How does composer Nikolai Kapustin view himself? . . . "I was never a jazz musician. I never tried to be a real jazz pianist, but I had to do it because of the composing. I’m not interested in improvisation – and what is a jazz musician without improvisation? All my improvisation is written, of course, and they become much better; it improves them." According to pianist Leslie De’Ath, "Kapustin's piano music is technically formidable, and as a pianist he possesses a technique to match. He remains the definitive interpreter of his own music, not just by virtue of the truism that he composed it, but also because his own recordings are astonishing feats of technical and musical accomplishment". Experience this firsthand by watching Nikolai Kapustin perform his Impromptu, op. 66, no. 2 (1991) . . . one of this week's FEATURED NEW MUSIC VIDEOS.

While relearning an old favourite piece, To the Earth (1985), for 4 terracotta pots and voice by composer Frederic Rzewski, percussionist Fleur Green discovered a poem she had written while working on the piece years ago:

In this earth where man makes and makes and makes, and quite often makes a mess,
we sometimes forget the earth has already made.

Perhaps we have forgotten that nature is violent and destructive enough
without us having to make more.

While we are making war with ourselves, we forget that nature alone is violent,
and a battle of elements.

While we are making objects of beauty for ourselves,
we forget that nature alone is beautiful and something to admire.

Have we forgotten reality is violent, depressing, intriguing and beautiful enough
to overwhelm?

If we are no longer touched by the beauty of a change in season,
no longer touched by the unique landscape that presents itself to us
silently every day,
and if we no longer rejoice in the ‘gentleness and cruelty of nature’,
then perhaps we need reminding.

Watch a performance of Rzewski's To the Earth by percussionist Bonnie Whiting Smith . . . it's this week's BANG, CLANG AND BEAT - New Music for Percussion.

George Crumb writes of his piece Processional (1983): "Like much of my music, Processional is strongly tonal, but integrates chromatic, modal, and whole-tone elements. The descending six tones stated at the beginning present the basic harmonic cell, subsequently elaborated by varied cluster combinations and permutations. Although Processional is essentially a continuum of sustained legato playing, tiny melodic fragments (which intermittently emerge and recede) provide contrast in articulation. I think of Processional as an 'experiment in harmonic chemistry' (Debussy's description of his Images for piano) - the music is concerned with the prismatic effect of subtle changes of harmonic color and frequent modulation. While composing the work, I felt no need for the resources of the 'extended piano' and limited myself to the contrasts of texture and color available through the conventional mode of playing on the keys. However, I subsequently did construct an alternate version which does in fact include a minimal use of non-keyboard effects (the choice between the two versions left to the pianist). The title of the music was suggested by the music's obsessive reiteration of pulse (sempre pulsando, estaticamente) and broad 'unfolding' gestures. Perhaps the music suggests more a 'processional of nature' rather than any sort of festive or sombre 'human' processional. Listen to a performance of George Crumb's Processional . . . one of this week's PYTHEAS EARFULS.

In Alvin Lucier's I am sitting in a room (1969), several sentences of recorded speech are simultaneously played back into a room and re-recorded there many times. As the repetitive process continues, those sounds common to the original spoken statement and those implied by the structural dimensions of the room are reinforced. The others are gradually eliminated. The space acts as a filter; the speech is transformed into pure sound. All the recorded segments are spliced together in the order in which they were made and thus constitute the work. In this fascinating exploration of acoustical phenomena, Lucier slips from the domain of language to that of music in the course of the repetitions of a simple paragraph of text. Listen to Alvin Lucier's I am sitting in a room . . . this week's FROM THE PYTHEAS ARCHIVES.

Explore, Listen and Enjoy!
Vinny Fuerst
Pytheas Center for Contemporary Music