Showing posts with label storytelling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storytelling. Show all posts

Saturday, April 4, 2009

David Behrman and Chamber Music Storytelling

 David Behrman
I    have seen and endured the sufferings... and I can no longer be a party to prolonging those sufferings for ends which I believe to be evil and unjust... I am not protesting against the military conduct of the War, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting troops are being sacrificed.”
  —  Siegfried Sassoon, Statement against the War, 1917.
T his is maybe the best, most eloquent and moving, most beautiful anti-war music I have ever heard. It is also a work that vividly illustrates the powerful narrativity that chamber music can embody. And I am not just referring to the concrete textuality of the poems and excerpts of private correspondence that engage in dialogues with the instrumental parts; I am referring also to the ways that David Behrman treats the vocal parts as instruments per se, and the ways that the composition reveals the inherent narrativity of the instrumental parts.

    My Dear Siegfried (2003 and 2005)
  • Statement against the War, London, 1917
  • My Father’s Grocery Store, Worcester, MA, 1902
  • Watercress Well, Kent, England, 1902
  • Letter from Samuel Behrman (to Siegfried Sassoon), 22-AUG-1939
  • Letter from Siegried Sassoon (to Samuel Behrman), 01-SEP-1939
  • Everyone Sang (Siegfried Sassoon) 1919
T hese ‘movements’ are performed by Thomas Buckner, Eric Barsness, Meria Ludovici, vocalists; Ralph Samuelson, shakuhachi; Peter Zummo, trombone; David Behrman, keyboard, electronics; and Tom Hamilton, engineering, special effects.

S tatement against the War’ (6:42) has a punctate bass line, sometimes processed to increase the unison-width. Like a piano, to change the timbre or color of the sound, a piano tuner introduces small tuning differences between the three strings struck by the hammer. The unison width, that is, the difference between the lowest and the highest frequency produced by the three strings of a single note is usually narrow, but, in the case of ‘honky-tonk’ piano, may be very wide. Here the plucked bass is digitally post-processed and fed back, to impart a pretty big pitch dispersion to each note.

T he honky-tonk timbre of the bass part enables it to serve in a dour narrator’s role through this piece. It may seem like it is not doing much, but in reality it is an important, essential contribution to the overall storytelling that happens.

I    went to study with Stockhausen because I was a fan of some of his music, especially ‘Gesang der Juenglinge’, a wonderful tape-music piece made in the mid-Fifties—taped boys’ voices. La Monte Young and I were both in his composition class at Darmstadt in the summer of 1959; Cornelius Cardew and David Tudor were there as advisers. Stockhausen’s course was an eye-opening experience for me—in part because of his intense devotion to new music; in part because he encouraged my efforts; and in part because it was at that course that a long-lasting friendship with David Tudor began. It seems far in the past now, but there was a kind of optimistic feeling there, as though a new, good society was emerging from the horrors of the recent past.”
  —  David Behrman, interview with Jason Gross Furious, AUG-1997.
T he bass trombone here is sometimes straight acoustic trombone and sometimes vocoder-distorted or comb-filter processed to create eerie, macabre effects that are deeply disturbing—appropriate to the anti-war thematic intent. ‘My Dear Siegfried’ was commissioned by MutableMusic for baritone Thomas Buckner.

M y Father’s Grocery Store’ (11:27) has the narrator’s sprechstimme overlain with liquid synth glisses, skulking and pugilistic. The narrative is an account from David Behrman’s father’s (Samuel Behrman’s) early 20th-Century experiences growing up in a Jewish neighborhood in Worcester, Mass—a tale of broken eyeglasses; tampering with cigarette packages in the store, in order to filch the promotional photos of prize-fighters that the packages contained; the not-so-innocent acquisitiveness of children; the consequences of being caught red-handed by the parent; the existential agony and rupture of trust within the family that this precipitates; the irony of this minor trauma on the eve of WWI. Had only the pictures been ones of Maimonides and Spinoza instead of prize-fighters who kill for money, the sin of the theft of pictures would not have been so great.

I n ‘Letter from S.N. Behrman’ (9:50) we have irregularly-irregular atrial-fibrillatory, asynchronous dubbing of a woman’s voice in the foreground and an electronically-distorted man’s voice, comb-filtered and heavily reverbed, in the background. Spooky, spectral words, foreshadowing the horrific events of 1939 and beyond. Discursive, bubbling synth and reedy, muted trumpet. The relevance of this dusty 70-year-old letter to our contemporary situation is uncanny—and the poetical/composerly beauty and pungency of David Behrman’s incorporation of this old text into his musical polemic opposing the Iraq War are shattering, iconic. Chamber music as voiced cardiac arrhythmia. This effort will be a tough act to follow... and cardioversion may not succeed, or may not last.

I n ‘Letter from Siegfried Sassoon’ (11:41), even the pulse of the narration and the instrumental parts is moribund, clinically depressed. Composer Nic Collins says in the liner-notes (p. 22) that Behrman’s writing embodies a ‘talmudic, self-referential’ critic’s stance in this composition.

E veryone Sang’ (6:20) is Behrman’s setting of Sassoon’s 1919 poem commemorating the end of WWI, replete with ambient thunder, birds chirping and trilling, breathy trombone obviously exhausted and grieving but glad to have survived, and other-worldly organ synth patch intoning chords from the netherworld. Devastating in 1919 and devastating once again in this 2005 Behrman reincarnation.

 Siegfried Sassoon, 1918
E    veryone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
as prisoned birds must find in freedom—
winging wildly across the white
  orchards and dark green fields; on; on; out of sight.
Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted,
and beauty came like the setting sun.
My heart was shaken with tears, and horror
drifted away... O, but every one
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing ... will
  never be done.”
  —  Siegfried Sassoon.
O n disc No. 2 of the set, we have QSRL (1998), performed by Jon Gibson; Viewfinder (2002) , and A New Team Takes Over (1969) on the occasion of Richard Nixon’s inauguration, both performed by Behrman; Touch Tones (1979), performed by Frankie Mann with Arthur Stidfole; and Pools of Phase Locked Loops (1972), performed by Katherine Morton and David Behrman. In the first two of these, we have sensors detecting ambient activity in the installation space, and software algorithms automatically implementing changes in the synths’ pitches and harmonic and rhythmic structures based on the events and velocities and masses detected by the sensors. In this situation/configuration, the ‘chamber’ is the instrument, and the ‘performers’ are the random, ambient people who enter the chamber: throw-down chamber music.

B y contrast to conventional jazz where the sound palette and riff possibilities for improvisation are pretty well known to the performers in advance, Behrman’s installation-art scenarios feature on-the-fly discovery of improvisational tools by inadvertent, happenstantial ‘performers’. Deliberation is consequent upon discovery—discovery of one’s performerhood, and discovery of the tools that are at your disposal. Very cool. Deeply revelatory of what it means to be human (at least it is so if the ‘performers’ who enter the chamber are cooperative, emotionally engaged, curious/creative souls).

C    ollins: Knowing your work as being primarily non-lyric-based, non-text-based, ... how is human voice and the text aspect different from working with other instruments? What happens to your work?

Behrman: It becomes an ‘amalgam’ of the two things: the music and the spoken text. It’s a wider dispersion of the idea of music. If you think of sound-art as encompassing anything that comes into the ears, it can include spoken or whispered or sung language, as well as noise, pitched sound, or environmental sound. I’ve been a great admirer of Robert Ashley’s use of linear narrative text in his music since the 1960s. Of course, our styles are very different. But in a sense his work served as a model for the ‘Siegfried’ piece. Also, I’ve gotten interested recently in enhancing and transforming the voice with the help of newly-available techniques, both in live performance and recording.”
  —  David Behrman interview with Nicholas Collins, AUG-2004, ‘My Dear Siegfried’ linernotes, p. 19.
P ool of Phase-Locked Loops’ (13:56) is, as chance would have it, the famous 1972 piece that caused me to buy this CD. I was not looking for Siegfried or any of the wonderful things that are on these discs; I was working with PWGL and I needed a ‘benchmark’ for my exploring PLL algorithmic control of a piece of a score I was working on. I had never heard ‘Pool of PLLs’ before, and the Siegfried recording was a source where ‘Pool’ could be found. Throbbing sixteenth-note mm = 200 phase-interference and phase-modulation constitute the predominant pulse and rhythmic structure in this hypnotic, minimalist adventure, revealing and obfuscating many different layers/voices/narrators. But, regardless how this CD came to be in my possession, I am deeply grateful for and inspired by the political content of ‘Siegfried’. There is much to learn here: Behrman’s consummate skill as a storyteller-composer-poet expands the bounds of chamber music. ‘Epistolary’ chamber music, in the novelistic style of ‘Clarissa’? ‘Polemical’ chamber music, in the idiom of itinerant troubadours?


    [50-sec clip, Behrman et al., My Dear Siegfried, ‘Statement against the War, 1917’, 1.6MB MP3]


    [50-sec clip, Behrman et al., My Dear Siegfried, ‘My Father’s Grocery Store’, 1.6MB MP3]


    [50-sec clip, Behrman et al., My Dear Siegfried, ‘Watercress Well’, 1.6MB MP3]


    [50-sec clip, Behrman et al., My Dear Siegfried, ‘QSRL’, 1.6MB MP3]


    [50-sec clip, Behrman et al., My Dear Siegfried, ‘Pools of Phase-Locked Loops’, 1.6MB MP3]

D avid Behrman was born Salzburg, Austria, in 1937. Since the 1960s has made sound and multimedia installations for art galleries, as well as works for performance in conventional concert venues. He worked with John Cage, Christian Wolff, David Tudor, and Merce Cunningham in the 1960s and 1970s and, with Robert Ashley and others, was a founding member of the (now defunct) Sonic Arts Union. Among Behrman’s works for soloists and chamber ensembles are Unforeseen Events, My Dear Siegfried, Leapday Night, On the Other Ocean, Homemade Synthesizer Music with Sliding Pitches, Useful Information and Protests 1917–2004, and Interspecies Smalltalk. Among Behrman’s sound and multimedia installations are Cloud Music, Pen Light (2002), and Viewfinder (2005). Recordings of his works appear on the XI, Lovely Music, Alga Marghen, Classic Masters and Ellipsis Arts labels. He has collaborated with Veenfabriek in the Netherlands on music for a (revived) Futurists’ Orchestra. Behrman is based in New York and is a member of the faculty at the Avery Graduate Arts Program at Bard College.

 My Dear Sigfried, XI Records

 Walsh, p. 89



Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Long-lost Sampo Found: Mikko Luoma, Jukka Tiensuu, and Finnish Identity

 Mikko Luoma
My mother’s people were Finnish-Swedish and came from Kokkola (Karleby; coastal Finland, south of Oulu) and the Aland islands (Åland in Swedish, Ahvenanmaa in Finnish; located between eastern Sweden and southwestern Finland, about 100 km across the Baltic from Stockholm). Åland and Kokkola were once isolated and connected only by sea. In some ways, they are even today isolated—not socially, but in terms of cultural identity.

 Kokkola (Karleby), Finland
Which is not to say that identity is hobbled or deficient in any way. To the contrary, these are among the few places left with unalloyed identities—where authentic folk culture continues to resist the pervasive consumeristic, globalized mass culture. Finnish chamber music contributes to that resistance—including the work of Mikko Luoma, virtuoso accordionist. His CD, released last year by Bridge Records, is a breathtakingly-performed, beautifully-produced, expertly-engineered immersion in the Finnish ethos.

    Mikko Luoma
  • Power – Haapamäki
  • Aufschwung – Tiensuu
  • Carpathian Suite – Zubitsky
  • Vagabonde blu – Sciarrino
  • Passacaille – Grisey
  • Jeux d’anches – Lindberg
  • Zolo – Tiensuu
 Mikko Luoma
The ‘orality’ of Luoma’s playing is astonishing. His entry into the music is that of a consummate actor or storyteller. He imparts an immediacy, an in-the-moment ‘happeningness’, to every piece. The effect on us listeners is riveting—resembling very much the aura of a belovèd grandparent confabulating stories for us at bedtime when we were small children.

T  he whole work is a joy, precisely because one can hear two things concurrently: the vibrant nature of the generating folklore and [the] delighted exploration thereof.”
  —  Colin Clarke, Fanfare.
The playing feels at times autobiographical, so deeply invested is Luoma in the performance. Here is a virtuosic, classically-trained musician evoking the mind of an aboriginal keeper of folk myths! His neo-mythologizing transgresses the cultural borders at the same time as their Finnishness is reinforced. The CD is, inadvertently, an acoustic monograph on mythification in compositional processes and performance practice.

Aufschwung (‘upswing’; up-beat) composed by Jukka Tiensuu in 1977 is a seminal milestone in the development of classical Finnish accordion music—more than maybe any other piece. It is architectonic acoustic art, in some ways closer to electroacoustic idioms than to accordion ‘orchestral’ writing.


    [50-sec clip, Jukka Tiensuu, ‘Aufschwung’, Mikko Luoma, 2.2MB MP3]

Zolo, the other Tiensuu composition on this CD, is also atmospheric—experimental, oracular, filled with grunts and growls, and performed with a lyricism that belies the piece’s virtuosic difficulty. To hear and appreciate the physics of these masterful impersonations—of orchestral instruments, of animals, of spirits and mythical beings—is alone worth the price of this CD. Luoma makes the accordion do things that seem quite impossible. The musicality and the apparent ease with which he achieves his lyrical results are enthralling. If you have any affinity for classical accordion at all, you must get this CD.


    [50-sec clip, Jukka Tiensuu, ‘Zolo’, Mikko Luoma, 2.2MB MP3]

 Physics of free-reed, Fletcher, Fig 13.7



Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Writing Home: Reflection Papers and Journaling to Deepen Your Music

Charles Rosen, Frontiers of Meaning
N ow I’m supposed to write a paper reflecting on my playing and my learning process, which in turn are reflections of my literacy and adherence [or not] to the assignments. If I have to write this reflection paper of my reflecting on my reflections, I will ... do badness to something or someone. I have no idea what to write.”
  —  Anonymous.
If you’re in school, then chances are your assignments include writing one or more ‘reflection papers’ this semester. The task of writing an essay on your own experiences and applications and first-hand gleanings forces you to collect and distill and categorize: you critically evaluate your experiences and place them into context; the narrative form forces you to write about your own impressions and explain the context into which they fit. Quelle horreur!

Reflection papers aren’t a pedagogical punishment. Throughout your career, you can and should invest in improving your musicianship through regular journaling. This is in addition to whatever other activities you engage in for performance, composing, producing, engineering, arts marketing, artist management, presenting, teaching, listening—whatever you do musically. Writing ‘reflection papers’ is just one way for you to harvest and preserve the experiential learning that you do in those other activities. It’s a way to connect the work with the learning.

Why journal? (Why blog?) Mostly to keep yourself learning and growing, and to force yourself to clarify your thinking and revisit and retest your convictions—especially ones that may never’ve been fully thought-through in the first place. Consider it as a dimension of your training, just like practicing on your instrument(s)—it keeps your mind from getting old or rusty or atrophied. Use it or lose it!

W    hen I don’t practice for one day, my fingers know it; for two days, my friends know it; for three days, and the whole world knows it.”
  —  Ignacy Paderewski.
Journaling is about the shape and meaning we assign to our experiences. Our stories are about who we are, where we’ve come from, and where we think we’re headed and why. What you want to do is get ideas and explore ideas. You want to assemble evidence and counter-evidence, and critique the quality and strength of both.

How to go about it? I think it helps to have at least one or two examples as ‘benchmarks’ to serve as guides and reminders of the writing qualities you admire. For me, the epitome of writing that is at once erudite, elegant, and entertaining is pianist Charles Rosen. His little 1994 book ‘Frontiers of Meaning’ is, for me, iconic. Kyle Gann’s ‘Music Downtown’, emblematic of journalistic bravery. Alex Ross’s ‘The Rest Is Noise’ has a different tenor but serves to remind me of how wide our palette can be. Arnold Steinhardt’s ‘Indivisible by Four’, reminds me of grandfatherly patience and generosity in the life lived and the life written-about. You don’t have to write books as they have done. But our own writing will be better if we look frequently at how our favorite authors write.

The best book I know that specifically covers journaling and reflection papers as a practice for working artists is Buck’s. If you’re looking for practical guidance on how to go about writing a reflection paper (whether for your class assignment, or independently for your own professional growth), I recommend you pick up a copy. Check out the other books below, too.

Ultimately, critical analysis and interpretation aren’t detached acts; not value-neutral reportage. No, as a kind of psychological counterpart to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle in physics, the acts of observing and journaling change the things you are observing and their relationships to each other. The personal change is the source of the value in writing reflection papers: the change enables further growth in your playing or composing or listening. Paradoxically, the infinite regress that Anonymous complained about above is actually the whole point of the exercise. Rather than ending in confusion, the process makes you figure things out; makes you figure out how you figured them out; makes you figure out how ‘figuring out’ works. A different dimension of professional practice. A different kind of rehearsal. Quelle horreur!

O  ur doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.”
  —  William Shakespeare.