Reviews
Terry Riley and Sharon Chohi Kim: an optimistic start to the season
Earlier this month, I attended a pair of concerts in that groggy, nascent part of the season; all the concert series’ seasons had just been announced, where the activity was still sparse as those in teaching positions contend with the beginnings of their semesters. I attended the Terry Riley 90th Birthday Celebration on September 7, and Sharon Chohi Kim’s Murmurations on September 12.
The Terry Riley celebration began with a recorded message from Terry himself, who at 90 years old could not make the trip to Los Angeles from Japan. Vicky Chow walked onstage to perform Keyboard Study No. 2, an ambient wash of layered piano figures gently percolating through the amphitheater as fog filled the stage. After a (maybe bit too much) time, the piece concluded and the remainder of the All Stars joined Vicky on stage with the notable exceptions of Chris Lightcap on bass (just 5 days behind Lizzie Brightburn’s official announcement as the All Star’s new bassist, replacing Robert Black who passed away in 2023) and Gyan Riley on guitar, not replacing Mark Stewart on any permanent basis but here to lead the ensemble in the west coast premiere of his arrangement of A Rainbow in Curved Air.
As the A-side to arguably Terry Riley’s most well-known record, the expectations were high for a mostly-acoustic reimagining of A Rainbow in Curved Air, and Gyan’s arrangement deftly navigated the space between faithful interpretation and creative liberty. The ever-present synth organ line laid a bed for florid melodies – some from the record, some imagined on the spot. The instrumentalists took turns contributing to the motoric texture as others soloed above them.
Then a bevy of musicians joined onstage from many corners of the Los Angeles music scene; Jeff Gauthier, primarily a jazz violinist, sat a stone’s throw from sitarist Rajib Karmakar and drone music stalwart Sarah Davachi, brought together by the generous spirit of Terry Riley’s In C, undoubtedly his most well known composition. Built in 53 cells with the instructions “all performers play from the same page of 53 melodic patterns played in sequence,” the composition allows for any number of any pitched instruments to perform.
The group chose to delegate the suggested eighth-note beat-keeper role to any member of the ensemble, a time keeping measure made common practice, apparently, at the suggestion of one Steve Reich. What I had thought were smartly planned dynamic structures turned out to be spontaneous collaborative decisions; speaking to Ken Thomson (from the All Stars) after the show, I learned that the rehearsal for the piece was rather short – there wasn’t even time to run through a performance of the piece. They went over some key points, checked mics, and that was it. What happened on stage was the first time that these musicians had actually gone through the piece in its entirety. Big ears across the stage ensured that the musicians took and gave space, and moments of incohesion were brief and scarcely noticeable.
I’ve heard the thought that In C is only fun when you’re playing in it, which isn’t necessarily untrue; when I attended the Bang on a Can Summer Festival in 2024, the first day of activity began with a group performance of In C. Performers, composers and All Stars alike took part in a reading of the piece with no planning; sheet music was placed on stands, mallets were handed out, and we played. This piece lays the blueprint for the kind of exploratory, easy-to-put-together composition that allows for improvisation-on-rails, and couches mistakes in the comfort of playing in a large enough ensemble that surely no one heard you play a B natural instead of a B flat. For this reason, I’ve also seen performances of In C that are unfortunately lazy; the very nature of its ease of performance makes it a great candidate for a last minute concert filler that requires little to no preparation, which can come across as a lack of respect for the material (this also happens with Pauline Oliveros, in my experience). In C is used as a corporate icebreaker etude as much as it is for concert performances, so you’ll understand my trepidation at being seated for yet another hour-long performance of a piece I’ve seen repeatedly programmed to the cross the proverbial finish line. Luckily, the quality of the musicians onstage, and perhaps fueled by the low simmering anxiety of never having properly rehearsed the piece together, produced a generous and dynamic version of In C as I could have hoped to have seen.
A few days later, I went to see Sharon Chohi Kim’s Murmurations at REDCAT, a piece for four voices, electronics, and projection that employs the dual meaning of the title: “both spontaneous flocks of starlings and a collection of low, continuous sounds.” Sara Sinclair Gomez, Molly Pease, Kathryn Shuman and Chohi herself began draped underneath a large cloth, from which the titular vocalizations emerged, and over which was projected shifting grains of sand (created by Jennifer Bewerse). Over the course of the piece, the projections would employ the topology of the cloth to create three-dimensional images of tide pools, flowing rivers, and mountains. By the end of the show, the cloth had found itself wrapped around Chohi, clearly evoking the picture of a gingko tree.
The virtuosity of the four singers was evident not only in the wide (octave) range they traversed, but also in the nearly 60 minutes of material they performed from memory. Though some movements of Murmurations were functionally guided improvisations, much of it seemed to fully written, which, combined with staging and choreography (Stephanie Zaletel), was no small feat of preparation. The projections by Jennifer Bewerse made use of the morphing surfaces beautifully, functioning at times as set dressing, prop, costume – or all three.
The conception of the piece is abstract; though there are clear themes of nature and ecology (water, sand, birds), nothing is explicit enough to suggest a message (perhaps an environmentalist one?). Gingko leaves have a prominent place in the piece, but to what effect? The ‘art’ of the piece is successful enough to survive on its own as a purely aesthetic (‘absolute’) experience, but its usage of identifiable ‘nature’ imagery seems to point to a narrative that it hasn’t created yet. I’m not so bold to say that art needs to have a readily identifiable “meaning,” but this seemed like it was asking for one.
I noticed that both of these events were held at venues operated by the Los Angeles Philharmonic (or, at the very least, housed in a Philharmonic building). Artistic control of the Ford Amphitheater was transferred to the Los Angeles Philharmonic in 2020, and REDCAT is housed inside of the Walt Disney Concert Hall, built alongside the main hall, both designed by Frank Gehry. Maybe this is idealistic, but what I optimistically see here are the Classical powers-at-be continuing to provide resources and funding to the younger, hard-to-categorize artists like Chohi, and to the experimentalists of yesteryear in Terry. Anything less than Tchaikovsky at the Bowl or Beethoven 9 at the Walt Disney won’t really make any money for the Philharmonic, and the continually looming threats (and actions) of the current administration to cut arts funding (amongst the lower impact of its atrocities) never ceasing; at the risk of sounding grateful for scraps, seeing the big dogs continue to support new / contemporary music is a win in my eyes.
DOG STAR ORCHESTRA FESTIVAL 21
There were sixteen (16) events held in the Dog Star Orchestra Festival over ten (10) days in the summer of 2025. Of those, I watched, listened to, or otherwise participated in thirteen (13) of them; you would think that gives me a uniquely qualified perspective to speak on the festival as a whole, but it turns out that a large percentage of this audience are diehards for the kind of quiet, post-Cagean music fostered (in large part) by Michael Pisaro at CalArts – several of the audience members were there for every single event.
The Dog Star Orchestra is an ensemble and a once-a-year festival of experimental music, started in 2005 by Michael Pisaro as a way of playing recent experimental music by young composers and classic pieces from the experimental tradition. Described as “messily exceptional” by the Los Angeles Times, Dog Star events happen throughout the Los Angeles area and often feature offbeat performances in out-of-the-way places, alongside more traditional concert settings. It is one of the main presenters fostering and documenting the strong local experimental music scene, as well as presenting work that would otherwise not be heard in the US.
The festival has also featured the US premieres of many works by the international Wandelweiser collective and presented seminal pieces from the American origins of the experimental school (Cage, Wolff, Feldman, Lucier, Oliveros, Tenney and so on). Initially curated by Pisaro alone, the summer festival grew from six concerts to, in 2015, fifteen concerts. Beginning in 2011 the festival began to employ multiple curators drawn from people who had participated in previous years. In most years upwards of 60 musicians participate as composers and performers. The local following for the series has also grown substantially over the twenty years of its existence.
Some of my highlights are collected below, with the notable exception of the IN REAL TIME review which is written by Violet Hill.
Jun 14, 2025 5:00 PM – WALL PIECE – LA Valley College, music school
A small ensemble will treat the west-facing wall of the LA Valley College practice room building like a graphic score and Erik Carlson will begin his solo violin piece, “Dog Star Palindrome.”
Michael Matsuno teaches at LA Valley College, and every time he enters or exits the music building, he passes by this wall, noticing its asymmetry, palette of colors and textures:
which naturally became the score for the faithfully-titled “Wall Piece”:
a performance of which was realized by a small ensemble facing the wall; the audience could choose to situate themselves anywhere. Some faced the ensemble, others chose to face the wall in tandem with the performers, as if reading along.
A composition like “Wall Piece” is predicated on a certain amount of rigidity; the score is derived from lines and shapes on a preexisting plane, and for a composer to adjust their whims would sacrifice accuracy to the original art which, depending on who you ask, is the entire point.
The success of this piece, then, lies in the details; Michael’s orchestrational decisions and the performers’ interpretative decisions compound to elicit a cohesive long-form work (clocking in at exactly an hour from the left edge of the wall to the bricks comprising the box office booth).
As of the time of the performance, the architect of the building is unknown to Michael. And, believe it or not, the design is at least partially functional; the blue sections are windows into practice rooms and faculty offices. At certain points, as Michael was measuring the walls, he’d accidentally look into one of the windows and someone’d be looking back.
Jun 20, 2025 8:00 PM – A YEAR OF DEEP LISTENING – The Battery Books and Music
readings and performances from “A Year of Deep Listening”
A series of short performances of pieces from “A Year of Deep Listening,” a collected anthology of text scores in tribute to Pauline Oliveros. My favorite was “Yeehaw * 9” performed by Mason Moy and Cassia Streb; you can probably guess what the said, nine times.
Jun 21, 2025 7:00 PM – PLACES – private address
A 24-hour installation composed by Todd Moellenberg.
in which audience members could enter Todd Moellenberg’s residence at any point during a 24 hours period to play on his piano, specific keys illuminated by a wall mounted projector based on scales derived from Markov chains. According to Todd, there was a performer seated at the piano for the entirety of the 24 hour period.
Jun 26, 2025 7:00 PM – NEAR FIELD #1 – Automata (basement)
Brandon Auger performs a proximity-based listening event
many motor-driven sound making objects on a table in the basement of Automata; this little roll of felt spun around with its arms raised and captured my heart
Jun 28, 2025 4:00 PM – IN REAL TIME – Automata
Three abstracts from Automata (by Violet Hill)
“On Nev Wendell” – automatic impressions & granular gestures inviting sweet moments of clarity between pause & pondering…the tickle of the ear, rustling of leaves, and quiet hum of the mechanized world – a truly wonderful absence of urgency
“On Ethan Marks” – tunnel vision (enlightened) through the obsessive conjuring of events, one after the other. a brilliant refusal to acquiesce. a dedication like no other. tension is officially in season, and its inevitable tides can be observed through glimpses into the window of dark arts
“On āññā” – mechanical voices from within that challenge perception of free will. red laser lights distract and hypnotize. visuals are far from processed feelings, rather, they evoke guttural reactions. do they serve to prompt an inquiry of matrix or are we asking the wrong questions?
Jun 28, 2025 8:00 PM – AGAIN AND AGAIN – Automata
A work by Jules Evans and the Dog Star Community Choir performs rounds from Larry Polansky’s Rounds Unbound
I co-directed the second half of this concert so I won’t say too much but what a joy it was to sing rounds with a group of volunteer / mostly-amateur singers. A photo of us at rehearsal in my studio because I was too preoccupied making music to take photos at the venue (I hope Larry would be proud of me):
Jun 29, 2025 8:00 PM – THESE ARE MY FRIENDS – Automata
Compositions by Nat Evans, Jen Boyd, Anna Heflin, Ben Rempel, TJ Sclafani
One major change in the festival this year was the quality and reliability of the livestreams provided by Dog Star, through the work of videographer Chris Lascelle and audio engineer Colbert Davis. Every performance in the Automata Theater was captured and live broadcast so that those unable to attend could still watch; I was unable to attend in person, so I would not be able to tell you about Ben Rempel’s percussion trio, a luminous highlight of the day featuring Tim Feeney, Don Nichols and Ben himself. The work vacillated between modes of togetherness; at times chaotic, at times synchronized, but most frequently somewhere in the middle.
This festival is staffed by volunteers who produce the beautiful-if-unmarketable music through sheer grit. Congratulations in order for every performer, composer and staffer but especially head honcho Cassia Streb for pulling it all together.
Stay tuned for the next season.
Tyler Eschendal’s ACTIONS
This past weekend, composer / percussionist / videographer / music technologist Tyler Eschendal (together with director Diana Wyenn) presented ACTIONS, a multimedia one-man show with five primary sections named after “actions” – Arguing, Acting, Singing, Ordering, and Explaining (which can be viewed as a video series here). These movements and their corresponding actions relate to Tyler’s stutter, about which he says:
“For many years, I chose not to make music around my stutter because I didn’t understand it. I was concerned about sharing it with others because alongside harmful tropes often portrayed in media, I primarily identified as a covert stutterer: someone who purposely omits or substitutes words to avoid stuttering. I felt disconnected from the biggest constant in my world. Although the original goal of the short film series was simply to better understand my stutter, this live adaptation presents the opportunity to connect to other people who stutter across Southern California and rebuild the narrative around stuttering.”
Throughout the work, “what does it feel like to stutter” recurs as a motive; in between movements, pre-recorded video excerpts describe situations in which Tyler’s stutter interfere with his daily life, some that had never occurred to me (ever get annoyed at a robot phone operator because they can’t understand you?). Some of the “actions” describe situations that might inspire terror in a person with a stutter; “Ordering” combines the fear of stuttering and the terrors of not knowing what you want to order into a collection of nervous tics, in a work reminiscent of Thierry de Mey or Tom Johnson. Other sections describe the mechanisms one might use to circumvent their stutter, like rhythmicizing their speech to the covert drumming of their fingers. But ultimately, the 50-minute show ends with a cautiously optimistic acceptance of self, and of the stutter as part of one’s self.
There’s a lot that can go wrong in live performance. Your Max patch could fail, your spike marks on the ground goes missing, or your wireless mic pack’s batteries die after a long dress rehearsal, and not to mention all the ways in which you could fail as a performer. Lines misremembered, mallets dropped, cues missed, notes gone; I was happy to see that this performance was as smooth and well calibrated as it could have been, especially one of this size and scope. Each movement performed without a hitch, nearly all memorized, and which involved a dizzying number of the “things that could go wrong;” an overhead projector, live audio processing, live video processing, looping, percussion on ceramic tiles. All pulled together to form not only a musically variegated composition, but also a giant feat of coordination and memorization.
I thought about Tyler’s stutter as he moved away from his first percussion setup and began monologuing. I wondered how his stutter could affect his monologue, then wondered if I should be thinking about that at all. I thought about “fluency” and its hegemony, which must mean that anything else is a failure, right? I thought about all the times I instinctively “helped” when it really wasn’t the right thing to do. In the final movement of ACTIONS, a Tyler drenched in vocoder delivers a final monologue, conflating speaking with a stutter as a “performance” and any action as “performing as yourself;” this was the gut punch that racked everything into focus. It informed the preceding 40 minutes, gave it new meaning, and extrapolated existence itself as a performance. Tyler’s understanding of self turns a technically perfect performance into an emotionally virtuosic one. Not only does ACTIONS answer “what does it feel like to stutter,” it challenges us to think on what it means to be human.
Presented by Synchromy, Music and Theater tell the story of life with a stutter in the premiere of Tyler Eschendal’s solo show ACTIONS.
Tyler Eschendal, Percussion and vocals
Diana Wyenn, Director
Elliot Menard’s UMBRA
CONTENT WARNING: SUICIDE
A few weeks ago, LA Times classical music critic Mark Swed wrote about the surfeit of successful smaller scale opera productions that swept Los Angeles in February, including programs by The Industry, the LA Opera, and Long Beach Opera. I’m willing to bet, had he attended, that he would include last weekend’s production of Elliot Menard’s UMBRA at the Highways Performance Space amongst living proof that “intimacy replaces grandeur. Smaller budgets allow for bigger ideas. There is room for experimentation, immediacy and risk. Such opera can be done pretty much anywhere, indoors or outdoors, and pretty much anything goes.”
Elliot Menard’s UMBRA is an adaptation the Orpheus myth; as much is made clear in the first act where, immediately following an overture, the as-yet-unnamed Elliot sheds headdress and garb to reveal a plain black outfit, where she reveals (in the only English for the duration of the work) that, though everyone knows the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, what happens afterwards is not often considered. It is also revealed here that the myth allegorizes the story of Elliot’s childhood friend, who passed away at the age of 20 from suicide.
From here, the singers and ensemble (flute, cello, occasional electronics and pianist doubling as conductor) launch into an hour of nearly continuous music, which precipitates one of my only complaints about the production; it is difficult to understand the nature of each of the five or so sequential opera chorus movements when they’re presented one after another. It’s a well-known feature of the opera form that a moment in time can be suspended as long as is musically necessary, after which a resumption of plot could be expected; as UMBRA continued and continued and continued, the programmatic connection to the Orpheus myth became less clear, whether with intent or otherwise. I do partially chalk it up to my own lack of familiarity with the L’Orfei of antiquity, but I figure the lack of supertitles or translated text in the program notes would make it difficult for most patrons to follow. As the piece develops in subsequent productions, I could see it pull towards either direction; give us a chance to understand what each song / scene represents in the Orpheus myth, or swing even more opaque and do away with the introduction entirely. There’s nothing wrong with adapting the story with ambiguity, but to preface the show with “this is the Orpheus myth and it’s also about my friend” may ask the viewer to clue into aspects of a plotline that isn’t represented in an obvious manner.
As promised, that was my primary complaint with UMBRA; the music is well composed and tightly performed (with a staggering portion of it memorized by Menard herself), and the spare materials are smartly utilized. Microphones stands emerge from the curtain as props before they’re plugged in to amplify the chorus – the flautist at one point dances around the stage (while still playing) before retreating to the corner – a ceremonial cloak, once disrobed, is used as a rug for the next scene – both flute and cellist adopt percussive roles to replace a percussionist proper. As far as low-budget opera productions go, it’s hard to imagine it getting much better than this. With a small team and tight quarters, Menard and team manage to pull off an admirable feat – a tightly produced and beautifully performed work.
Umbra is developed in collaboration with and directed by Héctor Alvarez. This staged workshop production also features the work of music director Daniel Newman-Lessler, associate director and producer Rory James Leech, costume designer Ashley Snyder, assistant costume designer Nishtha Tyagi, lighting designer Claire Chrzan, and performers Nelle Anderson, Isabel Springer, Carmen Edano, Shannon Delijani, Karolina Kwasniak, Livia Reiner, Emma-rose Bauman, and Marly Gonzalez.
https://www.highwaysperformance.org/events/umbra-2025-03-22-20-00
nc.la at Noon 2 Midnight
As luck would have it, at least three of our writers independently ended up at the LA Phil Noon 2 Midnight marathon festival last weekend, and a fourth (Violet Dream) performed as part of the Isaura Quartet (my favorite complete set of the day). Huge congrats to Violet, and here are some of our highlights:
Richard An: Vicki Ray has known and worked with Annea Lockwood for decades, and it is perhaps due to that familiarity that produces an intense, fiery performance of Lockwood’s Jitterbug, with a skillful combination of intention and ease. Wesley Sumpter was once a Resident Fellow at the LA Phil and now performs regularly with the orchestra as a de-facto member of the percussion section; at scarcely 30 years old, Sumpter steps up to the task of matching up with these two fixtures of new music in Lockwood and Ray. A luxurious field recording of natural sounds provide a bed of material on top of which Ray and Sumpter are free to trade gestures. A masterful performance, and my favorite of the roughly 6 hour span that I was present.
Jack Herscowitz: Among the highlights of the day was saxophonist, composer, and producer Josh Johnson’s solo set for saxophone and electronics, Unusual Object: which shares the same name as his most recent solo album. Johnson’s prodigious playing and pedalboard mastery commanded the attention of the entire lobby, stopping departing concert goers (from the recently finished Doug Aitken, Lightscape premiere) dead in their tracks. The smile and awe painted on my face throughout Johnson’s set is a testament to the magic that everyone in that room surely felt. And that delicious harmonizer pedal…
Anuj Bhutani: I’ve wanted to see Pan-Afrikan Peoples Arkestra for a long time, and seeing them close out the main stage felt like the perfect first experience, as their very presence on the stage felt poetic after the day’s programming. From the very first solo to the riotous ending with the entire audience clapping along with the on-stage dancers, PAPA had the audience totally enraptured.
HIGH DESERT SOUNDINGS Fundraising Party: A joyous preview of experimental excellence
As the brutal heat waves come and go and we find ourselves in autumn once more, High Desert Soundings showcased their prowess as a new music powerhouse with a deeply engaging fundraising party ahead of their 6th festival season on the weekend of October 11th. Featuring a myriad of influential artists they’ve worked with in the past, downtown attendees were also treated to your local musicians’ favorite lagers from Solarc Brewing. This event was hosted generously by Oracle Egg, but they furthered their contributions by performing an intimate and ethereal improvisation on an impressive prepared harp and piano installation fitted to their own studio. Perhaps the most surprising set of the night was a rare solo acoustic set from saxophone wizard Patrick Shiroishi. New band in town Serpentine Transmission closed the night perfectly with a deeply engaging ambient metal drone set titled “wad of clay”.
This year’s innovative programming is surely not one to be missed – High Desert Soundings is taking on the diversity and breadth of our shared understanding of new music by experimenting with a committee-model for critiquing and selecting festival submissions. In an attempt to even the field for artists who do not come from academic or contemporary classical backgrounds, they have brought on three past performers who have continued to share in and uplift the ethos of the forward-thinking organization. In addition to co-directors TJ Borden and Ethan Marks, this year’s committee also includes drone god and guitar fiend (among many other things) Nicholas Deyoe, transdiscplinary electronic artist and curator Haydeé Jimenez, and EMS Records leader and noise master Vern Avola. With close to 30 must-see artists and groups on the bill, sounds ranging from metal, noise, free jazz, new classical, all the way to hyperpop, one can certainly expect High Desert Soundings to continue to liven the starry skies of Twentynine Palms this October with joy, community, and sustained experimental excellence.
IPSA DIXIT – a stunning breakthrough in the reality of postopera
It was a warm Sunday afternoon, with Long Beach Opera set to host their closing matinee of “Ipsa Dixit” at the Art Theatre on Retro Row. Billed as a philosophy-opera, Kate Soper’s monumental work became a Pulitzer finalist back in 2017, and now, it looked for new life with the beloved experimental opera company. With James Darrah directing, Christopher Rountree as music director, and Jane Eilber choreographing a duo from the Martha Graham Dance Company, the synergy and quality of the production was undeniable from the very start.
I can think of no better place for this show than the iconic Art Theatre, history rich in its walls as the oldest single-screen hall in the city. Every detail of the Art Deco space was exemplified by clever production choices by LBO, from the dramatic lighting and the use of exit doors, to the abstraction of silent black-and-white film and the obfuscation of picture with bold blue lines. Even the dancers’ elaborate costumes were reminiscent of the prohibition era. One can only equate this unique viewing experience to a live debut screening of an experimental foreign film.
As you enter the theatre to look for your seat, you find yourself intruding upon a dance rehearsal on the satellite stage. To the delight of the audience, Leslie Andre Williams and Anna Souder can be found practicing their choreography in concert black, talking it out and making adjustments right in front of you. At this point, any preconceived notions you may have about opera were instantly obliterated. This subtle detail was powerfully engaging and proved to be a cautionary tale, a tone setter for the rest of the program, one that encourages to forget everything you knew about opera. I found their “rehearsal” was effective in making the overall experience more accessible to a less frequent crowd.
As soon as star soprano Anna Schubert sang her first words, one could not help but be mesmerized and stay that way for the entirety of the 90-minute show. “Sing” is truly an oversimplification. Beyond the role of an opera singer, Schubert was asked to be a philosopher, a narrator, a lover, a conductor, a Dadaist speech puppet, and even Socrates for a movement or two. More importantly, she was the driving force behind this high-octane, tongue-twister of a soprano part, one that she handled with brilliant lyricism and unparalleled conviction. Not to mention, she actually played almost every single instrument on stage as well.
Each member of the supporting ensemble were carefully chosen, with just three heavyweights replacing an entire orchestral pit. Playing their trained instruments was no longer the sole challenge here. Beyond tackling virtuosic moments, they were each asked to push the limits of extended techniques, all the while having to shadow Schubert with their instrument and voice or engage with her verbally in theoretical debate. As the opera descended into themes of love and tragedy, flautist Rachel Beetz demonstrated her technical prowess on more than one type of flute, filling each of them with sharp slices of air, colorful bites of overtones, and keeping toe to toe with Schubert through extremely fast and difficult speech. In the midst of well-timed chaotic images behind them, the duo showed outstanding chemistry and timing in this spiraling portray of madness and despair.
In perhaps my favorite role, percussionist Sidney Hopson emerged into the character Crito, Socrates’ wealthy Athenian friend, reinterpreting their famous conversation in an attempt to convince Socrates to escape prison. Hopson and Schubert were placed on opposite sides of the marimba, against a luring backdrop of a purple dream, a vision that Socrates had before his day of execution. Carefully pacing back and forth around the keys, the duo acted out an elaborate and verbose scene with stunning ease, interspersing dialogue with hypnotic marimba lines.
Finally, it was violinist Mona Tian’s turn to shine. In the very last duo with Schubert, Tian exhibited massive stage presence on par with that of a rock star, mastering sound, placement, and choreography to support Schubert in her rhetoric and (de)construction of language. Tian can be seen shredding on her violin as Slash would on his guitar, whipping her bow like a samurai after a kill, and moaning with anguish and vibrato in the upper register of her instrument, building significant momentum for the final climax of the piece. The finale was supported by the Martha Graham dancers performing the same routine as their earlier “rehearsal”, this time with full dresses, before they changed into something even more extravagant, wandering through the crowd and confusing everyone with popcorn and soft drink in their hands.
“Ipsa Dixit” was completely transformed by Long Beach Opera in a way I’ve never seen before. A stunning examination of philosophy and art, this breakthrough opera itself can be seen as a gold standard to the genre of postopera, a term first coined by Jelena Novak to describe the reinvention of opera through new media, de-syncrhonization of image and sound, and the redefinition of sex-gender-voice relationships. However, I would argue that Soper’s masterpiece moves beyond Novak’s foundational research and goes further to ask these meaningful questions: What is opera? What makes an opera good or bad? What separates opera from other musical forms? What role should opera strive for in order to survive the rapidly changing landscape of classical music? It seems as if the closest one could get to these answers is the singular inimitable experience that is LBO’s phenomenal production of “Ipsa Dixit”.
MOLLY PEASE presents ERDE DREAMS on mental health & nature / a workshop of memories for a new audience
Summer is calling and another school year is coming to a close. As I look ahead to spending more time in nature, an opportunity presented itself to me and my colleagues at Pasadena Waldorf High School to expose our young creatives to a level of music making never experienced before, one which dabbles with open-minded improvisation and slots neatly into our collective pedagogy. It should be no surprise that the colleague I worked with to bring this field trip to fruition is Richard An, editor of the words you’re reading now, and of all the other reviews here at New Classic LA. It also helps that Ted Masur, the director of music at Waldorf, only (coincidentally?) hired instructors from CalArts to round out the program, the third being Alexander Noice. Together, we share a strong inclination to radicalize music education and free it from its shackles of longstanding elite traditions. In other words, we sought to mobilize our students to embark on a journey of off-campus excursions to engage with the new music community.
The first result was magical – a special Tuesdays @ Monk Space outing curated by Shalini Vijayan, featuring Molly Pease, M.A. Tiesenga, and Miller Wrenn, in an evocative exploration of mental health examined through essential relationships with nature. Molly proceeded to wow the audience and Waldorf visitors with an achingly gorgeous solo set in the first half. “luminescent waves” was especially vivid and giving, with the help of some clever pre-recorded vocals behind a flurry of playful ad libs. From skinny dipping with dancing plankton to innocent giggles among amorous tides, this movement truly felt like a sanctuary away from the male gaze, life reflecting off bare skin from each and every direction. Molly ended her set with “deep ocean”, creating an atmosphere of depth and tension using a variety of extended vocal techniques and abstractions. I closed my eyes and felt so strongly the distant influences of artists like Sophie, Kevin Abstract, and Pamela Z, climbing into what I could only imagine to be a new era of post-grunge / post-jazz sound, yearning to break free.
In the second half, Molly brought M.A. and Miller to the stage for a set that proves to be even more experimental, with “a leaf to stand on” being a personal favorite. Part of four “seeds” of ideas that served as loose structures for improvised opportunities, the trio showcased a blend of chemistry in sensitive moments of tutti lament, often taking turns to depart from the rest with unique expressiveness. Patterns shifted subtly, and beauty evaporated into new ideas. Miller proceeds to bury this second seed gently and lovingly with ethereal harmonics. “water mirror” is the seed that follows, and here, we are faced with an unsettling moment of suspense, a stark confrontation of the dynamic challenges within the struggles of mental health. M.A.’s contributions were significant, gracing the opening with a influx of wind sounds and overtones, possessing an uncanny ability to reify Molly’s grief while interposing new perspectives to the topic at hand. Needless to say, the crowd left the night with a renewed focus on their own mental health, as well as a deep appreciation for the physiological effects of music and nature.
A few days later, we invited the trio into our instrumental class for a demonstration, workshop, and Q&A based on “erde dreams”. Our students asked meaningful questions about open improvisation and its role in jazz, as well as questions to Molly regarding her overall aesthetic choices and themes for the concert. Miller added insight to the limitations of genre labeling, shunning industrial giants like Spotify, all the while giving a hilarious micro lecture on sibilances. Next, the trio encouraged an improvised group activity using only their voices, taken from the swaying landscape just outside our classroom window, piquing the interests of the students. And finally, Miller introduced the concept of conduction (editor’s note: “conduction” distinct from “conducting,” see Butch Morris), furthering the experience they had of a guided improvisation piece I programmed in my first semester here, “Form the Fabric” by inti figgis-vizueta. It was beyond heartwarming to see how bold and curious our students were in championing new ideas and taking musical risks in uncharted waters, responding to every breath of inspiration.
I am so grateful for Molly, M.A., and Miller – three insanely talented musicians who feel so strongly in progressing new music with innovative programing and inclusive pedagogy. I am also overjoyed to have like-minded colleagues and a community in Waldorf that show immense interest, support, and funding to provide our students with the chance to dive deeper into the music community of greater Los Angeles. This is, without a doubt, classical music and education for a new audience. This is the start of something new.
WILD UP x 24 —> 24 x ARTHUR RUSSELL
FULL DISCLAIMER : This was not a classical concert. This was a disco party. And what a party it was – fully equipped with an open dance floor, a hefty disco ball shimmering above, and of course, complete with sweaty bodies. So instead of the usual stuffy review with complicated lexicon foreign to your typical household (written by yours truly), I will now attempt to do something never done before. I will craft the most serious of reviews for you by sharing some pictures from my phone, in hopes you may embody the revolutionary spirit of disco as you indulge with me (you’re welcome).
PS: This was the second sold-out performance of this show, and the first in a series of what looks to be an intriguing exploration into the many lives (and names) of Arthur Russell. I cannot wait to go back for more. Away we go!
Smother My Ears: Kevin Drumm, Daniel Menche, Carlos Giffoni + Alex Pelly, and Peter Kolovos at 2220 Arts and Archives
Experimental music series/labels, Carlos Giffoni’s “No Fun Productions” and Peter Kolovos’ “Black Editions Group,” teamed up to present four sets at 2220 Arts and Archives on March 23rd, 2024 (with rare Southern California appearances from Kevin Drumm and Daniel Menche). Capricious, intoxicating, glacial, and prickling: the curation provided something for anyone willing to risk their ears succumbing to pummeling sheets of sound.
Peter Kolovos
Kolovos runs Black Editions Group, condensing the music of three previous label projects under a single roof and organizing concerts for Los Angeles based and The Rest of the World based experimental musicians. He also rips on the guitar. The ideas move in rapid fire: a timbral terrarium explodes into being only to collapse onto itself as Kolovos assembles another. These ecosystems last only for seconds, but are rich in texture, gesture, and color. Moments of immense sustained drones lull us into a sense of safety, only for Kolovos to rip them away and slingshot us elsewhere. This is uncompromisingly blazing music in its display of integrated guitar-pedal virtuosity. And damn was that tone delicious…
Carlos Giffoni + Alex Pelly
Giffoni has been active as an electronic musician and curator on both coasts since the early 2000s and Pelly is a Los Angeles-based live music visualization performer and longtime dublab affiliate. Tonight, they teamed up for easily the most convincing non-narrative audio-visual performance I’ve seen. Giffoni’s modular synth and Pelly’s modular video systems gelled so effortlessly that for the first half of the set, I couldn’t tell who was making sound and who was controlling the visuals. Pulsing overdriven oscillators informed dancing geometric streaks, but Pelly has clearly set up a largely autonomous system not limited by its musical input. As Giffoni and Pelly performed, I experienced a genuine counterpoint between video and music with my attention moving back and forth between the two. The form felt like a series of short stories, each held together by a short wobbly rope bridge: an immediate, but still substantive transition. Giffoni plays his modular brilliantly, and it was a delight to have his throbbing bitcrushed melodic clouds dance around my eardrums.
Daniel Menche
Menche, like all of the night’s performers, is a musical polyglot. Portland-based and active since the late 80’s, he has made sounds in just about any way imaginable over the past 35 years. Whereas Giffoni’s and Pelly’s set was the Calvino collection of semi-related stories, Menche’s set was the epic novel condensed into 25 minutes. It felt like something in the air had changed, as a glacial wind had fully rolled in. Metallic tones folded onto themselves to create a glimmering sonic tapestry, growing rusty as a distortion slowly kicked in over the course of the set. Each knob turn gently sailed us elsewhere, but not too far away as we traversed over Menche’s sonic topography. By the end, the distortion had morphed into a full enveloping wall until receding into a final gust of wind. In the distance, I swear I could hear a melody.
Kevin Drumm
Drumm is the only artist on the show whose work I was previously familiar with. He’s a long-time Chicago-based computer musician, tabletop guitarist, and modular synth player, so I was ready for a sonic tidal wave in whatever form deemed necessary. Today it was two laptops, in front of Drumm on an elevated stage a good 10 feet behind where the other performers had been. I didn’t realize my brain was itchy until the opening laser point 12+ kHz tones gave it the scratch that it craved. As Drumm massaged my nervous system, the audio spectrum slowly began to fill out until these pinpoint tones enwrapped my entire being. This fullness of the sound left me with the wisdom that there are many ways to saturate the audio spectrum and that noise does not necessarily imply a timbral monolith. And we sat in this fullness, with small changes jostling the texture. These modulations never appeared to threaten the soundscape’s structural integrity, but as Drumm slowly replaced part by part, I came to the realization that he’s rebuilding his sonic Ship of Theseus. I truly could have marinated in any moment of this performance for hours. And then suddenly, with a swipe of a fader and a slap of the hands on the table, it’s over. I love when pieces end like this: no coda, no spoon feeding, no bullshit. With Drumm’s facetious “booooo” at an encore chant, 3 hours of sonic smothering had come to a close.
The show reminded me that “noise music” is not an easily connotable aesthetic signifier, but rather a community: adorned with lofi scuba tanks made of pedals, synths, patches, and contact mics and committed to diving into the depths of the fully saturated audio spectrum. They’re off the deep end, but that’s because the shallows are so boring.
Kevin Drumm, Daniel Menche, Carlos Giffoni + Alex Pelly, and Peter Kolovos at 2220 Arts and Archives
No Fun Productions + Black Editions Group
March 23, 2023