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Each of the echi exploits certain timbral possibilities of the instruments. For example, eco 1 (for piano alone) is based entirely on the 5th partial harmonic, and eco 2 on violin harmonics in combination with 7th partial harmonics produced on the piano (by drawing a piece of hard rubber along the strings). A delicate aura of sympathetic vibrations emerges in echi 3 and 4, produced in the latter case by alto flute and clarinet playing into the piano strings. At the conclusion of the work the violinist achieves a mournful, fragile timbre by playing with the bow hair completely slack. The most important generative element of Eleven Echoes is the “bell motif” – a quintuplet figure based on the whole-tone interval – which is heard at the beginning of the work. This diatonic figure appears in a variety of rhythmic guises, and frequently in a highly chromatic context. Each of the eleven pieces has its own expressive character, at times overlaid by quasi-obbligato music of contrasting character, e.g, the “wind music” of the alto flute and clarinet in eco 2 or the “distant mandolin music” of the violin in eco 3. The larger expressive curve of the work is arch-like: a gradual growth of intensity to a climactic point (eco 8) followed by a gradual collapse. Although Eleven Echoes has certain programmatic implications for the composer, it is enough for the listener to infer the significance of the motto-quote from Federico García Lorca: “…y los arcos rotos donde sufre el tiempo” (“…and the broken arches where time suffers”). These words are softly intoned as a preface to each of the three cadenzas (echi 5-7) and the image “broken arches” is represented visually in the notation of the music which underlies the cadenzas. - George Crumb Notes written for the CRI recording of Eleven Echoes of Autumn, 1965 (recorded Performace by the Aeolian Chamber Players, CRI 233)
String Quartet No. 4 (1989), Mvmt. III, Lento - Alfred Schnittke (1934-1998) Alfred Schnittke was born to Russian-German parents, and received his musical education in Austria and Moscow. He has gained great musical acclaim, particularly in Russia, Europe, and the United States, and boasts a truly impressive output of work. This includes 60 film scores, 9 symphonies, 6 concerti grossi, 4 violin concertos, 2 cello concertos, a piano concerto, 4 string quartets, and many other chamber works, ballet scores, choral and vocal works. Schnittke has written in a wide range of genres and styles. He is often considered Shostakovich's successor because of similarities in the use of irony in composition, and a complicated relationship with the Soviet government. Both are buried in Moscow's Novodevich Necropolis. Schnittke's fourth and final string quartet is suspended between two opposing ideas. This suspended nature does not lend itself to any specific emotion, but instead creates a landscape. Alienation and contemplation are unfolded through subdued climaxes and struggles between parts. In the third movement, a dichotomy, or struggle, is played out between individuated and unified voices. The opening motive provides a fine demonstration: each voice pleads to the others in a staggered, foreboding texture. The movement develops into sections characterized either by a fragmented or unified treatment of the theme. The end meets in between these two opposing ideas, with the first violin and cello playing in unison over a rhythmically and texturally antagonistic accompaniment.
Little London Trio (1985), Mvmts. I , III - Peter Schickele (b. 1935) “My idea of relaxation after writing a big piece is to write a little piece, preferably one without a deadline.” These are the words of Peter Schickele, a.k.a. P.D.Q. Bach, in regards to his short, creative work, Little London Trio. He is one of this country's leading composers, theorists, musical humorists, and radio personalities (for years, heard on NPR's 'Schickele Mix'). The idea for writing a string trio with unconventional scoring came from Dvorak's Terezetto, also written for two violins and viola. Schickele saw a poster advertising Dvorak's piece while on a bus, on his way to the copyist to deliver the just completed manuscript of Ceremony, the big piece that came before this little one. The work's title only refers to where the composition took place, not any 'Englishness' in the music itself. The first movement is a sort of off-kilter waltz, with frequently changing meter and a steady rhythm. The third movement is very flamboyant, with rhythmically driving sixteenth notes from beginning to end. Little London Trio is a free-spirited piece, laced with some memorable and contagious musical ideas.
Workers Union (1975) - Louis Andriessen (b. 1939) Louis Andriessen, one of Europe’s preeminent living composers, was born in Utrecht in 1939 into a family of composers. He studied with his father, Hendrik Andriessen, and Kess van Barren at the Royal Conservatory at the Hague, and between 1962 and 1964 with Luciano Berio in Milan and Berlin. Since then he has emerged as a central figure in the international new music scene, developing a unique, pluralistic style that often blends ideas from European free jazz with the lingering influence of the Modernist avant-garde. Perhaps in hopes of avoiding the fate of so many contemporary composers who have been unjustly characterized in terms of “influences,” Andriessen tends to cite his own inspiration quite specifically: he claims late Ives to be the source of the fragmented harmonic structures of Anachronie I, while the art of Piet Mondrian is the acknowledged source of the sparse, coloristic, seemingly incomplete vision of De Stijl. Workers Union, along with the landmark work Die Staat, (both composed 1975-76), betrays Andriessen’s seminal artistic influence: his political activism. The piece presents a distinctly neo-Marxist vision: “any number of loud instruments” pound incessantly in fixed, repetitive yet unpredictable rhythmic structures within loosely defined pitch ranges. The work is starkly industrial and yet humanistic, as unpredictable tone colors emphasize the role of the individual in the actualization of the “immanent” idea of the piece. Above all, the piece, “like the political work,” is a struggle: the performers suffer the physical and psychological consequences of their uncompromising drive towards sonic unity, sweating through fifteen minutes of unrelenting sixteenth note patterns in constantly changing meters. At first, this piece can seem mind-numbingly antagonistic, but stick with it - before long, you might find yourself identifying with the performers’ struggle, or at least pleasantly zoning out. If your mind really does start to go numb, it might help to imagine the piece’s impromptu premiere, arranged in classic Andriessen fashion in late 1975: an ensemble of twelve performers blocked an Amsterdam city street, banging on various construction materials and landing the composer in jail for the night. Way to get outside the concert hall. Further Listening: Reading: | ||||||
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