Never rains, but pours

It's pouring concerts, and later in the day, it rained. Terry Riley's In C was 50 years old on 22 Dec 2014 and to celebrate a string of music groups streamed performances on the Net under the moniker A Worldwide day of In C. An invitation to the local performance, led by Charles Martin in the ANU Band Room, dropped in my intray a few hours before I was to go shopping in Civic (not last minute yet; I still have 2 days). So, unexpectedly I was at another concert. The audience was tiny, at least the physical audience; I expect there were (many) others on the Net. I had a copy of music. It comprises 53 snippets of melody in C major, of differing durations and some instructions. All instruments play all snippets in order, breaks allowed, repetition is up to the individual, musos must listen, group dynamics are expected. It ran for ~55 minutes. It's strange and hypnotic; unending; you hear beats that are not written but develop amongst the various interacting lines. It all works and grows and fades and eventually ends. I could pick out some lines easily enough, especially when an instrument was prominent. I suggested to Tom Fell that the 1 moves, but he replied there is no 1. I expect both are right; every snippet has a 1, or at least a start, and every beat is someone's 1 even if there's no formal time signature. I noticed Tom and others were tapping feet. Whatever, it's mystical and hypnotic and it's interesting to read with the music in front of you. I identified most lines but there were ones I missed, including the long 35. I guess because it was less repetitive, so less evident and seemed to merge with the rest. But it's a fascinating exercise and formative and attractive minimalism. Nice one.

Charles Martin led a performance of Terry Riley's In C in the Band Room and streamed to the Net for the Worldwide day of In C on the 50th anniversary of the piece.

A Worldwide day of In C website

Meditation in groove

In many ways, this was unexpected, but in others it was not. Alec Hunter is the new bassist at the Music School with a background in both classical and jazz and a musicology PhD to boot. The band was presented in a formal layout: seven players spread around an inverted U open to the audience. Individually lit with strong overhead lights for a contrasty view. Two drummers and marimba/vibes. The grand Steinway next to mikes for seated trumpet and saxes. And two basses, or rather a double bass and a violone, lying on its back, in front of several laptops. Also, a screen above it all, a dark room, mics and recording gear. This was a seriously prepared event. Then I read the program: "short open works", "improvised (or not)", "set melodic cells to free improvisation", "order ... decided ... during the performance". And more: "simultaneously projected video", "audio and video ... tow independent creative events occupying the same space and time". And even: "the doors ... will remain open ... audience members are encouraged to come and go as they please". Interesting. Some of the recorded voice accompanying the video spoke to similar conventions, of art and dance and music. No-one much moved or applauded or made noise during each set, but we are a arts-respecting crew. So what did we hear? There were passages at top and bottom that grooved like jazz-rock era Miles. There were times of quiet and meditation, with double-bowed violone and more. There was authentic jazz improvisation from Charles on vibes and deeply rhythmic improv from Tate on piano. There were two drummers, sharing leads, finding openings for percussion. There were Miro and John, two masters thrilling with some deeply responsive interplay and swapped segments and some great tones with a digital harmoniser. And Alec, leading with hand gestures and raised fingers, meditatively seated on the ground with violone or holding jazz-infused riffs or spelling melodic themes on double bass. I liked his sharp edged tone that was balanced, often note for note, with softer rejoinders, with what sounded to my ears as the most precise intonation. It's jazz and modern classical but also performance art and video. Not rare these days, and shouldn't really be unexpected, but a change from Bird on the one hand or Bach on the other (although we all love them both). Refreshing and pensive.

Alec Hunter and Friends played in the Band Room at the ANU School of Music. Alec Hunter (bass, violone, electronics) led his friends Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet), John Mackey (saxes), Tate Sheridan (piano), Charles Martin (marimba, vibes), Jamal Salem (drums, percussion) and Jonathan Warren (drums, percussion). Lauren Hunter (video) created the projections.

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).

The joy of buses

It was a day at work at Woden, but a quick trip on the frequent Blue Rapid bus got me to Civic and a percussion concert with Ensemble Evolution, DRUMatiX and, unexpectedly, Kor Phai, a Thai ensemble visiting ANU for a Thai music festival at Llewellyn Hall. How fabulous is this? International percussionists for an intimate and free lunchtime concert.

Ensemble Evolution is a trio based in Piteå, Sweden, but they are eminently international. Charles Martin is a Canberra local, trained at the ANU; Maria Finkelmeier and Jacob Remington are from the US. The trio performed their Solstormen program on marimba, vibraphone, electronics, cymbals and other percussion. This was three works, joined as a medley, each composed by a different performer. Charles presented Taxi to Kalifax that records the long taxi journey to the nearest airport; Maria presented Dancing Lights drawing on the Aurora Borealis; Jacob provided Seven Forty-One describing lengthy band rehearsals over long, arctic nights. Surprisingly, I could hear the representations in each tune. The Taxi was groove-based and rolling and lively with what sounded to be jazz-like improvisations over a repeating chord structure. The Lights were meditative, mystical, gently polyrhythmic and rich with tones like swelling cymbals and bowed metals. The band practices were endless and repeating, sometimes quiet and slow and searching, other times excited and confident. All spot on. The sounds were the thud of timber from the marimba, then ringing metal of the vibes, the crashes of cymbals and the drone of electronics. Attractive and so accessible that I wondered if it was radio-ready.

DRUMatiX joined Ensemble Evolution for a larger-scale piece that was less detailed in its composition, more flowing and less unexpected in arrangements, and obviously bigger in instrumentation. I thought I heard solos here too, along with richly busy rhythms which decayed to a tonal rubato that changed tone when Thai musicians cruised on stage and joined in with their Asian sensibility.

The sound changed mightily when the Thai Korphai Ensemble took over. Their name means “bunch of bamboo” and they play traditional Thai (piphat) percussion music. Korphai dates from the 1980s and is led by musical director Anant Narkkong, professor of ethnomusicology and composition at Silpakorn University, Thailand. This is Asian tonality. It’s strange to my ears; reminiscent of gamelan but not the same. It’s a ringing sound that seems to jiggle to my ears, as if it’s indefinite in pitch, but it’s most likely just non-tempered, non-European scales. But the whole conception is different from the West. This is not harmonic but melodic. Most of this melody is from tuned percussion, although there was also what seemed to be a short, stubby oboe, wooden with double reeds. The rhythms are simple and clear and unadorned and were layered with four-on-the-floor drums and regular sixteenth in melody. The pitch is high and bell-like, with just drums to offer a low end. And surprisingly, there were dancers that added to the pleasure and humanity of it all: a woman and a man, all bent limbs and splayed hands and a delightful sense of balance, dancing an obvious story of romance. Bodies flexible and arched and sensual like those famous ones from Hindu temples. Strange and uncommon to our senses but very beautiful in person.

So as the musicians took the bows, then relaxed into playing each others’ instruments and an on-stage workshop, I took my bus back to work, enlivened by an international melange of percussion and driven by my trusty bus driver. How I like buses! Ensemble Evolution comprise percussionists Charles Martin, Maria Finkelmeier and Jacob Remington. The DRUMatiX percussion group comprise Stephen Fitzgerald, Veronica Walshaw, William Jackson, Yvonne Lam, Bryce Leske, Bart Haddock, Jonathan Griffiths and are led by Artistic Director Gary France. Kor Phai is led by director Anant Narkkong.