Tag Archives: spectral_music

…amaris et dulcibus aquis…

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Tristan Murail – …amaris et dulcibus aquis… (2004), per coro misto e suoni di sintesi.

Nella prima versione di questo brano erano utilizzati due sintetizzatori DX7 Yamaha che producevano suoni in modulazione di frequenza con componenti microtonali. In questa definitiva stesura sono stati sostituiti da suoni prodotti via computer e memorizzati su hard disk, che vengono fatti partire da un esecutore via tastiera MIDI.

Note di programma dell’autore

This piece was written for a project initiated by the Internationales Forum Chor Musik, which consisted of commissioning choral works by various European composers on the theme of “pilgrimage to Compostela”. This theme does not necessarily imply a religious dimension, but can be considered as being the symbol of a gathering of different peoples – in particular at the time of European unity. The sung texts are excerpts from the Pilgrims Guide to Santiago de Compostela, an anonymous work from the 12th century that describes the famous Way of Saint James and the stopping points that line the various routes.
It is a sort of Michelin Guide from the Middle Ages, where practical information is placed side by side with religious legends, pious advice and descriptions that are picturesque, but often brimming with prejudice toward the peoples encountered along the route.
Four routes cut across France – traces can still be found today. After crossing the Pyrenees, they come together and form a single route that takes the name of the Camino Francés (the French Way).
Parable of a lifelong quest, the Way of St. James is marvellous and perilous: a person encounters hospitality as well as bandits. The water of certain rivers is good to drink – that of others poisonous: sweet and bitter waters…
The text is sung in the original Latin (the Latin of the Middle Ages that is a bit different from classical Latin). It describes the four routes in France and the Camino Francés in northern Spain, lists the cities that are passed through and warns about perils met on the way.
The choral writing is voluntarily rather simple, because the project consisted of writing for amateurs or semi-professionals. Written for eight mixed voices, the choir is enhanced by two synthesizers that reinforce and complement the harmonies, giving them a microtonal colour.

Qui si può scaricare un pdf con alcune note di esecuzione e 4 pagine della partitura

Orchidée

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Questo interessante sistema chiamato Orchidée, realizzato all’IRCAM da Grégoire Carpentier and Damien Tardieu con la supervisione del compositore Yan Maresz, è in grado di fornire una o più orchestrazioni di un suono dato.

In pratica, significa che un compositore può arrivare con un suono e farlo analizzare al sistema che poi fornisce varie combinazioni di suoni orchestrali che approssimano la sonorità data.

Un esempio, tratto da quelli forniti dall’IRCAM, dice più di molte parole. Qui potete ascoltare:

Si tratta di Computer Aided Orchestration (orchestrazione assistita) ed è un ulteriore esempio di come il computer possa ormai affiancare il compositore in molte fasi del suo lavoro.

Il sistema si basa su un largo database di suoni orchestrali che sono stati analizzati e catalogati in base a una serie di descrittori sia percettivi (es. brillantezza, ruvidità, presenza, colore, …) che notazionali (strumento, altezza, dinamica, etc).

Un algoritmo genetico individua, poi, varie soluzioni, ognuna ottimizzata rispetto a uno o più descrittori, il che significa che non esiste una soluzione ideale, ma più di una, ciascuna delle quali si avvicina molto ad un aspetto del suono in esame, risuldando, invece, più debole sotto altri aspetti. Per esempio, si potrebbe ottenere un insieme che approssima molto bene il colore del suono, ma non la sua evoluzione. Sta poi al compositore scegliere quella che gli appare più funzionale al proprio contesto compositivo.

La descrizione completa del sistema Orchidée si trova qui. Vari altri esempi si possono ascoltare qui.

Solo Pour Deux

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Solo Pour Deux (1981) di Grisey, per clarinetto e trombone, incarna l’essenzialità della concezione compositiva spettrale e in questo senso è didattico.

Come il titolo suggerisce, i due strumenti (monofonici) non creano contrasti o linee melodiche contrappuntistiche, ma concorrono a creare la sonorità di questo brano lavorando l’uno sugli armonici dell’altro (tipicamente il clarinetto su quelli del trombone, per forza di cose). Sono in due, ma, nella maggior parte dei casi, creano un’unica linea, spesso sovrapponendosi, ma a volte l’uno continua riducendo o espandendo una nota dell’altro.

Sotto l’aspetto dell’idea compositiva (ma solo in quello), il pezzo è vicino al Ko-Lho per flauto e clarinetto di (o attribuito a) Giacinto Scelsi del 1966, che potete ascoltare qui, soprattutto al secondo movimento, in cui i due strumenti, più che duettare, si compenetrano.

Gli interpreti sono Ernesto Molinari al clarinetto e Uwe Dierksen al trombone.

Territoires de l’oubli

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Tristan Murail – Territoires de l’oubli (1977) per piano solo – Marilyn Nonken piano.

È piuttosto difficile fare musica spettrale, basata sugli armonici e che spesso richiede quarti o anche sesti di tono, con il pianoforte, uno strumento a intonazione fissa, su cui l’esecutore non può influire per nulla.

L’unico modo è attraverso le risonanze delle corde lasciate libere che entrano in vibrazione per simpatia ed è quello che fa Murail in questo brano del ’77 che può essere considerato quasi uno studio sulla risonanza, infatti il pedale è costantemente premuto.

Secondo me si tratta di un brano dalle sonorità affascinanti seppure un po’ manieristiche e “facili” al di là del fatto che sia riuscito, o meno, come musica spettrale, della quale ho già avuto modo di criticare l’approssimazione.

Notes di Julian Anderson tratte dal CD Accord AC4658992 che non è quello di questa registrazione.

Territoires de l’oubli was written in 1977 for the French composer-pianist Michaël Lévinas, who gave the first performance in Rome, in 1978. This piece, Murail’s longest single-movement work to date, is a massive exploration of the piano’s resonance, unfolding in a huge curve of continuously evolving textures. Murail has remarked of the piece that “instead of considering the piano as a mere percussion instrument (hammers hitting strings), Territoires emphasizes a different idiomatic characteristic of the instrument: a group of strings whose vibration is caused by sympathetic resonance or by direct action of the hammers.” Murail further notes that the work is written “for the resonances, not the attacks which are considered as “scars” on the continuum.” For this reason, the sustaining pedal is held down throughout the entire piece. The work perpetually slides between regular, repetitive moments of stability, and chaotic, dense textures which often approach noise. The most stable moments often make a special feature of iambic, “heart-beat” rhythms. The work constantly plays upon the ambiguity between harmony and timbre – the harmony is chosen according to the resonance characteristics of the piano, producing several striking transformations of the piano’s sound: for example, at the end of the work, a form of “vibrato” is obtained by playing a fundamental simultaneously with an E-flat acting as its seventh harmonic. The true intonation of the seventh harmonic, heard in the resonance of the fundamental, beats against the equally tempered E-flat in the piano’s tuning. At several points in the piece, clusters of deep bass notes are heard, producing a mass of higher harmonics which form the basis of the harmony of the following section: in this way a continuous harmonic “chain” is built through out the work. The extreme continuity of Territoires does not prevent it from being one of Murail’s most evocative and dramatic pieces, especially in the wild cadenza of descending and ascending chords near the end.

…à la fumée

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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.

Du Cristal

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Kaija Saariaho – Du Cristal, 1989 – for large orchestra.

Du Cristal was commissioned jointly by the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and the Helsinki Festival, and it was first performed by the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen in September 1990.

It is scored for a standard large symphony orchestra with the addition of an important part for synthesizer, and featuring a highly prominent percussion section. None of Saariaho’s major works to date is without some kind of electronic element, and the presence of the synthesizer is significant in the light of Saariaho’s remark that she tends to the orchestra itself ‘as if it was a huge synthesizer’. The standard form of electronic synthesis is ‘additive’ – that is, each sound is created by piling innumerable pure tones upon each other.

Transferred to the medium of the orchestra, this means that it is as if each individual instrument were analogous to a pure tone in a synthesizer, merely a tiny part of a large, slowly evolving mass of sound. Thus there is no polyphony, nor any melody in the conventional sense, although the music is frequently lyrical in its gestures and the activity within the textures may momentarily suggest polyphony; the important thing to follow is the overall drift of the orchestral mass, and to relate the individual details to that.

It’s an approach which owes something to the dense, multi-layered orchestral works of György Ligeti, such as “Atmosphères and Lontano”, as well as to the so-called ‘spectral-music’ of French composers Tristan Murail and Gérard Grisey, all of whom Saariaho has acknowledged as influences on her music; but her won style is nevertheless thoroughly personal and has distinctly brooding, ‘Northern’ character quite distinct from any of the afore-mentioned.

The harmonic character of Du Cristal is especially focused and clearly defined as the work is dominated by the bell-chord with which it opens. During the first seven minutes, this chord is slowly and methodically dissected: all its internal components are highlighted as its orchestration is progressively shaded and softened, although the basic character of the chord remains essentially unchanged.

There follows an eruption of some violence which breaks up the harmonic continuity of the music; a dialogue ensues between onslaughts of unpitched percussion and further bell sounds from tuned percussion and synthesizer.

After this the texture thins somewhat and the rate of harmonic change increases; melodic tissues briefly emerge on the violins and the woodwind. The increased rate of change precipitates the principal climax of the work, again featuring untuned percussion prominently: chaotic, irregular rhythms gradually merge into a hammeringly regular series of ostinatos for the full orchestra – the simplest and clearest music in the piece – and out of these the sound spectrum is gradually narrowed until a single note (a unison A flat) is heard

As this fades into filigree passages for solo strings, the music drifts closer to the harmonic world of the opening, and the original chord is itself twice restated; far from subsiding, however, the music suddenly veers back to the hammering ostinato of the climax – as if the form of the whole piece thus far had been telescoped into some two minutes. Only now can the music progress to the coda, underpinned by a series of wave-like crescendos on bass drum and synthesizer as the textures dwindle to a single cello trill.

This trill will be the starting point for second work of the cycle called …à la fumée. Saariaho took her title from a book by the French writer Henri Atlan, “Entre le cristal et la fumée”, and for her it signifies the way the same acoustic material is developed in sharply different ways in the two pieces, the turbulent energy and almost expressionist outbursts of Du Cristal subsiding into the capricious, playful double concerto of…à la fumée.

Petri Alanko, alto flute; Anssi Karttunen, cello, Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, dir. Esa-Pekka Salonen

Before the universe was born

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Romanian-French composer Horaţiu Rădulescu (1942-2008) was a spectral music composer. But Radulescu’s music differs greatly from the french school (Grisey, Murail, Dufourt, Levinas). This latter uses the sound spectrum analysis to get informations by which to build a musical form.

Instead the work of Radulescu focuses on the exploration of what he considers to be the ultimate sonic archetype: the harmonic spectrum. His compositional aim, as outlined in his book Sound Plasma (1975) was to bypass the historical categories of monody, polyphony and heterophony and to create musical textures with all elements in a constant flux. Central to this was an exploration of the harmonic spectrum, and by the invention of new playing techniques to bring out, and sometimes to isolate, the upper partials of complex sounds, on which new spectra could be built.

Here we can listen to his fifth String quartet, subtitled Before the universe was born (1990/95)

Vortex Temporum

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La grande partitura di Grisey

Notes from Gerard Grisey

The title Vortex Temporum indicates the beginning of the system of rotation, repeated arpeggios and their metamorphosis in various transient passages. The problem here is to enter the depths of my recent research on the use of the same material at different times. The three basic forms are the original event – a sinusoidal wave – and two continuous events, an attack with or without resonance as well as a sound held with or without crescendo. There are three various spectra: harmonics, ‘stretched disharmonics’ and ‘compressed disharmonics’; three different tempos: basic, more or less expanded, and more or less contracted. These are the archetypes that guide Vortex Temporum.

In addition to the initial introductory vibration formula taken directly from Daphnis et Chloe, ‘Vortex’ suggested to me harmonic writings focused around the four tones of the diminished seventh chord, a rotational chord par excellence. Treating each of these tones as leading ones, we obtain the possibility of multiple modulations. Of course, we aren’t dealing here with the tonal system but rather with considerations of what might still be relevant and innovative in this system. The chord about which I’m speaking is thus a common part of the three previously written spectra and determines other displacements.

The piano used in the work is tuned a quarter tone lower, which changes the sound of the instrument, at the same time facilitating the integration within microintervals, which are essential in this work. In Vortex Temporum the three archetypes described above revolve around one fragment and the other in temporary intervals, differing among themselves as among people (the tempo of speech and breathing), whales (spectral time of sleeping rhythms), and birds or insects (extremely contracted time, whose contours become obliterated). Thanks to this imagined microscope, the notes become sound, a chord becomes a spectral complex, and rhythm transforms into a wave of unexpected duration.

The three portions of the first part, dedicated to Gérard Zinsstag, develop three aspects of the original wave, well known to acoustic engineers: the sinusoidal wave (vibration formula); the square wave (dotted rhythm) and the jagged wave (piano solo). They develop the tempo, which can be defined as ‘joyful’, the tempo of articulation, rhythm of human breathing. The isolated piano section reaches the boundaries of virtuosity.

The second part, dedicated to Salvatore Sciarrino, approaches the same material in expanded time. Initial Gestalt appears here only once, spreading throughout the entire part. I tried here to create the feeling of the confused speed inside the slow tempo.

Part three, dedicated to Helmut Lachenmann, introduces a long process allowing the creation of interpolation, which appears between the various sequences. Continuity gradually establishes, and expands, finally becoming a kind of widely conceived projection of the events from the first part. The spectra originally developed in the harmonic discourse of part two expand here to an extent degree, enabling the listener to detect the structure and entrance into other time dimension.

Short interludes are planned between the parts of Vortex Temporum. A few breaths, noises and discrete noises colour the awkward silence, and even the discomfort of the musicians and listeners, who hear their own breathing between he parts. Treating waiting time this way, linking the time of the audience with the time of the work, refers to some of my earlier works, for example Dérives, Partiels or Jour, Contrejour. Here, of course, these tiny noises are allied with the morphology of Vortex Temporum.

Overthrowing the material in favor of pure endurance is a dream, which I have been carrying out for many years. Vortex Temporum is perhaps only a history of the arpeggio in time and space – from the point of view of our ears.

Vortex Temporum was commissioned by the French Ministry of Culture, Ministerium für Kunst Baden-Würtemberg and the Westdeutsche Rundfunk Köln, at the special request of ‘Ensemble Recherche’.

-Gérard Grisey

 

L’Esprit des Dunes

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Mr. Murail’s L’esprit des dunes (1993-94), for amplified ensemble and electronics (sampled sounds triggered by a MIDI keyboard), starts with a characteristic ascending figure that is passed back and forth between the oboe and the sampled sounds, mediated by the flute.

Over the course of the piece the origin of this motif is progressively revealed by the gradual accumulation of partial-strata that occasionally fill in the whole spectrum at sonorous anchor points. In the composer’s words:

There is melody within a single pitch; the melody is created through the pitch’s harmonics. It’s both a sound and a melody. And while the opening notes of the oboe constitute a phrase, it is also a sound.

The origin of the motif is in fact a snippet from an overtone “melody” found in Mongolian chant, a tradition that can be described as the art of creating (overtone-) melodies out of a single (sung) pitch. The vocal paradigm is felt in various forms throughout the piece: strands of kinetic energy that produce a pattern of tension and release; the alternation of compact and diffuse ensemble writing with the occasional appearance of re-synthesized Tibetan chant; the overall dynamic curve of the form make the piece breathe in a curiously organic way.

Dérives

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Dérives, composto da Gérard Grisey nel 1973-74, è insieme a Périodes e Partiels, una delle composizioni seminali per il movimento della musica spettrale.

In questo brano per due gruppi orchestrali, una sinfonietta e un’orchestra completa (interessante notare che nell’ensemble c’è anche una chitarra elettrica), si applica una tecnica che può essere definita come sintesi additiva strumentale, in cui gli strumenti arrivano a comporre una timbrica mediante la somma di molte componenti. Si parla di timbrica e non di armonia perché è in questo senso che l’indieme sonoro è concepito, al punto che agli strumenti è spesso richiesta una intonazione sugli armonici di un suono base e non sulla scala temperata.

Il suono come generatore della forma globale, secondo la poetica dello spettralismo espressa da questa dichiarazione programmatica dello stesso Grisey:

We are musicians and our model is sound not literature, sound not mathematics, sound not theatre, visual arts, quantum physics, geology, astrology or acupuncture

[cit. in Fineberg, Joshua (2006). Classical Music, Why Bother?: Hearing the World of Contemporary Culture Through a Composer’s Ears. Routledge. ISBN-10: 0415971748, ISBN-13: 978-0415971744]

E ancora:

Spectralism is not a system. It’s not a system like serial music or even tonal music. It’s an attitude. It considers sounds, not as dead objects that you can easily and arbitrarily permutate in all directions, but as being like living objects with a birth, lifetime and death. This is not new. I think Varese was thinking in that direction also. He was the grandfather of us all. The second statement of the spectral movement — especially at the beginning — was to try to find a better equation between concept and percept — between the concept of the score and the perception the audience might have of it. That was extremely important for us.

Quest’ultima dichiarazione è tratta da questa interessante intervista con David Bundle.

Orchestre National De France, Conductor Jacques Mercier