Showing posts with label bmop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bmop. Show all posts

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Meditating on Ken Ueno, Musical Seismology, Japan

Ken Ueno
U   eno’s concert music, writing for a variety of ensembles from chamber groups to orchestra, has been informed in significant ways by his experiences as a performer... Cultural resonances abound in his music; for example, the biwa and shakahuachi concerto Kaze-no-Oka (‘Hill of the Winds’) has an architectural basis, being inspired by buildings designed by Fumihiko Maki... [Japanese] ideograms are used as musical formants, the details of which can be extrapolated and recontexualized to create an organic, but continually changing, whole. Subjecting an acoustical object or objects to scrutiny using computer-based tools of timbral analysis, Ueno extracts details of its musical makeup, such as its prevailing frequencies and how that profile might change over time... What are the limits of perception? ... In Kaze-no-Oka, in addition to the architectural origin, the conceptual-musical idea is of the orchestral body as a reflection and amplification of the biwa (orchestral strings as ‘super-biwa’) and shakuhachi (bass sax and contrabass clarinet as ‘super-shakuhachi’).”
  —  Robert Kirzinger, liner notes, Ken Ueno - BMOP ‘Talus’ CD.
I was relieved to hear that composer Ken Ueno’s parents, grandma, and other family members in Japan are okay following the quake and tsunami.

T hinking of them and others affected by Friday’s magnitude 8.9 temblor and hundreds of aftershocks, I put Ken’s CD ‘Talus’ on to play. I look at its CD jewelcase. It still bears this orange warning label:

Ken Ueno, Talus CD warning I  think: how big is the dynamic range in decibels of the music in this recording, to which the safety warning label refers? The quietest room on Earth (the old Sound 80 studio in Minneapolis) has an ambient sound pressure level (SPL) of -9.4 dB. And the latent SPL of the top-of-the-line audio signal path (microphones, cables, connectors, pre-amps, amps, EQ, digital recording media, audio workstations/mixing consoles, audio CD media, playback amplifier and EQ, monitors/headphones, tympanic membranes and ossicles in the ears, cochlea, Organ of Corti, spiral ganglion, and acoustic nerve, cranial nerve VIII) is about 3.1 dB RMS, at 2 KHz and 20 years of age.

T he corresponding minimum perceptible ambient vibration in the Earth is about -0.7 Richter, according to Thouvenot and Bouchon (see link, below).

T he biggest recorded earthquake was the Great Chilean Earthquake of 22-MAY-1960, which had a magnitude of 9.5 Richter. So, 10 times [9.5 minus -0.7] equals a perceptible dynamic range of 102 dB for maximum earthshaking ever, and 96 dB for Friday’s Japanese earthquake.

A nd the approximate maximum of dynamic range for playing this BMOP CD of Ken’s is about 96 dB on standard digital audio at 16-bit resolution and 44.1 KHz sampling rate, given the limits of CDs and available amplifier chains and monitors/headphones.

K en’s ‘Talus’ CD jewelcase orange warning label alerts us to acoustic SPL differences in his compositions that are basically comparable to the SPL differences of what people experienced in Japan on Friday, just in different ranges of frequency spectrum. [...Heeding orange warning label, turns volume down.]


    [30-sec clip, BMOP, Ken Ueno, ‘Kaze-no-Oka’, 1.1MB MP3]

K en’s music is like koans... not a progression from pain to realization, or pain and loss as a reminder of realization. It is the lean-ness of the mind focusing on the present, consciously exerting energy in the face of difficult odds and adversity. Yamada Roshi: “When you stand up, there is only that standing-up in the whole world, with nothing sticking to it.” Ueno’s music is, like, “This! Just this!” ... something of a ‘last word,’ a rhetoric of pure experience. His compositions’ expression is without judgment, sort of a Zen-like “letting the Shodo calligraphy brush write whatever it wants,” but that does not mean that it is ‘acquiescing’ or accepting of the reality, the suffering that Nature dishes out, nor is it free from worry.

O ur thoughts go out to those in Japan and their families.

Video #1
Video #2
Video #3

D   o not say
that the deepest meaning
comes only from one’s mouth!

Day and night,
eighty thousand poems
arise one after the other—

and in fact
not one audible utterance
has ever been spoken.”
  —  Musō Soseki (夢窓 疎石, 1275 – 1351).

Tokyo, 11-MAR-2011


Monday, March 7, 2011

Is Language Music? Sightreading Kirzinger’s Program Notes, BMOP w/ Bolcom

Garden of Cosmic Speculation, Dumfries, Scotland
W   hen writing a score, there’s got to be something that you can do that will not just be a nice honor to the play, or the book, or the film you’re dealing with, but some aspect that maybe can explore something that the play just couldn’t do. Once I know what the first page [of music] is, then the rest will come.”
  —  William Bolcom.
T he Boston Modern Orchestra Project - Bolcom w/ BMOP program last night was exceptionally good. A thread held in common by each of the works was their concern for spirituality, for Time, and for how we experience our short lives and the lives of those we love.
  • Sojourner Hodges - Full-Fathom Five, elegy for Donald C. Hodges [première] (Bethany Worrell, soprano)
  • Michael Gandolfi - Garden of the Senses Suite (Allemande-audition; Courante-olfaction; Sarabande-gustation; Passepied-palpation; Gigue-vision; Chorale-intuition)
  • Kati Agócs - ...like treasure hidden in a field (Chorale; Peregrination; Pearl of Great Price; Cathedral with No Ceiling; Celestial Machinery)
  • William Bolcom - Commedia for (Almost-) 18th-Century Orchestra
  • William Bolcom - Symphony No. 3 (Alpha; Scherzo vitale; Chiaroscuro; Omega)
T he program notes by composer Robert Kirzinger are always a genuine pleasure when attending BMOP events or Tanglewood, and last night was no exception. Knowing the composers/artists as well as he does, he is invariably able to provide a great number of fascinating details about the composers’ biographies and current projects—far more vivid than you would find in any press-kit or agent bio package, and far more than most artists would think to mention. Terse, crystalline, provocative; never enigmatic or museum-plaquelike. And his 7 pages and 3,500 words of text for last night’s BMOP program reveal many intimate bits; the dates of composition and first performance, and where and by whom it was first performed; generous juicy quotes from each composer, on what she or he intended and what inspired or motivated each work; the occasional wry, funny, ironical ditzel; plus mini-summaries of what’s ‘under the hood’ of each piece and how it works.

H e gives the audience a sense of what to expect while hearing the piece, but is never excessively technical—sonata form, rondo, passacaglia, etc.—he does not ‘talk down’ or define each term for his readers, but rather gently makes it apparent in his ensuing paragraphs what the deal is and why it’s interesting. Seven pages and 3,500 words are not “a lot” when they are truly exciting like his writing is—any more than 400 pages and 200,000 words are too much for a really good novel that you can’t put down.

T   he designation ‘symphony’ implies ambition—and the piece, in 30 minutes and four movements, delivers, if not precisely in a traditional way… the orchestra is more-or-less Mozart-sized, with modern doublings (piccolo, alto flute, E-flat clarinet) plus electric piano, which adds a distinct sonic touch… The beginning and end of the piece, musically similar, represent a ‘collective consciousness’ from which our individual spirits emerge and into which they return. The alto flute, English horn, and first bassoon are a ‘half-humorous visualization of three spirits who watch over the process of our birth and death.’ … Bolcom represents the collective consciousness with a miasma of string glissandi…”
  —  Robert Kirzinger, program notes.
W hile the primary consumers of program notes are the audience members, the notes can enrich the playing experience and understanding of the performers and the conductor as well. In fact, I suspect that the reason Kirzinger writes the way he does is because it is a genuine creative opportunity, not an ‘obligation’, not mere marketing ‘collateral’ that he is producing. Program notes are an artistic performance by its author(s), not a workaday ‘task’ with a commodified, mass-market ‘deliverable.’ Program notes are part and parcel of his ongoing dialogues with these people and with this music. It’s conversational—the writing of the program notes is an embodiment of the mutual commitment and the friendship that make high-quality conversation possible and real.

A nd if well-engineered program notes can manage to contribute to the performers’ and the conductor’s experience, then how much more we audience members can get from them! Hold the program notes in your hand. Open them. Begin reading them as though they were a piece of music. You are sight-reading a libretto! The story has characters in it—some who live; some who have died; all of whom have done some cool things. Things happen in that program-notes libretto—exciting stuff—and if you give a good ‘reading’, you might have a part! You really oughtta take that program home with you and re-read it. It isn’t a throw-away; it isn’t a only-for-show ‘sacrament’ of a religion you no longer believe in. Your sight-reading ability isn’t as great as it could and should be, you know…

T   his work represents the desire to keep spiritual things close and present in everyday life, with recognition of just how challenging this goal can be… a series of saturated chords is cast antiphonally throughout the ensemble, and the otherworldly presence of unpitched, flat Chinese gongs sustains a rarified atmosphere over the work’s five-movement arc, culminating in a cacophony of bells.”
  —  Kati Agócs, notes for ‘…like treasure’.
R obert Kirzinger’s program notes texts read like concise, friendly ‘gists’… in-a-nutshell analyses, bolted onto exciting, expertly-redacted, friend-to-friend interviews with the composers—this is substantially what his program notes are. It’s really heartwarming to read program notes as lively and honest as the programs they’re about, and we consider ourselves very lucky to receive them as a bonus for the modest price of admission. The pre-concert chat between William Bolcom and Michael Gandolfi on-stage was fantastic, too—providing insights into their music, yes, but also enabling us to know what smart, decent human beings they both are. Went home happy, a little brighter, a little bigger-hearted, and more confident about the future of serious music and of program notes. Bravo, Robert! Bravo, BMOP! Bravo, Kati, Bill, Michael, and Sojourner!

T   he ‘almost’ refers to the makeup of the [1971] then-very-new St. Paul Chamber Orchestra [who commissioned ‘Commedia’], of which Bolcom’s friend, composer Sydney Hodkinson, was conductor, and to whom the score of Commedia is dedicated… inspired (albeit distantly) by things Italian… the influence is the commedia dell’arte—the stock stage characters tossed against each other in a variety of situations, often comic but not without a dark side.”
  —  Robert Kirzinger, program notes.
T   he kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field: which when a man hath found it, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant, seeking goodly pearls: who, when he had found one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”
  —  Matthew 12:44 - 46. (“…like treasure hidden in a field”).
David Lidov, ‘Is Language a Music?’



Sunday, February 1, 2009

Spiccato Perfection: Formosa Quartet, Shih-Hui Chen’s Quartet No. 5

 Formosa Quartet
S hih-Hui Chen’s String Quartet No. 5 (‘Mei-Hua’, ‘plum blossom’) [commissioned by Formosa Quartet in 2007] was performed last night by Formosa Quartet at University of Missouri Kansas City’s White Recital Hall.

[Jasmine Lin (violin), Ayano Ninomiya (violin), Che-Yen Chen (viola), and Jacob Braun (cello) formed the quartet in 2003. Formosa Quartet members trained at Juilliard, the New England Conservatory, the Cleveland Institute, Curtis, Harvard, and Yale. They have held title positions in the San Diego and Cincinnati Symphonies and have been on the chamber music faculty at Interlochen, University of California San Diego, Taos School of Music, and Northwestern University and have appeared regularly at the Marlboro, Caramoor, and Ravinia festivals, and at the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. They have taken first place in the Primrose, Paganini, and Naumburg competitions as well as first Prize and the Amadeus Prize at the Tenth London International String Quartet Competition in 2006. Besides the Shih-Hui Chen work on last night’s program, Formosa Quartet also performs other new music, including pieces by Bright Sheng and Richard Wilson.]

 Shih-Hui Chen
B orn in Taipei, Shih-Hui Chen emigrated to the U.S. in 1982 and received her doctoral degree from Boston University. Her works have been performed by the Cleveland Chamber Symphony, among others. Also frequently appearing in programs abroad, her music has been featured in China, Taiwan, Korea, Japan, Germany, Italy, and Amsterdam. A recipient of several fellowships including the Guggenheim, Ms. Chen has received grants from the Fromm Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, Meet the Composer Foundation, the Tanglewood Music Center, the Mary Ingraham Bunting Institute of Harvard University, the Koussevitzky Music Foundation Commission, and the Bellagio Rockefeller Foundation.

H   ard to be unaddressed,
Empty to reflection—
Take the road east—
Be where it is.”
  —  Robert Creeley, ‘There’, from ‘Gnomic Verses’, 1991.
S hih-Hui Chen frequently collaborates on inter-disciplinary and multi-media projects. She composed a film score for the documentary ‘Once Removed’ by film maker Julie Mallozzi, premiered several years ago at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. She also composed ‘There’, a song cycle composed with poet Robert Creeley prior to his dying in 2005. Shih-Hui Chen is currently an Assistant Professor of Music Composition at the Shepherd School of Music at Rice University and has served as Composer in Residence at the Tanglewood Institute and at the Boston Modern Orchestra Project (BMOP). She is a music advisor for Formosa Chamber Music Society, an active member of Musiqa (a composers’ collective based in Houston), and the Asian Composers’ League.

    Some Chamber Music Compositions by Shih-Hui Chen
  • Six Songs (‘Sweet Rice Pie’) for voice and mixed ensemble
  • Shui (‘Water’) for cello and piano
  • Fu I for solo pipa
  • Fu II for pipa and 5 western instruments
  • Four Little Pieces of Wood for piano
  • 66 Times (‘Voice of Pines & Cedars’) for soprano and chamber ensemble
Guettler & Askenfelt 1997
S hih-Hui Chen’s Quartet No. 5 is comprised of three movements: Fantasia; Scherzo; and the eponymous Mei-Hua (Plum Blossoms). It is edgy, energetic throughout—athletic, even, in the demands it makes of the artists. Part of its edginess derives from the extensive use of spiccato gestures in each of the instruments’ parts. The bows rarely stop dancing and bouncing.

T he bowing styles called spiccato (sautillé) and ricochét, in which the bow bounces off the string between notes, have a predominant mode between 13 and 15 bounces/sec for a bow tensioned at 50 to 60 Newtons force. The kinematics of the bouncing involves a ‘ripple’ that is dominated by bending moments in the distal part of the bow, out toward the tip.

T he percussive ricochet bouncing—with the dissipation of energy over the series of successive bow impacts with the string—can evoke a variety of suspenseful musical effects. It conveys an emphatic, forward-looking ‘consequentialism’, for example—like a reminder that gravity is inescapable, like death and taxes: a Creeley-esque ‘be where it is’ inevitability. The kinesthetics of the bouncing is trampolinesque, fascinating as our minds anticipate the diminishing intervals of milliseconds between the successive bounces.

 Ricochet bowing
I  calculate that, with a constant bow force, the inter-bounce time intervals approximately follow a hyperbolic Fibonacci series. I do not see that Askenfelt or anybody else has published on this. But, to me, it is a beautiful little mathematical result—writing spiccato as a compositional gesture amounts to invoking Nature and Mathematics and situating human society and its concerns in the large context of the universe and history. Spiccato kinesthetically alludes to the intersection of music and cosmology.

    1/1, 1/1, 1/2, 1/3, 1/5, 1/8, 1/13, 1/21, 1/34, 1/55, 1/89, ...

 Hyperbolic Fibonacci series B ut you need exceedingly skilled artists to pull the gesture off in performance! You need a light bow-hold, yet a bow-hold that stays under control despite the vigorous bouncing. The bow more or less pivots around an axis through the ‘U’ in the frog with the thumb and middle/index finger (depending on your bow-hold technic) daintily opposing each other. You want the force of the bow on the string to stay essentially constant during the successive bounces in order to avoid ‘multiple-slipping’.

A  squarish, Gibraltar-shaped force curve with a sharp rise and sharp drop, slipping during contact, has been shown to be optimal for a crisp spiccato. This was the result of physics experiments performed about 15 years ago by Anders Askenfelt and his colleagues at KTH in Stockholm. They found that the ‘ripple’ bending mode in the bow serves to reduce the build-up time for the force between the bowhair and the string with each successive bounce, enabling the sharp, box-shaped force as a function of time—and the crisp attack and release. However, more is not necessarily better, with regard to the sharpness imparted by the ripple. The risk of multiple-slipping is increased if the ripple mode is too great. Askenfelt found that spiccato playing properties of different bows varied widely and that the reproducibility of spiccato effects within-player and between-players also varied widely.

O ne of the [many] remarkable qualities that characterized the Formosa Quartet performance last night was the astonishing cohesiveness and elegance of their spiccato bowing. A cohesiveness of style and technic—all four of them—not just Ayano’s violin ricochet cohering with Jasmine’s violin ricochet. In fact, the extensive spiccato in each of the parts in the Shih-Hui Chen quartet provided ample empirical opportunity to confirm Askenfelt’s experiments: the ‘ripple’ in the bow dominates the effects, and the predominant 13 to 15 Hz mode is the same in violin, viola, cello, double bass. The effects are quite insensitive to the size and register of the ‘anvil’ (instrument) and have mostly to do with the physics of the bouncing ‘hammer’ (bow). The fact that this is so lends itself toward a ‘sectional’ unity that the composer can take advantage of. That spiccato physics plays no ‘favorites’ imparts a sense of the pervasiveness of ‘cause-and-effect’ natural law, of (eventual) justice and karma catching up with each and every one, of our embeddedness—every last mortal one of us—in Time.

T here are so many wonderful things in the Formosa Quartet performance and in this Shih-Hui Chen composition that I really must apologize for my ‘over the top’ delight in this one bowing-style/technical feature | compositional device. But, after all, this is a blog, not a ‘review’.

T he Formosa Quartet was joined by guest violist Scott Lee, Assistant Professor of viola at UMKC for Dvorǎk’s Op. 97, String Quintet in E-flat Major (1893). Scott won First Prize in both violin and viola in the Taiwan National Instrumental Competition, and was a top prize winner in the Lionel Tertis International Viola Competition and the William Primrose Viola Competition. He has performed at the the Newport Chamber Music Festival, La Jolla Chamber Music Festival, The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, Music from Marlboro, and, in addition to collaboration with the Formosa Quartet, has been a guest artist with the Miro, Guarneri, Juilliard, Orion, and Miami String Quartets, and with the Beaux Arts and Mannes Piano Trios. Scott Lee has been a featured soloist at the International Hindemith Viola Festival and at the 22nd and 24th International Viola Congresses. Born in Taipei, Taiwan, 29 year-old Scott trained beginning at age 14 in the U.S. with violist Donald McInnes and violinist Todor Pelev and later with Michael Tree at Curtis Institute of Music and Paul Neubauer at Juilliard.

 Scott Lee, violist
B edřich Smetana’s String Quartet No. 1 in E Minor (1876) was also performed. Both the Dvorǎk and the Smetana were superb—highly narrative, dramatic expressions that cohered with the Shih-Hui Chen piece, in terms of their grounding in the composers’ respective (auto-)biographical, nationalistic and folk-music traditions. Without question, last night’s performance was an adventure and a high-point of my concert-going thus far in the 2008-2009 season. Bravo!

O    ne of my reservations about trendy new music that is heavily based on folk music—some pieces by Osvaldo Golijov and Tan Dun, everything by Mark O’Connor—is that it is too transparently a recycling of those sounds. With [Shih-Hui] Chen’s work, by contrast, the Taiwanese melody is heard only furtively, as if it were lurking around the corner or hovering spectrally above the music. Indeed, an imagined pentatonic melody rattled through my head at intermission, even though it was never really quoted fully in ‘Mei Hua’. The folk original was evoked in fragments, with microtonal bends and other effects, obscured by dissonance in the first movement and treated with viscerally exciting rhythms and a repeated-note pulse in the second movement. The instruments were called on to make sounds more specific to Chinese music in the third movement, reminiscent of the pipa and erhu mostly.”
  —  Jens Laurson, IonArts, 17-DEC-2007.

 A thrilling Ground Hog Day, 02-FEB-2009
                     [Happy Groundhog Day!]



Saturday, November 15, 2008

BMOP: Always Lots New to Say

Martin Boykan, Robert Erikson, Elliott Schwartz, Ken Ueno
I  think of the concerto in terms of a musical narrative … [unfolding] as a dialogue between the individual (represented by the solo) and the crowd.”
  —  Martin Boykan, notes for Concerto for Violin & Orchestra, 2003.
The Boston Modern Orchestra Project BMOP presented a concert of new string concertos (plus Schoenberg’s 1933 concerto for string quartet and orchestra) last night at Jordan Hall in Boston, conducted by BMOP Artistic Director Gil Rose.

  • Martin Boykan: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra (Curtis Macomber, violin)
  • Robert Erickson: Fantasy for Cello and Orchestra (Rafael Popper-Keizer, cello)
  • Elliott Schwartz: Chamber Concerto VI: Mr. Jefferson (Charles Dimmick, violin)
  • Ken Ueno: Talus, Concerto for Viola and Orchestra (Wendy Richman, viola)
  • Arnold Schoenberg: Concerto for String Quartet and Orchestra
Gil Rose, photo © Liz Linder
This exciting program reaffirmed that the concerto continues to thrive as an expressive idiom even today. These ingenious composers continue to find new ways to match the timbre and rhythmic and melodic capabilities of a solo instrument to the sonorities of an orchestra. The virtuosity of a concerto soloist always fascinates us; our appetite for soloists is boundless.

But it’s de rigeur in western cultures to focus on the soloist. What about the orchestra (vis à vis the Boykan blockquote above), the ‘society’ in which the soloist appears?

T here’s nothing wrong with interpreting concerto form socially. That’s not too subversive, interpreting this music in the context of these composers’ social views … Schwartz’s postmodernism; Erikson’s veganism; the inconstancy of Schoenberg’s quantum Judaism and regard for apocalypse; Boykan’s fascination with the textuality and temporality of everything; Ueno’s cheerful anarchism that considers anarchy as a ‘greenfield enterprise’.

Ueno says “Should justice and love not be observed also toward a stranger? The answer is that this, too, is according to a ‘just’ principle of public order, that regular citizens and subscribers are honored beyond outsiders and strangers, lest everything be uniform and ridiculously equal.” Honor the concerto soloist, then, but not in a topsy-turvy way that does injustice to ‘regular-anybody’ else.

There are indications in the music served up last night that each of these composers considers (and that the BMOP considers, as a matter consequent upon its charter and founding principles) the figuration of the orchestra in Ueno-ian conditional-egalitarian terms. (The Schwartz piece, explicitly ‘Jeffersonian’, in fact.) Their conceptions of the orchestra do not have to be understood as ‘representational art’—as literal depictions of contemporary society. Instead think of it this way: our social structures and story-telling processes come from certain habits of thinking, our predispositions, our political and moral stances. These habits and social processes and their consequences are (partly) what the composers—what these concertos—reveal.

I don’t imagine that these composers (or BMOP as sponsor-provocateur) advocate or foresee ‘revolutionary’ action against contemporary social hierarchies any more than Bach anticipated or agitated for revolutionary social justice with his concertos in Leipzig. These concertos are not tame, but they are accessible, listenable. But there can be little doubt that in last night’s concert Ueno, Schwartz, Erikson, Boykan, and Schoenberg ‘reminded’ the listeners and performers—of lively issues in controversial/revolutionary relations between the individual (‘soloist’; or, in Schoenberg’s case, ‘quartet’) and the society (orchestra) as a whole.

T he Ueno piece, for example, has toward the end of it a beautiful section where the viola part becomes immersed in the orchestral waves, and then the texture of the orchestra parts becomes progressively sparser until the solo viola once again emerges, pure and whole. This ‘restoration’ was elegant and convincing—indicating the resilience of the traumatized individual, so long as there is an effective social support network in operation, plus a modicum of good luck and good protoplasm that’s able to heal.

Reminded whom? These engaging concertos are works designed mostly for fellow new-musickers. Not historiographic time-capsules addressed to unknown future generations, nor narratives for audiences desiring to be told comfortable musical stories they already know oh so well, nor urgent pleas put in bottles and set afloat on distant seas against the improbable chance of discovery and rescue by somebody, anybody. No, these concertos are manifestos for the parties pro-tem, powerful incantations for new congregants already here.

One tendency defining the American works could, I think, be fairly labeled ‘classicism’. The ‘turn’ to traditional concerto form is a kind of classicism, and these works do each display a strong retrospective awareness, an historical consciousness. But they display this as Schoenberg did, believing in “Art as a profound instrument of ethical transportation and moral transformation”: we can_has futures that are really new, and we can go places really different from the past.

Now in its 13th year, BMOP provides a valued public service by aiding and abetting new, notorious, transportable and non-transportable things. What a wonderful start to the new 2008-2009 season! Bravo!

The next BMOP event is a Club Concert on 09-DEC-2008 (Tuesday, 19:00) at the Moonshine Room at Club Cafe Bistro & Lounge, 209 Columbus Ave, in Boston.

I  n the spring of 2006, my friend Wendy Richman fell off the stage at MassMoCA during rehearsals for a David Lang opera, ‘Anatomy Theater’, and broke her ankle (the talus, tibia and fibula bones). [The opening of the concerto begins in a most surprising way (which I will not divulge here), before Wendy addresses her viola with the bow.] When Wendy sent around a jpg of her foot x-ray [by email to her friends], the horizontal lines of the bolts in her ankle immediately suggested harmonic possibilities to me. Some of the harmonies in this piece are, in fact, generated from spectral analysis that I did of the digitized x-ray. Seeing Wendy’s courage as she worked to recover from this severe injury reminded me of my mother’s courage during her recovery after tearing three ligaments in her knee from a skiing accident (I deferred a semester of college to take care of her during that time). My mother was determined go back and ski down the same hill in Park City where she was injured and accomplished this feat in two years’ time. A spectrogram that I made from the jpg of Wendy’s ankle x-ray is here:”
  —  Ken Ueno, interview with David Bruce, CompositionToday.com, 29-OCT-2008.
Ken Ueno’s digital spectrogram of digitized x-ray of Wendy Richman’s ankle, ca. 2006, the basis for Ueno’s composition ‘Talus’
A  major focus of my work has been trying to reconcile the grammatological distance between ‘transportable’ and ‘non-transportable’ sounds. Transportable sounds are those elements that usually comprise the grammar of western music: rhythm, melody, and harmony. Non-transportable sounds are those sounds that have to be produced on a specific instrument in a specific way, which, in the West, have often been labeled as noise. Takemitsu’s compositions have helped to convince the world of the validity of non-transportable sounds, in that they are beautiful and worth listening to ... silence as expressive of the Japanese aesthetic principle of ‘ma’... I hope to have prepared the listener to focus on a [really] wide rubric of timbres.”
  —  Ken Ueno, interview with Brian Sacawa, 2005.
T he history of music from Haydn to Mahler, via Beethoven and Wagner, was a narrative of obfuscation. The logical conclusion to all this was Schoenberg’s: harmonic form ceases to function, and the diatonic scale is no longer a reliable reference point. Each note is as important as the others, and this ideal is ensured by prohibiting the resounding of a pitch until its eleven colleagues have been allowed to speak. The Galileis, père and fils, are circumscribed: we’re out of orbit, we’ve escaped the pull of tonal gravity, we’re in the floating, directionless heaven of Schoenberg’s beloved Swedenborg. That was in 1908. He had converted to Lutheranism ten years before. He fled Christianity and returned to Judaism in 1933, when he composed the peculiar ‘Concerto for String Quartet and Orchestra’— the same year as he fled Berlin for Paris and, finally, Los Angeles.”
  —  Joshua Cody, ‘10 + 5 = Gott’: Die Macht der Zeichen, 2004.
T he thesis of ‘violin in the age of shopping’ is that musical— ] content as a recognizable idea has anymore ceased to exist because all ‘the content’ has become interchangeable: it doesn’t matter what is going on, provided there is evidence that something is going on—a merely quantitative world of mass copies and fakes. All music—whatever its origin, status or supposed function—would now exist in a digital ‘dreamtime’ that the originators of ‘muzak’ could never have imagined.”
  —  Jon Rose, Violin in the Age of Shopping.


Sunday, October 26, 2008

Emergence: Lisa Bielawa, MMRPGs, and Massively-Multiplayer Chamber Music

 Sweetser book
T    he 23-year-old poet [Rainer Maria Rilke] encountered a phantom self in the Cornet—Rilke’s ancestor whose life was full of wide-eyed courage, action and discovery, but cut short. Rilke’s book was written feverishly, supposedly in just one night. Perhaps Rilke, suddenly aware of his own mortality, was also already aware that—although many of us continue living into more reflective, circumspect years—in a sense all of us die young, because the innocence of our young selves cannot survive the awarenesses that are the inevitable result of prolonged engagement with a troubled world.”
  —  Lisa Bielawa, program notes, The Lay of the Love and Death [of Cornet Christoph Rilke].
A    t daybreak a horseman is there, and then a second, then four, ten. Armored-up, most of them. Then a thousand more behind them: the Army. One must separate oneself.
‘Get home in one piece, Marquis...’
‘Mary protects you, Squire.’
But they cannot bring themselves to part yet. They are friends of a sudden, like brothers. They have more to confide in each other, for they already know so much each one of the other. They linger. Awkwardly. There’s haste and hoofbeat about them. Then the Marquis takes off his right glove. He fetches out the little rose, takes a petal from it ... takes it as one would take and break the host, the communion wafer.
‘That will safeguard you. Farewell.’
Von Langenau is taken aback. He gazes long after the Frenchman. Then he shoves the ad hoc petal into his shirtpocket. It rises and falls on the waves of his breath.
Bugle-call. He rides to join his regiment, Junker does.
He smiles sadly: a woman he does not know is protecting him.

[Einmal, am Morgen, ist ein Reiter da, und dann ein zweiter, vier, zehn. Ganz in Eisen, groß. Dann tausend dahinter: Das Heer.
Man muß sich trennen.
»Kehrt glücklich heim, Herr Marquis...«
»Die Maria schützt Euch, Herr Junker.«
Und sie können nicht voneinander. Sie sind Freunde auf einmal, Brüder. Haben einander mehr zu vertrauen; denn sie wissen schon so viel Einer vom Andern. Sie zögern. Und ist Hast und Hufschlag um sie. Da streift der Marquis den großen rechten Handschuh ab. Er holt die kleine Rose hervor, nimmt ihr ein Blatt. Als ob man eine Hostie bricht.
»Das wird Euch beschirmen. Lebt wohl.«
Der von Langenau staunt. Lange schaut er dem Franzosen nach. Dann schiebt er das fremde Blatt unter den Waffenrock. Und es treibt auf und ab auf den Wellen seines Herzens.
Hornruf. Er reitet zum Heer, der Junker.
Er lächelt traurig: ihn schützt eine fremde Frau.]”
  —  Rainer-Maria Rilke, De Weise von Liebe und Tod des Cornets Christoph Rilke
You really should try to avail yourself of the opportunity to hear composer Lisa Bielawa’s new works in upcoming performances in Boston and New York (see links below). Bielawa has written a number of acclaimed chamber music compositions. She regularly writes choral and symphonic works that are also highly regarded.

Bielawa’s conceptions of chamber music and musical intimacy are admittedly broader than most. Her scoring and novel orchestrations are wondrous. Bielawa’s nominally ‘symphonic’ works, such as ‘The Trojan Women’ (2002), entails a large orchestra performing virtuosically, but sans conductor. For the world premiere of her symphonic piece ‘The Right Weather’ (2004), orchestra members were spatially dispersed in and around Zankel Hall, at Carnegie, again performing without a conductor. As such, Bielawa’s symphonic compositions involve the emergent, multi-player intimacy that is characteristic of chamber music. The pieces just happen to involve conductorless ensembles that are the size of full orchestras, playing in halls whose ambient acoustics are larger and more reverberous than is usual for chamber music venues.

 Lisa Bielawa, photo © Liz Linder
C    oncert-hall venues impose social conventions upon classical music. I love orchestras. But I have a problem with the fact that it costs $65 to hear them, and somebody is waving a stick and s/he’s in charge.”
  —  Lisa Bielawa.
Her conductorless pieces are fascinating to listen to and, I imagine, fascinating too to perform, as a member of such a peculiarly deployed ensemble. When done this way, the sense of acoustic depth can be cavernous—far larger than when the same number of performers are under the baton of a strong conductor. The communicative gestures that one uses to stay in-sync with others—or to encourage others nearby to sync-up with you—are complex and unfamiliar. And each performer’s maneuvers to recover or accommodate rhythmic and harmonic contingencies that arise are totally different from those that are routine in small ensembles. Creatively speaking, it’s like being placed in a wilderness survival situation. So much is uncertain. The inter-personal distances and vulnerability seem so great. So much, beyond what’s written on the page of music, can happen.

You become acutely aware of the extreme fragility, the tenuousness of the social fabric that defines the cooperation of the ensemble members. There are people here who, no matter how many years you’ve collaborated with them, you don’t really know very well, and who do not, when it comes down to it, know you. Nor do [some of them] care tremendously deeply about you as an individual. These things are hidden when there is a conductor…

In other words, you become acutely aware of the feral, borg-like ‘organism’ that the ensemble really is, and it is a very different kind of organism than, say, a string quartet. It is an alternate reality; there is no ‘spoon’, not really. (Not, anyhow, if you intend to bend the thing, pitting your will as a performer/ensemble-member against the psychokinetic wills of other fellow musicians.)

Lisa’s forthcoming CD, ‘The Lay of the Love and Death’, is also a meditation on the tensions between individual and collective action; between individual destiny and collective/societal destiny. It is due to be released next May by Premiere Commission Recordings, a new record label based in New York. The Lay was written for violinist Colin Jacobsen and baritone Jesse Blumberg and based on an epic poem by Rainer-Maria Rilke (‘Die Weise von Liebe und Tod des Cornets Christoph Rilke’), and was premièred at Alice Tully Hall in March 2006.

B    ielawa’s music explores the ritual and phenomenological nature of music-making and listening, employing [emergent] instrumental forces in ways that are both dramatic and intimate in their use of time and space.”
  —  Premier Commission Recordings jewel-case blurb.
Lisa Bielawa’s choice of this Rilke text leverages her degree in literature and literary criticism. Rainer-Maria Rilke’s confabulation based on the death of his ancestor in battle is a dark tale—a study in the limits of human trust; the foolishness (but inevitability) of anticipation; the spontaneity (but random happenstantiality) of genuine friendships; the innateness (but immutability) of our character and personality. It is at once an affirmation of our moral duty to live thoughtfully and responsibly among other people, and at the same time an acknowledgment that the human condition is trouble, no guarantees. Create good and beauty in the face of the void because it is the right thing to do; do not do it in expectation of any reward, in this world or in any hereafter. There is emergent quality to the text, plus the timeless ‘thrownness’ of war. There is an emergent quality to Lisa’s compositional methods that lends a distinctive openness to her writing.

Bielawa is currently composer-in-residence for the Boston Modern Orchestra Project. The present work, ‘The Trojan Women’, paints portraits of three grieving women—Hecuba, Cassandra and Andromache—who lost their husbands in the gruesome Trojan War. The three movements differ from each other in emotional content, tempi, harmonic textures, and modes of expression. But each conveys a distinc kind of mourning. Beautifully written.


    [50-sec clip, Lisa Bielawa, First Takes, ‘Trojan Women-Andromache’, 1.2MB MP3]

    [50-sec clip, Lisa Bielawa, First Takes, ‘Trojan Women-Cassandra’, 1.2MB MP3]

 Bielawa – Handful of World CD

    [50-sec clip, Lisa Bielawa, Handful of World, KafkaSongs-II, 1.2MB MP3]

    [50-sec clip, Lisa Bielawa, Handful of World, KafkaSongs-VII, 1.2MB MP3]

W    itty, dramatic and poignant by turns, [Bielawa’s ‘Handful of World’] songs offer a probing take on Kafka’s texts, and the scoring—for one performer simultaneously singing and playing the violin—makes possible all kinds of tonal resonances and multipart counterpoint. The other music ... is no less arresting or literarily astute.”
  —  San Francisco Chronicle.
Bielawa’s compositions are diverse, but they each bring character development and story-telling to the fore. And, having as I do some acquaintance with both composing and with computer game engineering, I would say that Lisa’s conductorless compositions contain some voice-leading and phrasing ‘devices’ that would be considered by game developers to be classic ‘anti-cheat mechanisms’, designed to insure continuity, preserving fairness and rationality of gameplay.

There are few, if any, opportunities for rogue or errant ensemble members to ‘hack’ the score, or ‘cheat’, or ‘grief’ other players. Would-be ‘Hackers’ spend time discovering and testing exploits to commandeer the score and exert undue influence over the musical outcomes. Would-be ‘Cheaters’ spend time using the exploits devised by others, or riding on the coattails of Hackers’ exploits. Would-be ‘Griefers’ reinforce the side-effects of others’ exploits, to alter the sociology of the game-world and to subvert the score to suit their own purposes or to advance their own perceptions of its statements or value.

  • Hack_type1: Client executable alteration (score annotations)
  • Hack_type2: Rehearsal subversion (adjusting the ensemble's understanding of the inside lore of the game)
  • Hack_type3: Part augmentation (injecting control through extra-textual embellishments)
  • Hack_type4: Denial-of-service attack (preemptiveness or recalcitrance, forcing other ensemble members to accomodate the attacker)
In a large, heterogeneous ensemble, the ‘client’ apps cannot be trusted. They are running on the Cheaters’ hardware—their minds; their performance muscle-memories—and any would-be Cheaters among the group have all of the means to reverse-engineer your score and bypass all of the markings and controls you put in place.

Despite the large number of players (high cardinality) and despite the polyphonic complexity of her writing (high dimensionality), the architecture and phrasing constructs that Lisa uses are cohesive and self-repairing. The virtual sound-worlds she creates are stable. Their beauty can be edgy—there is nothing predestined or deterministic, for individual parts or for the ensemble/society. But the worlds do not readily fall apart nor do they make us worry that they might. Cohesive, stable ‘emergence’—for the individuals and for the group.

Emergence occurs when interactions between players and objects result in consequences that are not explicit in the text and performance rules, a sort of aleatoric runtime indirection that is spontaneous and not explicitly intended by the composer-developer. Emergence requires some stochastic or random elements, but it’s not predominantly random; satisfying types of emergence are reproducible from performance to performance, and they are memorable and rehearsible. That, I think, is a distinctive feature of Lisa’s compositions… Stockhausen and others, not so much.

What else? Well, systems—and compositions—that possess the quality we would call ‘emergence’ have, I think, the following minimal features:
  • ‘Global’ phenomena emerge from ‘Local’ interactions among individual entities
  • There is [usually] no evidence of the global phenomena at the local or individual level [like much of Elliott Carter’s writing, say];
  • Global phenomena have a time-course that is different from the time-course of individual/local phenomena, and global phenomena are governed by different physics or collective forces than the ones that are exerted on individuals.
And we can recognize, I would say, at least 4 ‘levels’ of emergence. We can recognize them, and composers can bake them in.
  • First-order: When local interactions have ‘knock-on’ or chain-reaction effects and spread by contagion;
  • Second-order: When players use the score and performance environment to improvise their own expressive strategies and deliberately enable para-social interaction types that were not created or intended by the developer; the improvised strategies in turn change how various contingencies in the game play out;
  • Third-order: When new gameplay involves players’ carving new paths or creating new ‘public commons’, that are accessible to most or all players or that directly affect the overall, global character of play.
 MMRPG violins
The Lay of the Love and Death of the Cornet’ is an early Rilke work, written in Berlin in 1899. The event that precipitated its writing was the discovery of a fragment of a family heirloom document, something from a trunk or attic in the Rilke house. He had no expectation of finding any such thing, nor was he planning to write any poem having to do with his ancestral history. This item was serendipitously noticed when he was browsing among some family papers. The document concerned one young Christoph Rilke, who was killed in Hungary in 1663 in a military campaign against the Turks. This fragment of a document concerning the young man’s duties as a cornet in the army was the only historical fact that Rilke had to go on; not much else was known about this Christoph, other than the meager bits that the document fragment contained. The story, however, almost wrote itself. Rilke’s vivid imagination produced overnight this poignant, open-ended 63-page romantic invention.

In similar fashion, Bielawa’s works—including the latest Rilke one—have likewise an open-ended, improvisational feel to them, regardless how carefully orchestrated her scores are. They are natural; playable; listenable. They sound so intuitively true, so plausible that you might imagine them to have almost written themselves, like Rilke in an inspired fever. They evoke a politics of ethical engagedness, an acoustic pluralism, and an expressive ‘commons’—all precious things in an age gone amok with private property, mutual misapprehension, isolation.

Have a look at Lisa’s compositions. They are like fantastic interactive fictions or MMRPGs, each inviting you to discover a richly detailed, extensible story. Consider adding one or more of her pieces to your group’s repertoire, not just to experience the beauty that’s in them but also to extend and further develop the ways that you have at your disposal to achieve new dimensions of expressiveness amongst your ensemble’s members. Lastly but not least, do buy and enjoy her recordings, and try to catch upcoming performances. You’re sure to be emergently pleased.

G    ame developers [composers and conductors] and players [performers] speculate that it would be fantastic if we could achieve gameplay [performance] that is open and natural, where players can choose their own strategies independently, and the gameplay is limited only by each player's imagination and creativity. In recent years, games [compositions] have taken steps toward this with emergent interactions made possible by Valve Corp’s source engine and the availability of advanced game physics middleware... However, game developers [composers and conductors] realize the trade-off between emergence and design. Giving players control [means that the developers and conductors relinquish their own control].”
  —  Penny Sweetser, Emergence in Games, p. 3.

 Lisa Bielawa, photo © Azzura Primavera