Solo Pour Deux

Solo Pour Deux (1981) di Grisey, per clarinetto e trombone, incarna l’essenzialità della concezione compositiva spettrale e in questo senso è didattico.

Come il titolo suggerisce, i due strumenti (monofonici) non creano contrasti o linee melodiche contrappuntistiche, ma concorrono a creare la sonorità di questo brano lavorando l’uno sugli armonici dell’altro (tipicamente il clarinetto su quelli del trombone, per forza di cose). Sono in due, ma, nella maggior parte dei casi, creano un’unica linea, spesso sovrapponendosi, ma a volte l’uno continua riducendo o espandendo una nota dell’altro.

Sotto l’aspetto dell’idea compositiva (ma solo in quello), il pezzo è vicino al Ko-Lho per flauto e clarinetto di (o attribuito a) Giacinto Scelsi del 1966, che potete ascoltare qui, soprattutto al secondo movimento, in cui i due strumenti, più che duettare, si compenetrano.

Presumibilmente gli interpreti sono Ernesto Molinari al clarinetto e Uwe Dierksen al trombone.

Makunouchi Bento

coverI rumeni Felix Petrescu (Waka X) e Valentin Toma (Qewza), nel 2001 hanno dato vita a questo progetto sperimentale chiamato Makunouchi Bento (che è il nome di un pranzo “al sacco” giapponese).

Utilizzano sia strumenti elettronici che acustici. Il loro ultimo lavoro, Swimé, è acquoso in modo affascinante con inserti che abbozzano semplici strutture armoniche e graziosi rumori di fondo.

Il disco è scaricabile gratuitamente qui.

Un estratto:

Milton Byron Babbitt (May 10, 1916 – January 29, 2011)

Milton BabbittMilton Babbitt non era fra i miei compositori preferiti, ma ne riconosco l’indubbia importanza come pioniere. Ha incarnato il serialismo integrale post weberniano negli USA ed è stato uno dei primi a credere seriamente nella musica elettroacustica fin dagli anni ’50. Qui abbiamo le Occasional Variations, scritte fra il 1968 e il ’71 per il sintetizzatore Mark II della RCA (vedi anche il Synth Museum), una macchina ancora analogica, ma la prima ad essere programmabile via nastro perforato.

Born in 1916 in Philadelphia Pennsylvania, has been one of the most prominent musical figures of the 20th century. His pioneering work with electronic tape, synthesized sounds, and his development of serial composition have established an essential place for him in musical history. As composer, writer, and teacher, he has greatly influenced the most important composers of his time, as well as created controversy, challenging his audience to rethink their very definition of music, and the relationship between a creative artist and his public.

Babbitt studied violin, clarinet, and saxophone as a child, but wished to follow his father’s footsteps and become a mathematician. He began his studies in math at the University of Pennsylvania, but soon felt a pull towards music as a career, these aspirations taking him to New York University where he studied composition, becoming very interested in the twelve-tone music. His studies then took him to Princeton University where he was a student of Roger Sessions.

He soon developed his own method of composing with the twelve-tone techniques of the Second Viennese School. In addition to pitch, he arranged other musical elements into a series, such as dynamics and rhythm, creating a “total serialism.” That and the introduction of other complex mathematical principals result in a dense and highly textured music. His innovations invited the attention of musicians, composers, and historians around the world, although these “complex, advanced, and problematical activities,” as he would call them, tended to alienate the public.
Babbitt has strong beliefs about his creative process and his relationship to his audience. He adopted the philosophy of Roger Sessions, who said that composers must:

abandon resolutely chimerical hopes of success in a world dominated overwhelmingly by ‘stars’, by mechanized popular music, and by the box-office standard, and set themselves to discovering what they truly have to say, and to saying it in the manner of the adult artist delivering his message to those who have ears to hear it. All else is childishness and futility.

The Transforms

Blue Gene Tyranny – The Transforms (1972 – 1992)

Within the environmental sounds were small events – rhythms, quasi-melodic inflections, ringing harmonics – a fine, sub-rosa level brought out by electronic scans called transforms’. Heard through small-band “windows”, the two channels cross-modulate each other, creating a simple field in which everything affects everything, like the body’s perceptors transducting an outside sound. The sensation of a transform is like the feeling left after a sound has ended, or a concert is over.

The transforms heard here are

  • A Dream Without Images
    The feeling behind the action. A telegraphic ringing relaxes into cascades of harmonics, acetylcholine neurons flash in the brain, calcium deposits from exploding stars leave traces in the synapses, and we dream of being helpful for no reason at all, while sferics sweep the atmosphere.
  • X Marks The Spot (Daydream)
    This music occurs simultaneously in both forward, historical time and backward, daydream time. This is analogous to interior imagination and visual perception physically sharing the same pathways only moving in opposite directions (in the occipital parietal temporal lobes). Background and foreground positions gradually cross from one world to the next, and curious illusions occur at the exact midpoint of this crossing (‘X’). “X Marks The Spot” at which the inside and the outside meet.

AGGIORNAMENTO 15/02

La particolarità di questi brani risiede nel fatto che derivano da registrazioni di suoni ambientali derivati da comuni attività giornaliere. I suoni della vita di tutti i giorni vengono isolati, trattati, a volte utilizzati come sorgenti di controllo per altri suoni. È questo modo di trovare la musica nei suoni di tutti i giorni che trovo degno di nota.

3D printed flute

Amit Zoran, del MIT Media Lab, ha creato un flauto con una stampante 3D a partire da un modello realizzato in CAD.

Per il momento, il suono è temibile a causa dei materiali utilizzati e il modello ha ancora qualche piccola imperfezione, ma si tratta di un passo notevole che potrebbe portare a grandi sviluppi sia dal punto di vista commerciale (calo dei prezzi perlomeno per gli strumenti di fascia media e bassa), sia sotto l’aspetto sperimentale, che mi interessa di più. Qui si intravvede la possibilità di progettare e testare nuovi strumenti o nuove forme per quelli tradizionali. Sarà possibile, inoltre, creare strumenti personalizzati.

Per l’utilizzo elettroacustico, il suono non è una qualità imprescindibile, essendo trasformato e creato via software e quindi la possibilità di sperimentare con forme e sonorità nuove è attraente.

Ecco il video:

Treffpunkt

Negli anni ’60, Stockhausen raccolse intorno a sè un piccolo gruppi di esecutori e tecnici con i quali lavorare e sperimentare. Con questo gruppo, che è quanto di più vicino a una ‘band’ si sia mai visto nella musica cosiddetta colta, aveva iniziato a sperimentare varie forme di improvvisazione più o meno controllata che ricadevano sotto l’etichetta di Musica Intuitiva.

Il massimo della musica intuitiva viene raggiunto nel 1968 con il ciclo Aus den sieben Tagen (dai 7 giorni: accenno evidente alla creazione). Le partiture dei 12 brani che lo compongono sono in realtà brevi testi di istruzioni sommarie che spesso richiedono all’esecutore anche un impegno meditativo non banale e a volte tale da portarlo anche vicino allo stato del Buddha («…arriva a uno stato di non pensiero…»).

Peraltro, alcuni dei brani sono decisamente belli, grazie evidentemente alla bravura degli esecutori e alla direzione di Stockhausen che partecipa alle esecuzioni.

Sul concetto di Musica Intuitiva Stockhausen afferma:

I call this music Intuitive Music, because with a text like the one for IT [citato sopra, in rosso; nota mia], one should exclude all the possible systems which are usually used for any kind of improvisation ­ if one understands the term “improvisation” in the way it has always been used. I therefore prefer the term Intuitive Music. We shall see how Intuitive Music is going to develop in the future.

Question: Were there ever any performances which ­ in your view ­ were failures?

Stockhausen: Do you mean, in which we couldn’t play at all?

Question: No, in which something was played which to your musicians’ creative sense seemed to be rubbish? Or is there such a thing as rubbish?

Stockhausen: Absolutely. The first sign of rubbish is the emergence of clichés: when pre-formed material comes out; when it sounds like something which we already know. Then we feel that it is going wrong. There is a sort of automatic recording within us, which also automatically spits out all the recorded stuff ­ also the garbage ­, and then one stops.

Question: Have you any way of eliminating acoustical rubbish from the creative process?

Stockhausen: Certainly. While playing Intuitive Music it becomes extremely obvious which musician has the most self-control; the musicians soon reveal whether they are critical, whether the physical and spiritual sides are in a certain balance etc. Some musicians are very easily confused, because they do not listen. That is the usual reason for rubbish ­ rubbish in the sense that they produce dynamic levels which erode the rest for quite some time, without realising it themselves. In certain situations some become very totalitarian, for example, and that leads to really awful situations of ensemble playing. The sounds then become extremely aggressive and destructive; they operate on a very low level of communication, and destructive elements prevail (I hope we understand one another: I do not only mean simply “ugly” or “beautiful” when I say “low” level; I mean bodily, physically destroying each other). Then they all play at once. This is one of the most important criteria, that one must constantly remind oneself: “Do not play all the time”, and “Do not get carried away to act all the time”.

After several hundred years of having been forced to play only what was prescribed by the composers, once musicians now have the opportunity ­ in Intuitive Music ­ to play all the time, they do. The playing immediately becomes very loud, and the musicians do not know how to get soft again, because everybody wants to be heard. I mean, it is easy to get loud, but how can you get soft again? Finally you think: “Nobody hears me anyway, so I might as well stop”.

These are the general principles of group behaviour, of group playing.

From: Questions and answers on Intuitive Music, vedi anche Stockhausen – Questions and answers on Intuitive Music Pt 1 e Pt 2

Qui ascoltiamo due esecuzioni di Treffpunkt (punto di incontro) il cui testo base, che risale all’8/5/1968, è il seguente:

Everyone plays the same tone

Lead the tone wherever your thoughts
lead you
Do not leave it, stay with it
Always return
to the same place

Le due esecuzioni sono state registrate nello stesso giorno (27/8/1969).

Esecutori: Aloys Kontarsky (piano), Rolf Gehlhaar (tam-tam with microphone and bamboo flute), Carlos R. Alsina (piano), Michel Portal (tenor saxophone and clarinet), Vinko Globokar (trombone), Karlheinz Stockhausen (glissando flute, short-wave receiver, 1 filter and 2 potentiometers for tam-tam).

Cosmic Womb

Somei Satoh 佐藤聰明 was born in 1947 in Sendai (northern Honshu), Japan. He began his career in 1969 with “Tone Field,” an experimental, mixed media group based in Tokyo. In 1972 he produced “Global Vision,” a multimedia arts festival, that encompassed musical events, works by visual artists and improvisational performance groups. In one of his most interesting projects held at a hot springs resort in Tochigi Prefecture in 1981, Satoh places eight speakers approximately one kilometer apart on mountain tops overlooking a huge valley. As a man-made fog rose from below, the music from the speakers combined with laser beams and moved the clouds into various formations. Satoh has collaborated twice since 1985 with theater designer, Manuel Luetgenhorst in dramatic stagings of his music at The Arts at St. Ann’s in Brooklyn, New York.

Satoh was awarded the Japan Arts Festival prize in 1980 and received a visiting artist grant from the Asian Cultural Council in 1983, enabling him to spend one year in the United States.

He has written more than thirty compositions, including works for piano, orchestra, chamber music, choral and electronic music, theater pieces and music for traditional Japanese instruments.


Somei Satoh is a composer of the post-war generation whose hauntingly evocative musical language is a curious fusion of Japanese timbral sensibilities with 19th century Romanticism and electronic technology. He has been deeply influenced by Shintoism, the writings of the Zen Buddhist scholar DT Suzuki, his Japanese cultural heritage as well as the multimedia art forms of the sixties. Satoh’s elegant and passionate style convincingly integrates these diverse elements into an inimitably individual approach to contemporary Japanese music.

Like Toshiro Mayazumi an Toru Takemitsu, the most well-known of contemporary Japanese composers outside Japan today, Satoh has succeeded in reshaping his native musical resources in synthesis with Western forms and instrumental sonorities. His work cannot, however, be considered within the mainstream of contemporary Japanese art music, for he writes in an unreservedly non- international style, remarkably free from any constraints of academism. This may be attributed to the fact that being primarily self-taught, he has never been subjected to a formal musical education. Satoh has on occasion, been referred to as a composer of gendai hogaku (contemporary traditional music). Much as Satoh is reluctant to be so classified, this assessment of his writing has some validity if one views him as reworking the traditional Japanese musical aesthetic in a broader, abstract context infusing it with a new vitality.

Minimalism, that Eastern-derived Western phenomenon born of the sixties, has much in common with the hypnotic, regular pulsations of rock. “Litania” and “Incarnation II”, among others of Satoh’s compositions which rely primarily on the prolongation of a single unit of sound, draw upon this repetitive element. In Satoh’s case, however, the repetitions are perceived more as vibrations because of the rapidity of the individual beats in conjunction with an extremely slow overall pulse. This creates the sensation of being in a rhythmic limbo, caught in a framework of suspended time which is typically Japanese. This experience can be summed up in the Japanese word ‘ma’ which may be defined as the natural distance between two or more events existing in a continuity. In contrast to the West’s perception of time and space as separate entities, in Japanese thinking both time and space are measured in terms of intervals. It is the coincidental conceptualization of these elements which is perhaps the main feature distinguishing Japan’s artistic expression from that of the West. In Satoh’s own words,

My music is limited to certain elements of sound and there are many calm repetitions. There is also much prolongation of a single sound. I think silence and the prolongation of sound is the same thing in terms of space. The only difference is that there is either the presence or absence of sound. More important is whether the space is “living” or not. Our [Japanese] sense of time and space is different from that of the West. For example, in the Shinto religion, there is the term ‘imanaka’ which is not just the present moment which lies between the stretch of past eternity and future immortality, but also the manifestation of the moment of all time which is multi-layered and multi-dimensional …. I would like it if the listener could abandon all previous conceptions of time and experience a new sense of time presented in this music as if eternal time can be lived in a single moment.

(from the liner notes by Margaret Leng Tan to New Albion’s release, “Litania” NA008)

Listen to

  • Somei Satoh 佐藤聰明 – Cosmic Womb (1975), for 2 pianos with digital delay – Margaret Leng Tan, piano

Somei Satoh page on Facebook and on wikipedia.

In The Name of the Holocaust

John Cage – In The Name of the Holocaust (1942), for prepared piano.

Like much of Cage’s early dance music (this to accompany a piece by Merce Cunningham), In the Name of the Holocaust was written for what Cage would later refer to as a ‘prepared piano’: a piano with screws, bolts, or other materials placed between certain strings to create a percussive effect.

The music features a number of new piano techniques, many of which Cage borrowed from his teacher Henry Cowell: notes held open for resonance, muted and plucked strings, and clusters played with the arm and flat of the hand. The title references World War II and comes from a pun on the Catholic liturgical phrase “In the Name of the Holy Ghost” found in James Joyce’s novel Finnegans Wake.

John Cage – In The Name of the Holocaust (1942), Margaret Leng Tan, piano

Shadowtime


Shadowtime is an opera by Brian Ferneyhough dedicated to Walter Benjamin (first performance at the 2004 Munich Biennale).

Brian Ferneyhough’s vision of a philosopher – Walter Benjamin – in the Underworld…
Described as a “thought opera”, Brian Ferneyhough’s Shadowtime sets Charles Bernstein’s inventive and complex libretto based on the work, life and imagined death of philosopher and cultural critic Walter Benjamin: it includes a movement for a speaking pianist – Opus contra naturam, the opera’s fourth scene – a guitar concerto (Scene II) and ends in an ethereal haze of voices and electronics, Stelae for Failed Time.

A philosopher, a sociological and cultural critic, born to a wealthy Jewish family, Benjamin represented in his writings a unique, one might say mystical, synthesis of Marxism and Jewish mysticism. Bertolt Brecht, Georg Lukacs and Gershom Scholem were friends of his, representing these two strands. His most famous work is probably the essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” and he was loosely affiliated with the Frankfurt School through Theodor Adorno. Benjamin was either killed or more likely committed suicide at the Spanish border while attempting to belatedly flee Nazi Germany.

Ferneyhough explains that he selected Benjamin for the subject of his first and only opera because he was neither hero, like Orpheus, nor anti-hero, like Wozzeck, but something more complex. Says Ferneyhough, “The image of a coherent whole is no longer accessible to us, because mediators and power itself have reduced it to tiny fragments.” Shadowtime is composed mainly of small fragments and short movements.

More on Musicweb here and here.

Listen to three excerpts from Shadowtime

 

Saturne

Hugues Dufourt  – Saturne (1979), per 12 fiati, 6 percussioni, 2 chitarre elettriche, 2 organi elettrici e suoni elettronici.

Questo brano ha una storia particolare. Come racconta Dufourt

Ho creato, con Murail, una organologia elettronica, un insieme di strumenti. Data l’epoca [1979], abbiamo optato per le tecniche analogiche con qualche concezione modulare. Ma poi è stato sviluppato l’elaboratore come strumento compositivo e nel giro di 5 anni ha spazzato via tutto. Credevo di fare un’opera storica e invece mi sono completamente sbagliato.

Abbiamo fatto dei miracoli tecnici per ricostruirla. Se non altro per identificare il problema che era al tempo storico, tecnologico e di restauro. Non era possibile né digitalizzare integralmente i risultati sonori, né ricostruire gli strumenti dalla A alla Z. È solo grazie a dei suoni rielaborati 15 anni fa, quando ancora la memoria era fresca, che ci siamo salvati.

Saturne è l’immagine di una terra desolata, con sonorità fredde e lontane, ma affascinanti, che evolvono lentamente, come testimonia la durata (circa 43 minuti).