax’s output. He also fashioned a setting of it dedicated to Mary, O Maria deo grata, with the same music but different words, and used its material as the basis for his parody mass Missa Albanus. The words here commemorate Saint Alban, traditionally considered the first British Christian martyr. Metcalfe usually allows the music to speak for itself, limiting himself to brief introductory remarks. However, before beginning the performance of O Albane, he gave a short demonstration of just a few of the myriad musical treatments by Fayrfax of the plainchant on which it is based. This proved most illuminating, as one could look forward to hearing the hymn fragment interwoven into the counterpoint at key places in the work. Equally enlightening was Metcalfe’s post-concert talkback, in which he fielded questions on a variety of topics, from Reformation worship practices to score restoration to sixteenth century tuning in England. I look forward to hearing Blue Heron again very soon. On March 9th,I will be making a pilgrimage to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to hear them sing Ockeghem’s Missa Prolationum. Look for coverage here on the site. 

(For more about the Lost Music of Canterbury 5 CD boxed set, see www.blueheron.org)

by Christian Carey
Concert review, Contemporary Classical, Experimental Music, Los Angeles

Southland Ensemble in Chinatown

On Saturday, February 9, 2019 the Southland Ensemble presented New Experimental Works at Automata in downtown Los Angeles. This concert was the result of Southland’s inaugural Call for Scores issued last year. With more than 200 responses, seven pieces utilizing graphic and text scores were ultimately chosen for this performance. Automata was completely filled while outside the Chinese New Year celebrations were in full swing with lanterns, firecrackers and enthusiastic crowds.

The concert opened with all are above us (2017), by Nomi Epstein the noted Chicago-based composer and educator. The program notes state that “Her music centers around her interest in sonic fragility where structure arises out of textural subtleties.” This piece opened with several performers sitting in a tight circle. All was silent at first, but breathy sounds, a soft harmonica note and a fragment of a vocal chant eventually drifted out to the audience. The sounds were only musical in the broadest sense and almost always fragmentary. There were often stretches of silence, and it was reminiscent of a quiet conversation around the campfire in some remote setting. The ambient crowd noise outside Automata in Chung King Court occasionally intruded on the “sonic fragility”, but the understated primal feel remained intact. The sparse character of all are above us invites concentration and focus, while artfully enlisting the listener’s imagination to fill in the spaces between the sounds.

Diálogos: Consecuente (2017) by Jorge Delgado Leyva followed, and this featured a group of performers in a semi-circle with a variety of sound sources constructed from found objects. Soft percussive sounds, a bell tone and then some sharp tones from a stringed instrument fashioned from a large paper cup and a length of wire were heard, all more or less continuously, as if in conversation. This continued apace, with new sounds – a short passage on a toy xylophone and the rattling of some dishes – joining the proceedings. It was like hearing some strange process that was not quite musical and not quite mechanical. The tempo and volume increased towards the finish so that a low grade chaos prevailed at the end. Diálogos: Consecuente is an inventive work that creates an engaging sequence of sounds and textures that encourage the listener to supply the context.

Next was Neither /N/Nor/N (2016), by Ben Zucker. For this piece, six performers were stationed along the walls and in the corners of Automata, designed with a minimalist architecture home styles that complemented the simplicity of the performance. All performers were equipped with small plastic megaphones, and soon a series of soft breathy sounds and the rushing of air filled the space. This gave a windswept and lonely feel that extended over the entire piece; there were no musical tones or sounds of percussion. Such a delicate piece called for concentration, and at about the midway point, the sounds of footfall from above served to activate the imagination of the listeners. This was unplanned—there are apartments above Automata, and the occupants were simply walking about—but it added a chilling element to a piece that was otherwise rural and remote in character. Neither /N/Nor/N is simple in both materials and structure, yet it proved to be the perfect canvas upon which sonic illusions could be released by the imagination.

Book of Hours by Nicole DeMaio followed with four performers sitting on the floor in a tight circle. A single player began by clearly reciting a paragraph of text that was an explanation of some complicated element of grammar. As this was repeated, a second player joined in, speaking the same text, but not in unison, and in a lower voice that was only partly intelligible. The remaining players then spoke the same text, but into closed cardboard tubes so that only muffled sounds were heard. The result was a complete jumble of sound, only partly comprehensible, forcing the listener to struggle for meaning even as the overall volume increased. A few notes from toy harmonica were heard, and a new recitation started – again by a single player speaking clearly, followed by the others as before. Several such cycles were heard, each time with more distraction. Sometimes this took the form of putting strong emphasis on every other spoken word, and at other times by the intrusive sounds of found objects. In a moment of Chinatown serendipity, a group of wandering New Year’s drummers arrived outside in Chung King Court and could be heard adding to the chaos of words and sounds in the performance space. This added the perfect sense of urgency to the need for comprehension. With so many ideas and voices coming at us in alternating layers of clarity and ambiguity, Book of Hours is an impressive metaphor for the state of communication in this age of social media and fake news.

After a short intermission AT A STEADY CONSISTENT RATE (2017), by Christine Burke, began with a lovely tutti chord from the assembled strings and woodwinds. The most musical of all the pieces in the concert, a series of long sustained chords were heard filling the performance space with a pleasing calm and serene sensibility. The players would sometimes enter at slightly different times, but this only added to the relaxed feeling. As the piece proceeded, however, the smooth sounds began to slowly dissemble. There was a scratchy sound in the cello, a flutter in the flute and a tightening in the violins. The pleasant chords of the beginning were decomposing into tension and uncertainty at a “steady and consistent rate.” Towards the finish the sounds became disconnected, ragged and strained, as one by one the players went silent. AT A STEADY CONSISTENT RATE is a brilliant  musical illustration of the oppressive nature of stress in our busy 21st century lives.

Saint-Girons (2018), by Erika Bell was next and this opened with a recording of indistinct voices and the sound of a bus pulling out into traffic. The cello sounded a long tremolo tone as the other strings made a smooth entrance. As the piece proceeded, more distinctly industrial sounds came from the speakers, and the acoustic instruments followed, crossing the line between the musical and the mechanical. Breathy sounds were heard from the flute, and the strings became tautly stressed. The effect of this transition was for the listener to continue to process the total sound as music, even as the more industrial components dominated. This unexpected search for context proved illuminating, the more so when the process reversed, with musical tones eventually prevailing. Towards the finish, there was a lush tutti chord that was almost symphonic in its grandeur. Saint-Girons is an intriguing exploration of the boundary between music and noise, inviting each listener to continually recalculate the coordinates of personal perception.

The concert concluded with Something about my Punctuation (2014 rev. 2018), by John Eagle. A performer was stationed at each of four chalk boards that were attached to the walls and began writing an extended paragraph. When the the chalk boards were about half filled with text, violinist Eric K.M. Clark sounded a sustained tone as he silently read the sentences. When a period was encountered, the tone ceased, another sentence was chosen and another tone initiated. The other performers, busy with their chalk writing, hummed a tone or struck a small bowl as they worked. The effect of four writers intently working on their texts along with the sounding of mystical tones and chant was surprisingly enthralling. It was as if we were observing the work of medieval monks laboring away in their scriptorium. There was a sense of the sacred that enveloped this activity, even though the words were not readable by the audience and the music was spare and softly played. Something about my Punctuation is an extraordinary work precisely because it manages to extract the essence of the liturgical from the simplest of musical materials and the most mundane of human activities.

New Experimental Works was a welcome and helpful overview of the breadth and intensity of the contemporary experimental pieces being created today. The call for scores and subsequent curation by the Southland Ensemble succeeded in bringing forward seven outstanding examples of what is being done by those working at the outer boundaries of music, text and sound.

The next Southland Ensemble concert will be at Automata on Saturday, April 6 at 8:00 PM and will feature the music of pioneering American composer Johanna Magdalena Beyer.

The Southland Ensemble is:

Casey Anderson, Jennifer Bewerse, Eric KM Clark, Orin Sie Hildestad, James Klopfleisch, Jonathan Stehney, Cassia Streb, Christine Tavolacci

by Paul Muller