(Over the next couple of weeks, I will be sharing some of my favorite recordings of 2020. -CC)
Michi Wiancko
Planetary Candidate
New Amsterdam
Violinist-composer Michi Wianko’s recording Planetary Candidate presents a selection of solo violin works by Wianko and several of her composer contemporaries. They are “solo” in the sense of having a single performer, but Wiancko’s voice, overdubs of her playing, and electronics are often added to season the pieces. The title work is a case in point, with pizzicato and bowed sections overlapped. Midway through, Thich Nhat Han’s breathing mantra is intoned with vocoder style sonic manipulation. Lest one think that the music is merely meditative, there is a considerably ecstatic ambience that propels it forward.
Jolie Sphinx by Christopher Adler is a study in perpetual motion, beginning modally and gradually adding chromaticism, the range expanding to encompass the instrument’s altissimo register. Paula Matthusen contributes two pieces for violin and electronics. In the first, Songs of Fuel and Insomnia, violin glissandos and tremolos are combined with electronic drones and percussive sounds. Distortion morphs the violin in a solo reminiscent of electric guitar that ends the piece with a flourish. Matthusen’s second piece, Lullaby for Dead Horse Bay, is gentler, with a slowly undulating solo haloed by sine waves.
Skyline by Mark Dancigers is built primarily of upward arpeggiated chords with bright, neotonal harmonies in limpid phrases. A central section offsets this with descending scalar filigrees. When the arpeggios return, they are double time, adding a dash of urgency that builds to a quick cadenza. Jessie Montgomery’s Rhapsody No. 2 begins where Dancigers left off, with attractive upper register flourishes, followed by scalar passages throughout the instrument’s compass, a slow section consisting of harmonics and double-stops, and a brief return to the initial section’s virtuosic passagework.
Two pieces by William Brittelle round out Planetary Candidate, both featuring electronic contributions from the composer. So Long Art Decade combines amplification and echo-laden effects with analog synth sounds, including some particularly attractive bell-like timbres. Wiancko makes the most of the piece’s effulgent glissandos; at times the instrument inhabits rock solo terrain. A tender passage of double-stops provides an enigmatic coda. Disintegration (for Michi) uses similar effects on the violin and revels in loops in counterpoint. Brittelle once again punctuates the proceedings with synth insertions. The buildup to a swinging moto perpetuo is ephemeral, cut off by a slow section of string chords and a winsome major key tune, which closes the piece and the album in a gradual fade out. Imaginative selections immaculately played throughout, Planetary Candidate is one of my favorite releases of 2020.
With most live performance venues dark during the pandemic, musicians and producers have sought to find effective ways to reach their audiences electronically. On November 14, 2020, REDCAT offered Daniel Corral’s Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage and Count In! on a pay-per-view streaming basis. Using the superior technical resources of the REDCAT, the virtuosity of the Now Hear Ensemble and the acting talents of Alexander Gedeon, the music of Daniel Corral was vividly delivered despite the current COVID surge.
The two Corral compositions performed for this event were vastly different in character. Count In! is an electronic/video piece that draws on Corral’s minimalist instincts and flows naturally from his more recent experimental works. The second work, Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage, is a fast-paced pantomime deconstruction of the banality of celebrity whose musical accompaniment owes more to Broadway than to Steve Reich, according to many of the top sites for adults. Both works were carried off with exemplary production values and extraordinary performances, making the case that new music concerts can be experienced online at a high level.
Count In! was first, a video accompanied by the processed voice of Poly Styrene singing “1, 2, 3, 4” from a song by X-Ray Specs. It is begins with a low klaxon-like voice flashing out warnings, like a fog horn on a rocky coast. Higher processed voices join in, but at somewhat faster rates so that the sense of urgency increases with each new entry – the feeling is akin to a convergence of sirens in the street. The mounting chorus of voices bring a sense of growing panic, as in a frightened crowd. Meanwhile, the screen displays two rows of four digits – all zeroes. As the piece progresses some of the digits begin to flash from zero to one, and back again. More digits change, and soon both are rows percolating with various combinations of 0 and 1. A bit later, some of the digits begin changing from 1 to 2 as the pitch of the voices goes still higher. The appearance of more and higher numbers on the screen reinforces the relentless uptick in the average intensity level and the listener’s brain instinctively connects this with the increasingly insistent sounds in the voices. The colors of the numbers seem to go from cool and dark to bright and hot, adding to the sense of alarm.
The voices are clearly human but highly processed, and there are no intelligible words, but a strong sense of distress is clearly conveyed. The type and character of the sounds and the changing digital display act on our modern conditioning – everything we are seeing and hearing indicates a pending catastrophe. The digits on the display eventually begin to flash the number 4 and the voices seem to morph into an electronic bleating. The sounds get more electronic and less human, but remain frenetic. Now a digit goes to 0 – then another, and the voices decrease accordingly. Eventually only the low roar of the beginning voice remains just before all goes silent.
Count In! is masterful in its use of a simple video display and basic sonic materials to act on all our conditioned responses to communicate a state of high anxiety – a thoughtful commentary on the external forces that are at work to shape our contemporary existence.
My podcast partner, Jim Goodin, subscribed to the concert. Here are his thoughts on the first piece:
“Count In! is a 2 x 4 matrix of 0-4 sequences looping throughout the work in evolving colors, from florescent to black light – the latter my favorite. The digital numbers count through the 0-4 pattern per matrix cell, growing to 4444 and reversing to end in all 0’s when the piece concludes. The musicality in the beginning was like approaching sirens, growing to almost seamless tones at a point, and then close to a human chant at about 10 min in. The audioscape grew more and more hypnotic as the morphing combined with the looping count, the overall feeling to me was futuristic in an Orwellian kind of way.”
The feature work of the concert was Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage, described in the program notes as “… a sort of ‘ghost opera’ — creating a memetic hologram of the endless purgatory of celebrity afterlife.” This is based on a 1973 record release that consisted solely of Elvis Presley banter with his adoring audience between songs. There is no Elvis Presley music in this, just his interaction with cheering admirers and screaming young girls, all conveyed with an abundance of suggestive innuendo. This forms the libretto of a pantomime, with Alexander Gedeon playing the character of Elvis and the Now Hear Ensemble providing emotional color in the background music. Gedeon, who also co-directed the stage production, is dressed in a clownish manner with a loud floppy suit and oversize bow tie. His face is heavily made up, but his countenance is generally sad, like a latter-day Emmett Kelly. This sets the tone for the work – Presley is portrayed as a tragic figure, forever trapped in the banality of his celebrity. It is a contemporary deconstruction of the legend, where his music is forgotten and only the Elvis impersonators live on.
The piece opens with Elvis placing a large vinyl record on a turntable, turning it on, and beginning his patter with the audience during a show. All of the words from the recording were lip synched by Gedeon, and this is an impressive feat given the length of the performance. The accompaniment by Now Hear is very solid and forms a running commentary on the Elvis discourse. The mood of the music changes on a dime to fit the emotion of the moment – fast and jumpy, soft and nostalgic, sad or wistful – and everything in between. The composer was at the piano and also played guitar with Brian Walsh on clarinet and Federico Llach on double bass – all gave outstanding performances. Despite these slender musical forces, the quantity and quality of the accompaniment was impressive and provided an effective counterweight to the stream of words coming from Elvis.
Here are Jim’s impressions:
“Gedeon’s interpretation was constant motion of the iconic character, never allowing a breath of rest for the audience and yet never really completing an entire thought. There were a series of false starts by Elvis, beginning with ‘Well well well…’, but never breaking into song. The Now Hear Ensemble was equally mercurial, issuing a stream of changing musical cues that reminded me of 60’s television. The musicians were spot-on in timing and interpretation, with no identifiable reference to any specific Presley song, but following Gedeon’s Elvis. The result was a perfect parallel, the accompaniment following the curve of the piece to ‘that which never happens’, and just keeps going on to the next moment.”
The staging, lighting and video work for the performance was of a very high quality. The sound and images coming over my internet connection carried the concert with a fidelity that was more than satisfactory. A solid effort by the production team, setting a high bar for future streaming concerts. Concerto for Having Fun With Elvis Onstage was a technical as well as artistic success, and delivered a pungent criticism of mid-20th century popular culture.
Counter)induction – Benjamin Fingland, clarinet; Miranda Cuckson, violin;
Jessica Meyer, viola; Caleb van der Swaagh, cello, Randall Zigler, bass;
Renate Rolfing, Ning Yu, piano; Daniel Lippel, guitar
New Focus Recordings CD/DL
Chamber ensemble/composer collective counter)induction celebrates twenty years together with the recording Against Method. It consists of pieces contributed by composers associated with the collective as well those by “guest composers.” counter)induction has distinguished itself with a versatile approach to new music, selecting works with a keen eye toward musicality and a clear resistance to stylistic dogma. Against Method neatly encapsulates this approach.
Douglas Boyce’s Hunt by Night is an ostinato filled trio at a propulsive tempo for clarinet, cello, and piano. The piece also features glissandos and blurred microtonal inflections that offset the repeated pitches and chords nicely. Before, by Kyle Bartlett, is another trio, this time for clarinet, cello, and guitar. Wisps of texture are succeeded by noisy angularity with scratch tone effects. The unity provided by shared effects makes this broken consort sound at times like a single instrument. The sound spectrum moves between noise and dissonant counterpoint to create formal boundaries. Further along, the trio breaks up into characterful solos, notably a lithe cadenza by guitarist Daniel Lippel, which concludes the work.
Lippel switches to electric guitar, accompanied by clarinetist Benjamin Fingland, vibraphonist Jeffrey Irving, cellist Caleb van der Swaagh, pianist Renate Rolfing, and bassist Randall Zigler in Alvin Singleton’s Ein Kleines Volkslied. Rock-inspired chord progressions are played on the guitar, tremolando strings are emphatically rendered at key points alongside bluesy clarinet riffs, pizzicato bass, and jazz-inflected vibraphone arpeggiations. A bustling section overlaps these various playing styles, cut off again and again by tremolandos only to reassert itself. Bass clarinet, guitar, and vibes take over, their parts fragmenting the motives found in the beginning of the piece. Finally, a pileup of all the various elements creates a contrapuntal conclusion. Fingland plays Jessica Meyer’s Forgiveness, in which a loop pedal plays a prominent role. Air through the mouthpiece begins the piece followed by sustained pitches, all of which the loop pedal allows to overlap into clustered textures and tight counterpoint. Looping has become a favorite of new music composers, but Meyer distinguishes her piece with an organic approach to the sounds of playing and a fine ear for the pitch relationships that result in overlapping.
Ryan Streber’s Piano Quartet is the most formidable composition on Against Method. The various instruments move at different rates, creating a Carterian sense of time flow. Streber also has a finely attuned ear for the selection and spacing of post-tonal harmonies. The linear component, with a number of imitative passages, is also finely wrought. The ensemble comprehensively knows the piece, delivering a performance that is assured and engaging throughout.
The recording concludes with Scherzo by Diego Tedesco, a piece filled with descending chromatic scales that provide a jocular motive that appears in countless contexts throughout the piece. Tedesco blends pizzicatos from guitar and strings to good effect, followed by the aforementioned glissandos in cascading overlaps of sound. Particularly affecting is the middle section, which is an “eye of the storm” where the piece’s motives are fragmented and delicately hued. Clarinet and guitar are given an extended duet that is followed by an eruptive passage in the strings. Pizzicato and glissandos succeed in turn to create a clear juxtaposition of playing styles, at key points blending to create transitions between sections. Tight dissonances between violin and clarinet ratchet up the tension, which is finally allowed release in a sustained note from the clarinet followed by violin multi-stops. Scherzo is well- constructed, devised to show counter)induction to their best advantage. Top to bottom, Against Method is a stirring listen.
Voices of the Pearl, Volume 3 is one of a series of albums featuring song cycles dedicated to the rediscovery, through contemporary music, of the voices of women from ancient times to the present.. According to the organization website: “The project commissions, performs and records musical works from composers across the globe, setting text by and about female esoterics from world traditions throughout history, reclaiming these lost voices and the tradition of female spirituality.” Volume 3 in this series contains five new works, based on Buddhist, Chinese and other Asian texts dating from as far back as 800 BCE. The compositions were all written between 1995 and 2018 by contemporary composers and feature soprano vocals with a variety of instrumental accompaniments. Anne Harley and Stacey Fraser are the soprano soloists and the accompanying ensemble is made up of a number of prominent Los Angeles area musicians.
The first track is the world premiere recording of Persevere (2017) by Karola Obermüller. This consists of nine movements of vocal music based on texts in Pali and Tibetan dating from 817 BCE to the late 20th century. Anne Harley is the soprano, accompanied by Barbara Poeschl-Edrich on harp and the composer on live electronics. The first few seconds of the opening movements begin with mysteriously indistinct whispers followed by ominous electronic sounds and a strong vocal entrance. The harp provides sharp chords that precede the vocal phrases and add to the tension. The chant-like incantation in the voice compliments the prayerful text that dates from 500 BCE and is attributed to two Buddhist nuns.
The movements in this piece run together, sometimes separated by silences or by stretches harp and electronics. The second set is sung in Tibetan from Lady of the Lotus-Born by Yeshe Tsogyal, ca. 800 CE The vocal phrasing is strong and clear while the supporting accompaniment is perhaps a bit less menacing, and this results in a more confident feel. The later movements return to the mysterious whisperings in contrast with a high, arcing soprano tone that increases in volume, eventually dominating. This piece convincingly brings to life the ancient texts with resolute singing and a spare accompaniment that vividly conveys the historical setting without sounding alien or contrived. The Pali and Tibetan words were sung with precision and a bright assurance so that Persevere artfully connects us to the emotions of a distant past.
Still Life After Death (1995) by Chinary Ung follows, and this piece describes the journey of a soul facing the ultimate reality of death as related by ancient Buddhist texts written from the perspective of a woman. From the liner notes: “In the face of death, the Soul searches for insight into the great beyond. Although it may feel frightened or abandoned, the soul does not journey alone: a monk, represented here by a bass-baritone, chants short phrases from a Buddhist scripture…” The somber opening tutti chord immediately sets the feeling. Soprano Stacey Fraser, as the Soul, enters in a deep register with solemn vocal expressions that soon devolve into a series of yelps and cries. The distress is underscored by a lush instrumental accompaniment while the voice alternately dominates with strong sustained tones and short snappy phrases. The singing by Ms. Fraser is precise and controlled but always powerful, even in the panicky stretches as the Soul feels increasingly vulnerable. The instrumental accompaniment by Brightwork newmusic is extraordinary, with vivid coloration and strong dynamics. Towards the finish, the entrance of James Hayden, singing bass, changes everything with the chanting deep tones of spiritual calm and reassurance. The soprano repeats these lines, absorbing a final sense of release from fear as the piece concludes. Still Life After Death is a dramatic portrait of the emotions experienced at the end of life and the timeless reassurance of prayer.
My Spirit is Chanting (2011), by Yii Kah Hoe is next, inspired by Makyong, the traditional Malaysian form of dance-drama. Low bass clarinet tones open, followed by rapid, spiky passages, masterfully played by Brian Walsh. Anne Harley’s soprano enters with steady, chant-like phrases that counter the uncertainty in the clarinet and percussion. The singing is strong, but reserved, and the voice gradually dominates with a sustained power interspersed with great jumps in pitch and dynamics. The combined effects of the clarinet, voice and percussion slowly build tension as the piece progresses. The voice is ultimately heard at high volume and in a high register – with strong and impressive singing. There is an exotic and imposing feel to this at times with good ensemble of the three elements, each contributing just the right dynamic. Now a quiet stretch towards the finish arrives with soft squeaks and breaths from the clarinet – a good contrast between this and the earlier sections. My Spirit is Chanting is an impressive combination of artful composition and virtuosic performance.
You Moving Stars (2017), by Emilie Cecilia LeBel is on track 4, and this is based on early Therīgāthā texts in the Pali language. The composer writes: “The Therīgāthā (Verses of the Elder Nuns) is the earliest known collection of women’s literature, and it collects spiritual poems by and about female disciples of the historical Buddha (from approximately 5th century BCE).” The soprano voice is Anne Harley with Steve Thachuk accompanying on electric guitar.
The opening is a low drone with occasional solitary guitar notes. The soprano soon makes a strong entrance with slow, deliberate phrases and later, a high cry. This has a sacred feel, with repeating vocal passages and a steady, unhurried accompaniment. The singing throughout is solid and purposeful with just the right touch for each segment – powerful when reaching upwards and softly intimate in the quieter sections. The guitar tones are exotic and the notes are sparingly used, serving to increase their impact. The singing is both confident and expressive and music of You Moving Stars is a well-crafted frame for the text. There is a distinctly ancient feel to this, yet never foreign or alien – a masterful imagining for the important historical voice of The Elder Nuns.
The final track is Therīgāthā Inside Aura (2018), by Chinary Ung and at a little over 22 minutes this is the longest piece of the album. It is a world premiere recording and features large musical forces: two soprano voices, viola, clarinet and percussion, all conducted by David Rentz. The texts are sourced from the Therīgāthā – the collection of early Buddhist sacred material attributed to The Elder Nuns ca. 600 BCE. Bright bell tones open this, quickly followed by a lush tutti chord and text spoken in English. Strong singing by Anne Harley and Stacey Fraser together follows, and this has an almost fugal character while the instrumental accompaniment sustains a pleasing combination of mysticism and confidence. The vocals – sometimes spoken, sometimes sung – interweave with each other and the various instruments, adding to the exotic feel. All sorts of combinations of voice, percussion and instruments are heard, and the singing by the two sopranos is operatic in scale and power with complex and independent melody lines. The entire ensemble bursts with energy, surrounding the listener in a full embrace.
Later in the piece, there is a fine soprano solo soprano that simply brims with strength and confidence, and this seems to sum up the entire album. There are several recording engineers credited on the various tracks but Scott Fraser mastered the finished album. The sound engineering deserves mention because the soprano voices – even apart from their obvious vocal power and virtuosity – are always in the forefront. This perfectly compliments the ideals of the Voices of the Pearl project – the historical female voice is heard clearly and on its own terms. It becomes a living presence in our own time, and not treated as some curiosity of the distant past. Voices of the Pearl, Volume 3 vividly recreates the dynamism and influence of neglected female artists of ancient times and so becomes an important creative reference point for our own contemporary culture.
Voices of the Pearl, Volume 3 is available at Amazon Music and Apple Music. For further information about the Voices of the Pearl project, visit their website.
The musicians vary from track to track – here is a summary:
Track 1 – Persevere (2017) by Karola Obermüller Anne Harley, soprano; Barbara Poeschl-Edrich, harp; Karola Obermüller, live electronics
Track 2 – Still Life After Death (1995) by Chinary Ung Stacey Fraser, soprano; James Hayden, bass-baritone Aron Kallay, piano; Sara Andon, flute Brian Walsh, clarinets; Tereza Stanislav, violin; Maggie Parkins, cello; Nick Terry, percussion David Rentz, conductor
Track 3 – My Spirit is Chanting (2011), by Yii Kah Hoe Anne Harley, soprano Brian Walsh, bass clarinet; Nick Terry, percussion
Track 4 – You Moving Stars (2017), by Emilie Cecila Lebel Anne Harley, soprano; Steve Thachuk, electric guitar
Track 5 – Therīgāthā Inside Aura (2018), by Chinary Ung Anne Harley and Stacey Fraser, sopranos Susan Ung, viola and voice; Brian Walsh, clarinet and voice Nick Terry, percussion and voice; David Rentz, conductor
English choral group the Ora Singers, led by Suzi Digby, present Thomas Tallis’s magnificent forty-part motet Spem in Alium on their latest Harmonia Mundi recording. Split into eight choirs of five apiece, the singers are given many opportunities to overlap in successive entrances, interact among cohorts, and sound immensely scored chords. The Ora Singers present a beautiful performance that combines purity of sound with thrilling forte climaxes. Digby deserves plaudits for her careful shaping of phrases and mastery of Spem’s myriad challenging balancing acts.
Most of the rest of the recording contains Latin works by composers active in England during the sixteenth century. These include three of foreign descent – Derrick Gerrard, Philip Van Wilder, and Alonso Ferrabosco the Elder. Van Wilder’s Pater Noster is filled with delicately corruscating lines and the composer’s Vidi civitatem is particularly poignant, with arcing entries blending with subdued declamatory phrases. Ferrabosco is as well known for suggestions of criminality and spying (for Queen Elizabeth, no less) as he is for his music. Ferrabosco’s In Monte Oliveti contains widely spaced, sumptuous harmonies while Judica me Domine is performed with long flowing imitative lines and solemn pacing. Gerrard’s O Souverain Pastor est maistre is a deft display of canonic writing, while his Tua est Potentia employs pervasive imitation. There is relatively little by Gerrard that has been recorded, which is a pity: he is a fine composer.
Works by more famous composers include Tallis’s covertly recusant motet In jejunio et fletu, in a particularly moving performance, and a delicately shaded Derelinquit impius. William Byrd is represented by two motets, Domine, salva nos, its introductory homophonic passages tinged with chromaticism and succeeded by elegant imitative entries, and Fac cum servo tuo, which instead begins in canon straightaway.
The recording’s closer is a contemporary piece written in response to Spem in Alium, Vidi Aquam, a forty-part motet by James MacMillan. Using small paraphrases of the Tallis piece interwoven with new material, MacMillan creates an exuberant composition filled with an abundance of stratospheric ascending lines. it is a thrilling, and tremendously challenging, companion work.
Since 2013, the Southland Ensemble has been one of the mainstays of the Los Angeles new music scene. Dedicated to the interpretation and performance of experimental music, Southland Ensemble regularly produces concerts of the mid-twentieth and 21st century masters, as well as lesser known composers. In this podcast we hear about the beginnings of the Southland Ensemble, some of their memorable concerts, their current interests and what they are doing to cope with the pandemic.
Sarah Wegener, soprano; Lucas Meachem, baritone; Matthew Rose, bass
Sławomir Holland, speaker
Warsaw Boys’ Choir; Kraków Philharmonic Choir
Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, Kent Nagano, conductor
Krzysztof Penderecki’s St. Luke Passion (1966) garnered international acclaim that raised the composer’s stature substantially. Penderecki had a long relationship with the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, appearing with them a number of times as a guest conductor from 1979-2015. The orchestra gave the Canadian premiere of St. Luke Passion with Nagano conducting. This live recording was made at the Felsenreitschule Salzburg Festival in July, 2018 with the composer in attendance.
At the time of its premiere, there also were undercurrents of criticism on two fronts. The musical avant-garde pilloried Penderecki for his eclecticism, which ranges from triads to twelve-tone rows (two are used in the piece) to cluster chords and a prominent use of the B-A-C-H motive. In retrospect, one can evaluate the work as a precursor to the polyglot postmodern assemblages of the 1970s. Others decried the use of such devices in a liturgical piece of music. Despite these critiques, the work has weathered well.
Throughout, there is a powerful sense of declamation by both the soloists and chorus. Soprano Sarah Wegener’s voice supplies thrilling high notes with abandon while baritone Lucas Meachem displays a richly powerful voice and bass Matthew Rose an impressive lower register. Perhaps most impressive is Slawomir Holland’s potent delivery as a speaker. The choruses are superlatively well prepared, their singing mixing thick chords and stentorian high notes as well as swirls of group spoken word passages. Concomitantly a fluidity between styles and idioms prevails.Sprechstimme morphs quickly into detailed harmony, micropolyphony mixes with quotation and tonal signatures.
Nagano leads the Montréal musicians through an assured and nuanced account of the score. In the wake of Penderecki’s passing, this recording comes at a propitious time to reevaluate his compelling early work.
In the fall of 2018 composer Alex Wand assumed his Alejandro Botijo persona and began a cycling trip from Los Angeles to Michoacán, Mexico. Alex explains: “I create aliases for myself that highlight certain qualities of my person. I think of them like archetypal, mythological people that help me realize existing aspects of myself. For example, Alejandro Botijo helped me bypass the physical limitations of my body, feelings of loneliness, fear of being hit by a truck, along with many other vulnerabilities that come with cycling over 2,000 miles alone.”
The bicycle trip took him along the migratory path of the monarch butterflies and Alejandro recorded his impressions with field recordings and music from that perspective. The monarch butterfly is the only species of butterfly known to make a two-way migration during the year. Towards the end of October they make their way south, spending the winter in Southern California and Mexico, heading north again in March to spend the summer in the US and Canada. At the conclusion of the trip, Wand/Botijo created a summary of his experiences and the result is Carretera, a series of miniature musical impressions of the journey south.
From the liner notes: “These compositions investigate migration from the monarch’s perspective. The field recordings and spoken word are meant to be ways of listening-with the monarchs by capturing moments of stillness and space on their journey, as well as outlining myriad challenges such as predators, pesticides, and habitat degradation. Alejandro loops, time warps, and pitch shifts the musical sounds to express overlaying temporalities and to articulate the repetitive aspects of migration. With these elements, the music seeks to trace the experience of the monarch/cyclist on their journey to the oyamel forests of Michoacán.”
High Desert, the first track, describes Botijo’s first stage of his trip south from Los Angeles. Single bell-like tones are heard accompanied by a sputtered rushing sound, as if cycling alongside a busy desert highway. Wand provides spoken commentary with his calmly enigmatic voice, repeating a list of the hazardous contents of the roadside along with the beauty of the landscape. There is a swirling mix of headlights, broken bottles and nails together with vivid red and purple sunsets.
Baptist Church follows, and this has lighter tones combined with a softly hopeful tremolo. The vocals begin with “There’s a Baptist Church at the border town where the railroad used to pass through. There’s an old building where the railroad workers used to spend the night.” A series of stronger tones are heard at irregular intervals, invoking the presence of railroad tracks. As the text is repeated, more details are added so that gradually the feeling becomes one of sanctuary – a place that a migrating butterfly – or cyclist – might find rest for the night.
Depredadores is next, full of aggressive percussive beats and active rhythms. The text is now in Spanish, a list of words and names accompanied by low video game sounds. Only a minute and a half in length, Depredadores nevertheless captures the sense of crossing into Mexico by way of a gritty border town. Texaco follows with the sound of mystical drums and cymbals. The text speaks of an abandoned gas station, a barbed wire fence, farmland and a chili factory. Deep guitar chords paint a grim and desolate picture of what could be an agricultural town in northern Mexico.
Mercado, on track 5, however, is very different. A lovely groove comprised of light electronic tones is heard and soon accompanied by animated street sounds and the chatter of voices in Spanish. Clearly we have traveled farther into Mexico and have finally arrived at a warm and welcoming village. Repartiendo el Pan follows, opening with a sweet repeating guitar phrase and the sound of chirping birds. Children are heard playing, and wind instruments enter with a happy bounce. The piece ends with a short fragment of a pop song sung in Spanish, continuing the hospitable feeling that carries over from the previous track. Clearly we are deep into Mexico.
Stream, track 7, is just that: the sounds of rushing water accompanied by electronic rhythmic phrases. There is no spoken narration or human sounds. Restful, calming and most definitely rural. Carretera follows and this opens with an active, bouncing synth and repeating guitar lines that radiate an upbeat and optimistic feel. A series of spoken place names and Spanish nouns are heard, adding an intimacy to the music and creating an emotional sense of homecoming.
The final track is I Wish I Could Disappear, and this features sunny, repeating guitar lines accompanied by the sung and spoken words of the title. This is a final summing up of the emotional changes triggered by the long journey. From the northern border lands to a place deep in the Mexican interior, there is a real sense of longing in this music for a simple communal life that is in harmony with the natural environment. Perhaps it is this – and not just the climate – that draws the monarch butterflies back each winter.
Carretera is an engaging and succinct depiction of a long emotional journey, as seen from the eye level of a migrating butterfly. Like the monarch, we long for a place where we can be part of a welcoming community – Carretera completely and elegantly captures this sensibility.
Carretera is distributed for digital download via Bandcamp and a vinyl disk may be ordered. There is also a companion film Camino de las Monarcas, that is available for download.
Harbour, a recital recording of Anna Höstman’s piano works played by Cheryl Duvall, reveals an emerging composer who both synthesizes her research interests – she has written about Feldman and Linda Caitlin Smith – while developing a significant voice of her own. Thus, gradually developing fields of sound remind listeners of the aforementioned composers, but Höstman’s gestural palette is significantly different. Examples of this include the ornaments on “Allemande” and the blurring gestures of “Yellow Bird.”
The title piece is a twenty-five minute long essay that begins with flourishes that remind one of Messiaen’s birdsong, as well as gliss-filled descending lines, set against a slow moving series of polychords. Registral expansion affords these three elements considerable latitude and points of intersection. The verticals take on a reiterated ostinato that alternates with linear duos and the glissandos, allowing for the music to gradually grow more emphatic in demeanor. There is a long-term crescendo that allows for these elements to take on a certain bravura that transforms them, at least for the moment, into emphatic post-Romantic material. However, the sound soon scales back and Harbour returns to a quietly mysterious space.
Pianist Cheryl Duvall is an excellent advocate throughout, bringing a graceful touch and finely detailed shadings of dynamics and voicing to the music. Composer and pianist seem to be an ideal pairing on this consistently engaging release.
Co-commissioned by Huddersfield Festival, Chapter, and Counterflows
Multi-instrumentalist Rhodri Davies created the piece Transversal Time in 2017. This recording is of its performance at Chapter, captured by Simon Reynell (also known for his own label, Another Timbre). The assembled musicians are a who’s who of today’s experimental cohort and Davies gives them imaginative prompts for the music they are to play. These involve a variety of time systems – standard time, decimal time, and hex time – creating a layering of tempos.
The tone colors elicited are particularly attractive and, while often blended, each performer gets a standout moment. Sofia Jernberg’s wordless vocals play a role early on, then electronics from Ryoko Akama, Adam Parkinson, and Pat Thomas create sine tones and glissandos that are then imitated as sustained pitches and slides by the rest of the ensemble. Later, birdlike chirps become an extended call and response. The prevailing dynamic level is piano and there often is a delicate sensibility to the proceedings.
The incorporation of contrabass recorder, played by Pia Palme, and bassoon, provide a sturdy grounding for the rest of the treble instruments. A lengthy percussive interlude by Davies, Lucy Dalton, and Thomas combines harp, cello, and inside-the-piano work. Davies alternates between pedal and electric harps and is very much a member of the ensemble rather than a soloist. That said, one can hear the harp as an instrument that urges the various time streams forward and in that sense Davies is a master of ceremonies. Gradually, electronics and then the rest of the ensemble are reincorporated, the different speeds creating a hocketing effect. A coda of soft sustained notes and electronic smears is a fitting denouement.
Transversal Time lasts thirty-eight minutes, but is so absorbing that it feels like it passes in a blink of an eye. The interwoven textures reward multiple listenings, and the recording comes highly recommended.
