“Ypsilon” is a Greek letter symbolically used to indicate variable quantity. Stockhausen’s composition with the same name from 1989 is scored for “a melody instrument with micro-tones”. The composition can be performed on any wind instrument that has keys or valves. Stockhausen has given the piece a graphical score in 16 pitches. He has indicated that the intervals between the pitches should be “as small as possible but clearly perceivable”. That is what he means by “variable quantities”, since the steps of the intervals depend on the instrument and the player. “Ypsilon” for flute was worked out by Kathinka Pasveer in 1990. Again the melody is that of the Eve-formula, here starting with the central pitch of “Dienstag aus Licht” (“Tuesday from Light”) but stretched to 9 minutes and compressed spatially into approximately a minor third.
The rattling of bells startles at first. The costume of the player is saturated with Indian bells (compare the costume of the birdman Miron of “Musik im Bauch”!). The clicking of the valves adds another dimension to this fabric of sounds, and the human sounds of kissing, combined with other human – vocal – sounds, further the impression. Small pauses are inserted into the progression of events, and sometimes the shaking of the Indian bells reign in supremacy. The player achieves this by shivering!
This is one strange piece of music, which easily transports the suggestive listener into alien levels of experience!
Robert Wyatt sings John Cage’s The Wonderful Widow of Eighteen Springs for voice and piano. The piano stay closed and is used as a percussion instrument.
The song was commissioned by singer Janet Fairbank, who later became known for pioneering contemporary music. Cage chose to set a passage from page 556 of Finnegans Wake, a book he bought soon after its publication in 1939. The composition is based, according to Cage himself, on the impressions received from the passage. The Wonderful Widow of Eighteen Springs marks the start of Cage’s interest in Joyce and is the first piece among many in which he uses the writer’s work.
The vocal line only uses three pitches, while the piano remains closed and the pianist produces sounds by hitting the lid or other parts of the instrument in a variety of ways (with his fingers, with his knuckles, etc.) Almost immediately after its composition the song became one of Cage’s most frequently performed works, and was several times performed by the celebrated duo of Cathy Berberian and Luciano Berio. Cage later composed another piece for voice and closed piano, A Flower, and a companion piece to The Wonderful Widow of Eighteen Springs, called Nowth upon Nacht, also based on Joyce’s book.
The viola d’amore is a beautiful instrument with an infinite numbers of possible sound worlds. It has six or seven main strings, bowed, and an equal number of sympathetic strings (click the image to enlarge).
In this album for the Sksh’s netlabel, Garth Knox explore this instrument using different tunings and techniques.
Conlon Nancarrow (October 27, 1912 – August 10, 1997) was born in the USA, but he lived in Mexico from 1940 to his death in 1997 because of his membership in the communist party.
It was in Mexico that Nancarrow did the work he is best known for today. He had already written some music in the United States, but the extreme technical demands they made on players meant that satisfactory performances were very rare. That situation did not improve in Mexico’s musical environment, also with few musicians available who could perform his works, so the need to find an alternative way of having his pieces performed became even more pressing. Taking a suggestion from Henry Cowell’s book New Musical Resources, which he bought in New York in 1939, Nancarrow found the answer in the player piano, with its ability to produce extremely complex rhythmic patterns at a speed far beyond the abilities of humans. So, he wrote studies of ever growing complexity, exploiting the mechanical nature of player piano system.
Nancarrow’s first pieces combined the harmonic language and melodic motifs of early jazz pianists like Art Tatum with extraordinarily complicated metrical schemes. The first five rolls he made are called the Boogie-Woogie Suite (later assigned the name Study No. 3 a-e). His later works were abstract, with no obvious references to any music apart from Nancarrow’s itself.
Many of these later pieces (which he generally called studies) are canons in augmentation or diminution or prolation canons. In music, a prolation canon or mensuration canon is a musical composition wherein the different voices play the same melody at different speeds (or prolations, a metrical term that dates to the medieval and Renaissance eras).
While most canons using this device, such as those by Ockeghem, Desprez or J.S. Bach, have the tempos of the various parts in quite simple ratios, like 2:1 or 3:2, Nancarrow’s canons are in far more complicated ratios. The Study No. 40, for example, has its parts in the ratio e:pi (i.e. 2.71828:3.14159, an irrational time ratio unplayable by humans), while the Study No. 37 has twelve individual melodic lines, each one moving at a different tempo.
He became better known in the 1980s, and was lauded as one of the most significant composers of the century. The composer György Ligeti called his music “the greatest discovery since Webern and Ives … the best of any composer living today“.
Here you can listen to and compare the above quoted Studies for Player Piano No. 3b, 37 and 40, all recorded with the Ampico Bösendorfer Grand in the possession of Juergen Hocker, which was restored under the supervision of Nancarrow.
In C continues to receive numerous performances every year, by professionals, students, and amateurs. It has had repeated recordings since its 1968 LP premiere, and most are still in print. It welcomes performers from a vast range of practices and traditions, from classical to rock to jazz to non-Western. Recordings range from the Chinese Film Orchestra of Shanghai—on traditional Chinese instruments—to the Hungarian “European Music Project” group, joined by two electronica DJs manipulating The Pulse. It rouses audiences to states of ecstasy and near hysteria, all the while projecting an inner serenity that suggests Cage’s definition of music’s purpose—”to sober and quiet the mind, thus making it susceptible to divine influences.” In short, it’s not going away.
[Robert Carl]
Here is the execution by the Shanghai Film Orchestra
A funky peformance by Band On A Can group from NYC
2015-02-10 Tate Modern and Africa Express
Boiler Room Amsterdam Live Performance
2022-10-20 The Young Gods present Play Terry Riley In C Documentary & Live from Les Forces Motrices, Geneva
Tristan Murail – Vampyr! for electric guitar, from Random Access Memory (1984), Wiek Hijmans electric guitar.
To be honest, I know little about this piece. It’s the sixth track from Random Access Memory, a cycle that includes a set of solo pieces for various instruments and a gold dust in the contemporary academic music where the electric guitar is seldom used.
Vampyr! is one of several works in Murail’s catalogue that do not employ spectral techniques. Rather, in the performance notes, the composer asks the performer to play the piece in the manner of guitarists in the popular and rock traditions, with a heavy overdriven rock sound. In the preface to the work, Murail writes: “The desired sound is rather like that of the solo guitar as played by Carlos Santana, Eric Clapton etc.“. And then, in bold type and with an exclamation mark: “The player should put into Vampyr! all the energy of rock music and that includes the appropriate number of decibels!”
The rather striking title refers to horror movies and sci-fi B-films; other titles in the cycle do so as well. This subject matter is clearly recognizable in the saturated guitar sound and the frequent, hysterical use of the tremolo arm.
Here Wiek Hijmans effortlessly transforms his Gretsch 1967 model Chet Atkins Tennesean into a ruthless yawing, squealing and screaming board.
Vache Sharafyan (Վաչե Շարաֆյան): Devotion No. 2 (1999) for Tar, Kemanche, Dhol, Tam-Tam, Piano and string quartet.
Tar, Kemanche, Dhol are musical instruments adopted by various middle eastern cultures like Iran, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia to the Indian subcontinent. Click the names to read details from wikipedia.
Gerd Kühr: Trans, from Revue instrumentale et electronique (2004/5 according to the composer’s site, not 2007 as stated in the video)
Austrian composer Gerd Kühr is a professor of composition at the Universität für Musik und darstellende Kunst in Graz; he also works as a conductor and once studied with Sergiu Celibidache. Kühr has also taken composition with Hans Werner Henze.
Kühr’s piece Revue instrumentale et electronique is divided into six sections. It is scored for nine spatially divided instrumental groups and electronics.
The transitions between the electronics and live sections is seamless; you are listening and you gradually realize “we are hearing electronic music now” as opposed to the live instruments. Kühr is very effective at devising novel instrumental timbres, such as the palpitating percussion and fleeting winds in the opening “Intro” and in the alien atmosphere of sustained notes in “Trans.”
And this is the second pièce from the cycle Du Cristal…à la fumée, by Kaija Saariaho.
The last sound of Du Cristal – a cello trill played sul ponticello – becomes retrospectively the first sound of its successor, …à la fumée, which features solo parts for cello and amplified alto flute in addition to large orchestra. Saariaho has commented that
to my way of thinking, Du Cristal … à la fumée is a single work, two facets of the same image, but both fully drawn in, living and independent.
The difference between the two works is already manifest in the title: crystal is a classic example of repeated order, symmetrical, tense, stable mass. Smoke, on the other hand, changes its form constantly, an unpredictable, developing state. Crystal and smoke, like order and entropy, chaos. The title is inspired by a book by Henri Atlan, Entre le cristal et la fumée (Between the Crystal and the Smoke).
The single most important element in the music of Kaija Saariaho is tone colour, attached inseparably to harmony. In this sense she can be thought of as continuing the French orchestral tradition. Her music does not, however, only feast on beautiful sounds. The starting point of composition for her comes from a carefully studied theoretical basis. The origin of her music is a single sound which she penetrates, trying to uncover its structure and the laws that govern it. With these laws, just by changing the scale, the composer builds colours, harmonics, forms, rhythms – music. This starting-point ensures that all the works of Kaija Saariaho have a strong sense of unity. Elements that seem different fit together, because they are basically born from the same source.
Rather than associate Kaija Saariaho’s music with mathematical formulae or computer programs, it is more fruitful to compare it with nature – its biological and physical models. The composer herself has spoken of arctic lights, water-lilies, crystals, spirals: forms and materials which in themselves are perfect and beautiful and create aesthetic experiences, but which offer endless grounds for even scientific study. Observation of how the inner relations of organisms are built, how they change and multiply; how forms that seem simple and natural are of endless variety when examined closely: chaos and order can be closer to each other than we first suspect.
The tensions in Kaija Saariaho’s music, its dramaturgy, are built on pairs of contrasts. One important pair of contrasts is formed by sound and noise. This is manifested, for instance, in the sonority of the cello: when the bow is moved towards the bridge, adding bow pressure, the sound breaks and turns into noise. On the flute, when you blow into the tube you can create noise (which has its own tone colour) and which changes into a sound when the air hits the mouthpiece at the right angle. In rhythm, a simple pair of contrasts is created between repetitive and irregular patterns. Gradual movement between two opposites, interpolations, create and release tensions in the same way as do chordal functions in traditional tonal music.
It is no surprise that the soloists in …a la fumée are flute and cello. These would appear to be Saariaho’s favourite instruments given that many of her solo pieces have been written for them (for the flute, Canvas, Laconisme de l’aile, NoaNoa; for the cello, Petals and Près). …a la fumée however, is not a normal double concerto, in which the solo instruments are contrasted with the orchestra. In this work, flute and cello are like microscopes with which the composer penetrates deep into her material, shedding light from different angles and changing the scale.
György Ligeti, with whose earlier music Kaija Saariaho’s works have certain points in common, has spoken about a phenomenon familiar to most of us. When we go up in an aeroplane, we do not feel ourselves in motion. At the same time, details of the scenery disappear and merge into a whole. A meadow, swarming with inner energy, changes first into fields of colour, then into a bare point in the distance. The amplification of the alto flute and the cello serves this purpose: a whisper from the flute can grow to the scale of a big orchestra, a harmonic from the cello can be outlined above the whole landscape of sound. Is not one of the meanings of music, and all art, simply this? To create illusions, presentiments of a world that could be true.
