Christian Wolff: For Ruth Crawford

This 1994 release on the Swiss label HatHut presents four works from 1968 to 1993 by the composer whose work was large built, as stated in the liners by Art Lange, on the fact that his "particular interest was in creating circumstances in which the performers would need to react spontaneously—with either precise details or those chosen from variable possibilities—to events occurring within unpredictable conditions." 

This could mean notation that had different forms or the use of graphs, images or spoken instructions "to create such indeterminate conditions of musical activity."  That word in the quote evokes the landmark 1959 John Cage/David Tudor recording, Indeterminacy and Cagean principles relating to chance operations and the choice made available to the performers.  

For Brown, however, it got to the point where his 1968 work, "Edges" was developed for "any number of players, any number of instruments" and no instructions as to harmony, pitch, rhythm, tempo or time.  Rather, players were given 25 symbols, the words "singing" and "slow" and markings of "ff" and "ppp" along with the number "3" randomly placed on a black page.  So, the performers on piano, trombone and viola decided to have four separate types of movements in 20 minutes.  The effect, Lange writes, is that "the sounds are in a constant state of . . . becoming" and "completely dependent upon the commitment of the performers.

1970's "Snowdrop" was written for harpsichord and perhaps other instruments and with notes placed on staves without bars and indications space, with numbers, "between the phrased sequences," emphasizing the importance of space and silence.  The piano, violin and trombone are overdubbed and "they are free to distribute the material at their discretion.

The more recent pieces of "Ruth" (1991) and "Peggy" (1993) are for Ruth Crawford, stepmother of folk master Pete Seeger and an experimental composer who later worked on transcriptions of folk music with Seeger's father Charles, and her daughter Peggy, also a folk singer.  "Ruth" has standard notation, with opportunities for players on piano and trombone to work with microtones, timbre and other elements at their choosing.  Drumming on the piano and whistling are also included.  With "Peggy," overdubbed trombones also perform with mostly a notated score, with some melodic material taken from the namesake's pieces.

Interspersed in Lange's text are quotes from Wolff, such as "I'm trying to see how little I can indicate [to players] and yet come up with a piece that's clearly itself, one that still has a life of its own," or his idea that "we had to liberate ourselves from the direct and preemptory consequence of intention and effect," or "my music is often just material" but that a key to performance was "how the individuals relate to each other as they play."  Perhaps most important are the statements that "all music is propaganda music" and if "you still haven't the foggiest idea what my music sounds like; you have to hear it or play it to find out."  For this untutored listener, the main idea is to go where the performers take you and to enjoy the journey, not worrying about the map.

Luciano Berio: Orchestra Works

The music of Luciano Berio is a rollercoaster ride of tonal color, striking contrasts among instruments and exploration of the sound possibilities of solo performers, small groups and orchestras.  Berio was also interested in reprocessing his works in varied contexts, as is the case with the first two pieces of this remarkable recording, issued by the Col Legno label from Vienna.

A previous post here was on his astounding Sequenzas I-XIV, which dynamically expounded on solo instruments of various kinds and, here, Chemins I from 1965 and Chemins IIb from 1970 take those sequences for harp and viola and place them within an orchestral context.  The result is a depth and richness to the pieces, spectacular as they previously were in isolation, that reinvents the works in notable ways, especially as the playing of these typically "softer" instruments interacts with the range of those around them.

The expansive Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra, the juxtaposition of the keyboards and their relation to each other and the orchestral instruments.  Berio once wrote that the traditional concerto was passé when he wrote this work in 1972 and 1973 because he felt that the relations between the orchestra and soloists were totally changed from the days of Baroque, Classical and Romantic composition.  He noted that this piece was one in which "the soloist develops mobile, diversified, and very unstable relationships between themselves and with the soloists of the orchestra, creating chamber ensembles."  While there are major contrasts in these interactions, which is exciting, if also disconcerting, the composer continued that "behind all these differences lies a unifying harmonic process," with the keyboards beginning alone "almost like a map consulted before starting a journey."

The final piece, Formazioni, is from the middle 1980s and the title is crystal clear, as Berio experimented with orchestral formations in arranging instrumental clusters and exploring, as one analysis stated, "relationships within the traditional families of instruments and the roles they are given to play," so that these are "defined and allotted in a new manner."  The unfamiliar and unexpected become an exercise in resolution, for the performers and for the listener, and, as an amateur, this blogger can only really go on the feelings generated and they are of intrigue and the position of being unsettled, but ultimately invigorating, especially as Berio mines both space, the quietude of some passages and then jarring densities and great intensity.

These feelings are represented in the notes by Ferdinand Schmatz, an Austrian experimental poet and essayist, who seems to write in a free associative prose poetry for these first three pieces and a more structured and far more concise way with the last.  Impressionistic throughout, Schmatz asks questions as well as offers his reactions.  It is interesting to read notes that don't inform but share reactions and this listener could certainly relate to much of it.

Gloria Coates: String Quartet No. 9/Sonata for Violin Solo/Lyric Suite for Piano Trio

The great composer Gloria Coates died in Germany two months ago and we've lost another giant of contemporary classical music, whose work is deceptively simply, compelling and powerful.  An enthusiast of glissando, the sliding between two notes up or down a scale, as well as a sparse though dramatic use of tone clusters and overtones, Coates created a large set of symphonies, as well as many smaller ensemble pieces that stretches time and draws you into sound worlds that are distinctive and highly immersive.

Beautifully performed by the Kreutzer Quartet with Roderick Chadwick on the piano for the lyric suite, this Naxos release features the two-movement ninth string quartet, spanning 25 minutes and rich with contemplation and evocative in its emotional depth.  Following is the 13-minute violin solo sonata in four short movements, which also maintains a deliberate pace and weight of the simple yet intense dissonance.  Lastly, there is the 25-minute lyric suite, in which piano provides a dramatic change in texture and melodic expression that both contrast and complement the woodwind instruments.

A great American composer who spent more than a half-century in Berlin, Coates built an impressive canon of diverse works, though best known for her 15 symphonies, that set her apart as a master of economy and emotive expression.  She left an amazing musical legacy, which, hopefully, will be more recognized as time goes on.

Frederic Rzewski: The People United Will Never Be Defeated!

This Hyperion Records recording of three dozen variations by Frederic Rzewski, who died this past June at 83 years, based on Chilean composer Sergio Ortega's 1969 piece, ¡El Pueblo Unido Jamás Será Vencido! is a fascinating excursion into what Rzewski wrote came from a realization that "there was no reason why the most difficult and complex formal structures" in so-called classical piano music "could not be expressed in a form which could be understood by a wide variety of listeners."  Also motivated by what he referred to as "a crisis in theory, not only of music but in many different fields, including science and politics," Rzewski wanted, in "the absence of a general theory to explain phenomena and guide behavior," to develop his work so that "I explored form in which existing musical languages could be brought together."

Ortega's work was a merging of classical and popular forms, including the use of traditional Chilean folk instruments, in service of a left-wing movement under the Unidad Popular banner and Rzewski developed his version six years later.  It contains a theme with 36 measures followed by that number of variations, with the latter divided into six groups, so that there are six cycles consisting of six stagees involving what the composer called "simple events," as well as rhythms, melodies, counterpoints, harmonies and combinations of those five.

As formal as the structure is, and there is a place or the performer to improvise after the sixth cycle, which performer Marc-André Hamelin does wonderfully, the untutored listener only has to appreciate the variety of melodic content, other musical material, and, especially, the dramatic differences in dynamics rather than understand the form.  The last 16 minutes is comprised the last two of Rzewski's quartet of North American Ballads, which built on Bach's chorale preludes and American spiritual and blues influences and the results are fascinating and beautiful.

George Crumb: Complete Crumb Edition, Volume 11

Still with us at age 91, George Crumb is one of the most fascinating of modern composers, creating a wide range of music for ensembles of many sizes and pieces that go from the immensely powerful and dramatic to the mysterious and subtle.  This blogger's first exposure to his music came with the Kronos Quartet's 1990 album Black Angels and Crumb's title piece was staggering to hear for a complete novice to classical, much less the so-called "avant-garde," music.

In acquiring a number of albums of the composer's works over the years, among the most enjoyable are several of the Complete Crumb Edition series by the great Bridge Records.  Today's featured volume is the eleventh which spans time and type in a very enjoyable and enlightening way.  The first third, roughly, of the album consists of an early work "Variazoni" for orchestra and it definitely provides plenty of variation with elements of the ensemble, as well as the whole orchestra, and a range of powerful intense movements to quieter, contemplative ones with plenty of space left to enhance the sense of mystery or foreboding.

Nearly a half-century later is "Otherworldly Resonances" for a pair of amplified pianos and which is considered the second part of "Zeitgeist," featured in the fourth volume of the series (which this blogger also has).  The first movement's "Double Helix" utilizes an ostinato and ornamentation that suggests the DNA structure, while the following "Celebration and Ritual" explores a range of sounds that include ebullient and dynamic exchanges and what the composer called "mysterious and brooding" elements.  "Palimpsest" features a trio of layered sections moving from "shadowy, ghostly" sounds to  "pale and distant" element and finally what is denoted to be a layer that "projects most clearly and vividly."

The remaining roughly half-hour highlights a major collaborator of Crumb's, the incredible mezzo-soprano Jan DeGaetani, who is showcased with her remarkable range of styles with such pieces as "Night of the Four Moons," written after the 1969 moon landing and which includes unusual instrumentation like banjo, electric cello and percussion along with woodwinds, while DeGaetani sings from poems by Crumb's favorite poet, Federico García Lorca (tragically murdered by Franco's Fascist police in Spain in the 1930s).  Also included are 1984's "The Sleeper" based on a poem by Edgar Allan Poe and "Three Early Songs," written by a teenage Crumb for his future wife and utilizing poems from obscure poets Robert Southey (early 19th century) and Sara Teasdale (early 20th century.)  There is a tremendous range of musical and vocalized elements here and provide an excellent bookend to the orchestra work that began this fine retrospective of nearly six decades of a great composer.

Harry Partch: The Bewitched

With his system of monophony and its 43-unit "microtone" set leading him to build his own instruments to play the strange and wonderful music he created, Harry Partch was a musical iconoclast of the highest order.  He was also remarkably contrarian, dismissive of the "abstract" practices from the Middle Ages onward that tore music away from dance and drama as was and is still done in other societies, and not at all shy about condemning those who differed from his views.  Still, while he worked largely in obscurity, Partch had a small devoted coterie of supporters, followers, and musicians who did what they could to present his music where possible when he was alive and do so today nearly a half-century after his death.

In 1955, when The Bewitched was completed and soon performed at a music festival at the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, it would hardly be expected to be on the radar of all but the most devoted of alternative music lovers.  65 years later, it would certainly sound bizarre and out of tune to newcomers, but, with some exposure to the music of other parts of the world, including gamelan from Bali, so-called "Peking opera" from China, and so on, what Partch was doing does make more sense.  

It isn't opera, but has a structure somewhat reminiscent of it, with twelve scenes bearing wonderful titles like "The Romancing of a Pathological Liar Comes to an Inspired End" (hmmm . . . ), "Visions Fill the Eyes of a Defeated Basketball Team in the Shower Room," and, my favorite, "The Cognoscenti Are Plunged into a Demonic Descent While at Cocktails."  Instruments included standard ones such as clarinet, piccolo, and cello, though there is also a Japanese koto, as well as Partch's bamboo marimba, or "boo," cloud-chamber bowls, harmonic canon, kithara, spoils of war, bass marimba, and chromelodeon.  Percussion is central to the music here, as in much of Partch's remarkable work.

Here are some excerpts from Partch in the liners about this amazing musical journey: "The Bewitched is in the tradition of world-wide ritual theatre.  It is the opposite of specialized . . . it is a seeking for release—through satire, whimsy, magic, ribaldry—from the catharsis of tragedy.  It is an essay toward a miraculous abeyance of civilized rigidity . . . each of the 12 scenes is a theatrical unfolding of nakedness, a psychological strip-tease . . . we are all bewitched, and mostly by accident: the accident of form, color, and sex; of prejudices condition from the cradle on up, of the particular ruts we have found ourselves in or have dug for ourselves because of our individual needs."  Given that the nation had just emerged from the McCarthy "witch trials" and the "man-in-the-gray-flannel-suit" mentality was very much holding sway, Partch's jeremiad against conformity is striking if not specified.  This 1990 release on CRI (Composers Recordings, Inc., a non-profit for the promotion of contemporary music) is a stimulating, if very challenging, example of Partch's stunning music.