Homecoming

by Joshua Roman

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The holiday season is in full force, and that means trips to visit the family, gifts to purchase, and holiday jingles to exorcise from the ear with vigor. This year I am lucky to have already received a gift that will be hard to top: my professional debut with my hometown orchestra, the Oklahoma City Philharmonic. There’s nothing quite like being able to invite your family and friends to come see you at work, and this was made all the more sweet by bringing the totally on fleek new concerto by Mason Bates. To top it off, the concert was the weekend before Thanksgiving, so I was able to spend a few extra days with my family out on the farm and catch up while eating the freshest food there is.

I’ve mentioned the Bates in a couple of posts before this one, and I’m really glad to have multiple performances of it this season. Hopefully we’ll have a recording out before too long, but in the meantime there are random opportunities to hear it. One such opportunity is tonight at 8pm CT, when the OKC Phil performance with Joel Levine conducting is broadcast on KUCO. Tune in to hear beautiful spun lines, swingin’ grooves and some “Phat” beats (one of my new favorite markings), and the damn sexy second movement. It’s a fun way to celebrate Beethoven’s (and my) birthday 😉

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But back to being home: The last time I performed with the OKC Phil was more than 15 years ago. As a result of winning a local competition I performed the first movement of the Lalo Concerto. Thinking back to my perception of music and projections of where I would be in my career at this point, I don’t think I would have guessed things would turn out the way they have. It’s been a fun and wild ride, and along the way I’ve been lucky enough to be in situations that have constantly stretched me. Here I am, writing a blog, for example. And, among many other happy developments, my relationships with composers have grown incredibly important to me.

I feel incredibly supported by the family and friends who came out to see my return, and by the boost from the city. I’ve always wanted to have something to say when I came back, and there is nothing better than reinforcing the idea that classical music is alive. It is a tradition of creativity and innovation, and a piece like Mason’s really drives that home in a fresh and exciting way.  My homecoming, in many ways, benefitted from happening this far along on my path, when I could truly bring something that did not exist before.  I am proud to represent the broader classical musical community to my first community and to those I love at home.

Side note – it was amazing to hear the orchestra again after so long. I’m proud of the Phil and how they are playing, and hope to find ways to encourage the musical development that’s already happening in the area with an influx of good players and teachers.

Now the big question: what’s next? Balance it out, or tip the scales? We’ll see — either way I’m very happy to be reconnected with musicians I’ve looked up to and known since my youth. It feels in a way like coming full circle – bringing something new to those I’ve known the longest.

In what ways are you evolving artistically? What have to you done to reconnect and share with those who were there at the beginning? Please share in the comments below, or on my Facebook page.

Joshua performs Mason Bates’ Cello Concerto next with the Fort Worth Symphony (January 8-10) and with the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra (April 16, 17, and 21). Be sure to check his schedule of all upcoming performances to see if he’s coming to a city near you!

Playlist:
Gieseking: Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin
Feuermann and Heifetz: Brahms Double Concerto
Billie Holiday: Lady Sings the Blues

If you’ve missed Joshua’s previous posts, particularly his thoughts on Gratitude and the holiday season, you can read them all here.

EVENT PREVIEW: An Unsilent Seattle Night

by Maggie Molloy

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I love Christmas carols as much as the next girl—but I have to admit, after years of attending, listening to, and performing in Christmas concerts every December, the holiday hymns do tend to run together. But whether you’re the world’s biggest Santa-fan, a grouchy Ebenezer Scrooge, or even just an avant-garde enthusiast looking to expand your holiday music horizons, composer Phil Kline’s got just the carol for you—and it’s coming to Seattle this Saturday night.

Kline’s “Unsilent Night” is a contemporary twist on holiday caroling that is celebrated annually around the globe. But don’t worry, there’s no singing involved. In true 21st century fashion, all you have to do is download an app.

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This nontraditional holiday carol is an electronic composition written specifically for outdoor performance in December. Participants each download one of four tracks of music which, when played together, comprise the ethereal “Unsilent Night.”

Countless participants meet up with boomboxes, speakers, or any other type of portable amplifiers and each hit “play” at the same time. Then they walk through the city streets creating an ambient, aleatoric sound sculpture that is unlike any Christmas carol you have ever heard.

And yes, I can say that from experience. Last December I dragged two of my siblings and one of my best friends out of the warmth of my Capitol Hill apartment and out onto the icy cold streets of Lower Queen Anne for “Unsilent Night.”

I’ll admit, they were a bit skeptical at first. Upon arrival, they proceeded to ask me a number of preliminary questions: “Wait, where are we?” “Is this another one of your weird new-music things?” “Will there be any alcohol?”

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Honestly, I didn’t have the answers to any of those questions—and that’s exactly why I wanted to attend the performance in the first place. I am fortunate enough to live in a city that is constantly pushing the boundaries of what music is and what music can be—and I want to experience as much of it as I possibly can. I saw “Unsilent Night” as an opportunity to share in a new and unusual holiday tradition with some of my closest friends and family.

And as soon as we stepped out into the cold, surrounded by friends and strangers, all of us holding our phones and making music together, we were mesmerized. There we were, wandering the city streets of Seattle, immersed in an intricately woven electronic sound world of subtly Christmas-themed recordings. Together, we were walking through a new kind of winter wonderland: an experimental soundscape full of shimmering bells and time-stretched hymnal melodies.

It was a performance that captured the sparkle and the whimsy of the holidays in a new way—without any of the corny sing-alongs, the ill-fitting Santa hats, or the sugary candy canes.

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For me, “Unsilent Night” was a beautiful reprieve from the chaos of the Christmas season. It was a time to silently connect with my friends and loved ones, immerse ourselves in shimmering, metallic music, share a smile and ultimately, have a new and memorable musical experience together. Because after all, that’s what the holidays are all about, right?

Five Pro Tips to Maximize your “Unsilent Night”:

  • Download the app ahead of time to make sure your phone or electronic device has enough storage space.
  • Bring portable speakers for a bigger sound—the louder, the better!
  • Invite all your friends and loved ones to share in the moment with you—the more, the merrier!
  • Wear gloves. And a scarf, a hat, a poofy marshmallow jacket, if you have one—and more gloves.
  • Keep your heart, your mind, and your ears open!

Seattle’s rendition of Phil Kline’s “Unsilent Night” will take place this Saturday, Dec. 19. The procession begins at 5 p.m. at On the Boards’ Merrill Wright Mainstage Theater Lobby in Lower Queen Anne.

On the Boards | Facebook Event

ALBUM REVIEW: Similar Motion by Momenta Quartet

by Maggie Molloy

Philip Glass, Arthur Kampela, and Claude Debussy all in one place? A momentous occasion, to be sure—or rather, a momentous quartet.

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The Momenta Quartet’s debut album “Similar Motion” features works by all three of these influential and idiosyncratic contemporary composers. And while on the surface these composers have almost nothing in common, hearing their pieces in succession reveals surprising connections. Each composer creates his own unique and utterly mesmerizing sound world from relatively minimal musical materials.

Additional connections are revealed through the mission and vision of the Momenta Quartet, which takes its name from the plural form of momentum—suggesting four individuals in motion toward a common goal. The group is comprised of violinists Emilie-Anne Gendron and Adda Kridler, violist Stephanie Griffin, and cellist Michael Haas.

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Known for its eclectic and adventurous programming, the Momenta Quartet is committed to celebrating and broadening the repertoire and responsibilities of a 21st century string quartet. They accomplish this not only through championing contemporary works, but also through collaborating with living composers, serving residencies at schools around the country, advocating for the musical avant-garde of developing nations, and most recently, through their newest annual tradition: the Momenta Festival.

The quartet’s new album is another manifestation of this mission, highlighting the depth and breadth of contemporary classical sound worlds too seldom explored.

The first of these sound worlds is Glass’s 1969 composition “Music in Similar Motion.” Originally composed for his band, the Philip Glass Ensemble, “Music for Similar Motion” is an open score which can be performed by any group of instruments—on this album, Momenta presents the first ever all-string recording of the iconic work.

For a composer who once spent three years studying counterpoint with the French music instructor extraordinaire Nadia Boulanger, Glass does something surprisingly counterintuitive in this piece: he has all five parts moving in the same direction, and in constant rhythmic unison. Violinist Cyrus Beroukhim joins the Momenta Quartet to bring the piece to life in all its shimmering string glory.

Informed by his interpretation of rhythmic structure in Indian music, the score consists of 34 numbered melodic fragments with an indeterminate number of repeats cued by one of the performers—thus allowing a flexible duration and a refreshing sense of freedom for the musicians to lose themselves in the dizzying trance. Momenta performs the work with precision and drama, crafting an infectious 15-minute homage to the master of minimalism.

The piece is followed by a much more thematically complex (though much lesser-known) work: Kampela’s 1998 composition “Uma Faca Só Lâmina” (“A Knife All Blade”). Originally composed as part of Kampela’s doctoral dissertation at Columbia University, the piece’s title takes its name from a poem by the Brazilian constructivist poet João Cabral de Melo Neto.

Kampela expresses the visceral urgency and poignant sorrow of this famous poem through his use of extended techniques and cluttered musical textures. The piece is something like organized chaos: claustrophobic, overwhelming, and inescapable—but at the same time unimaginably meticulous.

In fact, the score for the piece begins not with the music itself but with three pages of detailed performance notes. Within the piece’s five continuous movements, Kampela leaves no musical idea unexplored: quarter tones, harmonics, extended techniques, bouncing bows, left-hand pizzicato, percussive elements, metric modulation, and a whole array of new articulatory techniques make up just a few of the piece’s musical idiosyncrasies—and Momenta doesn’t miss a beat.

Debussy’s String Quartet in G Minor, Op. 10 provides a melodic reprieve from the intensity and rhythmic showmanship of Kampela’s piece, though the piece is no less virtuosic in its textural effects. Written in 1893, the piece was one of Debussy’s first major successes as a composer, showcasing his unparalleled ear for timbral color. With a mere four string instruments, he manages to craft a shimmering soundscape filled with glistening colors and vivid textures.

And although each of the four movements takes on a different character, all of them are connected through reoccurring musical themes and broader influences, such as the art of the French Impressionists and the music of the Javanese gamelan. Momenta is equally at-home in these softly blended sonic landscapes, gliding through each movement with graceful fingers and heartfelt expression.

In the end, Glass, Kampela, and Debussy represent three very different realms of classical music. But as contemporary innovators and artists, each composer crafts his own enigmatic and idiosyncratic sound world, fully immersing the listener in the music of the moment.

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CONCERT PREVIEW: Q&A with Laura Schwendinger

by Maggie Molloy

It’s been raining to beat the band this week—but not even the wildest thunderstorms could drown out the beautiful music of Seattle’s North Corner Chamber Orchestra (NOCCO). This Sunday, NOCCO invites you to get out of the cold and into the warmth of the concert hall for a very special “Heart of Winter” performance.

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Known for their dynamic performances and adventurous programming, NOCCO’s 2015-2016 season features works by three different American women composers. The star of this weekend’s performance is composer Laura Schwendinger’s gorgeously luminescent Chiaro di Luna, a piece filled with icy strings and glimmering melodies inspired by the mysterious beauty of Lake Como in Italy.

Second Inversion sat down with Laura to ask her five questions about Chiaro di Luna, female composers, and NOCCO’s upcoming season.

Second Inversion: What is the story or emotion behind Chiaro di Luna, and how would you describe this piece?

Laura Schwendinger: It was written after my residency at the beautiful Rockefeller Bellagio Center on Lake Como in Italy. We would walk out on the veranda at night, and look out at the beautiful lake, and when there was a moon we could see the outline of the lake and the Dolomite Mountains beyond. Chiaro Di Luna celebrates the dark beauty of that experience.

SI: How is this piece similar to and/or different from your other compositions?

LS: Chiaro di Luna was written for the Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra of Hungary, so I wanted to tap into the Romantic side of my expression a little more. It was one of the first works where I ventured into those waters (no pun intended), after having moved away from Romanticism for a time. I think of my work as being lyrical but passionate, and intense at times. I’m a “maximalist” and at times a romantic.

SI: What composers, artists, or styles of music most influence your work?

LS: French composers have had a huge influence on me. Debussy, Ravel, and very substantially Dutilleux, and at the same time many American composers such as my teacher Andrew Imbrie, with his lyrical voice, and even composers like Elliot Carter and Aaron Copland have influenced me and my way of thinking and hearing.

SI: Three out of the four NOCCO programs this season feature American women composers’ works. Why do you think this is a significant programming decision?

LS: It’s funny, I get asked about that a lot, and being a female I understand it. I think though, there are so many fine female composers  now that it’s almost hard for me to think of my favorite living composers without including at least 50-60% women.

I think it’s wonderful NOCCO is programming women and I think that other ensembles should get to know the music of women and if they do, they’ll realize how many great women are out there writing amazing music. That might not have been true 30 years ago, but it is certainly true now.

I run a contemporary music ensemble at UW Madison, where I am a professor, and last year I programmed an entire concert of music by women without even thinking about it. In other words, I programmed music that was great and after I had, I realized all of the works were by women!

SI: What do you hope audiences will take away from listening to Chiaro di Luna?

LS: I hope they will see the dark and beautiful, brooding Lake Como—under the moonlight with the Italian night sky and a full moon above.

 

NOCCO’s “Heart of Winter” concert is this Sunday, Dec. 13 at 7:30 p.m. at the Magnolia Church of Christ in Seattle. In addition to Laura Schwendinger’s Chiaro di Luna, NOCCO musicians will also perform Arcangelo Corelli’s Christmas Concerto, Darius Milhaud’s Chamber Symphony No. 5 for 10 Winds, and Igor Stravinsky’s Pulcinella Suite. For additional information and tickets, visit NOCCO.org.

Diary: How to Read John Cage – Part VII

by Maggie MolloyCage_Diary

This post is part of a series on John Cage’s “Diary: How to Improve the World (You Will Only Make Matters Worse).” For earlier installments of the series, please visit: Introduction, Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI.

If I had to come up with a visual for how I imagine John Cage writing his “Diary,” it would probably be Cage standing over a kitchen counter and placing all of his thoughts, memories, musings, and musical philosophies in a high-speed blender—probably along with some mushrooms from his latest mycology expedition.

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Photo courtesy of Kathan Brown at Crown Point Press.

Cage did, in fact, love to cook—and he even shared some of his favorite mushroom recipes in the October 1965 issue of Vogue magazine. (I’m not joking—click here for some Morels à la John Cage.)

Much like his cooking, Cage’s diary is a heterogeneous mixture of many different things. And although Cage used chance operations to determine the word count, colors, typefaces, letters per line, and patterns of indentation, the actual content of the diary is actually surprisingly organic.

“Imitation of nature in her manner of operation, traditionally the artist’s function, is now what everyone has to do,” Cage says in his typical deadpan delivery. “Complicate your garden so it’s surprising like uncultivated land.”

Cage’s chance operations allowed him to imitate nature in an unexpected way—it allowed him to make music and art that existed outside of the mind’s operations. In nature, any number of things may happen or not happen; in the grand scheme of things, we as humans actually have very little control over its course of events. Nature operates in meaningless ways and likewise, Cage made music out of meaningless chance operations.

Rather than trying to control nature (or in this case, rather than trying to control the music), Cage opened himself up to the possibilities and found beauty in the surprises—simple pleasures in the uncultivated land.

“National Wildlife Refuges: museumization of wilderness,” Cage says. “Controlled folly.”

Cage’s interest in nature extended into his writing and his visual art as well—particularly in the etchings and fire prints he created at Crown Point Press during the last 15 years of his life.

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John Cage | EninKa No. 30, 1986. | Number 30 from a series of 50 smoked paper monotypes with branding on gampi paper chine-collĂŠ | Image Size: 24½x18½” | Publisher: Crown Point Press Printer: Marcia Bartholme

“It seemed to me that to be able to engrave required a certain calmness,” Cage said during one of his first visits to the studio. “And it’s that calmness that I’ve been, one way or another, approaching in my music, my writing, and so forth.”

Cage also sought calmness and oneness with nature through his study of Zen Buddhism with Suzuki Daisetz.

“One has not understood Zen until one has forgotten it,” Cage quotes solemnly.

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John Cage with D.T. Suzuki in 1962.

Cage was also inspired by a number of other influential 20th century thinkers. In fact, while reading his diary it becomes quite clear what other writers Cage was reading at the time he wrote each of the eight parts. In Part VII, he favors the ever-Marxist military leader Mao Tse-tung, the maverick social critic Ivan Illich, and, as always, the famous futurist and philosopher Buckminster Fuller (who Cage affectionately refers to as “Bucky”).

“Just as, in Buddhism, denial of cause and effect arose from the realization that everything’s caused by everything else, so Illich’s society without school isn’t different from Fuller’s society with nothing but school,” Cage says distantly. “Illich and Fuller: All there is to do is live and learn.”

Like most great visionaries of this day and age, Cage had a less-than-traditional academic path. He took his education into his own hands, and he never stopped learning.

“Left college end of sophomore year,” he says monotonously into my right ear. “Refused honorary degrees. Reinforcement, positive or negative, is besides the point.”

The point is to learn, and to stretch oneself intellectually, artistically, and creatively. For Cage, institutionalized learning simply didn’t facilitate that sort of self-exploration.

“It would be better to have no school at all than the schools we now have,” he says with surprising conviction. “Encouraged, instead of frightened, children could learn several languages before reaching age of four, at that age engaging in the invention of their own languages. Play’d be play instead of being, as now, release of repressed anger.”

After all, somewhere in this creativity—somewhere in these secret languages—lies the key to improving the world.

“If we could change our language, that’s to say the way we think,” Cage whispers into my left ear, “We’d probably be able to swing the revolution.”

If we could just change the way we think, we could free ourselves from the confines and complications of a broken and weary world.

“A newspaperman wrote asking me to send’im my philosophy in a nutshell,” Cage says dryly. “Get out of whatever cage you happen to be in.”

Go to the next installment: Diary: How to Read John Cage – Part VIII