Category: Tracks

Lean in close, kids, I have two guilty confessions to make. My ears have been stretched and turned inside out by all sorts of new sounds and compositions, but sometimes I just long for a good groove to fall in and dance around a bit. But after all this new music yoga, the average dancehall beats sound just a little too empty. To the rescue come Jessica Lurie and Andre Drury. “Paprikash,” the first track off their collaboration this is what it’s like to be features Jess totally rockin’ out on sax (and here’s my second confession—though I know better, I still actually exclaimed to the officemates, “And that’s a girl!”). Andrew is throwing the irresistible dance beats down over the scronk, and it’s a recipe for three minutes in new music dance heaven.

—MS

Robert Ashley’s latest opera, Celestial Excursions, is partially set in an “assisted living facility.” At one point during a counseling session, the patients inform us “the only thing that counts is what people don’t understand. If you make it so they can understand it, you are a fool and it’s not going to be any good anyway.” Coming from Ashley, statements like this become metonymical and make perfect sense. As always, the composer manages to travel far beyond the limits of opera—you won’t find any bel canto singing here. Sonically, the overall impact is closer to rap music, with its fountain of motor rhythm text, the opera sets the mind in wander-mode with signposts pointing in every possible direction, all eventually leading to the vast conceptual solar system which Ashley gleefully orbits.

—RN

Writing a series of 24 short keyboard pieces in all the major and minor keys of a 12-note scale (whether equally-tempered or otherwise) is, of course, an idea that goes back to Bach, but it has since captured the imagination of composers as unrelated as Chopin and Shostakovich. It’s an idea that continues to resonate among contemporary American composers, too, ranging from Easley Blackwood, who created a cycle in all equal temperaments between 13 and 24, and Sebastian Chang, who created an atonal cycle based on each trichord, to Henry Martin whose jazzy preludes and fugues were a CD highlight last year.

Ken Benshoof’s set, composed in 2003, is probably closest in spirit to Henry Martin’s in terms of his reconciliation of common practice period pianism with American vernacularisms. Where it stands alone among all the other cycles I’ve heard, however, is in its brevity. The longest one clocks in at under three minutes while the shortest, offered here, is a mere three measures. But undoubtedly next year someone will attempt to surpass this with a whole cycle that’s just 24 notes!

—FJO

Don Ross, clarinet
Though the liner notes make a point of labeling the nationality of the composers included in this collection (mostly Belgians and Canadians), the distinctions seem irrelevant when the focus is so firmly on worshipping at the alter of the clarinet in styles that these same notes outline as “lyrical introversion or pessimistic lyricism.” NEC grad Kenneth Girard is the lone American, but he holds his own quite ably representing the stars and stripes. His Soliloquy is an appropriately stream-of-consciousness sort of composition with pacing and content more akin to a long letter from a friend away overseas than a gossipy, barstool confession.

—MS

If you aren’t overly attached to your laptop, a listen to this disc might just inspire you to dust off that old soldering gun and tangle yourself in a web of patch chords. Of course the tactile heyday of live electronic music is far behind us, but a listen back to Gordon Mumma’s Megaton for Wm. Burroughs will reveal a sophisticated use of the medium, a sort of sonic terrorism. The composer conceived the work as a theatrical event, which begins in darkness with a four-minute monolithic wall of noise. In examples such as this, it’s easy to hear how Mumma’s cybernetic approach informs many of today’s hackers and circuit benders.

—RN

Dominic Inferrera, baritone
Washington Square Contemporary Music Society Players

While Albany’s new disc devoted to the music of Louis Karchin, all of which was composed in the 21st century, primarily consists of art songs for solo voice and piano accompaniment, the high point here for me is a nearly 30-minute masque for baritone, dancers, and ensemble based on the legend of Orpheus. Karchin’s music is especially sensitive to timbre, so it’s always exciting to hear what he does when he has a whole ensemble at his disposal, in this case the de rigeur Pierrot plus percussion and a harp, which adds some unusual textures.

—FJO

Percussion Group Cincinnati

There are certain experiences in life for which you have to focus and “get your head right”—scenarios like acupuncture or going to a La Monte Young concert come to mind. John Luther Adams’s 70-minute work for percussion ensemble seems like it would require a similar sort of preparation, but really you can’t help but fall into its entrancing rhythms. The music itself (courtesy of the performers’ disciplined efforts, of course) does the heavy lifting, carrying the ear through sonic white water as swiftly as it floats it over a subsequent movement scored for four air-raid sirens. That Adams is a self-confessed “recovering drummer” surely hasn’t hurt how he has creatively approached the instruments involved.

When I was kid, a neighbor gave me a toy snare drum, which I realize now was probably more an act of aggression against my mother than anything else. Force may seem an easy idea to project using percussion, but Adams uses these timbres to speak with a degree of nuance and subtlety that pushes buttons noise acts never quite reach.

—MS

Space may be the place for Sun Ra, but the room that you happen to be sitting in at any given moment is the realm of Alvin Lucier. Time to ditch those headphones and turn up the volume, otherwise you’ll be missing the full impact of Lucier’s work. If you’ve never experienced the engulfing sweep of sound and dizzying effect of two closely tuned pure tone oscillators—the sound literally seems to swirl around the room—it’s a bit intoxicating. And you thought tequila gives you the spins. Add a trombone into the mix and listen as the whirling sound waves gently deliver the performers breath directly into your ears like a whisper. I was floored when I heard James Fulkerson perform the piece live a few years back, and now the experience is (almost) captured on this new two-CD set. Just don’t drink and listen.

—RN

According to the program notes, Duke’s Tune is an electronic composition based on a theme composed by a potbellied pig who lives in a shelter in Solvang, California, where he is the “artist-in-residence.” I’m not making this up. There are even photos showing the pig playing mallet percussion. According to Schrader, Duke also plays keyboards, violin and guitar. I’d call him a ham but that would be a bad joke…

—FJO

OK, so it’s a bit predictable to single this track out of Bennett’s three-act, 40-scene opera, coming as it does at the climax of the first act. But the impassioned duet between the two female leads functions very much as the jewel in the opera’s crown, showcasing both the power of the singers and the composer’s ability to artfully convey atmosphere and character in his orchestration. The opera was a success when it premiered in London in 1965, yet it disappeared from public view until it was given a new production by Glimmerglass in 2004. The folk tune that the gypsy Rosalind asks the traveling troupe actress Jenny to teach her is encased in a scene that proves (if you need proof) that atonal and beautiful are not mutually exclusive concepts. Do make sure to read through this track’s libretto so as not to miss the melancholy details that are revealed.

—MS