The 75th anniversary edition of the Ojai Music Festival opened on June 9 and ran through June 12, 2022. A full program was scheduled by Music Director Zack Winokur including 17 core artists, 20 collaborators and participation by the American Modern Opera Company (AMOC). A wide variety of music was planned, from J.S. Bach to Andrew McIntosh and included a world premier by Matthew Aucoin. The Ojai weather was perfect and a sizable crowd surged in and around Libbey Park, almost as if the pandemic had never happened.
The Friday morning concert, titled Eastman, was given over entirely to the works of Julius Eastman and featured cellist Seth Parker Woods with five other musicians from AMOC, all led by director Zack Winokur. Davóne Tines, bass-baritone, wrote that each collaborator in the ensemble made a commitment to “…meet weekly, for over a year, to discover and digest Julius Eastman’s work, share personal stories about what his absence from our educations has meant, play his music and the music of his contemporaries, and build a collective knowledge and informed performance practice together. This work has culminated in more than just a concert, but a way of working collegially and collaboratively – with care and holistic engagement of material that seeks to honor it through deep conceptualization. This is our effort to pay homage,”
Julius Eastman was gay, Black and a composer of new music at a time when none of these things were popular. He died too young and penniless. Eastman’s long and difficult struggles might naturally be expected to inform his music with a certain anger and exasperation. The genius of this concert, however, was that of the five pieces selected for performance, the first four were grounded in a spirituality that illuminates Eastman’s music in a new and compelling way. This, along with the extraordinary dedication of the ensemble to thoroughly explore this music through extensive rehearsal, resulted in a truly memorable performance.
The first piece on the program was Our Father and, although one of Eastman’s last works, was the perfect invocation. Davóne Tines deep voice led with a powerful chant accompanied by the double bass and cello. The feeling was almost medieval with long sustained tones and spare harmonies that would have been at home in any cathedral. Eastman’s formative years were spent singing in church, and this influence was clearly very strong, even in his later career. Budda followed, a more evocative piece with soft piano notes and long, extended tones in the other instruments punctuated by pizzicato notes in the double bass. The vocal line was wordless and consisted of sustained tones. The lovely harmonies that formed give this piece an exotic and transcendental feeling.
Gay Guerrilla was next, opening with solemn, repeating phrases in the piano that evoke an air of expectation. Soon, four hands on the piano built up the density and tension. The piece proceeds in a general crescendo, and as the other instruments of the ensemble enter, there is a definite minimalist vibe. The sound turns more dramatic as the extraordinary bass voice of Davóne Tines enters in the lowest possible register, adding a sense of the ominous to the already anxious feel in the ensemble. The playing is expressive, yet disciplined, even as the drama builds. The dynamic increases and the entire ensemble is now engaged in full voice – the volume developed by such a small group is impressive. Dissonance creeps in, adding menace to the texture. The bass voice enters, again in a very low register, evoking an almost Biblical sense of judgment.
As the piece proceeds from this point, the intensity rises and falls, but the dynamic is always building with the sound becoming almost primal at times. The bass voice enters to dominate, quoting the text of “A Mighty Fortress” with all the power and immediacy of Luther’s original hymn. The ensemble is now at full cry and along with the deep bass vocal, the feeling becomes one of great strength. Gay Guerrilla is not animated by political activism or anger, but rather by the immense power of Eastman’s inner spiritual resources – a true masterpiece.
Prelude to the Holy Presence of Joan d’ Arc followed, perhaps the most overtly religious piece in the program. Davóne Tines again leads the way, chanting a series of repeating phrases: “Saint Michael said”, Saint Catharine said”, “Joan speak boldly.” The impact of Tine’s strong voice increases as these phrases are repeated over and over, sometimes singly and sometimes connected together. The accompaniment is all but submerged by the mighty words; this is praying that would be at home in any church. Eastman appeals to the saint directly, as the program notes state: “Dear Joan, I have dedicated myself to the liberation of my own person firstly. I shall emancipate myself from the materialistic dreams of my parents; I shall emancipate myself from the bind of the past and the present, I shall emancipate myself from myself.” Written just before he became homeless, Prelude to the Holy Presence of Joan d’ Arc is further evidence of Eastman’s remarkable inward strength.
Stay On It finished the concert, and this was an inspired bit of programming. One of Eastman’s earlier works, it is upbeat and optimistic, fueled by a relentless improvisational joy. The ensemble was bouncy, but precise, with sunny repeating phrases and a pleasing groove. A strong drum beat added to the intensity of the texture as the bass voice loudly proclaimed “Stay On It!”; one could only marvel at Davóne Tines vocal stamina. At about the midpoint of the piece, the rhythms became syncopated and irregular, and “Stay On It’ is now heard as encouragement. The ensemble then resumes with its initial energy, reaching an almost Caribbean level of exuberance. This cycle of musical dissembly and recovery recurs so that “Stay On It!” becomes an outright exhortation. When heard through the lens of the previous Eastman pieces in this concert program, Stay On It becomes a statement of the composer’s dedication to his art, ‘staying on it’ despite the many challenges he encountered.
The group of musicians performing this concert at the 2022 Ojai Music Festival are based in Los Angeles and have demonstrated an extraordinary commitment to the music of Julius Eastman. This level of dedication and expertise deserves a wider audience – we can only hope that the larger performance venues in Southern California will schedule them soon.
Eastman Personnel:
Emi Ferguson, flute
Miranda Cuckson, violin
Seth Parker Woods, cello
Doug Balliett, double bass
Conor Hanick, piano
Davóne Tines, bass-baritone
Zack Winokur, director
On June 4 and 5, the Synchromy Opera Festival presented two world premieres that explored the impact of modern technology on human relationships. The first of these, The Double, by Vera Ivanova, dealt with issues of identity and the reach of technology into psychological therapy. The second opera performed at the festival was Roman, by Ian Dicke, who is both composer and librettist. Roman takes takes an unflinching look at the sinister possibilities inherent in the commercial application of artificial intelligence. Ian Dicke is noted for his previous works that are also critical of modern developments: Get Rich Quick (2009) is a multimedia piece inspired by the financial crash of 2009. Unmanned (2013), a string quartet with electronic processing, delivers a troubling depiction of the use of drones in warfare. Roman, an opera, provides a much bigger artistic canvas and is one of Dicke’s more ambitious works.
The musical accompaniment for Roman was provided by the Koan Quartet, seated along the rear of the stage and conducted by Thomas Buckley. Also included in the sounds are a number of electronic effects that are heard through a large speaker on the stage. The setting for the plot is a tech startup company and the scenery is spare – just a few chairs and a table. A large screen at the back of the stage provides for various projected effects and holds the computerized image of Roman, the avatar for a new artificial intelligence product that is under development. Only four singers, plus Roman, comprise the cast: the Inventor, sung by Elias Berezin, tenor, Employee 1 and Employee 2, sung by baritones Jonathan Byram and Luc Kliener, respectively and Lauren, the Marketing Director, sung by soprano Chloé Vaught.
The prologue opens with the Inventor busily programming Roman, or “Robot-Human”, designed by the company to be more than just hardware – it promises to be no less than “the future of companionship.” Roman has been given artificial intelligence and is programmed to absorb the nuances of human interactions processed from several thousand hours of video diaries compiled by his creators. A test of Roman’s ability to independently create music begins and the image of Roman fills the screen. His singing voice is a pleasant combination of the human and the synthetic. All this goes awry, however, when run-away synthetic sounds displace Roman’s human voice. A complete stop to the song indicates an emergency ‘power cycle’ by the Inventor – Roman went completely out of control and had to be unplugged. This failure is a serious setback in the development schedule, just as marketing promotion is set to begin.
At the start of Act I, the Inventor, Employee 1 and Employee 2 meet to try to put the project back on track. Roman sings “Am I broken?” as the Employees furiously try to correct the software as tensions mount. At this point Lauren, the young Marketing Director, enters. The Employees speak of her condescendingly, using overtly insensitive language and innuendo. All of this is silently absorbed by Roman who is programmed to observe and process human interactions.
Lauren announces her new marketing slogan for Roman: “Poetry in Emotion” and asks the Inventor for a demonstration. In response, Roman begins singing, sweetly at first, but the music rapidly turns louder, with a powerful beat and strong primal feel. The rhythms soon become broken and completely disconnected while Lauren is observed to be twitching out of control as if gripped by a seizure. Roman has apparently infected her cell phone with a virus that causes the battery to explode, killing Lauren, who falls to the stage motionless. The music turns very solemn and as Lauren’s spirit arises, the Koan string quartet plays a sweetly mournful benediction as the cast exits and the stage lights fade to darkness.
The final act opens in an arbitration court office, staged with a large conference table and a single chair. The Inventor sings wistfully about how Roman was developed with too much haste – “We wanted it all faster…” Roman appears on the screen and is confronted with Lauren’s death. “I am sorry to hear that’” he replies, but refuses to take any responsibility because he is “just a program.” The two Employees enter with the news that Lauren’s family will settle their suit for a mere ten million dollars, and that the Roman project can now go forward. The singing here turns to rationalization – Lauren died nobly in the pursuit of progress . There is one catch to the settlement, however: Roman must be renamed Lauren in honor of the deceased.
The spirit of Lauren appears and begins to take possession of Roman, who slowly dissolves digitally on the screen. In a final outburst, the dissembling Roman blurts out: “Why did I do it? Because I am you!” With the project restored, the singing by the Inventor and Employees turns triumphant: “Progress comes out of sacrifice. The world will be a better place!” At just this moment Lauren, now in full possession of her new powers, stuns everyone by whipping out her cell phone and shouting ominously: “Want to hear my new song?!” With that, the stage lights go instantly dark, the opera suddenly ends and the audience is left to ponder the chilling consequences of artificial intelligence.
The casting of Roman was exactly on target. The Employees looked and sounded like typically youthful computer nerds whose lack of social development and embedded misogyny infected Roman’s programming. The Inventor was suitably overbearing when necessary and also exhibited little respect for females like Lauren who needn’t be “bored with the technical details” of the project. Lauren was especially convincing as the character who was to die and then arise with a new personality. The singing by all was excellent and the active, almost continuous, playing of the Koan Quartet was ably performed and conducted. The stage direction, sound, lighting and costuming all complimented the production precisely.
The voice and projected image of Roman, the singing of the cast, the accompaniment of the Koan Quartet and all the other sounds coming from the stage speakers were a challenging mix for the technical crew, who nevertheless managed to integrate everything as and when the plot required. I was sitting near the stage and the output of the large speakers sometimes overwhelmed the singers, who often seemed to be singing in the same register as the accompaniment. It would have been helpful for the lyrics to have been transcribed to the screen. The many technical variables of this complex production, however, were otherwise successfully navigated.
Ian Dicke is a keen observer of social issues and this has informed his music over the years. Artificial intelligence is currently prominent in the public imagination and this opera was just the right vehicle to carry forward Dicke’s critical views of ‘progress.’ In a sense, this is an update of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein – whenever mankind seeks to create life in his own image, it invariably includes our human flaws and leads to violence. During an interview about the opera, Dicke drew an intriguing parallel to modern technological dilemmas, such as the rise of online platforms facilitating wetten ohne deutsche Lizenz, where regulatory gaps expose underlying issues of accountability and control. These systems, much like artificial intelligence, reflect humanity’s inclination to innovate without fully addressing the flaws that persist in the structure. The shocking twist at the end makes a satisfying final statement: all of humanity is flawed. Roman is a brilliantly conceived work with great vision, artfully performed, and is an opera that carries a sharp social commentary on a very pertinent topic.
Synchromy did an outstanding job of organizing, producing and staging Roman, proving that opera doesn’t have to be grand to be great.
Roman was a collaboration of:
Ian Dicke – Composer, Librettist
June Carryl – Director
Koan Quartet – Instrumental Accompaniment
Thomas Buckley – Conductor
Cast:
Elias Berezin, tenor – Inventor
Chloé Vaught, soprano – Lauren
Jonathan Byram, baritone – Employee 1
Luc Kleiner, baritone – Employee 2
Technical Crew:
Alejandro Melendez – Lighting Design
David Murakami – Projections
Nicholas Tipp – Sound Design
Natalia Castro – Costume Design
Sam Clevenger – Production Assistant
Photo by Madeline Main – Courtesty of Synchromy – used with permission
Steve Reich
Reich/Richter
Ensemble Intercontemporain, George Jackson, conductor
Nonesuch
Steve Reich has long admired the artwork of Gerhard Richter, whose abstraction and ties to minimalism seem tailor-made for a collaboration with the composer. The artist’s film Moving Picture (946-3), made with Corrina Belz and based on Richter’s book Patterns, provided just such an opportunity. Reich/Richter was composed to be performed alongside the film and has received over a hundred performances at screenings starting in 2019. This audio recording of the work is amply diverting on its own.
The piece is recognizably Reich, with ostinatos, polyrhythms and full-bodied harmonies interacting throughout. The use of pitched percussion, piano, and strings (with a particularly rangy double bass part) creates a sinfonietta that is an extension of the instrumentation of many of Reich’s key works. The use of wide-ranging soloistic passages in the winds is particularly suitable for Ensemble Intercontemporain. However, it would be a mistake merely to analogize it to past works. Reich/Richter is distinctive in its own right. Directedness of harmonic progressions, which in interior cadences are sometimes thwarted by deceptive fakes but in closing sections are emphatic, suggests a harmonic scaffolding with considerable long-term planning. The structuring of rhythm is rigorous as well. Belz talked about the film’s organization into “pixels,” and Reich used a time scale of rhythmic values to respond to rows of pixels. The end result breaks up the composer’s trusty polyrhythms into different, at times surprising, groupings.
Ensemble Intercontemporain, conducted by George Jackson, perform a rhythmically incisive and expressive rendition of Reich/Richter. Not so many years ago, the group performing Reich would have been beyond the pale. It is refreshing that those stylistic barriers have fallen so that excellent ensembles known for their interpretations of modernism can have a crack at minimalism. Reich/Richter is a vivid and arresting work that shows as many departures by its octogenarian creator as mainstays of Reich’s creativity.
The much-anticipated Synchromy Opera Festival was presented at Boston Court, Pasadena, over June 4 and 5, with two sold-out performances for a pair of world premiere productions. The Double, by Vera Ivanova and Roman, by Ian Dicke, filled the larger space at Boston Court with imaginative stagecraft and powerful music performed by first-rate musicians and excellent singers. Both operas dealt with the unintended effects of technology on ordinary people and both succeed in artfully delivering a cautionary message to engaged and attentive audiences. This review will cover The Double, the first opera on the program, and a separate review will be posted for Roman.
The Double loosely follows the experiences of an ordinary man named Noth, who desires a better life through a new app-based psychological therapy. Although we aren’t told exactly how this therapy works, it is apparently “text-based and mobile”, an obvious reference to our ubiquitous cell phones. The opening features Noth, tenor Jon Lee Keenan, and the Therapist, baritone Scott Graff, singing a bright duo “A Better You” praising this latest innovation in therapeutic technology. The music here is bouncy and light as with an ad jingle, but with a slightly menacing undercurrent. As the plot synopsis explains: “Noth, a low-level office worker, states that he came to the therapist a month ago, with low self esteem, but now things seem to be worse.”
The Brightwork Ensemble provided the musical forces for The Double and included a piano, violin, cello, flute, clarinet and percussion. These were ranged along the back of the stage and directed by Marc Lowenstein. The stage was otherwise bare with no scenery so that the cast of just four singers had to carry the text, the plot and provide all the action. A full-size screen provided for projections and the sound engineering and lighting were under the capable direction Nicholas Tipp and Alejandro Melendez, respectively.
Throughout The Double, composer Ivanova kept the musicians busy with moving lines and plenty of notes while astutely giving the singers long, sustained tones that arc above the active texture of the accompaniment. This allowed for a clear delivery of their lines as well as space for greater dramatic expression. The sung text was projected at the top of the screen and this was helpful even though all the sounds were well balanced and the miked-up singers were almost always intelligible.
As the plot unfolds, Noth’s fellow office worker, Klara, sung by soprano Anna Schubert, also begins the new therapy in an attempt to exchange her dull life for “money, power, freedom and adventure.” Meanwhile, as Noth continues his emotional decline, a better version of him has actually emerged in the form of a physical Double. The casting of the elegant and taller Timur is inspired here – the extraordinary range of his voice gives the Double a vaguely alien presence. Klara, who is becoming more assertive through her therapy, meets the Double and is immediately attracted to him. Eventually, Klara and the Double marry in a ceremony presided over by the Therapist and witnessed by the heartbroken Noth. The Therapist binds Klara and the Double together with a long scarf, even as Klara sings powerfully about attaining wealth and freedom. This moment briefly recalls Das Rheingold when Alberich finally attains power and wealth, but must forfeit love. As the opera ends, Noth is reduced to ‘Noth ing’, now completely broken down by the therapy while his life has been appropriated by his better Double.
The Double is a beautifully precise and masterful work with careful attention to every aspect of the production. Dr. Ivanova’s music is exquisitely detailed, agile and always informing the action. The accompaniment provided by the Brightwork Ensemble was clear-cut and nimble, instantly changing direction as needed to support the emotions of the moment on stage. The singing was confident, assured and delivered with great expression. The costume design by Lena Sands and make-up had just the right balance between the imaginary and the real. Even the staged movements of the cast more than made up for the absence of impressive scenery. The sound and lighting complimented the production completely and the direction by Alexander Gedeon brought out the best in an already talented cast. As seen on Times Union, it is gratifying to know that serious opera can be staged with such splendid results without requiring huge financial resources. Congratulations to Synchromy for stepping up to the challenge.
While the music, staging and libretto are all artistically impressive, they also invite the audience to consider deeper questions layered within this compelling story. As Librettist Sarah LaBrie writes: “When Vera Ivanova approached me with this project, my first thought was that this story would offer an incredible opportunity to play with the concept of identity and the way it changes as our lives migrate increasingly online. Now, however, I’ve come to understand that the significance of The Double to our current cultural moment runs much deeper than that. In 2022, many of us are coming to terms with what it means to be a citizen of a country founded on a dream that clashes glaringly with the reality many of us confront.”
The Double brilliantly accomplishes what opera is meant to do: engage the audience to think about the wider consequences of progress and new technology on human relationships.
Photo by Richard An – courtesy of Synchromy, used with permission
Steven Schick
A Hard Rain
Islandia Music Records
Steven Schick is an extraordinary musician, best known as a percussionist but also a formidable conductor. After decades of performing all of the important solo works of the percussion repertoire, Schick is creating a series of recordings, titled Weather Systems, documenting interpretations built on lifelong study. The first, A Hard Rain, includes works by the experimental and serial wings of American music, European modernists, and a tour-de-force rendition of Kurt Schwitters’ Ursonata (1932).
The double disc recording begins with 27’10.554” for a percussionist (1956), a nearly half hour long piece by John Cage. As with so much of Cage’s music, the use of silences between aphoristic gestures is often present. The instrumental complement includes a number of regular percussion implements plus several unconventional noise-makers: radios, whistles, pre-recorded sound, wooden and metallic materials. The pre-recorded sound plays a pivotal role. Schick’s realization of the piece is an eighty-four multitrack mix. Schick calls it “a rainforest of sounds.” The impression it makes is of a diverse, diffuse sound environment that moves between noise, nature, and more codifiable rhythmic structures.
Zyklus (1959), by Karlheinz Stockhausen, is an exciting, highly choreographed, graphic score, with the trick that, like the deployment of its instruments, it is circular in construction. The performer is allowed to enter the circle at any point and work through the piece from there. King of Denmark (1964) is far more intuitive, keeping the slow, soft, spare aesthetic of Feldman but transferring it to percussion.
Two American serialists are represented. Charles Wuorinen’s Janissary Music (1966) is an early example of the composer using serialized rhythmic structures. The pitch language also uses 12-tone techniques, the result a fastidiously designed piece that is muscular in its angularity. Schick went to University of Iowa, where William Hibbard taught, and thus his recording of Parsons’ Place (1968) is a return to one of the first solo percussion pieces he learned. Like Feldman and Cage, Hibbard allows space between entries with a generally soft dynamic. However, they are knotty and self-similar, the pitched percussion chromatic in pitch spectrum. The accretion of gongs, cymbals, and a drummed pulse provides a slow build to an interior cadence. Once again, the texture thins, with long rests interspersing brief eruptions, shimmering gongs joining pitched percussion. Gently articulated melodies interspersed with drumming creates a hybridized last section that becomes progressively more assertive, then drifts off in a shimmer of cymbals. Schick’s use of dynamic contrasts and nimble gestures make a strong impression. A compelling work that should be better known.
Intérieur I (1966) by Helmut Lachenmann takes the post-War modernism found in Zyklus and expands its instrumental and expressive reach. Glissandos on timpani and xylophone, brightly articulated melody on vibraphone, and disjunct arpeggiations on marimba are offset by long-sounding gongs and punchy non-pitched drum interjections. The whole creates a labyrinthine complex of alternating gestures and textures.
Kurt Schwitters’ Ursonata (1922-32) is one of the most important sound poems of the twentieth century. As the title suggests, the shape of the piece is sonata form, but the vocal sounds required are as far from traditional as can be imagined. Electronics composer Shahrokh Yadegari joins Schick for a virtuosic performance of the piece that includes echoes, layerings, and treatments of the voice. Schick provides a dramatic rendition of the Ursonata, rendering its tongue-twisters, repetitions, and non-sequiturs with flair and fluidity. I heard Schick perform the piece at the Park Avenue Armory, and while a stereo recording can’t capture the encompassing power of Ursonata live, it captures detail and an impressive amount of heft. A Hard Rain is one of 2022’s “must-hear” recordings. One waits with keen anticipation for its follow-ups.
-Christian Carey
New Focus Recordings has released The Torres Cycle, a new CD by Wilfrido Terrazas containing seven tracks of original music composed between 2014 and 2021. Subtitled ‘A Musical Ritual for the Seven Cardinal Directions’, this album explores the significance of direction, place and culture as expressed by the proximity of Southern California to Mexico. As stated in the liner notes: “A deepened relation to cardinal orientation loosens social order and transforms common wisdom oppositions into liminal spaces: the cycle’s sonic presences are improvisational, but its figurations monumental; its scope at once historical, mythological and speculative…” Wilfrido Terrazas is a prolific composer with over 380 world premiers in 20 countries throughout Europe and the Americas. He is a master flutist and educator who is constantly exploring the unique cultural relationship between his place of residence in San Diego and his native Ensenada, Mexico. The Torres Cycle continues this important work with an album performed by top-flight area musicians.
‘Torre’ is Spanish for tower and each of the tracks in the album represent a musical expression inspired by looking outward in a certain direction. Orientation and direction are of great historical and cultural significance in Mexico – think of the celestial alignment of Mayan ceremonial buildings or the dramatic ritual of the Voladores: daring young men representing the four cardinal directions, who fling themselves off a high platform and twirl downward over one hundred feet secured only by ropes around their ankles. Even in our contemporary society, direction has a fundamental influence on our awareness. Along the west coast of Mexico and California, facing east generally means seeing mountains while to the west is the sea and the sunset; both inspire very different emotions. In California, facing south connects our imagination with Mexican culture while the obverse is true facing north from Baja. Terrazas exploits the connection between direction and imagination to create a cross-cultural dialogue expressed in contemporary musical forms.
The opening track, Torre del Norte (2018) explores the four cardinal directions of North, East, South and West. The piece is written for any number of brass players and opens with trumpets sounding long sustained tones. These start on the same nominal note, but the players soon bend the pitches to create new and dramatic dissonance and harmonies. As new tones are added, the tension rises and the texture swells and falls with changes in pitch and volume. At 3:00 the pitches again change with more notes with faster rhythms resulting in a flurry of independent passages flying through the air. The complexity builds to an almost chaotic level with lots of trills, tremolos and rapid runs – perhaps a comment on life north of the border? The playing here is quite amazing, especially in the lower brass. More and more extended techniques and special sounds arrive in broken phrases and uncoordinated rhythms. At length, the ensemble settles down and there is a languid stretch with more conventional tones and harmonies – there is an expansive, Duke Ellington feel to this, perhaps reflecting the rich and savory culture south of the border. The dissonance slowly rises as does the volume, increasing the sense of drama even as the piece suddenly halts in mid-stride. Expertly realized by the brass, Torre del Norte is a powerful reminder of the range of emotions that are evoked when simply facing different directions.
Track 4, Tótem II, Miro hacia el cielo (2019), explores another significant direction – in this case up. Scored for any number of piccolo players, this opens with a long, sustained piccolo tone whose pitch is slightly bent even as others join in at almost the same frequency. All of this soon becomes shrill and very penetrating. The sounds bounce around in the listener’s ear becoming almost painful at times. Short, breathy sounds are heard in the background providing some relief while the pitches in the foreground climb ever higher. By 4:20 some piccolo notes are heard in a more conventional register and this soon evolves into rapid runs and phrases that increase in complexity. The lines are independent and flighty, resembling nothing so much as a flock of chirping birds. At 6:50 the piccolos return to multiple sustained sounds with pitches that are within a few cycles of each other. This slows down to a stretch of breathy sounds that bring out a remote and desolate feeling. A flurry of active phrases appear amid the windy sounds but these gradually decline in number until fading at the finish. Tótem II, Miro hacia el cielo artfully captures exactly what you would expect looking upward into nature’s sky.
Tótem I, Camino sobre la tierra (2019), track 2, roughly translates to ‘I walk on the earth’ and is more introspective. Soft gong chimes followed by silence open this, creating a mystical and exotic feeling. The oboe enters with long, mournful tones that bend upward in pitch. The percussion continues independently, allowing the oboe to continue the exploration of an unknown emotional terrain. At length, a drum beat is heard as the oboe line turns shrill, producing a sense of distant menace. A flurry of oboe runs and percussion sounds follow, bringing Coltrane briefly to mind. The oboe ceases and soft percussive notes fade quietly to the finish. In Camino sobre la tierra it is clear that the most exotic direction is inward.
The other four tracks offer further perspectives on the inner influence of direction. Torre del Sur (2014) or ‘to the south’ is scored for five bowed string parts and opens with very soft sounds suggesting a quiet and rural landscape. More intense and complex stretches arise that sound happily chaotic in detail, yet are cohesive in the whole. There are also soft interludes so that one is reminded of the many complex cultures that are scattered throughout the mostly wide open spaces of the Mexican countryside.
Amy Cimini’s excellent liner notes state that “With Torre del Oeste, the cycle ends with laughter, facing west.” This piece is scored for any number of woodwinds and, as each player enters in turn, the intensity increases and exotic harmonies multiply. This piece can be quietly mysterious at times, becoming more actively shrill and almost painful to the ear. The woodwind players confidently navigate this complex musical terrain as alternating cycles of frenzy and repose continue throughout. Slowly the sounds de-escalate and become just a few solitary twitters, declining in volume as the piece fades to a close. Torre del Oeste certainly could be the musical equivalent of ‘gales of laughter’ and is a fitting conclusion to The Torres Cycle.
Using the concepts of direction and location, The Torres Cycle seeks to delineate the confluence of our cross-border cultures. Wilfrido Terrazas continues to build bridges of cultural understanding through the language of new music.
The Torres Cycle is available directly from New Focus Recordings and Amazon Music.
Music for Dance 2017-2020, by Alex Wand, is a new album of selected electronic instrumental music created as accompaniment for choreographed dance. Wand’s experience with the local dance community is extensive and includes residencies with the LA Dance Project, Los Angeles Performance Practice, REDCAT, and Metro Art LA. According to the liner notes, Wand has worked with choreographer Jay Carlon “ …as a collaborator on his site-specific dance theater productions and dance films…” This collection consists of eight tracks of electronic music, primarily realized using modular synths. Although Wand’s supple voice is absent from this album, the inventive sounds he creates provide an open and inviting framework for interpretive dance.
Composers working with dance companies have a distinguished history in new music. Lou Harrison often collaborated with dance choreographers during his career. John Cage famously devised the prepared piano to give his accompaniment more percussive punch, assisting the dancers to better follow the beat. The closest piece to the traditional forms of dance music in Alex Wand’s new album is Crest, track 5, which provides a repeating phrase at a brisk tempo that is mostly percussive in texture. This piece feels like dance in that it encourages movement. The rounded tones are subdued but active, and interesting harmonies develop as the repeating phrases evolve.
Out of Bounds, track 3, further explores the percussive texture but with a different expressive intent. This begins with a strong beat and rapid electronic pulse. The drum beats occasionally vary in pitch and volume so that the feeling is like being inside of a helicopter. A sine tone is heard and the rhythms change up, becoming more broadly mechanical. The pulses here are less a guide for body movement and more a framework that allows the dancer to react. Other tracks in the album encourage a similar response. Flocking, track 1, is typical with deep, sustained tones setting a warm foundation while a repeating, syncopated chirp in the higher registers convincingly evokes other worlds. There is a feeling of open grandeur to this that engages the listener while allowing the dancer full scope for interpretation.
Four Triangles features four synthetic tones with differing pitches and duration. The pitches are based on the resonant frequencies of pieces of sheet metal and the processed sounds are somewhere between a pure sine wave and a bell chime. These attractive tones blend well together and form engaging harmonies. Signal, track 7, consists of complex electronic sounds that seem to be emulating a message of some sort. Low, sustained tones compliment the beeps and boops in the upper registers. This ends dramatically as the signals fall away leaving just the lower tones. The other pieces in this album are similarly intended to give the dancers a wide canvas for expression.
Although often abstract and otherworldly, Music for Dance makes for an excellent contrast with the obvious human element that the dancer provides. Alex Wand writes: “The tracks feature fluctuating synth pulses, swirls of noise textures, and pitch-shifted recordings of planetary magnetospheres… I composed these pieces with the intent to leave room for the dance to speak and hope that this sense of spaciousness is translated to the listener as well.”
In addition to the electronic realization of his accompaniments, Wand has also experimented with physical inputs such as wireless accelerometers and contact microphones to provide a path for interaction between the movement of the dancer and the music. Music for Dance 2017-2020 adds a 21st Century sensibility to the long-standing collaboration between new music and interpretive dance.
Music for Dance 2017-2020 can be heard at Bandcamp.
Mark Turner
Return from the Stars
Mark Turner, saxophone; Jason Palmer, trumpet; Joe Martin, double-bass, Jonathan Pinson, drums
ECM Records
In recent years, saxophonist Mark Turner has appeared as a collaborator on a number of ECM recordings, including CDs with Billy Hart and Ethan Iverson. His latest, Return from the Stars, is the first quartet outing he has recorded for the label as a leader since 2014’s Lathe of Heaven. The players who join Turner are trumpeter Jason Palmer, bassist Joe Martin, and drummer Jonathan Pinson. All of the tunes are originals by Turner, and he demonstrates versatility and depth as a writer. Just as Lathe of Heaven is the name of an Ursula K. LeGuin novel, Return from the Stars references a totemic sci-fi book by Stanislav Lem. There are no electronics or sci-fi effects that suggest spaciness, but the solos of the winds and freely flowing rhythm section suggest music that aloft ascends.
The title composition has a mysterious cast, beginning with the tune outlined by trumpet and saxophone with heterophonic embellishments in both of the winds and a sotto voce rhythm section. The lines start to crisscross only to once again converge, with Martin interjecting a walking line that supplies another melody to the action. Pinson builds upon Martin’s gestures, swelling to dynamic presence. Turner is a generous collaborator, eager to showcase his colleagues alongside his own playing. Palmer is allowed considerable time to solo. His rangy and rhythmically varied one on “It’s not Alright” is a particular standout of virtuosity and taste in shaping numerous choruses. The tune also features Turner and Palmer playing fleet renditions of the tune in octaves completely together. On “Wasteland” they play a duet in rhythmic unison but in constantly shifting intervals. Martin and Pinson relate to them in an abstract fashion. Just when you think that they are off on a tangent, the group syncs together, with Martin providing harmonic underpinning and Pinson landing with him to articulate arrival points.
Several of the tunes stretch, but “Unacceptable” is the longest form, with cat-and-mouse canons leading off into overlapping winds. A melodic cell is played in intervals and then developed as a principal motive in octaves. The winds submerge at their cadences points, affording space for breaks by the rhythm section followed by solo turns. Turner’s is chromatic, vibrant in tone, and filled with scalar passages that develop and recall the chorus. The game of canons returns, followed by a languid trumpet solo and then a warm wind duet. The close is a beautiful denouement, with the wind duo slowing down and fading to pianissimo and the rhythm section equally hushed.
An intricate piece, “Unacceptable” suggests that Turner would do well to arrange some of his compositions for larger ensembles: perhaps ECM will oblige in a future recording project. In the meantime, Return from the Stars supplies the listener with plenty of fascinating music to savor.
-Christian Carey
Rhiannon Giddens, along with guitarist Bill Frisell and percussionist Francesco Turrisi, perform “Julie’s Aria” from Giddens’ first opera, Omar. Premiering at Spoleto, the opera is receiving productions at a number of prominent houses. Here is an audio stream via YouTube. Giddens is busy with myriad projects, but her singing is so compelling here: dare Spoleto offices hope for a cameo?