Review: Df #6, International Anthony Burgess Centre, 12/12/12

13 12 2012

Distractfold‘s sixth installment featured more new music written in the last decade from around the globe, the highest profile composer whose work was performed being Georges Aperghis with Rasch for violin and viola. Other offerings came from Serbia, Australia, Italy, USA, Ireland and the UK.

In the Aperghis, an initial oscillating motif is held constant to highlight changes between loud and soft, pizzicato and arco, violin and viola, before itself being juxtaposed with linear glissandi. Regular rhythm is then introduced and assimilated into the discourse. The problem I had with this method (as I often do with pieces which start with relatively complicated and fluid writing and seek constant rhythmic subdivisions as a secondary idea), is that imposing a rhythmic base is a weak way to develop a texture already with a high density of information, and indeed I would suggest that gestural variation is a much more powerful tool for development than truncating rhythm. Swapping the ordering of these developments in this piece might have helped it support its trajectory better (saving the best until last, as it were). In addition, it was not until I saw the score afterwards that I realised it was littered with quarter-tones, and I certainly do not think it was the fault of the players (Linda Jankowska and Emma Richards) who captured the spirit of the piece perfectly; the gestures were mostly fast and rarely were there chords presented which gave me (at least) the opportunity to register that the harmony was microtonal. Perhaps this reflects my belief that microtones should be used as “out of tune” entities, but in the case of this piece I felt that the quarter-tones could be mapped to the nearest semitone at little cost to the argument of the work.

The piece in the concert which most impressed me was Milica Djordjevic‘s Fail for ‘cello and electronics, given a dedicated performance by Alice Purton. Partials of the harmonic series derived from the ‘cellist’s bottom E and distortions thereof provide the basis of an electronic commentary. These themes continue throughout the work with an overall trajectory provided by shifting the fundamental to D, then to trills between the D and the E, and then juxtaposing the resulting harmonic field with an overtone series on A (albeit with blurring by electronic distortion).

It was a shame that the audience was as small as it was on the night and I hope the relationships that the ensemble has formed with composers from far afield begin to rectify this. The next concert is a joint effort between Distractfold and the MIVOS Quartet from New York on 31st January and I hope it receives the attention it deserves.





Review: Sounds of the Engine House, International Anthony Burgess Centre, 26/10/12

28 10 2012

Sounds of the Engine House are a collective of concert programmers and promoters, founded by composers Steven Jackson, Ben Gaunt and Eve Harrison, which offer young, upcoming soloists and ensembles the platform to perform the works of living composers, hitherto in venues in and around Manchester. Friday’s installment featured clarinettist Rocío Bolaños, cellist Rod Skipp representing his performer-composer collaboration _scape with his composing brother Norm, and Chiasmus Ensemble under the directorship of James Stephenson.

Three pieces on the programme stood out for me, two of which were by founder member Eve Harrison herself. for the pillars of the temple stand apart, for solo clarinet, juxtaposes shortly articulated, rhythmic material with more lyrical writing, at first linearly, then vertically as the lyrical material comes to define an expansion upwards in range whilst the articulated music defines the bass. The lyrical material stabilises onto a fixed concert B, before a larger secondary section mixes all previous ideas more finely. Luckily, my ear-analysis and the composer’s programme note were very closely related (I wrote this before reading her commentary – I promise!), indicating that she had done her job very well.

Harrison’s second piece was for Chiasmus, entitled Guthun Nan Eun (The Songs of Birds). The structure of this piece was similar to that of for the pillars of the temple stand apart: different musical cells assigned to different instruments (presumably evoking bird calls) are used to generate an isorhythmic texture which is juxtaposed by a more sustained and static one played by the clarinet and cello. Again, these two ideas are juxtaposed linearly, but the static texture gradually gains the upper hand leading into a section with sustained chords from the whole ensemble. An echo of the opening is heard when individual instruments recapitulate some of the opening motifs, but the texture only simplifies further towards a coda where the opening is given more rhythmic regularity. In both pieces, the structures were clear and the writing economical.

Norm and Rod Skipp, the members of _scape, describe 858 as the result of wanting to “improvise, compose and record a complete piece for cello and electronics within an afternoon”. I remember Philip Glass paraphrasing Allen Ginsberg: “first idea, best idea”, and this piece certainly seemed to benefit from this approach (although length of gestation period, from composer to composer at least, has little correlation with quality – most composers seem to have a “natural” speed of productive writing which if exceeded, results in a rushed, ill-thought-through piece or in the other direction, fussiness or paranoia over isolated passages over longer periods of time can be equally unhelpful. Speed of writing is also dependent on what stage of development the composer is in – the more you know the composer you want to be, the more assured and quicker composition is bound to be; Carter and Benjamin are examples of this. It also depends on how much time in a day you have to compose, or at least think about composition!). Anyway, the piece itself alternates between two cycles of pitches (C#-Bb-A-D up high versus A-F#-F down low, with the later addition of bottom C and C#) with simple variation generated by an electronic commentary the resonance of the cello (adding echoes, distortions) and octave displacements of individual pitches within the cycles. Simple, but effective.

Pared-down musical languages within simple structures seemed to be a theme for most of the evening’s music, but the beauty of Sounds of the Engine House being an umbrella organisation for artists is one never knows what to expect! The collective are steadily expanding their audience base and I hope they get a chance to export their showcases to further afield.





Review: Thomas Adès: Full of Noises; Conversations with Tom Service, faber and faber

20 10 2012

Thomas Adès: Full of Noises is a book recently published by faber and faber consisting of transcribed interviews between Thomas Adès and Tom Service which covers ground from the composer’s views on his own music and his compositional methods to the music of others and the state of new music today.

The build-up to this publication included highlights of the text posted on the Guardian website in the form of an article. I have never been overly keen on Wagner’s music (excepting the overtures to Parsifal and Siegfried and four minutes of my favourite key of Eb major at the opening of Das Rheingold always makes me grin), but can appreciate his comments on Wagner recorded in the article are highly controversial, and his seemingly nonchalant assessment of the music of today being in “total freefall” made me very angry.

I then ordered the book, trying to resist the temptation to review the book before I had read it, but any attempt at documenting my considered, impartial opinion seemed impossible when reading a list of quotations on the back cover which included “Music should be inexplicable and indefensible” and “Ethics are a distraction an artist cannot afford.” Stewart Lee’s view on Jeremy Clarkson sprang to mind: “…he’s either an idiot, who actually believes all the badly researched, lying, offensive s**t that he says, or he’s a genius who’s worked out exactly the most accurate way to annoy me”. Anything one composes is coupled with a requirement of the listener, which in turn has ethical implications. For example, how attentively should the listener be listening? Is there an internal coherence to the music which the listener will pick up after spending time with the music or is it all surface impact which encourages the listener to fetishize moments or isolated sounds, then throw the piece away once he/she is bored of them? Art is ultimately an education on how to interact with other people and I would suggest, if anything, that ethics are the most important thing with which an artist should be concerned. I often wonder if there is a direct correlation between how composers listen to music, what they implicitly expect of listeners and how they listen to other human beings. In some cases, I hope not…

This is especially interesting considering Adès’ music from his twenties is all about surface, all about illusion and allusion and what the music “seems” to be rather than what it actually is. In the music from the last decade or so, he has stripped away this surface, leaving, in my opinion, quite banal chord progressions or systems for pushing notes around with little other interest.

Luckily, the content of the book generally has more depth than both its promotional prequel and its cover, although if you are not a fan of metaphors like me, you may incur a facial repetitive strain injury from cringing. Even the quote from the online article regarding new music being in total freefall is taken out of context (or perhaps Adès realised immediately it would be a metaphorical middle finger raised to all those who take composition seriously and covered his bases). He goes on to say: “Not even freefall – zero gravity…What I mean is that we’re aware that there is no floor and no ceiling…and yet we are standing, so what on? What under? I love the lack of stability.”

With regards to the paragraph before last, I found it interesting that Adès admits that “I didn’t get anywhere near what I wanted to do until quite recently” and talks of his early ensemble piece Living Toys as “like somebody putting on a coat that’s the wrong size”. In his discussion of both his own and other music, he places strong emphasis on harmonic movement and themes of “magnetism” and “stability” crop up throughout the interviews. He also plays down direct stylistic allusions: “…in order [for style] to be understood, it has also to be seen through completely – like anything actually.”  Although he declares the “stripped-down Modernist aesthetic was just as much drag as was rococo” and that “‘Modern’ was just another style”, I do find it baffling that he clearly wishes us to judge his music by its internal workings, which are, of late, quite simple and formulaic.

In any case, for those interested in Adès’ life and work, this is worth reading and for a composer most comfortable dealing in metaphors and analogies in conversation, and with a spirit of exploration rather than directness, Tom Service made an apt interviewer. Even though my own evaluation of Adès as a composer has gone steadily downhill during my compositional life, I still found that these interviews helped me see his personality and his thoughts with more clarity, thereby enhancing my understanding of his music as an object of reflection for my own.





Review: Df #4, International Anthony Burgess Foundation, 1/10/12

4 10 2012

Df #4 was the latest installment in a series of concerts from Manchester based new music ensemble Distractfold, the diversity of nationalities of whose players is reflected in the composers whose pieces are performed: countries represented in Df #4 included Argentina, Italy, the UK, France, Russia, Germany, the US, Spain and Costa Rica. As well as attempting global musical representation, each concert typically presents purely instrumental, electroacoustic and purely electronic music, reflecting the interests of composer Sam Salem, who is one of Distractfold’s founders.

The evening’s programme consisted of works written in the last decade alongside older pieces from more established composers in Salvatore Sciarrino and Sofia Gubaidulina. The first piece in the programme, No Input for clarinet and tape by Santiago Diez-Fischer preceeded Sciarrino’s Tre notturni brillanti for solo viola, with the first piece sharing Sciarrino’s preoccupations with boundaries between sound and silence and static, repetitious, cellular textures punctuated by outbursts, but aside from this, there was no obvious continuity to the programme.

It was two of the purely electronic pieces that most impressed me. End transmission by Joseph Hyde was with a video projection displaying distorted, pixelated images not stylistically dissimilar to the colour field paintings of Clyfford Still. These images remained mainly abstract until near the end where concrete symbols, to me evocative of those for gender, emerged, panning across the scene. It seemed to me as if the video was a visual interpretation of the music, rather than the other way round or a balanced dialogue and indeed for me the images had no clear structure in time, save for the rate of projection of images following the beat speed of the music. I could not make a narrative sense of the images either and wondered whether the projections were really necessary. However, musically the piece was a success; a heavy rhythmic bass with a constant rhythmic pulse is initially counterpointed with higher pitched noises with variation provided by distorting unit lengths, then by varying the rhythmic base(!) used. Eventually, rhythm is disintegrated giving way to more indefinite textures before a ternary form is completed with the reintroduction of rhythm, this time with constant unit lengths. A coda recapitulates the opening sonorities explicitly.

The piece which I felt most exploited the textural density and variety possible when composing electronic music was Hans Tutschku‘s Rojo. Voices and prayer bowls are electronically manipulated and layered to generate rich textural blocks of material, separated by rising and volatile screams which mark the start of each section. These demarcations occur with increasing frequency and lead the music into a climatic passage consisting of an extended manipulation of the screams, which dies away to reveal the return of the opening texture.

As with my experience attending gaussian 1, I found the concert very refreshing and I found its ambition to perform music (mostly) from abroad which would not otherwise be given a platform in this country and the dedication of the players extremely comforting. I regret not having been able to attend the previous concerts in the series and Distractfold have certainly acquired a new fan in me.





BBC Proms 2012 Commissions

12 09 2012

There have been numerous BBC Proms commissions this year, more than I have been able to record, so I am endebted to 5:4 and his extraordinarily complete set of recordings of all new music from the festival on site, which I have used to inform this article. In contrast to his diligent approach of reviewing every piece of new music performed, I will simply give highlights (not least because my ground rules prevent me from giving my honest opinions on some of the pieces), restricting myself to BBC commissions.

Charlotte Bray‘s At the Speed of Stillness, performed by the Aldeburgh World Orchestra under Sir Mark Elder in Prom 21, and Helen Grime’s Night Songs, dedicated to the conductor Oliver Knussen who gave its première with the BBC Symphony Orchestra in Prom 56 are uncanilly similar to the extent that I would not have been able to tell that they were written by different composers if presented with anonymous recordings. Both composers are clearly technically accomplished and in these pieces use linear cellular development with orchestration characterised by filigree upper-winds, low bass drones, soaring string melodies and harps, mallet percussion and string pizzicato peppering the musical surface.

A new 25-minute Commission from a high-profile UK composer such as James MacMillan deserves my input, although my experience of Credo, performed in Prom 33 by the BBC Philhamonic under Juanjo Mena with the Northern Sinfonia Chorus, was far less positive. For this piece, MacMillan deals in contrasts: tonality in its purest form versus atonality and free dissonance, and choral writing against orchestral elaboration. The first contrast provides an effective counterpoint for the first two minutes – we hear tonal chords pitted against chords which have no resemblance of tonality, tonal chords muddied by dissonance, high string writing which has no harmonic relation to tonal progressions which run under it: a thorough exploration of possible relationships between tonal progression and its polar opposite. However, this was to be the end of any idea of a coherent trajectory. Presenting contrasts adjacently and by superimposition becomes the (only) theme for the rest of the work, and one of the contrasts is almost always the choir in homophony at a slow tempo, which inhibits any attempt at an overall linear development. Such a development is threatened by the punctuated wind writing which enters a third of the way though, which becomes a signpost for the movement of harmony further afield, but this is always negated by the reintroduction of tonality from the choir. Even when a basic concept of polyphony for the choir is introduced towards the end (albeit as white-note modality with a basic common subdivision for the harmonic rhythm within: a cheap imitation of Renaissance polyphony), the template for juxtaposing two musical contrasts has by this point become so worn that the accompaniment of brass flutter-tonguing almost makes the overall texture predictable. Setting a long text such as a Credo is a musical challenge, but unfortunately this attempt by MacMillan did not sustain my interest.

I suspect that being asked to compose a short orchestral fanfare to blend in seamlessly with the spirit of the Last Night of the Proms would be most composers’ worst nightmares (Birtwistle famously threw caution to the wind with Panic, but this was in the second half and more extended). The composer runs the risk of the listener being able to play a comprehensive game of bingo with orchestral clichés. Mark Simpson (BBC Young Musician of the Year on clarinet and Young Composer of the Year 2006 amongst many other things), however, turned this problem on its head with Sparks, performed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra under Jiří Bělohlávek: yes, we have bowed crotales, brass stabs, trombone glissandi, arpeggiated winds etc., but these gestures are extrapolated and combined economically in contrast to a busy musical surface and are supported by a convincing harmonic argument (itself successfully de-cliché-ing parallel triads and post-spectral chords by presenting them in a coherent structure) to great effect. Even the final swell of string harmonics, intended as an open-ended after-thought, is just another triad – shifted harmonically to present a contrast. A job very well done.

I feel a word on the body of new repertoire generated as a whole is necessary. Although this year has seen focusses on a bygone experimental composer in Cage and an old-school modernist in Boulez as well as a mouth-watering London Sinfonietta programme including Ligeti, Xenakis, Harvey and Andriessen and a chamber prom with challenging music from Ferneyhough and Finnissy, the commissions handed to younger composers has had a distinctly conservative bias. There certainly need not be any identification between the words “orchestral” and “conversative” as the Cage day, as well as performances of Cardew’s Bun No. 1, Feldman’s Piano and Orchestra, Berio’s Sinfonia, Xenakis’ Aïs and Nomos Gamma which stick in the memory from recent years have shown, so why is this assumed of the younger generation? Are younger experimental composers not trusted with a symphony orchestra? I am not dismissing composers which could be described as conservative, as hopefully my feedback above has shown; I simply think that the list of commissioned young composers is not a fair representation of the stylistic diversity of new music today. To suggest that there are not more experimental younger composers who are worthy of a Proms commission is total nonsense. Admittedly, composers are not asked to write for specialist new music ensembles, but a notion of being “experimental” need not have anything to do with instrumental difficulty. I just hope that the list of composers given the opportunity to write for a major UK orchestra at the Proms has a more balanced feel in future.





Review: Leo Abrahams + Oliver Coates – “Crystals are Always Forming”

5 09 2012

Released under the experimental music label Slip Discs, Crystals are Always Forming is the result of a collaboration between virtuoso cellist Oliver Coates, winner of the Royal Philharmonic Society Young Artist Award 2011, and Leo Abrahams, whose varied career history to date includes working with Brian Eno on the album Small Craft on a Milk Sea and the releases of several solo albums, themselves considerably varied stylistically (even within the album The Unrest Cure there are direct influences from soul, jazz, electronica, post-punk and folk rock).

The result of this collaboration was bound to be, at the very least, very interesting – seemingly the only thing that Abrahams and Coates have in common musically is that they both studied at the Royal Academy of Music. Coates already has a formidable track record in contemporary performance, commissioning pieces from most composers of his generation and working directly with more established composers such as Thomas Adès, Harrison Birtwistle, Kaija Saariaho, Magnus Lindberg, Helmut Lachenmann, Sofia Gubaidulina and Jonathan Harvey on their music. Abrahams’ musical stall, on the other hand, I would struggle to describe succinctly – however, it does not include any form of classical performance, old or contemporary, and he did not take well to his composition course at the Academy, leaving to go on tour as a guitarist with Imogen Heap.

Crystals are Always Forming was not a traditional composer-performer collaboration – in Abrahams’ own words, he  “…took a non-performing role – directing Oliver Coates in initial improvisations, and developing and arranging the material that resulted. All the raw material was recorded in a day, and then worked on gradually and sporadically over the following year.” The album consists of eleven anonymous tracks, each of which presents at most three ideas which are layered in varying combinations and any development is simple and linear (e.g. manipulating a sound to render it more resonant, bring out higher partials etc.). Themes which characterise these layers (across the whole album) include rhythmic regularity versus irregularity (and layering regular rhythms at different speeds to give the illusion of irregularity, as in the fourth track), short sounds which punctuate the texture versus sustaining sounds, foreground versus background and resonance versus dryness. The harmony is always spectrally derived from the cello; the presence of open fifths and/or overtone series is felt in all tracks apart from the fourth and sixth.

Each track in itself is very well conceived and, admittedly relative to my limited knowledge and experience of electronic music, I found the exploration of texture very imaginative and appealing. The problem I found as the album progressed however, is that the simple (and near identical) structure of each track becomes wearing and simply presenting new material in the same template becomes less and less sufficient for sustaining interest. More harmonic differentiation could have helped and whenever sharp contrasts are presented, such as the cutting out of harmony halfway through the fifth or a third of the way through the last track, these are usually inconsequential and only part of a block ternary form with the opening material returning without transformation. Coates admits that “the space and stasis are themselves framed, so that meaning might be activated by the listener”, so perhaps this album is not intended to be listened to linearly and as a whole and serves more as a sort of stimulus for reflections on sonorities, but the numbered titles of the movements and consistency of compositional method seem to suggest an intended overall trajectory. To reiterate, I have little knowledge and experience of electronic music, so perhaps a different reviewer might shed more light on the sonorities in isolation.

My overall impression, however, is that this is the result of a fruitful crossover of musical backgrounds and an album well worth a listen. I thought each track was superbly crafted in isolation and contextualising it with the small amount of electronic music to which I have had exposure, I would rank it near the top of what I have heard.

Crystals are Always Forming is due for release on October 8th 2012 as the second release [SLP002] of the label Slip Discs.





20×12 Cultural Olympiad Commissions

23 08 2012

The task of reviewing pieces written for the 20×12 Cultural Olympiad has been made more difficult (or perhaps irrelevant) for me, since few of them stand up as serious composition. Mostly the pieces do so deliberately and unassumingly, as in the case of Liz Liew and Andy Leung’s XX/XY: a programmatic musical span alluding to UK garage and traditional Eastern music and incorporating performers from the Urban Youth Junk Band, or in the case of Mark-Anthony Turnage’s Beyond This: the result of a collaboration with prisoners and staff of HMP Lowdham Grange in which Turnage evidently had little artistic control, or in the case of jazz pianist Julian Joseph‘s The Brown Bomber, which sits better in a different genre.

However, there is one new commission that I feel worth my input. Aaron Cassidy‘s A Painter of Figures in Rooms was commissioned for performance by Exaudi under James Weeks and the score of the work, rather than specifying an aural result (e.g. pitch, dynamic etc.), directs players physiologically (e.g. by mouth shape, tension of the vocal folds, position of the glottis). The effect is that the traditional parametrization of non-temporal aspects of sound by pitch, dynamic, timbre, is replaced by one involving singers’ physiology. Cassidy admits (and perhaps celebrates) that this is not well defined – every singer is made differently, but essentially there are no intrinsic problems with this reparametrization: the parameters have enough independence from each other, and working backwards, given a collection of singers with known physical characteristics, any sound could in theory be notated.

Anyway, this is all before a note – or rather, a symbol – is written. The music itself is stylistically complex throughout – the surface is relentlessly detailed and contrapuntal -  but the problem when so much of the interest is vertical or momentary is that a linear trajectory is weakened or sacrificed altogether. Perhaps ironically, the gestures which punctuate the musical surface end up being remarkably predictable in their linearity (usually soft to loud, low to high in pitch or the reverses).

A piece such is this could be difficult to criticise – I am no physiologist and, who knows, maybe a performance by a different group would provide answers to all my points! I admire the ambition of the piece’s conception (which is at odds with every other 20×12 commission I have come across so far), but defining a musical language or technique is not composition – what matters is what is said – and I am not convinced that the linear structure of the piece was as strong as it could have been. If the goals were richness of texture and counterpoint, perhaps the work could have been far shorter (taking horizontal aspects out of the equation altogether).

My overarching impressions of the 20×12 commissions that I have heard (and this includes the non-classical output) is that most are extramusical collaborations which have compromised the composers artistically – I just hope that the opportunity is (or was) taken to celebrate culture as it is, rather than how it can be made to project a certain image which fits in with the Olympics. The Cassidy commission is positive example – a serious composer, writing for a world-class vocal ensemble, each doing what they are best at doing. A Cultural Olympiad, not Culture For The Olympiad please.








Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.