these are the tears of things…
It was merely a week ago that I made another visit to a Green Umbrella show with my husband at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. I was gleaming with excitement at the prospect of being able to review the LA Phil New Music Group for the first time, especially with the traction that California Festival has gained in recent months. However, two days later, I received word that my grandmother had passed away, merely a week before I was planning to visit her in rural Taiwan. And so, I find myself writing to you from an empty cafe in Taipei, set to a gentle drizzle near my childhood home. Right now, my heart is heavy with love & sorrow, my mind racing with core memories. Everywhere I look I see her smile, I hear her voice. As an immigrant child, I cannot help but share a sliver of what I feel after missing every one of my grandparents in their final moments. Though many of you have never met her, I can only hope you will remember her as you remember your own.
As I begin to process everything these past two weeks have offered, I am having a hard time forgetting the glistening sounds of heaven in Sunt Lacrimae Rerum (these are the tears of things) written by Dylan Mattingly. From classic literary passages of The Aeneid, Mattingly was able to capture the totality of human experience through the universality of tears, illustrating the beginnings & ends of life through a palette unlike any other composer I have encountered. Written for two prepared pianos & two harps slightly detuned and estranged from one another, one could hear a powerful semblance of traditional Gamelan music through the ancient metals of gangsa & kemanak and the transcendental strings of siter & rebab. The piece began with the two pianists, Joanne Pearce Martin & Vicky Ray tiptoeing in pointillistic, Ravel-like fashion, only to be joined by Emily Levin & Julie Smith Phillips strumming low, pentatonic chords on their bright red harps, inviting us to let go of all of our inhibitions and to feel everything we are capable of ever feeling. In Mattingly’s own words, “these are not tears of sorrow – or at least not sorrow alone. These are the tears of everything, of the everythingness present in each moment, the superabundance of life’s experience, an understanding which we fear overwhelming us should we turn towards it too often. These are the tears of life’s entirety…”.
And as these tears continue to unfold & unravel, more of our collective experience continues to reveal itself through the organic fraying of microtonality found in nature. Our bodies gently ascend into the twilight, while our ears quietly submerge into a toy piano lullaby. Martin & Ray do a marvelous job at hypnotizing & pacifying the crowd like the dream mobile I once had under my crib, only to be awakened by a sudden recall of the very beginning, a reminder of the inevitability of death and the promise of peace in the afterlife. As Levin & Phillips renter the scene, they build into an immovable mass of sound, steadying with lifting volume yet tangling itself with polyrhythmic complexity. Finally, the last chord strikes, as if we have reached the end of time, a new beginning, and our ears are coated with the everlasting reverberation of heaven’s gates, a moment of nirvana that can only be experienced in the acoustic & visual spectacle that is Disney Hall.
Before the audience has long to think, our ears perk up as like meerkats to the sound of little branches splitting in the quiet. Like most pieces, our percussionists Matthew Howard & Joseph Pereira are placed in the back of the ensemble for Sketches of Chaparral, composed by my wonderful colleague M.A. Tiesenga, but it is no coincidence they are the first & last to be heard in this piece. We see Vimbayi Kaziboni on the podium motion to them with not much else happening, encouraging us to the edge of our seats. Though I’m well acquainted with this music (Tiesenga has composed a piece for me in the past) I truly did not know what to expect. We start to hear those same ordinary branches ruminating, coalescing with metal, accompanied by gristly sul ponticello gestures from Ted Botsford on the bass. Our attention is redirected to indeterminate wind gusts in the form of air shooting through woodwind instruments, a recall of the psithurism I used to experience on long picturesque walks with my grandmother. We are treated to fleeting overtone glimmers, like morning sunlight peaking through leaves, brushes rubbing on the head of a bass drum, with wood knocks & sounds of bowed cymbals scattered all across. As a fearless multidisciplinary artist, Tiesenga has this uncanny ability to turn something as mundane as a branch into a motif, a bush into a concept, a biome into a hand-sketched graphic score, and an intangible feeling into a masterclass in chance music.
Growing up in a place like Taiwan, I was surrounded by nature that was incredibly vivid & larger than life. The landscape was luxuriously saturated from rain, forests as dense as the weather, with delicious tropical fruits found in abundance. So when I moved to the states, I too had my reservations on the biodiversity of California’s chaparral landscape, one that I have now come to love. It is true that these bushes of great variety, seemingly ordinary, are the ones that protect us from the constant threat of wildfires and preserve the delicate balance going as we struggle with climate change going forward. As Kaziboni calmly takes us through numbered sections of the graphic score like a wise steward of the land, we are offered glimpses of the multifaceted character of the chaparral biome through the deliberate choices of each individual sound maker. I can think of no better way to highlight California Festival than this heartwarming homage to nature and the indigenous land that provide us all with everything we could possibly need and so much more.
Perhaps the most interesting component of this experience is the pleasant coexistence of aleatoric gestures with beautifully written solo melodies that hint at the cultivators of this land. Though conflict is natural, we can really feel the harmonious relationship between living beings and their respective surrounding through expressivity of solos from Bing Wang on the violin, Robert deMaine on cello, to Catherine Karoly on flute. While these solos were played in a virtuosic manner, they were still highly attuned to the sounds & gestures of the environment around them, never to disturb or disrupt. This is a masterful reflection that is seldom offered in a place like this. From the stillness of the desert to the magic of the night, the turmoil of our climate to the contemplative nature of California’s history, Tiesenga wears their heart on their sleeve with an exquisite premiere of Sketches of Chaparral.
Writing this has been nothing less than transformative for me as I embark on a new journey of healing. Through the lessons of intention & care from Tiesenga to the wisdoms of life & embrace from Mattingly, I can only hope to see the many truths that will reveal a path forward. And for you, not only do I wish you could hear the sounds that remain, I hope you will have the chance to say all there is to say to those you love dearly. these are the tears of things…
Chaparral and Interstates: New Music from California
LA Phil New Music Group
Nov 14, 2023
Walt Disney Concert Hall (111 S Grand Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90012)
LIFE CYCLES – Friday Night at High Desert Soundings
Living and working in Los Angeles is no easy feat for anyone, especially for young musicians like myself. This fall, it has been incredibly difficult for me to find any time for a small change of pace, so I decided to look elsewhere, well beyond the city. Friday the 13th had been circled on my calendar for a while – it was meant to be a weekend I could escape the routine with my husband & my girlfriends, but instead, the world saw a steep and frightening descent into darkness as we journeyed into High Desert.
Suddenly, with horrors of genocide looming over our heads, music became secondary. The four of us were reminded of how privileged we are, to be traveling in love & safety at a time like this. We felt a sudden wave of helplessness, being so far removed from the dire situation in Gaza. Seeing many of my colleagues gather in modest comfort, in a place like Twentynine Palms, and seeing artists from all walks of life come together at The Palms for High Desert Soundings to experiment with the healing powers of silence & noise gave me a sense of (re)new(ed) purpose. I have put this review off for far too long, having recently been perturbed with waves of grave inhumanity and sternly occupied with my personal, unrelenting activism against the ongoing apartheid. I have finally decided – this is the only way forward for me.
I shall begin with Life Cycles, by Stephanie Cheng Smith, one of the headliners of Friday night, and certainly the most appropriate set for the long days our civilization faces ahead. Part of an ongoing sound installation, Stephanie has amassed in her own words “eighty-four cicada apparati separated into seven broods, installed long term as an accelerated representation of overlapping periodical life cycles of different broods and species of cicadas.” And to High Desert, she carried only less than a handful cicadas with her. Accompanied by the faint crackle of firewood and the lovely smell of sand & smoke, her cicadas were as cryptic as the desert animals themselves, joining the little grey moths dancing above our tables in glistening twilight. It was truly a quiet meditation, a gentle reminder for us all to breathe deeply with love & intention. A contrast to some of the more provocative noises we have heard tonight, Stephanie’s work gave us a glimpse at how interconnected we are with the environment around us, and how everything we know is precious simply because it is impermanent. Indeed, it is true that annual cicadas are species that emerge asynchronously every year. Before emerging from darkness to find their mates with song, their life cycles can vary from one to seventeen years living as underground nymphs. We must remember, as the limits of music technology continue to defy all odds in a post-Cageian, postmodern musical landscape, nature will only continue to journey alongside us, surprising us with an honest reflection of our own organismic values and behaviors.
To send us off into the stars of the night, Technical Reserve returned us to a jarring, industrialized reality. A trio of two laptops & one pedaled-up cello, Hunter Brown, Dominic Coles, and TJ Borden threw an eclectic & original vernacular at us – one that no one was ready for. With shades of Morton Feldman’s late cello works and the subtle foreshadowing of the implications of artificial intelligence, Technical Reserve tautly flexed their outstanding expertise in an astonishing, semi-improvised set. Around midnight, it seemed as if we were launched into an immersive historical survey, illustrated by paradoxically paired genres of structureless free jazz and rigid serialism. Through jurassic growls, explosive feedback, silences of space, and instruments of war, the trio suggested that what makes us unique as human beings is our unwavering curiosity. At this point, the outdoor classroom that is the quaint courtyard of The Palms were now littered with stimulated, engaged minds, with Bach, Coltrane, and Stockhausen acting as our instructors on behalf of the trio sitting in front of us.
The road ahead is long, and our humanity is being put on full display. We must continue to lead with hope & fight urgently for freedom. Our resiliency will show not only through activism, but also through the thread of all humanities – in literature & the arts. High Desert Soundings has given me an important moment to breathe and a second chance to do what is right in fighting with courage for human rights. I am most certain many of those in attendance returned home feeling the very same.
“Clouds” emerge and dissipate throughout Monkspace
On October 10th 2023, I found myself at Monk Space attending my first concert presented by People Inside Electronics (PIE). The concert was the premiere of a new fifty minute piano piece “Songs and Clouds” written by Matt Sargent and performed by Andrew Anderson. While this was my first experience at a PIE event, this is far from my first time hearing Matt’s music performed. I first met Matt during my undergraduate studies at The Hartt School in Connecticut. I took a few electronic music classes with him and soon after we developed a professional relationship performing and recording each others music.
One of the pieces I’ve worked on with Matt is his piece “Third Illumination” which was recorded and premiered by my percussion duo with Katie Eikam, desoduo. “Third Illumination” is part of Matt’s “Illumination Series” a series which uses a generative score that creates materials for the performer to read in real time. This generative score creates a unique performance and allows a variance to exist in each performance. The generative score is also the basis for “Songs and Clouds;” in the moments most closely resembling music from the Illumination series, a lush bed of sustained harmonic material from the electronics underlines the piano, in which it gently sits and emerges through small melodies and additive patterns.
However, as the materials present themselves and disperse over the course of the performance
it becomes clear these processes are unique to “Songs and Clouds;” this is a different harmonic one, one which deserves its own moniker, rather than sharing a name with the aforementioend Illumination Series. Several years ago I saw Matt’s piece “Separation Songs.” also at Monk Space, as part of Cold Blue Music’s release of Matt’s album of the same name. “Separation Songs” uses musical material from the New England composer William Billings’ Songbook. The use of the Billings material, though most heavily utilized in to “Separation Songs,” is subtly present here in “Songs, Clouds.” The result of employing these songs as melodic material in this generative process is a harmonic landscape that, emotionally, borders on sentimental, but has an underlying complex process that unfolds melodies which keeps the listener present.
In addition to being a composer, Matt Sargent is also a performer. This week I’ve had the chance to see him perform several times on pedal steel guitar. I couldn’t help but notice that Andrew and Matt have very similar presences as performers. Both of them, but especially Andrew, present information matter-of-factly. In Andrew’s performance of “Songs and Clouds” there are no extra performative movements or gestures beyond what is needed to showcase the material, in the most efficient manner possible. The music and the material speaks for itself through Andrew’s mastery as a performer. Andrew’s touch is subtle and delicate. His control over the dynamic possibilities of the piano allows him to glide freely
from section to section. His execution in differentiating the rising melodic lines while delicately playing chordal clouds at a softer dynamic are paramount to the success of the piece.
This was the season opener for People Inside Electronics and if so this was an incredibly strong start. If this is the direction PIE continues to go in, then this will certainly be far from my last PIE concert. I eagerly look forward to whatever they plan on offering to the concert goer next, as well as seeing what will come next from Andrew and Matt.
https://www.mattsargentmusic.com/
https://andrewandersonpiano.com/
https://peopleinsideelectronics.com/
M A Harms and Matt LeVeque confront perfection and intimacy in “i am no longer afraid to run”
On Friday September 22nd 2023, composer/percussionists Matt LeVeque and M A Harms premiered their co-composed evening length piece, i am no longer afraid to run, at the Automata Theater in Chinatown. This highly personal 45 minute video/performance piece juxtaposes LeVeque’s live percussion playing with Harms’ text/video manipulation to present a collaged portrait of two idiosyncratic artists/people.
As a composer myself, I understand how tempting it can be to write a piece drawing from personal experiences, but then hide any semblance of intimacy behind layers of instrumental abstraction. LeVeque and Harms do no such thing, instead ripping their hearts out live on stage and laying them bare in the lines and spaces of candid iPhone notes. Text drives the piece’s narrative, as Harms intermittently live-types diary-esque revelations on an unadorned Google Docs file. The text is honest and direct: no pussyfooting. Both artists share their struggles with perfection, performance, and identity without the promise of an epiphany. These entries slowly elucidate context for the piece’s origins and for LeVeque’s and Harms’ relationship. We learn that the piece has changed drastically over the course of collaboration, bringing our attention to the tumultuous compositional process that composers far too often romanticize. In fact, relationships, both interpersonal and internal, provide the thematic backbone for much of i am no longer afraid to run.
As friends and collaborators, each composer has had a profound impact on the other. LeVeque’s solo practice revels in the singularity of an idea, taking a sound and magnifying it under a microscope. Harms, on the other hand, indulges the maximal: grotesquely beautiful bodies of noisy garbage allow them to sculpt a space for themself. But rather than stagnate in this seemingly oppositional binary, these artists establish a truly hybrid practice in which each of their subjectivities shine. Harms makes this evident through their live layering of pre-recorded samples of LeVeque, accompanying his live performance. They layer LeVeque’s entire practice onto itself; a live vibraphone playing a dyad blends seamlessly with multiple digital vibraphones as multiple time-spaces coalesce. LeVeque’s instrumental choices are clearly guided by an intense relationship with each instrument, one that Harms twists and contorts into a shared vision. But LeVeque still stays true to their artistic ethos, always reeling Harms back towards singularity. Bound by the limitations of the other, their practices melt together into a gooey soup: deliciously decadent and sparse. Such fusion is essential to the piece, as i am no longer afraid to run questions binaries between the physical and virtual, between past and present, and between each artist’s personal understanding of identity and gender.
Every detail of the piece feels personal. The directness of Harms’ frantic google searches and file directory scrollings question the cold sleekness of conventional video and audio cueing. These barebones hyperrealistic transitions make it clear that there is nothing perfect or pristine about vulnerability. LeVeque’s playing investigates every ridge in their honey dipper mallet and every micro-indentation in their vibraphone: a realization of a hyper-focused performance practice. Even their shadow, occasionally cast over Harms’ words, feels like a clash of subjectivities with LeVeque’s presence felt in Harms’ text. The ending of the piece, in which both Harms and LeVeque perform a vibraphone and marimba duet over LeVeque’s heartfelt iPhone note, signifies a gratifying hug between the two.
Harms and LeVeque set the bar for work which is wholeheartedly honest: never dangling the possibility of some great revelation but instead pulling a curtain back on the facade of grandiosity. Maybe none of us really know what we are doing. And only by recognizing that anxiety, can we truly begin to do the work that we feel is necessary.
INSATIABLE SCISSORS, ANTI-ART, & PINBALL MACHINES – A Remembrance of Clarence Barlow
What seemed to be another Tuesday night turned into an honorable celebration of the remarkable life of Klarenz Barlow. Through fun, quirky snapshots of his ever evolving musical works, his varied research interests in technology & language, and of course, his hilarious fascination with the infinite ways to spell his own name, it was hard not to feel the warmth & impact he has left on our community. It was only fitting that this celebration coincided with the opening night of the tenth anniversary season of Brightwork’s Tuesdays @ Monk Space, now a storied institution in the LA new music concert scene. A joint curatorial effort between Shalini Vijayan of Brightwork newmusic and Barlowe protégés Brandon J. Rolle and Nick Norton of Ensemble Barlow, eager attendees were presented with eight, drastically different works that served to give only a glimpse of the diverse compositional ideas Barloh was capable of.
Let’s start with Four ISIS Studies, the elephant in the room and perhaps the most sonically strange piece on this colorful program. In 2005, Barlö quietly published an essay on Intra-Samplar Interpolating Sinusoids (ISIS), the perfect example of one of those little research interests I had mentioned earlier. Stemming from a substantial branch of his studies from the tree of Karlheinz Stockhausen, as well as the many long summers he had spent at Darmstadt developing their computer music program, this audio analysis-synthesis algorithm became a way of thinking for Barlow. In his first study, Für Gimik: Vortag über ISIS, our ears were coated with percolating computer sounds reminiscent of the spaceship from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Played in a quadrophonic array, the audience experienced a recording in german set to a Space Mountain ride of thrilling sine-tone runs. With Eleven Steps In Staying a Kingly Dream, our setting turned into an abstracted alternative of the MLK Speech, accompanied by bubbling hyperpop noises and interrupted by jarring beeps. In the third study, Untitled/Oil on Metal, Wood, we felt gentle tension from a low rumbling underneath a myriad of industrial sounds. Lastly, in Ceci nest pas une oeuvre d’art, we were presented with anti-art from another extraterrestrial, organismic instrument that could’ve been dreamt up by Sun Ra himself, serenading us with indistinct lyrics & pleasant backup harmonies generated from the robotic algorithm.
Fast forward to Pinball Play, a mesmerizing piece written for four soprano Bohlen-Pierce clarinets. But for this concert, we were gifted with Brightwork staple Brian Walsh who covered the jobs of four clarinetists on his very own (with the help of Nick Norton once again manning the electronics). Playing to a click, Walsh manages to sound even better than four live clarinetists would, as his playful gestures cascade off of pre-recorded sounds with impeccable timing, creating an inescapable atmosphere of a masterful merry-go-round.
Finally, Ensemble Barlow closed the program with Sachets des ciseaux Insatiables, with Brandon J. Rolle at the podium. The last time this piece was performed at REDCAT was the only time Rolle’s mother had ever seen him conduct. This work exemplifies Barreleaulx’s signature outlook on his compositional style – he never once concerned himself with writing experimental music for the sake of sounding modern. The first movement opens up with a wood block ostinato, followed by wind players expanding the palette in the style of jazz you would find in a typical American film noir. Here, Sarah Wass shines on the flute, and once again, Brian Walsh opens up the dynamics of the movement with pentatonic flourishes on the clarinet. As we attacca into the second movement, we find ourselves a blank canvas, waiting to be colored. In an unexpected turn of events, those melodies have now been abused by Barlovicus algorithms, dotting an impressionist painting you would find in a typical modern museum. Here, Nick Terry demonstrates his brilliance with a traditional four-mallet grip, spanning the entire width of the marimba and hitting obfuscated passages with ease. In the finale movement, we face descending lines of brooding character, building tension towards the very end. And as we approach the coda, we are entranced by a slow, melancholic dance. The trumpet melody rests in a major tonality while the clarinet & flute layer minor lines, creating a polytonal texture, but only so he could end the entire piece with a cute, storybook “V-I” finish.
At the end of this profound night, we are left with more questions than answers…how will Barlow’s sounds permeate through contemporary canonical literature? How will his legacy carry on in his work, his pedagogy, his research? How will we remember his warm personality and uncanny ability to bring people together? No doubt, the forces of nature at Brightwork & Ensemble Barlow would respond – some questions are better left unanswered.
Curated by Brandon Rolle and Nick Norton, this evening is dedicated to remembering beloved composer Clarence Barlow through his music and writings.
The program will include a varied retrospective of Barlow’s works including quarantasette estratti da un vicolo ludofilo, ISIS studies, Sachets des ciseaux insatiables, KLAVIERSTÜCK Für Luise, Pinball Play, Für Simon Jonassohn-Stein, and Fantasy Prelude Miscibly Interfused.
The entire audience is invited to stay for a post-concert reception to share memories and celebrate Clarence.
8:00pm. Tuesday Sep 12, 2023 at Monk Space (4414 W. 2nd Street Los Angeles, CA 90004)
Meredith Monk and the Bang on a Can All-Stars present an unforgettable evening at The Ford with MEMORY GAME
On a perfectly mild LA night, the stage at the Ford is bathed in blue light and awaiting the entrance of the legendary Meredith Monk and the Bang on a Can All-Stars. The All-Stars enter and, without any pause, launch into the first song of MEMORY GAME, Meredith Monk’s 2020 album featuring her vocal ensemble as well as the All-Stars, with arrangements by Bang on a Can founders Julia Wolfe, Michael Gordon, and David Lang, as well as veteran All-Star member Ken Thomson and Monk herself with Allison Sniffin (Monk Vocal Ensemble member). Like most of the pieces to follow, “Spaceship” (arrangement by Gordon) begins with gently repetitive ostinati by Thomson and pianist/keyboardist Vicky Chow. The way the ensemble blends and trades their ostinati is beautifully characteristic of Gordon’s orchestration style, and reminds this writer of his “Gene Takes a Drink” (also written for the All-Stars) at more than one moment.
As thunderous applause breaks out, Monk, dressed in all red, enters the stage with her vocal ensemble (Theo Bleckmann, Allison Sniffin, and Katie Geissinger). She introduces the next set of songs from her 1983 sci-fi opera “The Games,” which she wrote in West Berlin while hearing missiles firing overhead just before the Olympics. Monk explains the piece is set in a post-apocalyptic world, where the survivors are either on a spaceship or possibly another planet, and have rituals to remember “Earth culture.” As the piece is about “the aesthetics of fascism”, this post-apocalyptic society also features a leader who seems like a rockstar but is actually a dictator (portrayed by Theo Bleckmann on stage).
This becomes perfectly clear during The Gamemaster’s Song, during which Bleckmann’s character slowly descends deeper into caricature through increasingly comic choreography over carnival-esque instrumentals. Bleckmann’s portrayal is so convincing it becomes easy to forget for a large portion of the piece that this character is a dictator, until three-quarters of the way through when Bleckmann slowly introduces a degree of audible menace into the otherwise cartoonish vocalizations meant to lure unsuspecting citizens of this surviving society.
“Migration” follows with a stark change of mood, introduced by the vocal ensemble and Chow in firmly minor territory and wordless “wahs,” before Arlen Hlusko renders a beautiful cello melody that makes the melancholy feeling complete. Eventually, Bleckmann speaks about pre-apocalyptic Earth and those who lived there, comparing those humans to these in a new society. As a testament to the inevitable displacement of peoples due to fascism/dictatorships, “Migration” is deeply effective and is both the most somber and the most moving piece on the program.
The rest of the Games set is no less stunningly executed by this group of legendary musicians in variable ensemble configurations, before Allison Sniffin and Vicky Chow deliver a sort of nonsense aria for voice and electric piano; this is “Waltz in 5s” from “The Politics of Quiet” (arr. Sniffin and Monk). “Waltz” is the second most somber piece next to Migration, and though wordless, Sniffin’s soaring and rich voice fills the air with nostalgia. Before “Tokyo Cha Cha” from Turtle Dreams Cabaret (arr. Sniffin), Monk explains this song was written after her first trip to Japan, during which she expected to be deeply inspired by
the ancient Japanese culture she always loved, but instead found herself fascinated by the techno-futuristic culture of Tokyo. The song slowly builds from just “s-s-s-ch-ch-ch-“ vocalizations by the vocal ensemble to unapologetically fun grooves carried by the entire ensemble, complete with shakers, relaxed guitar by veteran All-Star Mark Stewart, vocalists chanting “let’s cha-cha, you happy, let’s cha-cha, all happy…” and fittingly adorable choreography. At this point, it becomes hard to believe Monk is 80 years old, as she sings and moves with such passion and ease around the stage.
“Totentanz” from Impermanence (arr. Lang) is only the second piece that allows the vocalists to take a break, as the All-Stars delve into the rock groove-oriented and syncopated arrangement by Lang featuring Stewart playing a rock kick drum as well as guitar. The last official piece on the bill (and album) is “Double Fiesta” from Acts from Under and Above and immediately begins with an incredible show of vocal fireworks from Monk as she leaps from register to register with acrobatic precision on a myriad of syllables one could believe were improvised, if they weren’t also the same on album recording. By the end of the song, after Monk has told us a story about meeting “a very nice girl”, the band is rocking out while the entire vocal ensemble slowly enters the stage and starts dancing; it is near impossible to not have a smile plastered on your face (assuming you haven’t already audibly laughed multiple times).
As the first in a series of encores, Monk offers “Panda Chant” with the entire ensemble standing in a line, singing, stepping in rhythm, and clapping, which the audience absolutely goes wild for. She then proceeds to the hilarious “Education of the Girlchild” in which she very convincingly adopts an old crone voice to portray an old woman bargaining with death and boasting about still having her “pens, mind, money under the bed, telephone, allergies…” among other things. The final encore consisted of a true Monk solo called “Insect Descending”, which she wrote while in New Mexico during the 70s. As if the audience wasn’t astonished enough already by the seemingly inexhaustible catalog of vocal sounds Monk has access to, “Insect Descending” really does sound just like what it’s called, and proved to be a hilarious and succinct treat to this tight 75-minute program that left the audience uplifted and energetic; an experience we won’t soon forget.
MEMORY GAME is both a look back at a pivotal point in Meredith Monk’s storied career, and a richly layered portrait of how vocal music—under the guidance of an indefatigable master—can play with our expectations in poignant and compelling ways. For this journey, Monk and her ever-versatile vocal group join forces with Bang on a Can All-Stars, whose “lean, emphatic, and muscular execution suits the precision of Monk’s writing perfectly” (The Wire).
8:00pm. Thursday Aug 31, 2023 at The Ford LA (2580 Cahuenga Blvd E, Los Angeles, CA 90068)
GHOST GUN, VIOLA JOKES, & FOLGERS IN YOUR CUP – A Night of Clever Storytelling with Aperture Duo
In the quiet aftermath of Hurricane Hilary, an adventurous crowd gathered at the intimate Monk Space in Koreatown, fresh out of unexpected hibernation. In return, they were gifted several memorable stories in the form of spiritual guidance from Adrianne Pope & Linnea Powell, the two cornerstones of Aperture Duo.
On the menu were two brand new specials commissioned by the duo and workshopped with the composers in recent weeks, starting with Thomas Kotcheff’s delightful Obbligato String Music No. 1: Allegretto in G Minor. Much more than an appetizer, Thomas masterfully weaves together a series of discordant ideas from vastly different genres, taking the audience for a whirlwind of a journey. One could quickly discover tasteful moments of microtonal dissonance between the violin & viola, as well as between live sounds & pre-recorded samples. Through Aperture Duo’s confident approach to tackle everything from recreating classical standards to accompanying altered versions of the Folgers jingle (a musical stunt that has unsurprisingly generated over $40,000 for the coffee company), we can now begin to see the bigger picture that is the clever collage of eons of compositional techniques and motifs, melting together into a beautiful, hot mess. In a way, the true meaning of obbligato is reinforced by this mesmerizing work, contributing to the inextinguishable lineage of canonical literature while effectively challenging the notion of what is considered pure or fixed in the classical genre. It is through this strange paradox that Kotcheff was able to keep the audience deeply engaged in a dizzying fashion, as we felt the tension of all of his conflicting melodies spiraling into instability, only to find itself pieced together again.
The entrée of the night is most certainly their second commission, Jessie Marino’s incomparable Murder Ballads Volume I: Sister Sister. A departure from her usual works, these ballads showcase a stunning tapestry that revealed the unbreakable trust Pope & Powell hold for one another. Much of the night encouraged Aperture Duo to sing their soulful hearts out, but through these vulnerable, haunting ballads, the two performers were compelled to melt their voices & instruments into a powerful quartet of bagpipe & storytelling. A strong parallel to Kotcheff’s earlier work in the program, Marino continues to explore the concept of time through meaningful libretto meant to stand as timeless. In both the first and last ballad of this four-part song, O Death and Ghost Gun, Marino lit an angry flame under us with her unfiltered, fed-up emotions reflecting on the living state of profitable, senseless violence that is the American gun problem. In a country where we have experienced over 400 mass shootings this year with over four months left, at a terrifying pace greater than two mass shootings a day, the powerful composite of folk harmonies, vivid thoughts, painful overdrive, and screeching feedback left a stinging taste in the mouths of many. While O Death touched upon the national bitterness over the unfair immunity of police brutality, Ghost Gun properly detailed the grave threat of endless violence we face at every corner of our neighborhood, without fail or warning. The inner ballads, Edward and Twa Sisters, are no less powerful than the former, serving as a shocking reminder that while murder isn’t new, its dirty cousin, systemic violence, is a unique weaponized threat to modern society. In Edward, we find an old English elegy full of regret & sorrow, while the tale of Twa Sisters is based on an actual 17th century murder ballad of a girl drowned by her jealous sister. In Marino’s version, however, it isn’t the jealous sister who descends into murder, but rather, the bloody violence of Johnny, transforming into a hexed act that persists to haunt him until the very end. I believe this particular distinction falls in line with the rest of the ballads, emphasizing the radical normalization of systemic violence enacted by people in positions of privilege and power.
From Kotcheff & Marino, we are faithfully presented with the reality of the myriad of pertinent challenges we are facing in an unprecedented climate. From Pope & Powell, we learn that these very real challenges can be faced head on, with limitless imagination. And to the devout followers of Aperture Duo, I believe they are venturing into a new and inimitable realm of contemporary classical excellence.
Join Aperture Duo (Adrianne Pope, violin and Linnea Powell, viola) in an evening of boundary-pushing new music featuring world premieres by Berlin-based composer Jessie Marino and LA-based composer/pianist Thomas Kotcheff. Join LA’s own Aperture Duo as they explore the shiny, surreal, and sometimes scary depths of chamber music for violin and viola.
7:00pm. Tuesday Aug 22, 2023 at Monk Space (4414 W 2nd St, Los Angeles, CA 90004)
An interview with Aperture Duo (Adrianne Pope and Linnea Powell)
Ahead of their August 22 concert at Monk Space, premiering pieces by Jessie Marino and Thomas Kotcheff, I asked Pope and Powell a few “why” questions about the music, themselves, and what it means to play everything but your instrument.
Richard: Why Jessie Marino?
One of the most enjoyable performances I’ve seen in the last couple of years is your performance of ‘Rot Blau’ by Jessie Marino, which I can’t imagine many people have performed besides Marino’s own ‘On Structure’ duo with Natacha Diels. You’ve performed this piece several times, and notably, you don’t play any instruments in it. There is something captivating enough about this piece that compels you two to eschew your traditional instrumental practice, and to pick up red and blue wigs instead.
Indoctrinate the reader into the Church of Marino!
Aperture Duo: (on Rot Blau and taking risks)
We’re so glad you enjoyed it! Some of our favorite memories on stage have been during Rot Blau performances. It’s a feat to learn the piece, and so unbelievably fun to perform it.
We decided to learn Rot Blau at a time when we were in between commissions and looking to find pre-existing repertoire for our upcoming season. But there was (and still is!) only a limited amount of rep for the violin and viola duo ensemble, and we were ready to think outside the box. We were no strangers to pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones – we regularly perform new works that utilize tons of extended techniques – so we were excited to take the leap and learn a piece that was completely off of our instruments. Not only does Rot Blau utilize props, lights, wigs, and gloves, it is written in an entirely new musical notation for body percussion and choreography.
And through learning Rot Blau, we became better chamber musicians. Back on our instruments everything from cueing, to our internal pulse, to body communication, to rehearsal techniques was all incredibly strengthened. It’s amazing what happens when you strip away the instrument that you’ve played for 25ish years!
AD: (on Jessie Marino, Murder Ballads, and commissioning new works)
What we love about Jessie as a composer is not only her creative musical language, but the way she throws herself fully into her conceptual ideas. So it was a no-brainer to ask her if she’d like to write us a piece. We had no idea that she’d write anything like Murder Ballads – you really never know what you’re going to get with a commission, the mystery is part of the fun!
Murder Ballads is a song cycle that combines experimental soundscapes, traditional Sacred Harp hymns, and Appalachian folk ballads. It’s by far the most singing while playing that we’ve ever done. And in a way, Murder Ballads feels like a perfect evolution from Rot Blau. Where Rot Blau requires perfection for its choreography and timing, Murder Ballads is written to be imperfect. We are not trained singers, as Jessie knows, and singing while playing is not a perfect science. So, just the way the piece is written requires us to trust each other, to listen like we’ve never listened before, to be vulnerable, and to catch each other in performance. To us, these are the epitome of chamber music skills.
AD: (on Thomas Kotcheff)
Interestingly, when we commissioned Thomas Kotcheff to write us a piece for this concert we specifically asked for an off-instrument piece. Thomas writes fantastic percussion music, so we thought this would be a fun fit. As it turned out, Thomas had something entirely else in mind for us that he was excited to dig into. The piece that he wrote us is not like anything we could have imagined. Not only is it specifically for our instruments, it also has playback, amplification, and has us playing around (literally!) with a few pop culture themes that everyone will know. It’s nostalgic, dreamy, weird, and wild, and we can’t wait to premiere it.
R: Why a duo? Why this duo?
There’s something about playing with exactly one other person that is special; there’s a simplicity of social hierarchy, a direct communication of ideas, and a clear intimacy and immediacy that is lost even when you add even, simply, a third person. In seemingly every aspect of performance, planning, collaborating and rehearsing, I’ve always noticed that you just get shit done as a duo.
Can you describe if and how the dynamic of a “duo” shapes the way you make art together as Aperture?
AD:
We always say that a duo is a conversation. Every moment playing together is an opportunity for listening, reacting, agreeing, disagreeing, questioning, or supporting each other. It’s like having a conversation with your closest friend, and it’s unbelievably rewarding! Performing in a duo requires being present in a way that we haven’t experienced in other chamber ensemble configurations. We each have to bring 50% to the table at all times.
This accountability also spreads to every other aspect of the ensemble, from rehearsal strategies, to concert preparations, programming logistics, and all the nitty gritty details that go into running a chamber group. We each have different strengths – both in performance and on the administrative side – which compliment each other really well. Utilizing our strengths and different skills allows us to divide and conquer in a very compatible way that makes our ensemble sustainable.
R: Why this duo? (violin/viola)
Essentially every chamber ensemble has to reckon with “the past,” a body of work that will always loom over your decision-making in programming, commissioning, the ensembles of your type that exist. This is most true for string quartets, which now has three hundred years of repertoire to reckon with, but this exists even for newer configurations; a group like Yarn/Wire (two pianists and two percussionists), which has a repertoire list almost entirely commissioned and created by themselves, still has Berio, Bartok and Crumb as part of its early canon.
How has the history of violin + viola music affected the way that Aperture operates?
AD: (on Mozart and the duo universe he created)
At first glance, a violin and viola duo seems like it would have a very homogenous sound. The instruments themselves are very similar, so how interesting can a violin and viola duo really be?
When we first began to make music together, we read through the Mozart violin and viola duos. The pieces are well known and well loved, but we didn’t expect them to be so inspiring. As two new music string players who also love traditional repertoire, we thought it would just be a fun experience to read them together. But what we learned is that inside of each of the Mozart duos is an entire string quartet, written for just two people! Nothing is missing, it’s like a compositional magic trick.
Working on the Mozart duos made us realize that anything is possible for two instruments, and made us excited to commission and expand the repertoire for the ensemble. Nine years later we’ve commissioned over fifteen new works that do exactly just that. Not only are they new works for violin and viola, but all of the pieces expand the expectations of what a violin and viola duo can be. Sometimes that means sounding like one instrument, sometimes two, and sometimes four (especially when including our voices!) It’s been a very fun ride and we can’t wait for more new sounds.
Join Aperture Duo (Adrianne Pope, violin and Linnea Powell, viola) in an evening of boundary-pushing new music featuring world premieres by Berlin-based composer Jessie Marino and LA-based composer/pianist Thomas Kotcheff. Join LA’s own Aperture Duo as they explore the shiny, surreal, and sometimes scary depths of chamber music for violin and viola.
7:00pm. Tuesday Aug 22, 2023 at Monk Space (4414 W 2nd St, Los Angeles, CA 90004)
The Revolution Will Not be Televised: T@MS presents an evening of ‘canceled’ string orchestra pieces
It’s a little after 8pm at Monk Space, where the final and sold-out show of this year’s Tuesdays at Monk Space (T@MS) is about to take place. The orchestra heads from the back of the narrow hall to the blue-lit stage, single-file, through the center of the packed crowd, trying not to hit anyone with their instruments. Anthony Parnther greets an audience of “a lot of familiar faces” brimming with anticipation as he explains in a rich baritone that the pieces to be played on tonight’s concert were all ones he had previously agreed to conduct elsewhere, but for some reason or another (“politics or something else”) were canceled. The title for the evening’s concert is already starting to reveal its relevance.
Carlos Simon’s “Elegy: A Cry From the Grave” is the first piece on the program, and is dedicated to Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, and Michael Brown; three names that ring out with a lot of impact since the events of the summer of 2020 and the BLM movement. Parnther introduces the piece with all the gravitas one would expect given the subject matter, but also lets the audience know that the piece is more “optimistic in tone” than one might expect. Indeed, between the lush, romantic melodies; exuberant outbursts from the cellos on top of violin tremolos, and dramatic swells that suddenly become silence, Elegy does seem to suggest a sort of peace as it lands on its final major chord after several quasi-Romantic harmonic shifts.
Perhaps one of the most delightful moments of the evening happened when Parnther introduced the second piece, Leilehua Lanzilotti’s “with eyes the color of time,” for which she was named a Finalist in the Pulitzer Prize competition last year. To Parnther’s surprise, Lanzilotti was present in the audience, which was even more special because this was apparently only the second group ever to perform the piece live. Lanzilotti explained that each movement of the piece is named after a work of art that used to be in the now-closed Contemporary Art Museum of Honolulu, where she would run around as child because their apartment was too small. As each movement played, a picture of the corresponding artwork was projected overhead. For this writer who has known Lanzilotti virtually for several years, and has adored this piece ever since finding the score-follower video, this really was the perfect way to experience the piece live for the first time. The viola’s sul pont. long tones and 4-3 suspensions that open the piece made the entire room suddenly feel enchanted, as if the entire audience was holding their breath. Over the next six movements, Parnther and the orchestra adeptly execute the wild variety of string colors
that is so emblematic of Lanzilotti’s music, from scratching sounds and pitches so faint the audience almost wondered if they were real, to full on sul pont bariolage by the violins that get disrupted by the cellos violently throwing their bows against the strings, and (spoiler alert!) the percussion and vocal hums that are sure to catch an audience at a string orchestra concert off-guard. After all, she’s somewhat of an authority on wild sounds. A long line of fans waits to greet Lanzilotti (including yours truly), many telling her how deeply the piece affected them as we break for intermission.
After intermission, Parnther’s own work (from which the evening’s title was taken) throws politics back in to focus. He explains “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” takes its name from the 1971 poem by Gil Scott-Heron, and both the poem and tonight’s namesake are addressing the state of affairs in the country at the time; namely, that we are currently watching a slide into fascism take place in the US. Amidst the recent smattering of U.S. Supreme Court decisions, both this work and the evening’s theme as a whole suddenly take on a painful poignance. Thankfully, Parnther offers us another moment of levity with effortless charisma before introducing Dwight Trible, the narrator joining the orchestra for this piece. As a mellow percussion beat takes hold, the strings enter with frantic glissandi, before Trible begins powerfully narrating over angular pizzicato and vocal “ch-“ sounds from the orchestra. Suddenly, the entire orchestra builds to a frenzy as Trible booms “will NOT be televised” repeatedly, before stopping on a dime, and then a final growl from Trible: “The revolution will be LIVE!”. The audience appears to agree as they uproariously applaud.
The final piece is an arrangement of Shostakovich’s “Chamber Symphony in C Minor” by Barshai. Unusual in that of the five movements, three are “Largo”, the Chamber Symphony, as Parnther explains, was written by Shostakovich for string quartet in 3 days while living in Dresden, Germany in 1960 and is dedicated to victims of fascism and war. He explains that this piece contains several allusions to previous works, and asks the first violinist (Alyssa Park) to play Shostakovich’s name motif for the audience “D-Eb-C-B” or “Dssch” in German. The name motive does indeed permeate most of the piece quite audibly, opening the first movement before Park’s haunting, highly chromatic violin solo over the rest of the orchestra suspended on one note. The second movement begins furiously with wild runs and repeated, screeching downbows that recall Hermann’s score for Psycho and is the first real head-banger of the evening. In the following movements, the orchestra moves seamlessly through off-kilter waltzes (2 nd mvmt), violently repeated chords in bursts of 3 (4 th mvmt), before Park begins the 5 th movement with
another solo answered by the low strings. The cellos eventually circle back to the name motive, which begins to disintegrate, and the ensemble seems to evaporate on its last D-Eb half-step. A tremendous accomplishment for Parnther, this entire roster of string players, and a triumphant season finale for T@MS, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised will also not be forgotten anytime soon by those who were lucky enough to witness it.
Conductor, Music Director, and Bassoonist Anthony Parnther curates an evening at T@MS for conducted string orchestra featuring music inspired by courage, strength, and resistance to oppression.
8:00pm. Tuesday Jun 26, 2023
On Maura Tuffy and singers’ “Path of Miracles” by Joby Talbot: “This is about as tight as a non-static choral group of this size could possibly be, performing a work of this size and complexity”
On May 26, 2023, Maura Tuffy led a choir of 17 singers in a full performance of Joby Talbot’s Path of Miracles at All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Beverly Hills.
Joby Talbot’s musical output is eccentric; scores for The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Sing adorn his resume, right next to a large number of music for dance, arrangements for pop stars Paul McCartney and Charlotte Gainsbourg, as well as purely ‘concert’ works such as Path of Miracles. Visiting his website, his landing page simply reads “Joby Talbot is a composer of music for concert, stage and screen,” the brevity of which seems to belie the depth at which he is involved with all three.
A single, low, unison note begins in the tenors and basses – who are the only singers seen on stage – its resonance shifting through changes in vowel shape. Another pitch coming from below, then rising through it, begins a pattern that will become clear in just a moment; Talbot is evoking a Shepard tone, an auditory illusion which seems to continually rise without ever ending. From the BBC’s Bang Goes the Theory, “it’s like a barber’s pole of sound.”
The sopranos and altos proclaim from the balcony behind the audience. The crotales, performed by Yuri Inoo, signal the higher voices to join the lower. They walk through the aisles, flanking left and right, until they find their marks. This (and all future) transitions are tightly choreographed; the ensemble occasionally loosens their rigid lines to flex into a slightly different configuration. Without cues, singers depart from the group to form solo quartets, and, at the very end, the singers flank left and right once again, beginning the piece as it started.
On the way, Path of Miracles visits Roncesvalles, Burgos, León and Santiago along the Camino de Santiago, an (in)famous pilgrimage route in the Roman Catholic tradition; some members of the choir and the audience, in a brief pre-concert talk, raised their hands when asked who had made the trek themselves. In some moments, parallel whole tone and octatonic scales evoke Debussy; in others, you can hear a “Dies Irae” melody snuck in.
I must praise Maura Tuffy’s conducting here; full disclosure, Maura and I met in the choral department at USC, and are friends. In a few words, choral conducting is difficult; you need to show clear beats and gestures while making sure singers don’t disengage their breath support, an issue which is usually not present conducting instrumentalists; choral conductors often don’t use batons, seemingly to prioritize the nuance of the hands at the expense of visibility and the “resolution” of beat that the pointed tip of a baton can provide. Compound that with the fact that Maura is often cueing singers she can’t see, behind her head (in the balcony, or flanking the sides of the sanctuary), and you can get an idea of the immensity of the achievement.
In speaking with the singers after the performance, I found that this group put together the nearly-70 minute work in just four rehearsals. This is about as tight as a non-static choral group of this size could possibly be, performing a work of this size and complexity. Maura’s work with the singers is monumental, and readers should look forward to when this group will perform this work next.
Maura Tuffy and Kiyono McDaniel met last year while working together for the Los Angeles Children’s Chorus. With Maura’s affinity for choral conducting, and Kiyono’s ambition for arts development, they have combined their skills to make this performance possible. From fundraising and marketing, to recruiting and rehearsing, Maura and Kiyono have self produced this performance to highlight the beauty that is Path of Miracles.
7:30pm. Friday May 26, 2023