“our father who art in heaven…”

December 15th, 2009

This was the thought in my head–not just because of the name Christian Wolff, although that may have played a part–when the quintet played their lines in what could pass in some circles as unison. Clearly not explicitly rhythmically notated at all times, or possible partly rhythmically notated, it was extraordinary how their lines almost always slipped into something similar to speech rhythms. And I don’t mean “speech” in the abstract sense of anything made of words, but real English, American speech, with clipped rhythms and strange inflections: like a chorus of faithful speaking together.

Christian Wolff continues to surprise me, even as I cross the threshold of being acquainted with his work to beginning to grasp the extent and implication of his work. Classics professor emeritus at Dartmouth, he seems like the ultimate underground composer: serious ideas, but not like he has to live off of them. Rather, it seems like since he doesn’t have anyone to please–no contracts pending with the university that tenured him–he happens to write very difficult, deceptively easy, serious and funny music.

What I mean by serious: polyrhythms with unusual time signatures (or none at all), strange instrumentation, open scores, timbral concerns.
What I mean by funny: he simultaneously played the melodica with one hand and the steinway grand with the other.

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viva la résistance

December 13th, 2009

philstearns

As Phil Stearns put it, he only does this concert about three times a year. Heaving a sigh of relief, “This is the last time this year I’m doing it.”

It’s pretty easy to see why he avoids performing this set very often–sometimes it’s difficult to see why he does it at all. He prepares for his performance quite a bit: building the electronic circuits that cycle amplified feedback through his mixer, tuning the filters so that they only allow particular parts of the sonic spectrum through. The noise created is incomparable and organic, while the lights flash on and off, creating shadows on the back wall.

He says he only actually practices for less than a half hour, just to get the system tuned up, before he turns it off until the performance. Before the performance, he attaches electrodes to six different places on each arm, wiring himself through the transformers so that each time he touches the metallic controllers his body becomes a human resister, controlling the pitch, spectrum, and volume of the sound. The trouble is that when he makes sound, the current using him as conduit causes him physical pain. Watching him hold pitches, seeing him writhe just a bit, his performance is far more visceral than if he had been a cool knob-twiddler.

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Geography

December 8th, 2009

geography-excerpt

No new concerts (actually, one on Saturday but I just don’t really feel up to writing about Darmstadt pt. III) but I’ve got a recording of some new music to share. Check out Geography, under “Compositions,” and enjoy some music.

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FOUR NIBLOCKS

December 5th, 2009
Phill Niblock SUPERIMPOSED ON PHILL NIBLOCK

Phill Niblock SUPERIMPOSED ON PHILL NIBLOCK

Phill Niblock (Two Octaves and a Fifth, Four Arthurs), Jon Gibson (Criss-Cross, Rhythm Study for Hands, Feet, and Voice), Meredith Monk’s M6 Ensemble (Dolmen Music). ISSUE Project Room, Darmstadt Essential Repertoire Festival.

Phill Niblock (pictured) started out the concert by superimposing Four Arthurs on top of Two Octaves and a Fifth. For any of the non-initiated, I’ve attached a bit of Phill’s music (from an earlier ISSUE performance) to this post. In the spirit of Niblock, I’m superimposing the three sets of the concert (Niblock, saxophonist Jon Gibson, and the Meredith Monk group M6) into a single reading experience.

About a minute after the huge mind-crushing drone starts, the bassoonist and oboist begin pacing very slowly up and down the aisle, while Phill is on his laptop controlling the mind-crushing drones and strains of soprano saxophone meld with diphthongs and evocations of didgeridoos, and earth-goddess Ha-Yang Kim bows perfect fifths. Pentatonic saxophones and time stops as the chord held is not a chord, but instead a single harmonic object, turning as if in uneven light and unable to stand still but unable to hear anything else except some pseudo-primitive tribal language made up of mostly new vowels. The oboist and bassoonist have basically switched places now, with the bassoon in the back of the hall, and soprano saxophone now capable of either short or long notes but nothing in between, and Ha-Yang goes col lengo while sopranos take their cues from one another. Rhythm study for hands, feet and voice seems apt, replacing the soprano saxophone, and even at the age of sixty nine it looks scary up there all alone with no prop, clapping and stomping in ratios of 3:2 and all its extensions, while ratios of 3:2 continue spilling from speakers overhead and as the oboist walks slowly by the acoustic sound separates from the electronic sound–singers in ratios of 3:2, earth-goddess Ha-Yang holding perfect fifths again, while I’m wondering what “Dolmen Music” is supposed to mean, and think I should look it up when I get home although I never do. The sound ends and now it’s negative sound, the ear pushing back, wanting more.

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2009, evoking 1979

December 4th, 2009
Performing Showdown (1979)

Performing Showdown (1979)

[Disclaimer for the sort of impersonal style here: this whole post appears at freemusicarchive.org, and it seemed a little excessive to write two different posts for different venues. I've still included the FMA player on this one, though, so you've got the whole blog experience right here.]

To imagine the difficulty of imagining what a snapshot of the New Music New York series at the Kitchen in 1979 might be imagined as, begin by listening to these excerpts from last night’s performance. But more than he sonic differences–flutes, trumpets, and voices or voice and tape recorder or solo piano–the differences were in the performances.

Connie Beckley, whose piece for voice and tape recorders is featured here, recorded these vocal loops while walking down the aisle, after which she placed the looping cassette players around the room and (eventually) turned them off one by one. “Blue” Gene Tyranny, who performed in many different contexts with everyone from the Once crew to pop to the Kitchen in 1979, presented both a duet for dancers with tape (featuring the voice of Harvey Milk, serving as a reminder to the New York Senate) and a solo piano performance. Peter Kotik’s work with a text from Gertrude Stein began with relatively classical instruments and positions. In no time, though, the musical parts drifted apart–three of his compositions were being performed simultaneously–and floated back and forth among one another.

All of this is to illustrate that even after cutting out three different excerpts from a three-night concert series meant to represent the Kitchen in 1979, there isn’t much of a stylistic thread to follow. But then again, the concerts weren’t exactly specific in their implied content; New Music New York tells three things, none of which were disproven (well, aside from the “new” part this time around).

Which is to say, if you really want the full experience–mobile tape recorders and all–your best bet is to show up at ISSUE Project Room tonight and tomorrow night, for the rest of the festival. Check issueprojectroom.org or darmstadtnewmusic.org for the full details.

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