Nel Buddismo Theravada, Anagamin significa “uno che ritorna una sola volta”, cioè qualcuno che è sfuggito al ciclo delle morti e delle rinascite ed è destinato a reincarnarsi soltanto una volta ancora, prima del Nirvana [Britannica online].
Dal punto di vista musicale, si tratta di un brano per 12 archi composto nel 1965, una meditazione intorno a una sola nota, tema caro a Giacinto Scelsi.
Questa volta la nota centrale è il SIb che si riflette anche nell’accordatura del due violoncelli, l’uno innalzando la corda più acuta, LA, a SIb, mentre l’altro abbassa di un tono il DO grave.
The new album by Vladislav Makarov “Multiplying Real – Multicello”, (c) makART rec. 038
Makarov is a pioneer free improvised music in Russia, the known cellist-experimentalist, this is a solo work, but not quite usual. 20 short pieces recorded with using the usual analog delay, but with mass author’s preparations such as the objects in strings, wooden, bamboo and plastic sticks, combs, straightedges of the miscellaneous format, as well as makarov’s branded receiving playing on cello as on guitar, referring us from hard-rock to technic great english musician Derek Bailey. The album as a whole carries the experimental character, but many acceptances Makarov used repeatedly above-ground performances. All the pieces have a different invoice and expression, but collected in conceptual album, subordinated powerful direction of the author. Many the tracks can cause the shock and perplexity, but the electric cello here sounds as whole orchestra in spirit of avantgarde composer Xenakis or Stokhausen. Stylistic and genre of the work it is difficult to define, it obviously much broader notorious free improvisation, but is an colours by the palette all radical styles our time from freejazz, avant-rock up to noise and drone…
For Irving Lippel è una composizione del 2004 di John Link (1962), compositore di Boston, allievo di Elliott Carter, aperto a varie esperienze: ha composto lavori per diversi media (orchestra, formazioni cameristiche, jazz ensembles, rock band e sistemi elettroacustici).
Questo brano è una fantasia che esplora le suggestive potenzialità della combinazione chitarra – vibrafono.
Oggi ci occupiamo di Lewis Nielson (che giovane non è, essendo nato nel 1950) e di una sua composizione per orchestra del 2005, chiamata St. Francis preaches to the birds.
Lewis Nielson’s compositional influences include the music of Luciano Berio, Edgard Varèse, and Iannis Xenakis. He is also heavily influenced by a wide range of philosophers including Edmund Husserl, Karl Marx, and Ludwig Wittgenstein, as well as painting, poetry, and film.
Grants and awards for Nielson’s music include the Cleveland Arts Prize, Delius Trust, Groupe de Musique Expérimentale de Bourges in France, Ibla Foundation of Italy, International Society of Bassists, Meet the Composer, and National Endowment for the Arts. Nielson taught for 21 years at the University of Georgia in Athens, and since 2000 he has been on faculty at the Oberlin Conservatory of Music, where he is director of the composition division. His work is recorded on the aca Digital, Albany, Capstone, Centaur, innova, and MMC labels.
Di questo brano l’autore scrive
“The piece is one long phrase. The single ‘phrase’ is kept in motion (perhaps suspension is a better word) through layering and elision of material within the layers … [There is a] gradual transformation from pitched, to less-pitched, to essentially non-pitched material in the solo violin part which, in turn, radiates in widely varying and sometimes very surprising ways throughout the sub-groupings and ‘sections’ of the ensemble.
“The piece is also like a funnel, or thresher, collecting seemingly disparate material, combining it and recombining it, turning one kind of music into another, winnowing out some aspects of an idea and transforming it into something new, resulting a continuous overlapping of ideas … Alternately in support and in contrast to the solo violin music, the other instruments also make musical contributions of their own, even in the act of assimilating or transforming themselves in light of what the soloist provides.
“Two general concepts govern structural growth: communication (or lack or inability thereof) between the soloist and the various ‘sections’ of the ensemble … and transformation of musical material within and between instruments and sections. The work is a long conversation among many individuals and groups, aiming less for a convenient sense of dialogue or dependent relationship between soloist and the rest than for the maintenance of a balance within the various musical ‘languages’ generated. […]
“While I do not intend any kind of direct correlation, the actual legend of St. Francis and his sermons to the birds … can provide, by way of analogy, some approaches to the workings of the piece and some various ways to listen to it … Whether or not one believes other aspects of the St. Francis legend, it’s clear that he sought to hold the birds’ attention, and that they were as eager to understand him as he them. Equally, as he listened to them he took away knowledge of a kind that resists codification while being very meaningful to him. […]
“It will be noted that the work concludes in an unusual manner: to wit, with the soloist leading the ensemble and the conductor seated, playing celesta with the percussionists. Besides making an historical ‘tip of the hat’ to the original leadership functions of the Baroque solo concerto, the soloist at the end embodies the catalytic and transformational agent he has been all along. […]
Eleven Echoes of Autumn was composed during the spring of 1966 for the Aeolian Chamber Players (on commission from Bowdoin College). The eleven pieces constituting the work are performed without interruption:
Echo 1. Fantastico
Echo 2. Languidamente, quasi lontano (“hauntingly”)
Echo 3. Prestissimo
Echo 4. Con bravura
Echo 5. Cadenza I (for Alto Flute)
Echo 6. Cadenza II (for Violin)
Echo 7. Cadenza III (for Clarinet)
Echo 8. Feroce, violento
Echo 9. Serenamente, quasi lontano (“hauntingly”)
Echo 10. Senza misura (“gently undulating”)
Echo 11. Adagio (“like a prayer”)
Each of the echoes exploits certain timbral possibilities of the instruments. For example, echo 1 (for piano alone) is based entirely on the 5th partial harmonic, ehco 2 on violin harmonics in combination with 7th partial harmonics produced on the piano (by drawing a piece of hard rubber along the strings). A delicate aura of sympathetic vibrations emerges in echoes 3 and 4, produced in the latter case by alto flute and clarinet playing into the piano (close to the strings). At the conclusion of the work the violinist achieves a mournful, fragile timbre by playing with the bow hair completely slack.
The most important generative element of Eleven Echoes is the “bell motif” — a quintuplet figure based on the whole-tone interval — which is heard at the beginning of the work. This diatonic figure appears in a variety of rhythmic guises, and frequently in a highly chromatic context.
Each of the eleven pieces has its own expressive character, at times overlaid by quasi-obbligato music of contrasting character, e.g., the “wind music” of the alto flute and clarinet in echo 2 or the “distant mandolin music” of the violin in echo 3. The larger expressive curve of the work is arch-like: a gradual growth of intensity to a climactic point (echo 8), followed by a gradual collapse.
Although Eleven Echoes has certain programmatic implications for the composer, it is enough for the listener to infer the significance of the motto-quote from Federico García Lorca: “… y los arcos rotos donde sufre el tiempo” (“… and the broken arches where time suffers”). These words are softly intoned as a preface to each of the three cadenza (echoes 5-7) and the image “broken arches” is represented visually in the notation of the music which underlies the cadenzas.
Di Toru Takemitsu, vi presento questo delizioso Textures del 1964, recuperato da un vecchio vinile.
In questo brano, l’orchestra di 73 elementi è divisa in due gruppi uguali, piazzati da parti opposte rispetto al pianoforte, sistemato in posizione centrale. Questo espediente, coadiuvato dalla scrittura, serve ad ottenere un marcato effetto stereofonico.
La scrittura, inoltre, è solistica fino al livello del singolo esecutore per creare tessiture sonore elaborate e cangianti.
Le ultime due parti di Echoes of Time and the River (Echoes II), di George Crumb ripulite, per quanto possibile, dalle impurità del vecchio vinile. Si intitolano Collapse of Time e Last Echoes of Time.
The most free and fantastic movement is the portentous Collapse of Time. Like the celebrated amphibians of Aristophanes, the string players croak out the nonsense syllables “Krek-tu-dai! Krek-tu-dai!” while the xylophone taps out the name of the composer in Morse code. As the movement proceeds and the underlying pulse falls away, the music heads off into a wide range of special effects – quasi-improvised fragments passed around among the various soloists, notated in circular patterns in the score. The descent into the solitude of the finale, Last Echoes of Time, comes at first as a relief and relaxation from all the foregoing; once the listener is convinced of the retrospective nature of these last pages, he can begin to explore more securely the implications in these echoes of all that has gone before. [Robert McMahan]
Summer 1981, Lukas Foss began to compose SOLO, his first piano piece in twenty-eight years, for the pianist Yvar Mikhashoff who premiered it in Paris in March 1982. An initial twelve-tone motive reigns. Yet this is not twelve-toone music. The motive is like a theme which undergoes constant change. Nor is this minimal music; in spite of insistent repetitions, each repetition also contains a change implying development, growth and forward movement. Solo is a long development section, “senza sonata”; lumbering, struggling eighth-notes, circling, spiralling, forging ahead, always on the way, never pausing, never giving up, forever closing in on…
In the Spring of 1982, Lukas Foss and the Lincoln Center Chamber Players premiered a new version of Solo at the New World Festival in Miami, Florida. This version has an extended coda in which three other instruments join the piano, after some ten minutes of silent observing of the solo part. The three instruments are a keyboard instrument, a harp or cello and percussion.
The score has the word “Fine” written a bar before the end. This paradox should be explained: the last bar is like an appendage or error–the piano playing on without its master or the phonograph needle (metaphorically speaking) returning to the opening automatically, as the engine stops.
and here the 1982 version, called Solo Observed, with the add of cello (or harp), vibraphone (or marimba), and electric organ (or accordion) after 9/10 minutes.
Un altro brano di Lukas Foss, questa volta per fisarmonica, uno strumento poco comune nella musica contemporanea (con alcune eccellenti eccezioni, es. Gubaidulina).
Il titolo, Curriculum Vitae, si spiega con il fatto che questo pezzo contiene alcune reminiscenze autobiografiche risalenti alla gioventù del compositore che ritroviamo sotto forma di citazioni: una delle Danze Ungheresi di Brahms, la Marcia Turca, l’inno nazista.
Al di là di questi flashback, però, nel brano non ci sono altre citazioni. Anche se alcune sembrano esserlo, come il frammento di tango, in realtà sono false e opera di immaginazione.
È un brano interessante, insieme tragico e comico, tonale e atonale, semplice e complesso.
Lukas Foss, Curriculum Vitae (1977), per fisarmonica sola
Guy Klucevsek, fisarmonica
Lukas Foss, compositore nato a Berlino nel 1922 ed emigrato negli USA con la famiglia per sfuggire al nazismo. Deceduto il 1 febbraio di quest’anno a 86 anni, Foss è tanto conosciuto e apprezzato negli USA quanto poco in Europa.
Eccovi il suo furioso String Quartet no. 3 del 1975, nell’esecuzione del Columbia Quartet (Benjamin Hudson, violin; Carol Zeavin, violin; Janet Lyman Hill, viola; Andre Emelianoff, cello).
Alcune note:
STRING QUARTET NO. 3 is Foss’ most extreme composition; it is themeless, tuneless, and restless. It is probably the first quartet without a single pizzicato since Haydn. The four strings are made to sound like an organ furiously preluding away. The sound vision which gave birth to this quartet may be the most merciless in the quartet literature.
Though some of the pages of the music may look unusual (see image, click to enlarge), QUARTET NO. 3 is notated in every detail. There are no performer choices, except for the number of repeats of certain patterns. Repetition? Actually something is always changing, even in the introduction, which contains only two pitches, A and C, combining in various ways – a kind of prison from which the players are liberated by a sudden all-interval flurry. There follows an extended fortissimo section of broken chord-waves with ever-changing rhythmic inflections. This leads into a rigidly structured pianissimo episode of accelerating and retarding twenote cells. The idea of an exhausting fortissimo followed by an equally unalleviated pianissimo is reminiscent of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge, a work for which Foss has a special passion. Foss’ pianissimo section is however unmelodic and active. At one point near the end, the musicians are granted the one and only sustained sound; then the frantic waves and counter waves resume, this time in rhythmic unison, each moment of change cued by the first violin. The closing C major chord is neither a peaceful resolution nor a joke, but rather like an object on which the music stumbles, as if by accident, causing a short circuit, which brings the rush of broken chord patterns to a sudden halt.
STRING QUARTET NO. 3 was written for the Concord Quartet who obtained a grant from the New York State Council toward the commission of the piece and premiered it at Alice Tully Hall, New York on March 15, 1976.
The new album by