Hauptwerk

Museum: De Pont, Tilburg, The Netherlands

2010-03-28T16:35:00.001+02:00

A few days ago I visited the museum De Pont in Tilburg, the Netherlands. I was expecting a small private museum with a correspondingly small collection, but I was surprised. Not only was De Pont not small at all, it housed a very broad and interesting collection, together with an exhibition on Sophie Calle.

(As a slight aside, Tilburg, together with Eindhoven, is accused of being an industrial new city with lack of a vibe and therefore not a nice place to live. To me this is a bit unfair: both have a nice modern art museum and alternative/cool places to go out at night. Eindhoven also has plenty of interesting events, like the Glow or the Strp festivals. But anyway.)

The highlight of the museum was Sophie Calle's Talking to Strangers. From the museum's description: Calle invited 107 women from a ballerina to a lawyer to use their professional skills to interpret an email in which her partner breaks up with her. Calle's work is generally meticulously detailed, thereby giving meaning and profound feeling to things that could otherwise be deemed common (such as this breakup letter). There were also some other works by Calle, which consist mostly of collections of letters and photographs documenting curious events planned by her.

The rest of the space in the museum was dedicated mostly to the permanent collection, which is an eclectic but well-balanced mix of styles and techniques from the last few years. Overall, high quality and good taste. I found Laib's Wachraum, Boltanski's Les Bougies and Paine's Crop very interesting.

Below are some of the pictures I have taken at the museum. Sometimes I first picture the description and then the work, sometimes I picture only the description because the work itself could not be pictured:

What is "classical"?

2010-03-17T22:01:00.001+01:00

I wrote the following post as guest writer for thatsound:

It is common to draw a thick line between the classical music and the rest. For starters, let us clarify what the rest is. In its broadest definition, I'll call the rest pop music, as short for popular music. This refers to music for the masses, so not only Britney Spears but also U2 and Beatles, for instance.

Now on to the thick line between classical and pop music. For starters, we are labeling: something that has previously been discussed in this blog and argued wrong. I guess I agree partially: labeling artists may be wrong in general, as one cannot predict what is to come, but labeling particular works/albums is not only a convenience but also a necessity: it is the only way to segment a huge market into smaller categories which can more easily be delved into. If you are looking for something new to listen to and go to your local music store, how much longer would it take you if there was absolutely no sorting other than alphabetical? Also, automated music recommendation services like those of last.fm and Pandora could not exist.

So a certain degree of labeling is not crippling, it's necessary. Of course, overzealous labeling can have bad effects, but labeling in general is an imprecise and best-effort technique. Even for a simple binary labeling (classical or pop) we'll be faced with controversies and ambiguities.

Let us start by defining classical: pop is then simply defined by being anything which is not classical. Even though classical music has existed for centuries, the name itself did not occur until the 19th century. In a sense, even this was an early stage for the definition to appear, as in the past most music was (what we now call) classical anyway. But let's not go into that. For now, let us define classical music as music that follows the techniques and forms codified through the centuries in the style of liturgical or secular Western music. This music can be singled out due to a number of characteristics. Different possibilities arise here, but for convenience I will stick to the points currently mentioned in the definition at Wikipedia:

Instrumentation: the instruments used for producing classical music have appeared at some point in the past and have evolved through the centuries, but have never changed dramatically: the organ is used in modern music much as it was used by Bach. Electronic music appeared in the early 20th century, with some composers using it extensively and others sparingly: in a sense, it became like another instrument, but it did not change the entire make-up of classical music.
Form: the form defines the structure of music, and may restrict or prescribe its instrumentation, length, setting to be played, etc. Classical music has many forms: some appeared in the Renaissance period and still live today (like the opera), others mostly disappeared (like the tiento). Some are generalist (concerto), others define clear outer-structure (sonata) or inner-structure (fugue, passacaglia). Pop music mostly follows the song form: a piece of music for (generally) accompanied (mostly) solo voice, (typically) following strophic or verse-chorus structure.
Technical execution: classical music composers and executioners alike have generally studied music for years and have some form of conservatory education. This is understandable given the century-spanning history of classical music and the necessity of grasping all of the past to produce music of the present.
Complexity: the necessity for thorough musical education is connected to the complexity of classical music. Along with technical proficiency in an instrument, performers are generally required to be able to read musical notation quickly, play in an ensemble, understand music theory, etc. Complexity in classical music arises from many sources, such as form (structure), number of players required, diversity in texture, rhythm or even tuning. Pop music mostly restricts itself to a simple tonal system.
Society: in what is perhaps the most controversial part of the definition, classical music is generally associated with the upper-class segment of society, or at least those with higher education, and certainly not with the masses, for whom pop music is designed.

The definition above is not bad, and gives us some clear examples of classical music: the early gregorian chant, Monteverdi's madrigals, Bach's Brandenburg Concertos, Mozart's piano sonatas, Chopin's etudes, Stockhausen's electronic music, or Adès's operas.

But what about Cage's Suite for Toy Piano? It's certainly not complex: it requires only nine white keys from E to F, so it can be played on a toy piano (you can hear it in the player above). And the Cantigas de Santa Maria, mostly meant for entertainment of the masses with very simple verse-chorus forms? Well, the Cantigas were written in the 13th century and are still more complex than many pop songs of nowadays, and Cage's toy piano works are part of an entire philosophy of musical experimentation. But what about the music of John Williams, extensively known to the public from the scores of films such as Indiana Jones, Star Wars, and Superman? Is his music pop just because it appeals to the masses? Or is his music classical just because it follows the well identified genre of Neoromanticism?

Things are even less clear when coming from the other side. Granted, Britney Spears makes pop and not classical music, but what about Aphex Twin's Jynweythek Ylow (you can hear it in the player above), which even spun a version for chamber orchestra? And Björk's extensive use of the music box, including works written solely for the instrument (like Frosti)? Is it not comparable to other compositions for the instrument from well-known classical composers? And Radiohead's live use of Ondes Martenot, an early electronic instrument used frequently by composer Olivier Messiaen? And the extreme complexity typically present in the music of Math Rock bands? Or the use of entire philharmonic orchestras in black metal?

The list goes on and on. Certainly these are all pop music artists, in general. But they belong to a group of pop musicians who are highly influenced by classical music, knowing it well and having studied it extensively. Stockhausen was once given some Aphex Twin to listen to, together with some other pop works. He had this to say:

I wish those musicians would not allow themselves any repetitions, and would go faster in developing their ideas or their findings, because I don't appreciate at all this permanent repetitive language. It is like someone who is stuttering all the time, and can't get words out of his mouth.

And this is what Aphex Twin said back:

I thought he should listen to a couple of tracks of mine: "Didgeridoo", then he'd stop making abstract, random patterns you can't dance to. Do you reckon he can dance? You could dance to Song of the Youth, but it hasn't got a groove in it, there's no bassline. I know it was probably made in the 50s, but I've got plenty of wicked percussion records made in the 50s that are awesome to dance to. And they've got basslines. I could remix it: I don't know about making it better;

Enough said, right? Pop and classical music serve two different purposes, and Stockhausen and Aphex Twin are talking to each other in different languages.

Restaurant: De Heer Kocken

2010-03-11T21:40:00.002+01:00

Last February I visited De Heer Kocken, a restaurant in Vught, close to Den Bosch, in the Netherlands. This was my first visit to a Michelin-starred restaurant (one star), and hopefully the first of many :-)

The location is not ideal as there is no parking space adjacent to the restaurant, but it wasn't hard to find a spot. Once inside, there was no immediate reception, and we assumed we should put our jackets in the cloth rack ourselves. After entering the dining room proper, we were greeted and shown to our seats. The table was large (rectangular) and comfortable, and so was the distribution of tables in the restaurant. In general the place seemed small, cosy and comfortable. Soft jazz was played in the background, which I found somewhat annoying, but not terribly so.

At the table were already some delicious olives, grissini, and a nice mix of roasted nuts. This was later complemented by a few different types of bread (which were unfortunately not described). We went for a five course menu, and got the following:

A mix of Japanese-inspired raw tuna delicacies. This was supreme: the seaweed/rice combination, the tuna tartar, the avocado cream, all was really good. The presentation of the dish was also particularly appealing (a wide rectangular plate), and for some reason I think it matched the food.
Chicory soup with coquille St. Jacques. Not much to say other than very good: very tasty and the coquille worked perfectly.
Hake with dashi foam.Continuing with Japanese inspiration, the fish was served with dashi foam, for a hint of umami flavor. The fish itself was one of the finest fish preparations I've ever had.
Deer with potato and brussel sprout puree. This main course confirmed the excellence of this place. Strangely enough, we were asked at the beginning if we wanted French fries with the main course. We assumed that if they asked then it made sense to have French fries with the main, but it didn't, as it already had enough potatoes... this is certainly an oddity for a place like this.
Panna cotta of carrot, sorbet of blood orange, tangerine foam and jelly and a Moroccan spice crumble. The least special of the dishes, but still fresh and palatable.

Each dish was accompanied by a different wine, as per suggestion of the house. I had to drive back so I can comment much on the wine, but their selection seemed reasonable and also reasonable priced.

The staff was professional, friendly, and informative, but, then again, not more than what is expected.

In short, De Heer Kocken is a place to return to. Also surprising is the price of their menus: a 5 course menu for €50, very reasonable for an establishment of this quality.

Not only music is art

2010-03-08T14:06:00.005+01:00

This Hauptwerk needs a change in direction. Not that I'm unhappy with its content—I'm just unhappy with how often I manage to update it. At the same time, however, I often find myself wanting to write about other things and having no platform where to express such musings.

Often I've wanted to write about particular museums, or particular paintings, or artists. With Yves Klein I managed by using his symphony, but in general this trick can be hard to pull. So from now on I will also be writing about visual arts in general, and describe recent visits to museums, probably with accompanying pictures. I will try to keep an informative prose, rather than critical.

One other type of art which I want to cover is culinary art. (Due to my inherent lack of knowledge in this field, I might unfortunately be more critical than informative on this.) What motivates me to write about culinary is that recently I have been frequenting well-respected establishments for fine dining, and realized that I want to keep a log on what I eat, where, and how. And why not share that log with the rest of the world?

In any case, I can certainly imagine that not all of these themes are of the interest to all of my readers, namely since the current readers are here probably just because of modern classical music. So, from now on, each post will be properly tagged/labelled so you can view only what interests you: music, concerts, visual arts, culinary, etc. There is a list of labels on the right side.

Yves Klein - The Monotone-Silence Symphony

2009-06-16T21:45:00.007+02:00

Writing about Yves Klein's Monotone Symphony is, of course, just an excuse to mention his amazing artwork. Yves Klein, born in 28 April 1928 in France, was a revolutionary, short-lived artist more known for his monochromes. He developed and patented his own color, International Klein Blue (IKB, and don't miss the hommage webpage), and painted several canvases in this color:

IKB 191, 1962. Picture from Wikipedia.

But indeed Klein also composed a symphony. I found only an excerpt of the 40-minute work. But don't hold your breath... it's 20 minutes with the suspended chord and 20 minutes silence. Surprinsingly, this was 1949, three years before Cage's silent 4'33''. During the premiere, three naked models were also conducted by Klein to cover themselves in IKB paint and then roll over a canvas:

But Klein was much more: the empty exhibition, the leap into the void, the fire paintings, the gold thrown into the river, ...

Even though Klein's monochromes may sound ludicrous at first, the impressiveness of such work is only fully appreciated when seen live. The closest one (to the Netherlands) I know of is at the Museum Ludwig in Cologne, in permanent exhibition, together with a gold-leaf work and another blue monochrome with sponges. The Tate Modern also has one but I have never seen it hanging.

Concert: Thomas Adès - The Tempest

2009-05-19T20:12:00.002+02:00

Last Saturday I attended Thomas Adès's The Tempest at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. The performance was in charge of:
Radio Philharmonic Orchestra
Large Radio Choir
Markus Stenz, conductor
Patricia Risley, soprano
Simon Keenlyside, baritone
Cyndia Sieden, soprano
William Ferguson, tenor
Greg Warren, tenor
Simon Kirkbride, baritone
David Hansen, countertenor
Philip Sheffield, tenor
Mark Stone, baritone
Quentin Hayes, baritone
Stuart Kale, tenor

Unfortunately the good tickets sold out fast, and even buying one month in advance I could only get choir seats. These are far from ideal, because the percussion tends to sound too present, and the soloists too distant. The orchestra as a whole also sounds wrong, because the violins are too far, but the Concertgebouw's main room still has decent acoustics even in choir seats. Besides, I wouldn't want to miss this performance, as I have enjoyed most of what I've heard from Adès so far.

The Tempest was not an exception. In fact, it was one of the most interesting things I've heard lately. The performance was convincing, even from my seating position, and the audience seemed to enjoy it too (at least I saw no one running away during the performance, like with Messiaen's Turangalîla some time ago). Adès wrote the opera with a libretto by Meredith Oakes based on the original Shakespeare play of the same name. Be sure to read the synopsis on Wikipedia.

I managed to find some live recording of this work from its 2004 performance at the Covent Garden. The quality is not superb, but it should do for a hint of what I'm talking about. EMI is due to release a recording soon. First, an excerpt from the opening:

And then an excerpt from an amazing solo of Ariel, performed by Cyndia Sieden. While not flawless, her performance was mesmerizing. The fiendishly hard role of Ariel in this opera calls for a high soprano with superb vocal technique. But perhaps the most impressive part of this role is this delicate solo in pianissimo:

This got me stuck to my chair, wishing it would never end.

Concert: Boulez and Carter

2009-04-03T17:00:00.000+02:00

Last Saturday I attended a concert by the Ensemble Intercontemporain at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam:

Pierre Boulez - Incises
Elliott Carter - Clarinet Concerto
Pierre Boulez - Sur Incises

Hideki Nagano, piano
Jérôme Comte, clarinet
Ensemble Intercontemporain
Pierre Boulez, dirigent

Pierre Boulez remains an incredibly talented conductor, even at the age of 84.

Unfortunately I won't be going to any of the World Minimal Music Festival concerts in Amsterdam, but I definitely recommend them to anyone who likes minimalist music.
[In some sensed I traded Steve Reich by Aphex Twin, who will be in Eindhoven next Saturday at the Strp festival. It's not so strange, though, given that Aphex Twin has produced such amazing "prepared Yamaha Disklavier" works as Jynweythek Ylow.]

Concert: Adès, Crumb, Schönberg, Stravinsky

2009-02-24T16:04:00.002+01:00

Yesterday I attended an evening concert at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. The program, performed by Ensemble Ulysses, was as follows:

Stravinsky - L'histoire du soldat, petite suite

Adès - Court Studies from The Tempest

Schönberg - Kammersymphonie nr. 1, op. 9

Adès - Catch, op. 4

Crumb - Vox balaenae

It was a nice evening. The small room of the Concertgebouw was pleasantly busy and the ensemble interpreted the works in a passionate and expressive way. The succession of works also worked pretty well, starting with the uplifting Histoire du soldat all the way to the deeply moving Vox balaenae by Crumb. I think the concert was supposed to focus on Adès, but Adès's two small works certainly didn't leave as much of an impression in the audience as Crumb's Vox balaenae did. I'll return to Crumb in my next post, but for now I'll leave you with a video of his Vox balanae, for 3 masked players on amplified instruments:

Olivier Messiaen – La Nativité du Seigneur

2008-12-24T21:11:00.001+01:00

As promised before, I’m bringing you a work by Messiaen appropriate to this time of the year. La Nativité du Seigneur, written in the year of 1935, is the first of Messiaen’s cycle-works for the organ, and one of the most well-known. Albeit an early work, it already possesses Messiaen’s distinctive style, both rhythmically and melodically. Non-retrogradable rhythms, his modes of limited transposition, bird songs, his personal Catholic faith, all is there. It consists of 9 pieces, each describing some moment, or vision, related to the birth of Jesus Christ. The cycle is of moderate playing difficulty (it’s certainly easier than his later cycles) and exhibits a profound knowledge of the organ and its possibilities. Indeed, Messiaen was, already at this time, organist at the Église de la Ste.-Trinité, position which he held to the end of his life.

The cycle opens with La Vierge et L’Enfant, a vision of the Virgin and the Child. This piece is structurally in ABA’ form, opening with a slow, meditative A section where a melody plays against a similarly registered accompaniment. The B section (at 2'50'') is more lively, faster and louder. Three separate textures are heard: a melody in a high register, a homorhythmic chordal accompaniment and another melody (a repetitive pattern) in the pedal. The registration is particularly compelling in this section, evoking some sort of angelic chant from the heights.
Then it proceeds to the A’ section (at 4'27''), which is a lighter and softer variant of the initial A section. As if the Child has gone back to sleep.

Les Bergers, the second piece in the cycle, describes the journey of the sheepherders to the Nativity. Its structure can be seen as ABCcC’c’. The initial section has two chordal melodies superimposed, in non-retrogradable rhythms. It’s a slow section, perhaps illustrating the sheepherders’ long walking journey. The B section (2'48'') is a short bird song.
Then the C section starts (3'26''). Initially, a melody is presented in the clarinet. Then (c: 4'27''), the same melody is repeated in the softer oboe. Then (5'28''), a variation of the melody in C returns to the clarinet, which I call C’. This variation is then (c’: 6'29'') repeated in the oboe. The variation is a rather mesmerizing melody.
Make sure to watch Marie Claire-Alain playing it on this video too:

Desseins Eternels follows. This piece has a single section, and it’s perhaps the slowest in the cycle, noted as Extrêmement lent et tendre. It’s therefore meant to be played extremely slow and contemplatively, highlighting this ethereal moment. I cannot get tired of this piece, of how calming the melody is, how it so graciously builds up to the highest note (2'15''), how it drops off to nothing at the end.

Le Verbe is very much unlike its predecessor. We are immediately awakened from the ethereal dream and presented with the full power and might of the Word, initially with a mixtures + reeds introduction in the keyboard, which soon halts in a 7 note diatonic cluster while a tutti pedal plays the theme. Two distinct sections follow: first a reed chordal dialog, and then an intricate rhythmic dialog of 10-to-9 semiquavers. After a final presentation of the initial theme, the final section begins (4'02''), in a completely different setting. A melody in the nazard, softly accompanied by flutes. This section lasts for very long, noted as Extrêmement lent et solennel, consisting of a number of variations on the same theme.

The fifth piece in the cycle is Les Enfants de Dieu. The initial section, restless and vibrant, builds up rhythmically and sonically to a climax at 0'40''. The final section (1'15'') is much calmer.

Les Anges follows. This was the first piece of Messiaen I ever played. It is composed of two independent melodies (no pedal), which proceed with distinct rhythms at (almost always) the same intensity in the first section. In the second, final section (2'21'') the melodies become homorhythmic, and also slightly louder and more hectic. It feels indeed as if the angels were dancing in the skies, exulting to the birth of the Child.

Jésus accepte la Souffrance is the only piece in this cycle in a darker style, appropriately representing how Jesus accepted the suffering destined to him by being born as a human. It ends, however, in a distinctively powerful and bright C# major chord.

Les Mages, the penultimate piece, describes another journey, this time that of the magi. The main melody (the star which the magi followed) is presented in the pedal with a nazard, accompanied by mostly descending chords in the main manual and a softer, calmer chordal accompaniment in the lower manual. The journey is long and meditative, and so is this piece. At the end, the magi reach the scene, and the three textures unite into a single one, in a final chord in F# major.

Dieu parmi nous is the final piece, and possibly the only one that can be presented separately from the others. It’s full of detail and a complete analysis is definitely outside the scope of this post, so I’ll just sketch the most important parts. Initially 3 different themes are presented in three different sections. The first one opens the piece, the second one, a much softer chordal theme, at 0'48'', and the third at 1'50''. These themes show up later in different parts of the piece. I particularly enjoy the complex section at 3'15'', where I find the pedal registration (with cymbal) amazingly compelling. The final section (5'41''), generally called a toccata, is of grand exultation to God amongst us. In my opinion, it serves as a great introduction to later works where this exultation is done in ever grander forms, such as the Sortie (Le vent de l'Esprit) from the Messe de la Pentecôte.

The recording on this post is Olivier Latry's. You can also hear an overview of many recordings of this work on an earlier BBC Radio 3 CD Review program. I'm sorry for not having had the time to post here also excerpts from the score.

Olivier Messiaen, 100 years

2008-12-10T13:00:00.002+01:00

On this day, 100 years ago, Olivier Messiaen was born. Make sure to read today's Wikipedia featured article about the composer. You can also listen to a great Messiaen organ piece in Alex Ross's post about the same matter.

I also intend to post later this month something about his La Nativité du Seigneur, given the Nativity period we're in.

Olivier Messiaen: Les Yeux dans les Roues

2008-10-10T17:30:00.000+02:00

Et les jantes des quatre roues étaient remplies d'yeux tout autour. Car l'Espirit de l'être vivant était dans les roues.

Olivier Messiaen's work, particularly for the organ, is mostly of Catholic inspiration. The sentence above is from the book of Ezekiel, and inspired the work I'll talk about. It's "Les Yeux dans les Roues" (The Eyes on the Wheels), sixth piece from the "Livre d'Orgue". The Livre does not properly contain Messiaen's most idiomatic composing style for the orgue, since he writes mostly in a serial style, quite unlike his modes of limited transposition.

But back to the Eyes. Below is an artist's impression of Ezekiel's vision:

Fortunately, to appreciate the beauty of the work you don't have to care about Ezekiel's vision, or even be religious, but I thought I should contextualize.

The piece consists of a melody/theme in the pedal, accompanied by two fast-paced homorhythmic lines in the manuals. The pedal presents a sons-durées theme which is repeated six times, in different permutations. Initially it is presented in its natural form. Afterwards, it is presented alternatively picking notes from each end of the original form. Similar transformations are applied each time until the sixth, which is the retrograde of the first. The entire twelve-tone analysis (pitch only, not rhythm) of the pedal is shown below:

The two lines in the manuals are seemingly arranged in a serial fashion as well, albeit not as straightforwardly as the pedal. This fact, together with the Vif tempo annotation in the score, make this short work very hard to perform. That is visible in the score excerpt:

As with all of Messiaen's organ works, there are several recordings available. I tend to prefer Olivier Latry's, whose fast pace blends the manuals into an ethereal ghostly voice:

However, Willem Tanke's interpretation of undoubted quality comes in video as well. A great way of appreciating his art of doing nothing technique, achieving "an extraordinarily powerful musical expression with very small movements of the hands and feet":

Buma Toonzetters Award 2008 to Richard Rijnvos

2008-07-10T23:03:00.003+02:00

I was delighted to hear that Richard Rijnvos was awarded the Buma Toonzetters Award for his superb NY Concerto. Quoting from the prize website:

Toonzetters is a new event organized by Buma Cultuur, Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ and Music Center the Netherlands. During the day, works by composers who have been selected by a professional jury will be presented to the public. In the evening the composer of the best work and the performer(s) who premiered this work will be honoured at a private gala. In an exhaustive selection process with 97 entries, the jury of Toonzetters chose the ten most distinctive compositions of 2007. The selected composers are André Arends, Willem Jeths, Hanna Kulenty, Yannis Kyriakides, Roderik de Man, Carlos Micháns, Piet-Jan van Rossum, Richard Rijnvos and Klas Torstensson.

His work, together with other nominated works, will be performed on the 31st of August in the Muziekgebouw aan 't IJ.

Concert: Olivier Messiaen - Turangalîla-Symphonie

2008-06-20T09:51:00.003+02:00

Location: Het Concertgebouw, Amsterdam
Time and date: 20h15, 19/06/2008
Orchestra: Koninklijk Concertgebouworkest
Conductor: Mariss Jansons
Pianist: Jean-Yves Thibaudet
Program: Olivier Messiaen - Turangalîla-symphonie
Link

A very convincing performance of this amazing symphonie by the Koninklijk Concertgebouworkest. The concert hall was strangely decorated with three monochrome square panels (red, yellow and blue), and the lighting was slightly changed during the concert, alternating between these three colors and bright white. I do now know if there was any specific connection between the colors and the movements being played, though I highly doubt it—Messiaen’s color descriptions are generally complex and even tridimensional. Additionally, a few rectangular mirrors were also hanging from the ceiling, above the audience. These oscillated lightly during the performance, causing somewhat disturbing light projections on the walls of the hall. However, the quality and brilliance of the Turangalîla is at such high level that it can hardly be influenced by any of this.
The performance was good, generally light and bright. Jean-Yves Thibaudet seemed to hurry slightly ahead of the orchestra at times, and there were some minor synchronization problems in the opening movement. The last movement was played considerably fast, with perhaps a slight loss of clarity. But overall, Mariss Jansons presented us with a very pleasant and exciting performance.

For some reason, the name of the ondes Martenot player is not referred in the website of the Concertgebouw, which I find slightly annoying, since now I cannot give her the deserved credit for the performance.

This work, part of the Holland Festival, will be repeated tomorrow and Saturday, also at the Concertgebouw. Another chance to watch it is at Barbican London next week. In case you are not familiar with it yet, buy it and/or read its description in Wikipedia. Both links contain sound samples.

The Messiaen centenary is definitely a good thing (Messiaen was born in 1908). Not only the Turangalîla was performed several times (I had already attended a previous performance), but also several other works, including La Transfiguration de Notre Seigneur Jésus-Christ and the staging of his Saint François d’Assise opera!

This post is the first of what I hope will be a series regarding modern classical music concerts I attended.

Pierre Boulez - Douze Notations pour Piano

2008-05-26T21:47:00.008+02:00

Pierre Boulez's Notations are nowadays more commented in its orchestral form rather than in the original piano version. However, I still enjoy the original version very much. Boulez was only 20 years-old when he composed them, and they're probably his first published composition. There is much more in the work of Boulez than its first composition, of course. But for now I'll focus on his first period, that of atonal post-Webernian style. Even though the musical language is not of particular innovation for the era, I nonetheless think it is a very amusing work to listen to -- perhaps a good introduction to his magnificent second piano sonata. Light, but, at the same time, already expressing Boulez's wonderful sensitivity for music.

After a very suave beginning, the second notation unleashes power and vigor. "Très vif", as it is notated, is shown below (entire score available here):

As performed by Pierre-Laurent Aimard (available here):

Aimard plays it under twenty seconds, but that doesn't mean it is simple. The twelve tone cluster, in particular, is hard to play accurately at such velocity, and Aimard's interpretation is the best I know. I only fail to distinguish the A flat on the left hand at the 6th bar (when it coincides with the right hand), but the overall brilliance and clarity of the recording are great, as is his technique.

The notations are fairly heterogeneous is form. In the tenth, "Mécanique et très sec", Boulez explicitly states that it should be played "absolument sans nuances". I love the mechanical sound of it:

The rhythm is generally simple (something that would change in his later works), but this does not diminish its the musical quality. On the extreme we have the sixth notation, composed only of sixteenth notes. Here Boulez allows two different intensity schemes:

Aimard chooses the first, from pp to ff and back to ff:

This is probably the hardest notation to play, for even though the rhythm is trivial, the complexity of the melodies certainly compensates for it.

However, the Notations for piano are Boulez's first work, and the grandeur of this composer (who, by the way, is an accomplished conductor as well) can only be fully enjoyed in his later works. Fortunately (for me at least, since I enjoy the Notations so much), Boulez decided to arrange his Notations to orchestral form. Unfortunately, he is taking far longer than expected to complete the entire transcription, but some parts are available already. One of them is the second notation shown above, which was greatly expanded to take advantage of a full orchestra (notations one through four also available here by the Wiener Philharmoniker):

The orchestral pieces show a fully matured musical language and wonderful orchestration abilities. Unfortunately I do not have its score, but I definitely recommend listening to all of them. Or even better: attend a performance of Boulez conducting them! I was lucky enough to attend his concert in the Concertgebouw (Amsterdam) a few months ago, where he conducted the orchestrations of the first four notations. Unforgettable!

John Cage - Sonata I (from Sonatas and Interludes)

2008-02-03T21:22:00.015+01:00

It took me a great deal of time to decide what work I should open this blog with. Not because I could not come up with an idea, but instead because I had many candidates. Eventually I settled with John Cage's first Sonata from his Sonatas and Interludes (for prepared piano). A very big help to this post is the fact that there is a featured article on Wikipedia on the entire work, explaining with detail the background, structure and analysis of the work.

But let me start from the beginning. John Cage was a very special 20th century music composer, with a very peculiar mindset and artistic vision. He was the first composer to fully explore the potential of the "prepared piano": that is a piano which has been altered by inserting foreign objects into the strings (or hammers or dampers). This will alter the timbre of the piano depending on what materials are used and how they are placed.

Cage's "Sonatas and Interludes" (score available at Edition Peters) are one of his hallmarks for prepared piano. I'll focus on the first of the Sonatas because I find it particularly inspiring, and because I had to chose one. Cage opens the work by listing the preparation table of the piano (click on the pictures below to enlarge them):

Cage presents how to prepare 45 notes of the piano, and even though he specifies the kind of material and the location where it should be placed, he still leaves a lot of freedom to the interpreter: if you enjoy playing the Sonatas and Interludes then do it so that it seems right to you. This makes every interpretation of the work a very distinct sounding one, so it's always interesting to listen to a new recording — sometimes it sounds like something you've never heard before.

Onto the first Sonata itself. The score is shown below:

And here, the interpretation of Boris Berman (entire work available here):

I especially enjoy the very first chord, which open the Sonata and the Sonatas and Interludes: it has an extremely rich timbre, mixing both the warm sound of felt-struck metal string and the more metallic timbre that results from the preparation. In this recording in particular, the sound is quite dry, fading off quickly in intensity but retaining a ghostly-harmonic sound. The work transports the listener to another musical perspective, enhancing the sound of individual through the power of silence. It is, in its whole, an enlightening experience, that should invoke philosophical aesthetic and artistic questions to those whose hears have not been previously exposed to a prepared piano. The others can delight on timbre nuances or argue about technical aspects.

Another recording that I know is Herbert Henck's, which has the advantage of conveying his fairly amazing Festeburger Fantasien too (which I hope to bring here to Hauptwerk one day or another). However, John Cage's supervised recording of Maro Ajemian is a standard, and on the Wikipedia article I mentioned before you can find a long list.

I'll end by embedding the best perspective ever for a video record of a performance of another sonata (the fifth) from this cycle: