Showing posts with label Bree van Reyk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bree van Reyk. Show all posts

12 May 2015

g-l-a-s-s

It was an afternoon of (Philip) Glass. We were in the Gandel Hall at the National Gallery, not at the Fitters Workshop, next to the Glassworks. This was a mammoth outing. Three hours of Philip Glass. Ensemble Offspring and associates were playing a string of formative works by Philip Glass. He's somewhat notorious for his minimalism and apparently caused considerable stirs when his works were first presented at various locations in NYC. While listening, I became aware of how we are now acclimatised to this approach, even if I've had some questioning comments since. But it's fifty years back now. The works were dated 1968 to 1976 so the early ones are from the Summer of Love, 1968, high Hippy, but this is not Hawkwind or psychedelia. They are out of the fine music tradition (Glass studied with Nadia Boulanger in Paris) even if they are outside it. This is music reduced to a minimum, based on repetition and alternation of melodic cells. I wondered if it's prefigured by change ringing with its permutations of bell rings. The effect of the moving cells has a similar effect. But references are more to India and drumming and that fabulous percussion singing called Konnakol. Glass' music is intense, unforgiving, unrelenting, fairly loud; then it stops. The introduction suggested those in the know were the ones at the back lying on pillows, but then this is no longer the '60s (and the audience was no longer in its 20s). Audience could come and go through the performance. All very much of the period. The beats were intense and satisfying and the crossing rhythms were fascinating and forming their own mutating sub-rhythms. In one piece that I consciously tapped, I felt 6/8, noted three-note patterns and also quaver pairs (quaver pairs in 6/8?) but I couldn't easily tap to 5. I wondered about how it's written, then realised (again for this one piece but the approach seemed common) there was a cell pattern separating varying repeats of another pattern. I could guess how that might be written. The performers often nodded heads, no doubt identifying changes. There were a few slipups where someone stopped to await another nod.

We heard a string of works of varying degrees of complexity. Claire Edwards started with 1+1, a very simple work tapping a timber board. It reminded me of rhythm exercises I used to practice with a drummer mate. This was very early. Then Music in similar motion, played on two vibes and keyboard containing only ~6 notes. They played Music in contrary motion later, on two vibes, e-piano and 2 keyboards. The contrary motion was more complex and demanding of concentration but just as devoid of respite. I thought there was a drone there, too. Tough on the musos: have a moment's doubt or flinch and you're lost. The percussive pitch of vibes and the organ tones of keyboards were key, but Glass later expanded with instruments for overlaid pitches and alternative rhythmic patterns. Music for fifths was played on e-percussion, keyboard, clarinet and soprano sax but here the wind instruments just seemed to add tonal variation, playing the same unyielding lines. Knee plays 1-5, from Einstein on the beach, was the latest work (1976) and it's a big departure. A single simple three note line on e-piano, a string of singers with simple, beautifully enunciated voices singing 1-2-3-4/1-2-3-4-5-6/1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 sometimes missing a number and a violin that is Einstein playing a devilishly difficult extended solo line, then again later. Just glorious, uplifting, fascinating. It must have been a devil of a work to play. Graeme Jennings (a CIMF2013 houseguest!) took it on, but I think it's something you'd have to live with for considerable time: no break, wild bowing and totally unforgiving. I was deliriously loving this all, although at 2 hours I was flagging. But then the finale, another highly developed work, Music with changing parts, dated 1970. The style was like the early ones, but beyond. I'm not absolutely sure of this (some musos were obscured in the back line) but I think this was played by 2 keyboards, e-piano, vibes, marimba/percussion, trumpet, alto/soprano sax, piccolo, bass clarinet and two female singers. The repetition of cells was there, but accompanied by long tones and various rapid repeated melody snippets. Someone said after that it was a NYC soundscape: ships on the Hudson, taxis, police sirens and the rest. I could believe this. This performance was limited to just 45 minutes (it can go on for hours) and I could have enjoyed more.

I loved this gig. I'd been bathed in beats and crossing rhythms of few, repetitive notes and tapped my foot dry (most just sat still, this being a classical audience, but how could you not move to those deliciously abstruse beats), absorbed some beautiful tone and voices and meditated on this all. And put tissues in my ear for the unrelenting volume: the volume wasn't so loud, but it came constantly. Great gig and another CIMF revelation.

A World of Glass was performed by Ensemble Offspring and associates. EO are Claire Edwardes and Bree van Reyk (vibes, percussion), Jason Noble (clarinet, keyboard) and Jim Nightingale (saxes). Their friends were Graeme Jennings (violin), Gabi Sultana, Alister Spence and Roland Peelman (keyboards), David Shaw (flute) and the Song Company with YAFF vocalists.

02 December 2012

Coming together

DRUMatiX presented the first of two nights of performance for its 15-year retrospective. William Jackson introduced it at one stage by noting that percussion is the oldest of musical forms and that’s “inexhaustibly diverse”. I’ve been thinking about both those claims. It’s easy to think that it’s the oldest musical form. Certainly, it’s basic, requires no complex and constructed instruments although it wields a few these days. There’s something essential and would-be prehistoric about slapping or slamming or hitting one thing against another, and there’s lots of timber amongst the instruments and that’s a product that’s been around forever. The other claim is inexhaustibly diverse. That’s more difficult, but this concert showed a vast array of styles and dynamics and tuned and untuned instruments, so maybe it’s true. Here’s the program.

Gary’s France’s Celebration was an exciting and joyous rock drum rhythm, enhanced by three snares/toms and interspersed with a melody on glockenspiel, vibes and other tuned percussion and played by an array of performers across the stage.
Next was Kalabash, the first Nigel Westalake tune, this one played on two wonderfully thuddy and luminous marimba by four players. This was all child-like tonality, bouncy and intriguing as the melody flowed over barlines in what I guessed was some sort of polyrhythm overlaying 4 and 3. It had to reference Africa, but I found that more with the later Westlake piece. Then a blindfolded duet in 3/4 with a rhythmic melody on woodblocks and accompaniment with damped toms, called Blindfold music. Bree van Reyk said she’d arranged this after noting that orchestral audiences were as interested in the choreography of percussion as by the sounds. Then some John Cage music for prepared toy piano, arranged for 4 percussionists. Then a long work of many movements, Transmutations by Anthony Pateras, performed by six percussionists on drums and cymbals and any number of other percussionable instruments laid out on a long bench in front of them, and led by a conductor. Perhaps it was here I noted the dramatic lighting and I had my own choreography moment. After interval, the first movement of Steve Reich’s Drumming, played by four performers with eight mallets on eight bongo drums. I recently gave up on a CD of this after a few minutes, but music works so much better when played live. Then Musique de Tables, by Thierry de Mey, with three women sweeping tables and tapping and clapping to three, dramatically lit charts. What a demonstration of dynamics, as I strained to hear the swishes of hands lightly drawn across folding tables. What a stunner! Then my favourite Nigel Westlake, Omphalo Centric Lecture, again with four players on two marimba, but this time accompanied by two drummers and with some African vocals and thumb piano. There were two further items on the program which maybe they didn’t; perform, or otherwise I merged in my mind with the Westlake composition. Certainly there was no change of instruments or performers.

Then the magnum opus, Coming Together by Frederic Rzewski. Eric Ajaye came on stage in work-house chains to recount the words of Sam Melville, 6 months in Attica and killed in the subsequent riot. This was tense, political, emotional, with repeated lines.
The text was from a letter to his brother. You can read the text on the Net, but some lines stood out “i am in excellent physical and emotional health. there are doubtless subtle surprises ahead but i feel secure and ready” and and “i can act with clarity and meaning. i am deliberate - sometimes even calculating - seldom employ histrionics” and “i read much, exercise, talk to guards and inmates, feeling for the inevitable direction of my life”. Wikipedia suggests Melville was not so innocent but neither was Attica. This was a charged environment that we can only imagine in these TINA days. The music was powerful, incessant. I looked for the steady bass and found it as an unceasing electronic keyboard line, subtly varying and played with mallets. Miro provided an imploring, muted trumpet melody while colour and fills and chords came from a bevy of 12 percussionists. This was stunning and overwhelming and purposeful music.

The final words of the night were thanks given to Gary France, associate professor, obvious friend and open-hearted supporter of the group and “a facilitator of dreams”. This truly seemed a wonderfully effective and creative department. There was obvious love of the form and support and respect for all within it and readiness to take part in whatever projects arose. Great music of considerable diversity, but also an honest presentation of active musical inquisitiveness. What a privilege to attend this retrospective. Let’s hope this retrospective doesn’t mark the end DRUMatiX performers were percussionists Gary France, Bree van Reyk, William Jackson, Steve Fitzgerald, Charles Martin, Christina Hopgood, Yvonne Lam, Anna Ng, Veronica Bailey, Jonathan Griffiths, Bart Haddock, Jacinta Dunlop, Adam Cooper-Stanbury, Wesley Faulkiner, Niki Johnson, Jared Synnott and Thomas Chalker with Eric Ajaye (vocals) and Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet). Also Josh Chaffey (sound) and Owen Horton (lighting).