Tuesday, May 22, 2012

French composer Regis Campo writes about his chamber piece Pop-art (2002), "The playing styles [in Pop-art] are more developed than usual, so sometimes the player strokes the instrument, at others it is hit, sometimes it becomes a toy and is even furtively kissed (although only the flute and clarinet). Thus the underlying development of the work, as serious and strict as can be, is totally masked by these various theatrical aspects." Indeed, Pop-art is highly theatrical and fun to listen to. Given these qualities and its Pierrot-esque instrumentation (flute, clarinet, violin, viola, cello and piano), it's surprising that Pop-art isn't programmed with greater frequency. There is something quite fresh about Campo's sound world.  This stems less from a unique stylistic perspective and more from a palpable buoyancy that permeates his musical discourse. Rhythmic activity is typically fast-paced and syncopated, propelling one idea effortlessly into the next (notes thanks to drewbakermusic.com). Watch a performance of Regis Campo's Pop-art performed by the Uusinta Chamber Ensemble . . . one of this week's FEATURED NEW MUSIC VIDEOS.

Rupture (2007) is a new dance theater piece by choreographer Jill Sigman and composer Kristen Norderval. Rupture is a feverish dream, a strange requiem, an Alice in Wonderland story in a time of disorder. Set in a charged landscape that includes hundreds of broken eggshells, the work weaves together the story of Sigman's acute calf injury with her travels in India, Berlin, and New Orleans to explore breaking and healing on personal, architectural, and global scales. Conceived as a solo with chorus, Rupture is danced by choreographer Jill Sigman with Toby Billowitz, Donna Costello, Hilary Maia Grubb, and Jennifer Sydor. The multi-media work is set to an original score for voice and electronics performed live by Kristin Norderval, with live video mixing by Katherine Liberovskaya, video editing by Jill Sigman and Lisa Niedermeyer and lighting and set design by Jonathan Belcher. Watch an excerpt from the Jill Sigman/Kristen Norderval collaboration Rupture . . it's our DANSES PYTHEUSES for the week.

When he died in June 1980, Allan Pettersson left a significant number of sketches and various other manuscripts. Some years later the German composer Peter Ruzicka, who was very interested in Pettersson's music, discovered a previously unknown Viola Concerto among these manuscripts. Not even Pettersson's widow knew of the existence of the work, which was written in 1979. As manager of the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, Ruzicka requested her permission to mount the premiere of the piece in Berlin, which took place eight years after the composer's death, in September 1988. The Romanian conductor Sergui Comissiona, a champion of Pettersson's music, was on the podium and the viola soloist was Yuri Bashmet. During his years as a performing musician Pettersson had been a viola player, and it is therefore not at all surprising that he wrote a concerto for viola. One may indeed wonder why the work was composed so late. In order to find a possible explanation, we must examine the character of the music. The center of gravity of Pettersson's output was in the symphonic arena, where he often combined massive formal construction with a correspondingly large orchestral apparatus. In contrast, the Viola Concerto can be seen as a dialogue between the soloist and the orchestra, and the texture as a whole is more delicate. This was by no means the first time in the history of music that a composer wrote a sort of transfigured summary towards the end of his life - one only needs to look at Richard Strauss and his Four Last Songs and Oboe Concerto. It may also be symbolicly significance that Pettersson "reserved" his own instrument for this occasion, and that he kept the existence of the piece secret. The concerto, which plays for roughly half an hour, has no beginning in the customary sense, but starts "in mid stream", with the aforementioned musical dialogue. As so often with Pettersson, the construction is in a single movement, and the solo part is extremely difficult - one could maybe call it "ungrateful" in that many of the difficulties remain hidden from the listener. The work ends as abruptly as it began, with a climax which is suddenly interrupted - Is it an exclamation mark? - A question mark??? (notes thanks to lendallpitts @ YouTube). Listen to a performance of Allan Pettersson's Viola Concerto" (1979) played by violist Nobuko Imai and the Malmo Symphony Orchestra, Lev Markiz conducting . . . it's one of our PYTHEAS EARFULS for the week.

Heather Schmidt's Lunar Reflections (2008) is a five movement work for violin, cello and piano based of five different full moons: Blue Moon, Pink Moon, Wolf Moon, Snow Moon, and Thunder Moon. The Blue Moon only comes once a year, being the 13th one in the lunar cycle. The fast, rippling, Pink Moon movement stands for sprays of April blossom. Wolf Moon is "darker", bringing to mind hunger and the darkness of January. The Snow Moon of February gives birth to beautifully ethereal music, like shimmering snow, and the Thunder Moon of July is of course loud, with rumbles and flashes emanating from all three instruments. Listen to a performance of the Blue Moon movement from Canadian composer/pianist Heather Schmidt's Lunar Reflections . . . it's this week's FROM THE PYTHEAS ARCHIVES.

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