A home for new and unusual music from all corners of the classical genre, brought to you by the power of public media. Second Inversion is a service of Classical KING FM 98.1.
“‘as I wait for the lion,’ is a simple, swelling, and poignant piece that pulls on the listener’s heart strings with each and every pluck of the sparkling harp, each and every knock of the delicately twinkling percussion behind Landau’s heartfelt voice.” – Maggie Molloy
“Classical vocal music is always nice—but if you’re looking for a contemporary vocal ensemble with a little more bite, look no further than Roomful of Teeth.” – Maggie Molloy
“The music is dotted with the very Icelandic sounds of rushing winds, hummed folk music, and above all, the beautifully stark sounds of silence. The album is characterized by pleasant repetition and meditative simplicity, an accurate musical reflection of life in Iceland’s quiet, cold and wild towns. Listening to Clockworking made me feel like I was the only one in the world one minute, but like a tiny drop in a vast ocean the next.” – Jill Kimball
“It’s just one glorious, delicate piece after another. From the gentle shoosh-shoosh in ‘Reminiscence’ (during which there’s a point where you can even hear a performer taking in breath) to the distant chatter and rainfall heard in “Nocturne in G Minor,” the recordings make the listener feel close to the piano – in the same room, even – and so very close to the music.” – Rachele Hales
2015 was all about the videos here at Second Inversion! We hosted 22 recording sessions and produced a total of 44 videos! We connected with musicians from Seattle, San Francisco, New York, Chicago, Montreal, Los Angeles, Austin, Paris, Denmark, Malaysia, Colombia, and Indonesia! You can peruse them all on our video page, but here are the top 5…
There is a time and a place for the thousands of corny pop renditions of Christmas carols that exist in this world—but Second Inversion is not that place. In honor of the impending holidays, this week we’re highlighting a choral Christmas album with a little more spice.
Essential Voices USA’s new album “Holiday Harmonies: Songs of Christmas” presents a lush musical tapestry of traditional Christmas favorites punctuated by fresh new holiday carols by contemporary composers Jennifer Higdon, Nico Muhly, and Gene Gilroy. Plus sparkling new choral arrangements of each of the Christmas classics adds a dash of new-music magic to the mix of traditional carols.
The result is a short, sweet, magical, and merry collection of Christmas carols that clocks in at just over 20 minutes. But don’t worry—your holiday guests won’t mind if you play it on repeat.
Released on Sono Luminus earlier this fall, the album showcases the talents of the acclaimed Essential Voices USA chorus conducted by Judith Clurman. Featured performers include mezzo soprano Jamie Barton, soprano Maureen McKay, pianist Tedd Firth, and harpist Stacey Shames.
Within the first minutes of the album, the choir takes us straight to the heavens with their sweet and tender rendition of “Angels We Have Heard on High,” elegantly accompanied by Firth on piano. “O Holy Night” follows with the choir’s rich blend of voices shimmering above a delicate harp backdrop.
Mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton’s voice soars with beautiful sincerity over a chorus of angels in “Silent Night,” and she sways just as gracefully over a muted piano accompaniment in the lesser-known lullaby, “The Virgin’s Slumber Song.”
Jennifer Higdon’s new composition, “Love Came Down,” comes to life with the elegant vocals of Maureen McKay, who recently sang the soprano lead in Seattle Opera’s production of Bizet’s “The Pearl Fishers.” Her gorgeous voice soars with precision and grace, at once expressive and effortless above the delicate choral and harp accompaniment.
Nico Muhly’s choral composition, “Whispered and Revealed,” is the most experimental carol on the album, though it is no less charming than the others. The bittersweet text comes from a poem published in 1863 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow titled “Snow-Flakes.” Harp arpeggios embody the delicately falling snow, while rich, iridescent vocals bring a fireside warmth to the piece. The result is a shimmering musical sentiment that just might outshine the Christmas classics.
The piece is followed by Gene Gilroy’s “Merry Christmas Wishing Well,” a sweet and sincere new musical work disguised as a traditional Christmas carol. Gorgeous, lush vocal harmonies glisten above a gentle piano accompaniment, reminiscent of the caroling days of yore.
The album ends with unaccompanied choral rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” adapted by conductor Judith Clurman. It’s the icing on the cake—or rather, the sparkling star on top of the Christmas tree. Either way, the album is a Christmas essential.
Second Inversion presents new and unusual music from all corners of the classical genre… and we mean NEW. Sneak Peek Audio Leak is your chance to stream fresh sounds and brand new music of note with insights from our team and the artists.
Imagine you’re here. It’s the largest and northernmost region of Finland, known as Lapland. Only 3.4% of Finland’s population lives here and the population has been declining for the last 25 years. Peaceful, serene, remote.
Now imagine you’re here recording an album in a remote cabin for one week only. Start to finish, Jon Buckland and Andrew V. Phillips had this very experience, and the fruit that bore is Pale Ground. They had no formal, thematic, or stylistic plans, but rather set with intentions to reflect and react upon the landscape, the vastness, the distance, and their emotions that came with it.
(Streaming through Second Inversion’s SoundCloud has closed, but you can stream and purchase via Bandcamp!)
Beginning with “Close In,” Buckland and Phillips perfectly depict the snowy landscape, the Pale Ground, in all its expanse. Slowly unfolding harmonic and melodic ideas strike feelings of contemplation, longing, and searching. A sparkle, the sound of a sleigh bell, emerges amidst the grey backdrop. It’s a subtle nod to the season, and to hopefulness of finding one’s way through the never ending landscape.
Bell-like tones ring throughout “Nautical Twilight,” evoking twinkling stars and a dreamlike state. By the end, it gives way to a demon, emerging at first with gentle persistence. This “night terror” fights with intensity, but only for a brief two minutes, through “The Machine,” and releases its tension into “Skull Beneath The Skin.” By this point, the album has established an ebb and flow that keeps this listener on her the edge of her seat to hear what unfolds next.
After one week, I don’t know if I’d have cabin fever or would want to stay there forever, but I’m glad to have been transported there for 30 minutes with this music. Whether your day-to-day surroundings are vast or compact, I encourage you to immerse yourself in the simulation of space by way of Pale Ground and travel to this virtual winter wonderland of mystery, discovery, and hope.
If John Cage composed music for exploded keyboards, silent stages, tape recordings, traffic, temple gongs, and toy pianos during his waking life, just imagine what the music of his dreams must have sounded like.
“Dreamt I’d composed a piece all notes of which were to be prepared and eaten,” he says gently in Part VIII of his “Diary.” “Lemon’n’oil, salt’n’pepper. Some raw.”
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We already know Cage was a fabulous cook, plus his penchant for unprepared dissonances was basically unmatched. And even in his dreams, Cage attacked the cherished beliefs of the Western classical music tradition—the very notion of a “prepared dissonance” is just as silly as a note being prepared for dinner.
But dreaming or not, Cage was an avant-garde iconoclast in all aspects of his life. Throughout his music, writings, and artwork, he took a profound interest in reform—and not just musical reform, but social, political, and cultural reforms as well. I mean, the man titled his diary “Diary: How to Improve the World (You Will Only Make Matters Worse),” for goodness’ sake.
The final chapter of his diary, Part VIII, takes particular interest in the events of the Nixon administration, the Watergate scandal, Western medicine, Puerto Rican politics, and public transportation. Cage also spends a fair percentage of the closing chapter discussing the innumerable ways in which to explore the music of conch shells—go figure.
And although there are no clear connections between any of these topics—except for Nixon and Watergate, of course—there is one distinct similarity between all the mangled memories and musings that make up Cage’s 165-page diary: each entry is in some way a reflection of the world he was living in at the time, whether it be related to the arts, culture, politics, or social issues of that specific period.
And of course, the diary just wouldn’t be Cage if it wasn’t aleatoric: the number of words in each diary entry is chance-determined.
“The result is a mosaic of remarks, the juxtapositions of which are free of intention,” he writes in a short introduction to Part VIII.
While many people have considered Cage a slave to his chance operations, in truth he felt they actually freed him of his likes and dislikes.
“TV interview: if you were asked to describe yourself in three words, wha’d you say?” he asks earnestly. “An open cage.”
After all, there’s an entire world of music just waiting for you when you step outside the confines of the Western classical music tradition.
“Satie was right,” Cage continues. “Experience is a form of paralysis.”
Ah yes, Erik Satie—one of history’s most beloved classical music iconoclasts. His extensive writings are ripe with wit, whimsy, satire, and parody. Plus Cage took a special interest in his notion furniture music—that is, music played in the background while listeners engaged in other activities.
Another influential and unapologetically avant-garde composer in Cage’s life was Arnold Schoenberg. Cage’s strict adherence to the principle of chance led many critics to associate his music with that of Schoenberg, who was famous for developing the stern and stringent twelve-tone technique in the 1920s. Schoenberg was, in fact, one of Cage’s most radical and influential composition instructors, working with him for two years free of charge, so long as Cage promised to devote his life to music.
“Schoenberg stood in front of the class,” Cage recalls expressionlessly. “He asked those who intended to become professional musicians to raise their hands. I didn’t put mine up.”
Of course, Cage was never much of a musician in the traditional sense, but he was every bit an artist and an innovator—a true pioneer of the avant-garde and one of the most influential composers of the 20th century. In fact, the notoriously harsh Schoenberg famously described Cage not as a composer, but as “an inventor of genius.”
Not only was Cage instrumental (no pun intended) in the development of modern music, but he was also quite influential in the evolution of modern dance. His contributions to the world of contemporary dance came primarily through his collaborations with choreographer Merce Cunningham, who was his artistic and romantic partner for much of their lives.
Cage and Cunningham in 1965. Photo courtesy of the Merce Cunningham Dance Company.
Together, Cage and Cunningham pioneered a new framework for performance: their methodology allowed music and dance to coexist as separate entities, neither dependent upon the other. The two worked within a series of abstract rhythmic structure points which enabled the music and dance to exist together in the same space and time while still being entirely independent of one another.
The two discussed their artistic process in depth during a 1981interview at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Cage and Cunningham kept the two art forms so separate that in many cases, the dancers did not even hear the music until the public did—during the performance. How’s that for avant-garde? The two collaborated for nearly half a century, turning the world of music and dance upside-down until Cage’s death in 1992—though his influence on Cunningham’s art continued far past his death.
Cage and Cunningham in 1986. Photo courtesy of the Peter Hujar Archive.
To this day, Cage’s works are an affirmation of life—a celebration of the unpredictable and ever-changing world of everyday living. Decades after his death, his influence and his legacy continue to shape the world of music and art.
“I’m gradually learning how to take care of myself,” Cage says softly. “It has taken a long time. It seems to me that when I die I’ll be in perfect condition.”
Cage originally intended for his diary to have 10 parts: one for each month of the original Roman calendar year. He was working on the ninth when he died, leaving the piece with a sense of open-endedness and wondrous possibility similar to that which is present in all of his indeterminate works.
It seems oddly serendipitous that this series should come to a close as we enter into the end of December, the final month of the Roman calendar. And while we are left to wonder at what was left unsaid—what insights into world improvement that might have been hidden in those final two unfinished chapters—there is comfort in knowing that Cage’s music is still alive and existing all around us, if only we open our eyes and ears to it.
“People ask what the avant-garde is and whether it’s finished,” Cage says with slow sincerity. “It isn’t. There will always be one. The avant-garde is flexibility of mind and it follows like day the night from not falling prey to government and education. Without avant-garde nothing would get invented.”
Photo courtesy of Kathan Brown at Crown Point Press.
