Pendulum New Music

Questions for Raechel Sherwood: Before the Show (Nathan Hall)

2012-01-25T07:34:00.002-07:00

Some Questions for Raechel Sherwood: Before the Show (Nathan Hall)

CU undergraduate composer Raechel Sherwood premieres her work BOSS tomorrow night, written for string quartet and performed by the College of Music’s Tesla Quartet. I asked Raechel to share some insight into her piece, and what she was thinking in the moments leading up to its performance. I also told her I would be back again after the concert to check in, seeing if any of her thoughts or feelings about the piece changed.

Sherwood is very active in the theatre scene, and primarily works in theatrical and musical genres. For the last Pendulum concert, Raechel wrote and performed a short solo monologue with the working title ‘Boxes’, focusing on the minutiae of every day life and our struggles to comprehend and conveniently organize our existence. Similarly theatrical in origin, BOSS began its life as an on-stage accompaniment to a one-act play, a sectional piece used for incidental music. The work, she tells me, “was inspired by the message of the play which brought attention to the mundane-ness of life and the endless cycle that our lives seem to fall into, regardless of how often we make plans to break from it.” This year Sherwood reworked the piece into a through-composed quartet that “still attempts to takes the audience on the journey to find meaning behind what they do every day.”

Some of Pendulum’s most exciting concerts feature performances by the Tesla Quartet. Formed of graduate string players, the group is one of the premiere ensembles in the College of Music and has been making national and international waves. Sherwood tells me that working and rehearsing her piece with ‘the Teslas’ has been a pleasure, as the quartet has “brought a musicality to this piece and lifted the notes off the page even in our first rehearsal together.”

While Sherwood was up to the tasks of re-composing a work for an intimidatingly talented ensemble, a new audience, and a new context, she still found it a challenge to think of the piece as fresh. Will the work have the same effect for its listeners without the integration of the spoken word of the play from which it came? (Raechel welcomes any feedback from the audience and her fellow colleagues if you decide to let her know.) The piece will be an experiment that Sherwood hopes will enlighten future collaborations in theatre, refining her own personal style along the way.

January 25th Performance

2011-12-13T13:28:00.002-07:00

November 30th Concert

2011-11-28T12:19:00.001-07:00

Anthony Green and 'Weightless'

2011-11-25T12:31:00.002-07:00

Another Pendulum Concert approaches on November 30th, and I sat down with Anthony Green to chat about his upcoming premiere Weightless, written for alto saxophone and piano. Written in the summer of 2010, it will be played on sax by Benjamin Sorrell from Los Angeles, CA.

Weightless is part of an ongoing series of Green’s works that contain multiple compositional or philosophical ideas of some of Green’s favorite composers, such as Stockhausen, Scelsi, and Cage. This piece in particular showcases ideas and influences from Lee Hyla, who is the featured composer of this Pendulum concert and a former composition professor of Green’s at New England Conservatory. Green says that Hyla’s influence can be found in many places in Weightless, including a careful attention to pitch (for example, Green avoids or skirts around the pitch F-sharp throughout the piece and then ends the piece on that particular note); rhythmic fluidity, and use of minor thirds. All of these ideas appear in much of Hyla’s music.

With a piece called Weightless, I wondered if the audience would be able to hear a certain ‘floating’ quality in the music, or if this would be built more into the composition structure. Green says that he’s working with both sonic and structural “weightlessness”. The piece is built around quasi-serialist processes, not so much in deciding which pitches will appear in certain orders, but in avoiding certain tones and using “incorrect” resolutions of harmonies. There are also musical gestures that always move upwards and never come back down, giving piece a sense that it never quite arrives back where it started. The audience should be able to hear that the piece is highly organized and structured, even if the compositional technique is not audible. In a sense, the listener is aware that the composer is “up to something”.

When Anthony is not composing, his other interests tend toward the detail-oriented. Green loves learning the structure and syntax of languages, and is currently learning Dutch in preparation for moving abroad after his time at CU. Green is also studying the Japanese instrument the koto; he says the sound and meditative resonance of that non-Western instrument may also be creeping into his compositions. I'll wait and see if these sounds and syntaxes continue to make their way into Green’s future work, which include an upcoming opera. Until then, please come to hear Green’s work and all the pieces on next week’s Pendulum concert, November 30th at 7:30pm!

A Short Chat with Steve Sachse (Nathan Hall)

2011-10-24T19:05:00.004-06:00

Steve Sachse is about to premiere his piano quintet ‘Joy, Gifts, Sleeplessness’ at this week’s Pendulum concert, performed in part by one of CU’s most ambitious ensembles, the Tesla string quartet. I sat down with him to ask how his preparation for the concert has been going. Without even needing a prompt, he finishes with a great plug for Pendulum, an excellent reason to come show your support at this month’s concert!

Nathan: Where were you when you wrote this piece, physically and mentally?
S: After completing my undergraduate degree I stayed in my local area where I was very fortunate to be able to make a living through gigging and teaching guitar. But eventually the desire to return to composition studies really became something bigger that I had to address. The decision to leave the privileged situation I felt that I had found myself in and move to another state was a very difficult one to make. I had discovered a number of pieces during that time that really floored me, and the inspiration they stirred up was an overwhelming factor in the decision I wrestled with for some time. Each of the words in the title of my piece refers to things I was reflecting on concerning where my path in music had led me to that point, and the difficulty I had in making the decision to leave my home state and surroundings behind.

N: Did you have any musical role models in mind while writing? What was on your playlist?
S: I was certainly inspired by a number of quintet pieces during that period. In particular, I had also discovered a number of foreign composers who I really felt were able to display their cultural identities through their art in very organic and interesting ways. Composers such as John Psathas, Gareth Farr, and Jack Body were frequently part of my daily studies and musical experience, along with Chen Yi, Zhou Long, Karen Tanaka, and a few others.

N: How do you go about rehearsing your piece?
S: So far I’ve had two rehearsals for the piece, and the group’s progress has been steady. I would say that the piano part is by far the most technically demanding. Usually during the first rehearsals for any piece, I try to avoid nitpicking things and focus on whether the broader gestures are taking shape, as well as addressing any questions or potential issues the performers may have concerning the notation. After a couple of rehearsals, and as the players become more familiar with the music, I can talk more directly about expression and intention. It has been a fantastic opportunity to work with a group such as the Tesla quartet, and to be involved in the incredibly dynamic and supportive composition program here at CU.

October 26th Performance

2011-10-20T23:17:00.001-06:00

Please join us on October 26th, for a great new Pendulum concert -- with music by Buckner, Ingraham, Muhly, Mazzoli, and Sachse.

Remembering Wes Blomster

2011-10-16T23:03:00.000-06:00

To an honored colleague, friend, and fellow supporter of the arts: you will be missed.

Dr. Wesley Verne Blomster died October 1, 2011 of prostate cancer. Wes had a distinguished career as a German professor at the University of Colorado and as a local and international music critic. As a child of the Great Depression, Wes lived the American Dream and left a legacy of students and a love and passion for music, literature, and the arts that has no equal. Wes is survived by his brother Dwayn Blomster, his son Thomas and daughter in law Nikki Tsuchiya, and Wesley's divorced wife Adelheid Blomster. Wes requested that memorial contributions be made to his son Thomas' orchestra:

Colorado Chamber Orchestra

1820 Race Street

Denver, CO 80206-1116

The Form is the Flow (Nathan Hall)

2011-10-13T22:33:00.003-06:00

September’s Pendulum concert was a spectacular introduction to new music here at CU Boulder. The program was short and sweet, and included about half acoustic music, and half pieces of live solo performances with electronic music. While the Schwantner was beautifully orchestrated and gave me much to think about, and Dan Brandt’s short piece ‘Sleep’ for solo piano had beautiful and narrative moments worth remembering, it was actually the three electronic pieces that got me thinking the most. In particular, it got me thinking, how do I talk about forms in electronic music, how it evolves over time, if there is no ‘traditional’ form in place?

Jess Garrett, Hunter Ewen, and Cole Ingraham all had works on the concert that combined a live, solo performer with electronics. Each composer approached this instrumentation differently. Jess’s sound world was awash in electronic tones, like a sonic landscape of contours on top of which a slow melody flowed. Hunter Ewen's piece was like a Zen koan: short text, minimally executed, but with maximum potential. The violist spoke the text while simultaneously playing, and a delay in the microphone attached to the viola created a distant echo effect. The final score to the piece looked like waves in a pond, with beautiful circular notation like a George Crumb work. Cole Ingraham’s final piece challenged the audience the most, but the saxophonist Michael Straub played amazingly. The entire piece felt like a crescendo of sounds not usually heard on the saxophone, employing many alternate fingerings and high altissimo range. Cole meanwhile furiously tapped out changes to the electronic component of the piece on his iPad on stage, raising and lowering the levels of pitch areas that flowed from one section to the next.

None of these pieces really followed a ‘traditional’ form that was apparent upon my first listen. But why worry about old-world forms when you’re working with new-world technology? And I’m not trying to advocate a lack of effort or thought behind the composing process either; it takes a ton of work to write and create solid electronic pieces, perhaps even more time than it does to write a nice oboe line. My point (I think) is that many new-music composers, myself included, find it interesting to explore new ways of making music progress through time. Composer and music writer Robert Morris writes in his book of essays The Whistling Blackbird that in our contemporary world, one way to understand a lot of new and challenging music may be to take in the flow of music without having to place so much value on things like form. Or rather, the Form of the music is the Flow of the music. The sounds themselves become the focus, rather than the structures they are laid upon. This could certainly be a good explanation for how musique concrete is produced, cutting and slicing sounds and piecing them together in interesting ways. Electronic music, and a lot of new music as well, may be more about what’s happening in the ‘now’, progressing from one idea (one ‘now’) to the next, unfolding like a scroll. Was that sound interesting? It changed to this other sound now. Now this. Was that change interesting? We can likely remember back to previous moments, and perhaps imagine future trajectories, but perhaps keeping the overall form in our brains is less essential. It can also be good practice for the ears, just taking in what one hears and trying not to place value upon it so quickly. John Cage (one of Morris’s role models) would likely approve of this Zen-like ‘non-judgment’. By listening to more and more electronic music works, I find myself eager and willing to experience the new and unknown.

Lattice (Cole D. Ingraham)

2011-10-07T18:27:00.005-06:00

Michael Straus, saxophone
Cole Ingraham, elctronics

Circles on Quiet Water (Hunter Ewen)

2011-10-07T18:27:00.002-06:00

Cassandra Mueller, viola & electronics

Void (Jess Garrett)

2011-10-07T18:26:00.002-06:00

Danielle Heath, violin
Jess Garrett, electronics

Sleep (Dan Brandt)

2011-10-07T18:25:00.002-06:00

Yuja Wang - an incredible musician

2011-10-06T12:45:00.000-06:00

I want to write a review of the magnificent concert I saw on Tuesday, 4 October 2011, of Yuja Wang. While I never doubted her abilities as a musician as opposed to just a flashy technician, last night DEFINITELY extinguished any inklings of the sort. She opened with a both transcendental and orchestrally interpreted Beethoven Sonata that's not often performed - op. 27 no. 1, quasi una fantasia. Her pacing, her intimacy, and her command made this performance for me equally a composition lesson and a piano lesson.

Following the Beethoven was an impassioned performance of 3 Etudes-Tableux of Rachmaninoff, and an Elegie (op. 3 no. 1) that is full of anxiety and consternation, as well as a lot of notes! With my feeling of knocking on heaven's door during the Beethoven, I was immediately thrust into a breathlessness of which I've never experienced before in a piano recital - a state of awe combined with a deep appreciation for what Rachmaninoff accomplished in terms of pianism and composition.

She traveled from Bonn to Russia to Spain for her next set. Opening with Albeniz's Triana from Iberia, her control over this disastrously difficult piece was mind-bending. After hearing this piece performed live a couple of times, it was Yuja's performance that made me finally understand this work in its complex and immense melodic and accompanimental layerings - both elements which require seamless maneuvering and switching responsibilities between the hands, bringing out notes within difficult contexts, chords and jumps that are extreme, and a dynamic control for clarity. She moved on to a piece of which I am not fond but was delightfully executed - Evening in Grenada by Debussy (from Estampes), and concluded the first half with a riveting, yet deliciously enticing performance of Ravel's Alborada del Gracioso from Mirroirs. What clean repeated notes, and what a sense of Spanish "joie de vivre!" I was immediately thrust back into Madrid, in the middle of a crowd waiting to see a futbal match at the Real Madrid, eating my torreja de leche!

After the intermission, during which I purchased her Grammaphone debut CD for her to sign after the concert, she concluded the evening with a trajectory of Scriabin. Begining with 3 Preludes, from op. 11 and op. 13, she magnificently displayed a more traditionally impassioned side of this russian master. The Etude showed a development in Scriabin's compositional struggle, yielding this extraordinary other-world quality of his Poeme in F minor, which Yuja mastered with extreme delicateness and a depth of understanding that matches the greatest pianist of history. She concluded the "programmed" set with Scriabin's Sonata No. 5, a one-movement Poeme Fantasy that is similar in aesthetic to the smaller Poeme she played earlier, but excacerbated in scope and emotion. It begins with a riveting, whimsical, mysterious ascent, leading to a the Poeme gesture. Through iterations of tristess and longing, and struggling to find the right notes, Scriabin succombs to ending the work exactly like the beginning, creating this sense of timelessness, endlessness, yet in the context of a deep, intellectual and emotional struggle. What a work - and WHAT A PERFORMANCE!

After enthusiastic applause and a standing ovation, she played three encores: the Liszt transcription of Gretchen am Spinnrade by Schubert, the Prokofiev Toccata, and then a gorgeous, minor, yet light work, Gluck-Sgambati Melody from Orfeo ed Euridice. All magnificent. While the recital was overall dark and impassioned, it was nonetheless awe-inspiring, and impressive from someone who is only 24 years old.

Before leaving, I received her autograph on the leaflet of her CD. I thanked her and told her to "keep on wearing what she wears". She laughed, and it completed the evening.

10/26 Pendulum Performance

2011-10-05T17:08:00.000-06:00

Jess Garrett - Void

2011-09-27T10:43:00.002-06:00

I want to sneak in one more composer profile before the upcoming Pendulum
concert: Jess Garrett, a senior undergraduate at CU. Garrett’s work on this
week’s concert is ‘Void’, composed for solo violin and electronics. Her work
shares ties with Cole Ingraham’s piece ‘Lattice’, composed for a solo instrument
and electronics, and both pieces are relatively short (at least in classical music
terms, if you consider something under ten minutes short. It’s epic when
compared to pop-music time but a fleeting moment in a symphony.)

Garrett’s starting ideas for ‘Void’ are a bit different than Ingraham’s however,
as she started with a conceptual question while Ingraham seems to begin with
an organizational system (i.e. alternate tunings and pitch collections). Garrett
describes her initial spark of inspiration as an

“attempt to musically depict the thing that freaked me out the most as
a little kid and continues to do so to this day, namely the "nothingness"
that would be if there was no universe. What is that nothing? We as
humans don't even have a word for it, the concept is so difficult for us to
grasp. Even our idea of nothing involves other concepts, such as
darkness. But true nothing?”

Garrett began composing ‘Void’ by recording and manipulating found sounds.
The piece took off after the composer heard, of all things, the sound of a
squeaky dishwasher door. As common and familiar as the squeak was, says
Garrett, “for years I'd been saying "What a cool sound, I should do something
with that!"” ‘Void’ also incorporated Jess’s other interests in computer science
and programming. After altering the sounds of the famed childhood dishwasher,
the composer then inserted them into a computer-coded ‘nest’ of sounds, overtop
of which an electronically distorted violin part plays more soloistically. I wonder
if my ears will try to conceptualize what exactly that original dishwasher door
sounded like, and try to trace her evolution of electronic sound to what it is like in
the concert hall when I hear the piece for the first time.

But like Ingraham’s continual back-and-forth dialogue with the saxophonist for
his work ‘Lattice’, when I asked Garrett about what challenged her with this
work, her response was much the same. “The distortion patch for the violin is
capable of some really interesting sounds, but the backing noise is also quite
compelling on its own. So [composing] it required a lot of careful consideration
and tweaking so that neither part overpowered the other.” Finding a balance
between performer and electronics seems to be essential for these works: both the
creators of the pieces and the audiences listening to them want to see an organic
performance emerge, a performance where the player is not overwhelmed by his
or her task (unless of course that may be the point of the piece) but instead the
sounds and performances seem to ‘fit’, or make sense together. Perhaps the ‘nest’
of sounds begins in one place and transforms; perhaps the two instruments will
be in dialogue. Or perhaps the piece will interact in other ways unique to the
language of computer programming. While the electronic components of ‘Void’
and ‘Lattice’ may be voiced by computers, (certainly the lesser-opinionated of

a performer-electronics duo as the computer’s not going to suggest rewrites or
need a coffee break), we human composers still control much about the piece and
desire a fruitful outcome.

Thanks to Jess and Cole for all their feedback to my interview questions. Look for
their works with other great pieces on Wednesday’s concert, 7:30 in Grusin Hall.

September 28th Pendulum

2011-09-21T00:16:00.000-06:00

Pendulum September Concert (Nathan Hall)

2011-09-21T00:14:00.000-06:00

Pendulum’s first concert of the year is almost upon us! This will be my first Pendulum program of all time, being a new DMA student at Boulder this year. Everyone in the halls keeps mentioning ‘Pendulum oh yeah the Pendulum concert oh you should write a piece for the Pendulum concerts I’ll totally play it.” Now is the time for me to hear what all the fuss is about.

To get the concert year rolling, I wanted to introduce a few of the composers whose works will be performed on our September concert. First up is Cole Ingraham, a currently a second-year DMA composer, whose piece ‘Lattice’ is written for saxophone and electronics. Cole is exploring Lou Harrison’s ‘free-style Just Intonation’ in the piece, which the composer tells me in layman’s terms means “music where notes are all tuned to pure intervals based on their neighboring tones rather than a fixed central pitch.” That can also translate to "only using pitches whose frequencies are multiples of all prime numbers less than or equal to thirteen”. Perhaps another translation: Just Intonation can more easily be heard than explained.

I really like to know what challenges composers, and especially about their working processes. In almost all concerts, the audience is presented with a glossy, finished work, not knowing the back story of how the piece was completed, or changes that occurred along the way. Sometimes that’s for the best; who wants to see all of the frustrations we went through along the way to arrive at this point? But sometimes insight into working process can be enlightening. For Ingraham, a challenging part of working on ‘Lattice’ has been

“trying to find ways to use the tuning system in ways that are both interesting and not too difficult for the non-computer performer. In my case, to play a fast passage involving precise complex tuning is easy, as I created a software instrument designed specifically for this task. For the sax, however this is a lot to ask for in isolation but when playing along with the computer you are able to tune by ear in relation to it, which makes it possible (albeit still very difficult).”

Ingraham is playing the laptop during the performance, but the saxophone part will be performed by a phenomenal player known for his talents in premiering new and experimental works for sax, Michael Straus (http://mstraus.net/). Intimidatingly talented, Michael hales from Peabody and is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Experimental Music and Digital Media from Louisiana State.

(Above, Michael Straus, from his website.)

Ingraham senses that writing ‘Lattice’ is part of a larger grand plan of learning and creating. CU’s College of Music seems to have a sense of support for explorations that other music programs may shy away from. Cole’s ideas in ‘Lattice’ are one step for him to explore more ideas of alternate tuning systems; he writes:

“when I first got introduced to [alternate tunings] during my masters at Mills College, it fascinated me, but I had no idea how to think outside the usual twelve notes. Gradually after researching what others working in this system had done, and through plenty of my own experiments, I grew more and more comfortable with it and decided that this was a direction I wanted to keep moving in…I continue to look for new and better ways to explore alternate tunings and try to present them in a way that conveys these sometimes difficult ideas in a concise and performable way.”

What better way to hear (and be rewarded by) all your laborious efforts than to witness them live on stage.

Pendulum’s first concert of the ‘11-12 school year will be next Wednesday, September 28^th, at 7:30 in Grusin Music Hall.

2011-2012 Composition Awards

2011-08-03T17:06:00.002-06:00

Congratulations!

George Lynn Prize: Hunter Ewen

Edward Levy Prize: Kari Kraakevik (honorable mention to Steve Sachse and Anthony Green)

Undergraduate Prize: Raechel Sherwood (honorable mention to Mary Mixter)

Piano Quintet "New England" (Keane Southard)

2011-05-08T15:07:00.000-06:00

Vacant Home of Memories (Kari Kraakevik)

2011-05-08T10:21:00.002-06:00

Selections from "Knockout" (Raechel Sherwood)

2011-05-08T10:20:00.000-06:00

Water, from "American Songs on Time" (Jeremy Jarvis)

2011-05-08T10:19:00.002-06:00

FRI 4/29 6:30pm to 8:30pm INTERACTIVE SOUND INSTALLATIONS at Denver Art Museum: "UNTITLED" (event opens at 6pm)

2011-04-21T17:13:00.000-06:00

Join Pendulum New Music, directed by Hsing-ay Hsu, for a night of creative exploration. Bring your voices and imagination as you stroll through the museum grounds to different music-making stations with Pendulum New Music @ CU. Create/encounter new musical sounds inspired by body gestures, discover a BLOrk unit and a prepared/processed piano, or draw a graphic score gesture for a musician to interpret, and never listen the same way again. (art-making/exhibit tours at the same time- activities start at 6pm). This music project is in conjunction with the BLINK electronics exhibit. $10/8 general admission, 2 for 1 student admission. email Hsing-ay at cupendulum@gmail.com for more info.

April 13th Concert

2011-04-06T12:59:00.001-06:00

Flight (Elizabeth Anne Comninellis)

2011-04-06T12:56:00.004-06:00

2011 Edward Levy Commission Prize Winner.

Violin Phase (Steve Reich)

2011-04-06T12:56:00.003-06:00

Red River Folk Tale (Hunter Ewen)

2011-04-06T12:55:00.002-06:00

Soliloquy (Michael Silverstein)

2011-04-06T12:54:00.001-06:00

Passing Bells (Warren Benson)

2011-04-06T12:53:00.002-06:00

March 30th Concert

2011-03-14T12:04:00.002-06:00

Open Score Project

2011-03-11T10:53:00.001-07:00

Invasion of the Monkey Mind

2011-03-10T20:47:00.002-07:00

The House Explodes (Leanna Kirchoff)

2011-03-10T20:46:00.003-07:00

Two Symmetries for Disklavier (Keane Southard)

2011-03-10T20:46:00.000-07:00

Canyon Leading Home: Los Angeles to Lost Angel (Kari Kraakevik)

2011-03-10T20:45:00.000-07:00

ATLAS Concert Wednesday, February 23rd, 7:30pm.

2011-02-08T22:40:00.002-07:00

Please visit http://atlaspendulum.eventbrite.com to reserve free tickets!
Co-sponsored by Atlas Center for Arts, Media, & Performance.

CU alum in new music… Where are they now?

2011-02-05T11:53:00.000-07:00

Danny Schade BM/2008/Percussion, BME/2008/Elementary General

Private lesson teacher, Substitute teacher, Freelance drummer/composer.

His first album was just released: "Predestination and Other Games of Chance... the Soundtrack." Featuring music from his scoring of the podcast-audio-drama, Antithesis. Available at jdsawyer.net. Danny has also composed and self produced over 90 pieces of music in 2010, available at www.dannyschade.com

“C.U. was such an awesome experience, it made me the musician I am today. Thanks to the profs, the peers and of course... the Pendulum. You're an inspiration, keep the new music rolling!”

Brandon Vaccaro DMA/2009/CompositionAssistant Professor of Music, Kent State University; Freelance composer, audio engineer, producer

Award winning score for A Complex Villainelle (acomplexvillainelle.com); Score for Univ. of Colorado, Denver Accreditation video

“CU was an incredible experience. The faculty is first-rate, and the opportunities provided to us as composition students were great!”

Eliana Maria Murphy BM/2003 Piano Performance, MM/2005 Piano Performance

DMA student at Cincinnati Conservatory, piano teacher, organist and cantor. Composed and directed "Michaelmas Fire," a choral piece, at Tara Performing Arts High School in 2009 and 2010

Dustin Rumsey BM/2009/ CompositionComposer/soundtrack engineer for Square Two Productions, Private Lesson teacher

“CU exposed me to the best combination musical techniques, free-expression, and performance opportunities I think I could have gotten. Excellent school, excellent faculty, and Pendulum is a fantastic program.”

Jennie Dorris MM/2005 Founder, Telling Stories

Founded award-winning ensemble that features both words and music, now produced as a radio show for Colorado Public Radio. Commissioned countless new works and work with university student composers to perform their works.

Ryan Spencer BM/2008

Freelance Composer, Arranger, Sound Engineer, Trumpeter

Currently working on a few new pieces for grade III-IV Wind Ensemble and some arrangements for string orchestra as well as mixed chorus. Also producing a series of solo/ensemble pieces for young musicians called the ((VI Series)) which has variable instrumentation and accompanying practice CDs. Will be an exhibitor at CMEA for 2011.

“Loved the composition program at CU, and continue to have excellent relationships with professors and peers I met there. Am sorely tempted to come back!”

MinTze Wu Graduate Quartet 2002-2003teaching/performing/presenting festivals

Artistic director of Sounds of Lyons Music Festival and

co-director of Gros Morne Summer Music.

Created "Earth Program" based on Vasks Piano Trio, "Death of The Pugilist" with music by Steve Reich and Philip Glass

Hermes Camacho MM/2006/Composition DMA student in composition at The University of Texas at Austin Instructor of music at UT, composition co-chair of GAMMA-UT (conference and concert series), conductor of the Sacramento Youth Symphony Chamber music Workshop, recently instituting a guest composer/commissioning program, and currently completing my dissertation at the university.

“I had a wonderful time at CU and learned so much from the fantastic faculty. What better than the backdrop of the Flatirons to write and perform music?”

Emily Takahashi MMA Piano Performanceteaching/performing/accompanying
Boulder area, Deep Listening concert Series Sept, 2010-February 2011

Greg Simon MM/2010/Composition

adjunct instructor of theory at CU and at the Metropolitan State College of Denver

composition fellow at the Brevard Music Center.

Recent performances at the Mayne Stage in Chicago, the Western International Band Clinic, and the California Band Directors' Association Convention, among other places. It's also been featured on Chicago's WFMT Classical Music Radio, and will be on upcoming recordings by the Fifth House Ensemble and the California All State Band. awards from California State University, Bakersfield; the College Band Directors' National Association. a new commission from the Corvallis Youth Symphony. active as a player, and performing currently with the Park Hill Brass, the Quartex, Signel-Z and other jazz projects in Denver and Boulder.

Steve Snethkamp composition
DMA candidate at Indiana University, private teaching

recent compositions include:

Ritual : Irrational - MM thesis for large chamber ensemble

D A R K

A R K D

R K D A

K D A R (recycling dark) - a four movement, sonata length piece

for solo piano

Time Waves - a surround sound chamber ensemble

Wooden Rain, Metallic Blossoms - for 8 channel fixed media

www.stevensnethkamp.com

Susan Olenwine, piano &

Thomas Eric Angerhofer, voice

Denver area

Collaborating on the chamber music of eric ewazen

Steven Snowden      MM composition/2008
DMA candidate University of Texas at Austin, Instructor of introductory and intermediate electronic composition at UT
Co-director of the Fast>>Forward>>Austin Music Festival, performing with several improv/experimental groups in the Austin area, Feverishly trying to fill commissions for new acoustic and electroacoustic works, attempting not to burn myself with a soldering iron.

“Talk about being in the right place at the right time! CU was the perfect creative incubator for me during my masters. I learned so much and had so much fun. I can honestly say that I wouldn't be the composer that I am today without the guidance and encouragement that I received at CU.”

Paul Hembree MM composition/2009

PhD candidate in Composition at the University of California, San Diego, where he studies with Roger Reynolds. At UCSD he continues to compose acoustic chamber music, computer music and video art drawing from a wide range of resources and influences. Major projects include Passion, a setting of poetry by German expressionist poet Georg Trakl, for soprano and chamber ensemble, which will be released on the fifth installment Sound Check, a UCSD Department of Music CD series. mUTTERANCEs, for

piano quartet, deconstructs standard instrumental practice, exploring the notion of instrumental musique concrete, while seeking to provoke a mimetic response in its listeners. His most recent project was Blue Sky Catastrophe, for solo trumpet, which was just recorded by International Contemporary Ensemble member Peter Evans. These three works all take the topology of their constituent instruments and the physical nature of sound as the basic material. In addition to composition, his pursuits

at UCSD have included improvisation and performance on trumpet, musical cognitive science, theoretical extrapolations of John Cage and Edgard Varese, and the instruction of basic music theory and counterpoint."

Byron Weigel MM comp

Tacoma community college, adjunct professor

Curtis Broome MM percussion
working in indie music in Denver, recently played music of Nate Wheeler; CU Foundation administration

Nate Wheeler MM comp 2010
freelance composer, recording engineer

Chris Rippey MM comp
working in indie music in Boulder, recently released a CD
www.chrisrippey.com

No Stars Tonight, But Echoes (Leanna Kirchoff)

2011-02-01T14:39:00.002-07:00

Three Arias from King Lear and His Daughters (David Kirtley)

2011-02-01T14:38:00.003-07:00

for michael theodore (Ryan Wurst)

2011-02-01T14:38:00.000-07:00

January 26th Performance

2011-01-11T17:04:00.000-07:00

January 19th

2011-01-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

High Wire Act (Laura Schwendinger)

2010-12-16T13:51:00.000-07:00

Complications of Weightlessness (Elizabeth Anne Comninellis)

2010-12-16T13:50:00.002-07:00

Wulf and Eadwacer (Andrew Buckner)

2010-12-16T13:49:00.002-07:00

Hamelin (Laurent Petitgirard)

2010-12-15T21:09:00.002-07:00

Trio (Dina Bodaubay)

2010-12-15T18:27:00.003-07:00

Fractal Dementia (Steve Sachse)

2010-12-15T16:28:00.002-07:00

Unsilent Night

2010-12-11T10:04:00.002-07:00

Crystalline bells and trance-like melodies echoed from dozens of MP3 players, CD players and even a few boomboxes as the "Unsilent Night" procession wound its way along the Pearl Street Mall on Friday.
The participatory sound sculpture has become a holiday tradition in Boulder, with community members joining professors and students from the University of Colorado's music department to bring the composition to life.
"It's like caroling, but instead of singing, we bring our MP3 players," said Hsing-ay Hsu, artistic director of Pendulum New Music, which organizes the Boulder performance of "Unsilent Night."
The piece was composed by Phil Kline in 1992. He created a four-track electronic piece that was 45 minutes long (the length of one side of a cassette tape) and distributed boomboxes, each with one of the four tracks in it, to friends in Greenwich Village. They hit the play button simultaneously and unleashed "Unsilent Night" on the world.
The piece now is performed in more than 25 cities. The Boulder performance is in its fourth year.
Participants download one of four randomly generated tracks online and play it on the medium of their choice.
Today, there are very few boomboxes, and Hsu jokes that the few-year-old MP3 player she

Cole Ingraham, of Boulder, center left, and Jeremy Jarvis, of Longmont, hold up their iPhone speakers while participating in the "Unsilent Night" performance on the Pearl Street Mall on Friday. Hunter Ewen, front right, and Tom Steenland, front left, were also participating in the event. ( Jeremy Papasso )

brought to play her track "looks ancient."
Tom Steenland, of Boulder, who runs the alternative classical music record label Starkland, fiddled with an ancient-looking boombox before the start of the performance. He has participated in every local "Unsilent Night" and commissioned Kline to do a composition for release on Starkland.
"It's a magical immersion in a moving sound sculpture," he said. "It's fun to participate, and it's fun to see people's eyes get wide and the look on their face as it moves past them."
The four tracks playing simultaneously create a variety of musical patterns that move in and out of phase with each other. The sound of the piece changes depending on whether a person is walking with the procession or standing still and letting it pass by. The metallic percussion sounds delicate and cold, like winter ice.
"There's something of the season about it, definitely Christmas-like, though it's very different," said Michael Theodore, who teaches music at CU.
Contact Camera Staff Writer Erica Meltzer at 303-473-1355 ormeltzere@dailycamera.com.

Read more:Boulder's 'Unsilent Night' brings electronic caroling to Pearl Street - Boulder Daily Camera http://www.dailycamera.com/boulder-county-news/ci_16830658#ixzz17p7ylu5w
DailyCamera.com

Unsilent Night

2010-12-02T12:14:00.005-07:00

Pendulum Holiday Walk: "UnSilent Night"
FRI 12/10, 7:30-8:20pm
15th & Pearl St. (pedestrian mall)
parking garage is available across the street

Friends and family gather with their boom-boxes, audio devices with
portable speakers, iPhones, walkmen, children's toys that can play
CDs, cassettes, mp3s, and more to perform the most widely performed
piece of community music, Phil Kline's Unsilent Night.

A work of a beautiful, ambient nature, Phil Kline's Unsilent Night
comes to life as carolers walk the Pearl Street Mall. Come bath in
beautiful music with friends and family on Friday, December 10!
Dress warmly in holiday wear. No pets please.

Please visit www.unsilentnight.com, and www.cu-pendulum.com for more
information, and links to download the audio tracks for those who are
participating.

Here is a video from our first performance:

http://www.travelistic.com/video/show/8281/Unsilent-Night

December 1st Pendulum Performance

2010-11-07T22:58:00.000-07:00

Imaginary Landscape 4 (John Cage)

2010-11-07T13:48:00.002-07:00

Orphée-Sérénade (William Bolcom)

2010-11-02T19:38:00.001-06:00

Tango For One (Hunter Ewen)

2010-11-02T19:37:00.001-06:00

Chorale for Brass Quintet (Mary Mixter)

2010-11-02T19:35:00.000-06:00

the sky is overcast (Elizabeth Anne Comninellis)

2010-11-02T19:34:00.000-06:00

Prelude and Three Madrigals on the Formation of the Cosmos (Matthew Browne)

2010-11-02T19:33:00.000-06:00

The Atlas Fellowship is Back!

2010-11-01T19:39:00.001-06:00

The Paradox of Choice, the Myth of Growth, and the Future of Music: Keane Southard

2010-10-21T00:04:00.002-06:00

I recently saw a TED talk given by Psychologist Barry Schwartz where he addresses what he calls the “paradox of choice”. In his talk, he essentially points out the fact that we collectively have fallen victim to the Problem of Induction, as discussed by the 18th-century philosopher David Hume. The Problem of Induction occurs when we presuppose that something will happen a certain way based on our observations of how it has always happened in the past, and also in generalizing properties of a class of objects based on any number of past observations. Everyday of our collective lives we have seen the sun rise (or at least someone has, if you happen to have a morning with overcast skies) and when we stand on the ground and let go of a ball from our hands, it falls downward to the ground. When we wake up tomorrow morning we will expect the sun to rise once again and when I drop the ball I hold in my hand, we will expect it to fall once again to the ground. We assume these events will happen because they have always happened in the past in our collective experiences, given the same conditions. But who is to say that the sun will not rise tomorrow (or some day in the future) or that the laws of physics will not apply (or not in the same way) the next time (or at some point in the future) when I let the ball go from my hand? How is anyone to know for sure?

As a society, and in some respects as a civilization, we have collectively made this mistake in two very important realms, in the notion of abundance of choices and in the idea of growth. When our choices are very limited, for example if I go to a ice cream shop but the only flavors to choose between are vanilla and chocolate, then I will gladly welcome new flavor options to choose from. It doesn't matter whether I like both flavors, one flavor, or neither. If I continue to come to this ice cream shop, I will soon be bored with the selection of flavors. Imagine another ice cream shop opens up across the street, and they have eight flavors of ice cream to choose from. If I don't like either vanilla or chocolate, I now have a place where I have a greater chance at finding a flavor that I do enjoy. Even if I enjoy both vanilla and chocolate, I will soon exhaust these flavors, grow tired of them, and seek to discover new flavors. Both these kinds of ice cream eaters would now be inclined to bring their business to the “better” ice cream shop across the street that has more selection, and for both of these ice cream eaters they have a very simple correlation that has subconsciously entered their head: the more choices, the better. They will probably have this correlation reenforced if another shop opens offering 25 flavors, then another offering 40, or even another with 100 flavors to choose from. The more choices, the better. This fits very nicely with what Schwartz calls “The official dogma of all western industrial societies” which is this: “if we are interested in maximizing the welfare of our citizens, the way to do that is to maximize individual freedom. The reasoning for this is both that freedom is in and of itself good, valuable, worthwhile, essential to being human. And because if people have freedom, then each of us can act on our own to do the things that will maximize our welfare, and no one has to decide on our behalf. The way to maximize freedom is to maximize choice.”

But at some point, perhaps it is a magic number of choices or perhaps it is different for different people, more choices cease to be beneficial. Schwartz mentions two negative effects of too many choices. First, it can cause paralysis. Back to the world of ice cream, say I walk into the Venezuelan ice cream shop that holds the world record for most flavors of ice cream offered, with about 860. Where would you even begin in trying to decide what flavor you want? Say they give out free samples, it would take hours or days to sample them all and evaluate your options. People in western industrial societies are living today in this world of choices. Apart from ice cream flavors, if you walk into an average supermarket in the United States, you will find 285 varieties of cookies, 175 salad dressings, and 275 cereals (although, if you look at the ingredients, it is clear that this wide variety is essentially a giant illusion and a trick of packaging, but that's another topic). Then if you walk over to a consumer electronic store looking to find components to build your stereo system, you find that you could create over 6 million different stereo systems using the components from that store alone. Obviously, choices in ice cream and stereos are rather trivial, but what about important decisions, such as choosing a spouse, healthcare, investments, education? The more options you have, the more time you need to devote in evaluating each and comparing in order to make the best decision possible. The biggest part of the problem is not that we have too many choices in ice cream, but that we have so many more choices in nearly every aspect of life. With all the societal “advances” in technology, which have opened up millions of new options and possibilities for us, we have yet to figure out how to squeeze more than 24 hours into one day (Sure, life expectancy has increased, so the average person does have more time in their life, but we also have many more decisions to make, which usually need to be made around the same age or in the same time span as before). We have a finite amount of time each day to spend on evaluating our choices, yet more and more choices to evaluate. For instance, look at the Beatles growing up and the music they were exposed to. In the 40's and 50's in England, recordings were new and the Beatles' music education consisted of the music their family played, the other musicians they could hear live in Liverpool, and whatever new record came into their local record shop. They didn't have the internet where they can hear hundred's of thousands of bands' music on MySpace or SoundCloud, or online streaming libraries, or Wikipedia, or Amazon.com. This lack of choice focused them to be able to learn from only on the music they could get their hands on and sharpen their early skills as songwriters and performers (and of course, after they had established themselves as the most popular band in the world, then new musical possibilities were opened up for them such as Indian music, studio recording techniques, orchestral instruments, etc.). Moving into classical music, Stravinsky himself wrote, in his Poetics of Music, about his paralysis when starting a composition and his need to put limits on his possibilities in order to free himself:

I experience a sort of terror when, at the moment of setting to work and finding myself before the infinitude of possibilities that present themselves, I have the feeling that everything is permissible to me...My freedom thus consists in my moving about within the narrow frame that I have assigned myself for each one of my undertakings. I shall go even farther: my freedom will be so much the greater and more meaningful the more narrowly I limit my field of action and the more I surround myself with obstacles. Whatever diminishes constraint diminishes strength. The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees oneself of the chains that shackle the spirit.

Stravinsky's view of constraint producing freedom is the exact opposite of the official dogma of western industrial societies where more choice equals more freedom. Who is right?

The second negative effect of too many choices is that even if we break through this paralysis and make a decision, we are very likely to be unsatisfied with our choice. Knowing that there are so many choices out there, we set our expectations very high figuring that out of these many choices one has to be perfect or the best we could possibly think of. Then when we find faults in our chosen option, we feel that we should have and could have chosen better, as naturally our expectations will rise when we are provided with more options. We also tend to blame ourselves if our option is not satisfactory, as we could have chosen better, unlike if we have few options, it is easy to blame the people who created them.

The other realm in which we have been victims to the Problem of Induction is the idea of growth.
Since the beginning of human history, growth has been, and rightly so, beneficial to humans in many aspects. Population growth was very important to the survival of early humans up through the last hundred years or so. Growth in the size of empires and civilizations meant more natural resources at their disposal. Economic growth provides more wealth and a higher standard of living for a country. We have also just seen how beneficial moderate growth in the number of choices can be for us. But the problem arises when we have finite resources, such as 24 hours in a day, or one planet that we can live on. Because growth has always been beneficial to us in the past, it is ingrained in our societies' unconscious that growth will continue to always be good. Dr. M. King Hubbard, in an address to a committee of Congress in 1974 explained that “The exponential phase of the industrial growth which has dominated human activities during the last couple centuries is now drawing to a close. Yet during the last two centuries of unbroken industrial growth we have evolved what amounts to an exponential-growth culture.” This culture that is obsessed with growth is easy to see. Just look at a newspaper or listen to any news show that will discuss economics and you will hear the obsession with economic growth, and this extends beyond the USA. The Wall Street Journal in 1992 wrote that “The Japanese are so accustomed to growth that economists in Tokyo usually speak of a recession when the growth rate dips below 3%.” (3% growth means that the economy would double in about 22 years.) Much of this obsession has to do with humans general inability to understand the simple arithmetic of exponential growth, as CU professor emeritus of Physics Albert Bartlett wonderfully explains in his lecture “Arithmetic, Population, and Energy”. He shows how global population growth is the overarching problem and biggest challenge the human race faces in the rest of the 21^st century and makes a case that “The greatest shortcoming of the human race is our inability to understand exponential function”. Through simple arithmetic, Bartlett reaches his first law of sustainability, which states that “Population growth and/or growth in the rates of consumption of resources cannot be sustained.” The biggest dilemma with population growth is that all the aspects which contribute to population growth, and subsequently the problem of overpopulation, are the good humanitarian efforts of medicine, public health, peace, clean air, and accident prevention, to name a few, while the things that would help control the human population and lower our growth rate are horrible things such as war, pollution, disease, and famine. Not only does infinite growth cease to be good at some point, but infinite growth cannot sustain itself when there are finite resources. Now more than ever we are aware that oil reserves in the world will run out in the near future because of the exponential growth in the global demand and consumption of the world's finite oil reserves. As Bartlett says, “You have to wonder what life will be like after this point!” Growth like this cannot be sustained, and will end in the near future and subsequently change all of our lives in significant ways.

With these concerns, shortcomings, and trends in mind, I now offer up some predictions for the future of music, particularly for new “classical” music that will be composed in the remainder of the 21^st century.

1. Increased specialization for musicians. This trend has been happening throughout the 20^th century. With the global population boom in the 20^th century and the growth of western music education throughout the world, the competition within the music world (industry) for jobs has pushed musicians to spend more time in developing their talents in one area, such as performing, composing, or conducting, in order to win the limited number of jobs. This has also raised the level of excellence in these areas, such as performing, to new heights, which necessitates even more time in devotion to refining skills, and has lowered the value of a diploma across all disciplines. In addition, the immense increase in choices in the modern world eats away at more of a musician's time that he/she can even devote to music. Today it is quite rare to find a composer that is also a virtuoso performer, or a performer who is also highly recognized for their composing, or a conductor that also performs solo concerti.

2. The world will continue to be flooded by more and more mediocre and bad music. Another affect of the global population boom and more music education is that, while there are more and more people trying to be professional musicians, there are more who are creating mediocre music. Of course, this boom has created more great music, probably more than in the whole previous history of the world, but the prevalence of mediocre or just plain bad music is greater than ever before, and I'd venture to say that the proportion of good music to bad music today could possibly be more in favor of bad music than ever before. This is complete speculation, but the sheer volume of music being created today without a significant increase in the percentage of good music, has probably jaded more people from discovering great works from different genres than ever before. How many people say that they hate an entire genre of music such as Country and Western? This is most likely because all the Country music they have heard is simply bad or mediocre, despite the fact that there is probably some very good Country music out there, but it has been flooded and hidden by all the rest. This is the same situation with classical music listeners who love Beethoven yet cringe when they see a composer on the program who has no death year listed next to their birth year. They have only heard contemporary works that they couldn't stand and, even if they have given several chances for contemporary music to impress them, they don't want to risk their precious time or money on another “bad” modern piece, yet I know that they are missing out on lots of wonderful music being composed today. This also connects to the tendency I mentioned before about too many choices causing expectations to be high and blaming oneself for not making a perfect decision, such as someone trying to decide which contemporary classical CD to buy (yes, we may even have “too many” choices in recordings of contemporary classical pieces).

3. Dramatic decrease in new sounds and more drawing upon the musical past. In the 20^th century, the growth in terms of new sounds exploded like never before. Today, any sound that can possibly be made by an instrument in any way, any sound from nature or everyday life, and millions of computer synthesized sounds are potential sound material for composers' use. This density of discovery of sound possibilities in the 20^th century dwarfs the previous sound innovations of the past millennium, such as Monteverdi discovering string tremoli and pizzicati. The result from this growth of new possibilities is that it cannot be sustained. I do not count out that new sounds will be discovered, but it will be as infrequent, and probably less innovative and seismic, than the discoveries before 1900. The trend to draw on the musical past has already begun with more and more composers today turning back to tonality, and I predict that this will continue and become more common.

4. Listeners, composers, and performers will rely more on quick judgments of music. With the overload of choices in all areas, people will have less time to actually listen to music, which can only be fully experienced in the time the composer/performer has/have allotted for it to happen. Musical works cannot be condensed, at least not in a convenient and quick way without losing or greatly changing much of the experience, into a shorter time period. This is one effect that has been seen as a result of the prevalence of Ipods and MP3 players. People tend to listen to a few seconds of one song, and if it doesn't hold their attention, they can easily move to the next one. Quick judgments can already be seen in the actions of many performers and ensembles that have lots of living composers send them their works for consideration in programming. They simply don't have the time to carefully look at and listen to all the works they receive to make a completely thoughtful decision for programming, nor do a lot of ensembles actually want new music to take up more than a tiny fraction of their concert programs (when was the last time you saw an orchestral piece by a living composer played by an American orchestra that was longer than 15 minutes? Or even heard of a half-hour symphony being composed by a living composer older than a 17 years?) For all these negative effects, this trend may not entirely be bad. Malcolm Gladwell in his book Blink argues that occasionally the instant conclusions that one jumps to in the first two seconds of perception are much better than when we wait and evaluate. (There is an interesting study done where participants were told to choose between two posters, one of an Impressionist painting and the other of a cartoon cat. Some were told to evaluate their decision carefully and take as much time as they needed, whereas others were told to decide quickly based on their gut feeling. The result was that, after a few weeks, the ones who chose on their gut were happier with their decision and poster than the ones who debated carefully.) This trend may also lead to an increased use and exploration of improvisation in musical compositions, which I have observed in my own creative process.

5. Composers' unique “voices” will take longer to develop. With access to so many different kinds of music, not to mention knowledge across all fields and disciplines, through the internet, recordings, and easier travel, composers that have grown up in the last half of the 20^th century have much more music to sort through, learn from, and be influenced by. In contrast, 300 years ago Mozart only had access to the scores he could get his hands on and the performances he could physically attend, which were essentially limited to the music of a handful of composers from a few European countries from the past 200 years or so. As a result, he developed a unique compositional voice while still a teenager. With more choices to sort through and limited time, living composers are taking and will take more time to assimilate and develop their voices, or “compositional fingerprints” as George Crumb calls them.

6. Less focus/time afforded for the Arts and more on Science. Ask any high school music teacher in the United States and they will tell you of the battles to keep music and the other arts funded and in their schools systems. But as the crises of overpopulation, climate change, and the depletion of the world's oil supply grow more conspicuous by the day, the focus of education around the world has been to train people for jobs in the sciences in order to find a “cure” for these problems while simultaneously continuing to try and grow the global economy. The more these problems press on the world, the more people are going to throw the arts aside as a waste of time and money (which I obviously think is the wrong way to go about it, as the same thinking that got us into these problems is not going to get us out of them).

7. Music will, as our entire way of living will, change drastically. Around the year 2050 the world population is estimated to peak at around 10 billion people, with about 2 billion more people than today living at the standards that Americans live at and consuming as much as Americans do. This immense growth in consumption of the limited natural resources of the world, such as the inevitable depletion of the world's oil, combined with the growing effects of climate change, will bring about huge changes in all people's lives, whether this is by our own choice or not. In terms of population, the reality we are facing today is that we are rapidly reaching an unprecedented point where, if we do not stop our global population growth and reduce our overall consumption rate, we will soon exhaust our finite resources, no matter how much technology tries to help in our efficiency. Global population growth will stop at some point in the future, because of the world's finite space, whether it is by our own choice to create less new humans or if nature decides upon ways to end many existing human's lives. Whatever happens, the current way of living for the western world simply cannot be sustained indefinitely and will change drastically in positive or negative ways. As the arts are always to some extent a reflection and a product of the world and society around us, whether through available technology, commentary on current events, or the effects of an education system, the music created, and music's role throughout the remainder of the 21^st century will change along with the world it is created in. This new music and its role will either be seen as a waste of time and energy and be pushed to the fringes of existence during our civilization's demise, or take on a prominent role in the birth of a sustainable world through inspiration, reflection, catharsis, beauty, and perhaps even education. My greatest hope is that music is not forgotten, but is honored for the necessary role it will play in the salvation of the earth and humanity.

Keane Southard

October 2010

The Composer and/or Performer: Kendall Burks

2010-10-13T18:58:00.001-06:00

Today I’ll be speaking about the relationship between the composer and the performer, and specifically, how this relationship applies to those of us who are a combination of the two.

There are certain advantages one has as a composer/performer that are quite obvious. For one, your level of understanding of the way a particular instrument, or even a whole group of instruments functions is far greater than someone who studies the instrument from an outsider’s perspective. Secondly, if you write music for your own instrument, you don’t need to worry about finding a performer to play it, and you will at least please yourself as far as the interpretation is concerned, for in reality there is no interpretation required. Now this may not be the case if you are dissatisfied with your skills as a performer, but for the sake of discussion let us assume that this is not the case if you really are to be considered both a composer and performer.

The question of interpretation brings up a perhaps less obvious disadvantage. If one is always capable of playing ones own music, it is possible that one may decide to avoid the challenge of dealing with other performers. If this is the case, one would be missing out on the vital aspect of collaboration, that process which gives music undeniable interest and vitality, not to mention the technical abilities one necessarily acquires when facing the problem of communicating musical ideas. The fact is, collaboration is incredibly valuable in a number of ways, and if one decides to avoid it, that would result in a serious disadvantage. Of course, one could always simply choose not to avoid it.

There is perhaps a more fundamental advantage one has as a performer/composer that may be even less obvious. The great Canadian pianist Glenn Gould once said, and I’m paraphrasing, that the greatest tragedy in music occurred when composers stopped being performers, and performers stopped being composers. There was a time when the line between the two was not so clearly drawn as it is today, and perhaps this is a telling fact.

Consider the question of who one is truly listening to when one hears music, the composer or the performer? It is a tricky question, the answer to which is inevitably a subjective one, but the important thing to realize is the idea that is raised by the question. The act of creating music is a deep and multilayered process, and every single layer is as important as the next. The final product may be a whole, but it would never exist without each of the parts.

The question then, is do we miss something vital if we do not understand every part of the process in as deep a way as we would if we were connected to those parts through personal experience? If a performer has never tried to compose music, how can he interpret music in a way that truly connects to the composer, and if a composer has never performed music, how can he compose in a way that inspires a truly great performance?

One can always make an educated guess, but nothing can replace the deep understanding that is acquired by actually interacting with different parts of the process on a personal level. (As far as what is implied by interacting on a personal level, I am talking about the process of striving to express yourself)

In conclusion, there are certain obvious practical advantages that one has in being both a performer and a composer. There is also the serious disadvantage of not experiencing the collaborative process, but this can be avoided if one has the courage to step outside his or her comfort zone. Finally, music is both multilayered and deeply personal, so it would make sense that striving to understand as many layers as possible, as personally as possible is the best way to create the best music that is possible.

On Noise: Nate Wheeler

2010-10-13T17:02:00.001-06:00

Noise is a complex issue. Of course, discussion requires some amount of definition. The Oxford English dictionary provides us with a few different usages of the term. The first is also perhaps the most inclusive, and certainly the most Cage-ian:

“Sound; the aggregate of sounds occurring in a particular place at a particular time.”

Next is the more contemporary definition, which will be somewhat applicable to our discussion:

“Any of various kinds of music characterized by use of dissonance or inharmonious noise, esp. loud distorted guitar, amplifier noise, feedback, etc.”

The third definition that stuck out to me was the following:

A sound of any kind, esp. a loud, harsh, unpleasant one.

The first two definitions are, generally speaking, quantitative. They are concrete, measurable examples. One defines noise as the mere existence of sound; the other utilizes examples of instruments that can be manipulated to create complex timbres of harmonically unrelated frequencies. Electroacoustic instruments (computers) can make more “pure” examples of mathematically defined “noise,” These are essentially mathematical models or formulas realized by electronics with specific spectral characteristics.

Mathematically speaking, noise is based in chaos. Stochastic (random) methods, based in probability, are processed as audio. When iterated at a high enough frequency, they form different spectral responses or timbral characteristics, such as white, pink, brown, grey, or shot noise. (Expand on noise types, color relationships, overall timbre)

But this clearly doesn’t define all noise, just a subsection of it. Our third definition has not yet been discussed – those sounds which are “unpleasant.” In order to expand our definition, we need to get a little more subjective.

If you’re familiar at all with Fourier’s mathematics, you know that any sound at all can be made by combining any number of sine waves at specific frequencies and durations. The relationships of these sine wave are “harmonics.”

The further you get away from simple relationships, the more dissonance you get. Increasing the number of harmonics makes a more complex overall sound. The more complex the sound, the closer it gets to fitting our spectral definition of noise.

Generally speaking, simple harmonics (simple ratios of relationship) are what we consider to be “pretty” sounds. Each person has a line between the “pretty” sounds and “noise.” This is essentially where the colloquial, subjective definition of noise comes from: Any unwanted (not necessarily unpleasant) sound.

This reminds me of my parents discussing our garden. My mom loves dandelions. My dad thinks they’re a weed – he doesn’t want them in his garden. A weed is any unwanted (not unpleasant) plant. Some people cultivate dandelions to attract bees or to make wine, while some squirt them with awful chemicals to keep them out of the cracks in their driveway.

Some people love analog recordings because they have a specific sonic character, much of which includes some amount of noise, due to tape hiss and the nature of the medium of magnetic tape. Vinyl purists will say the same about their favorite medium. These are the dandelion lovers. Some people, however, especially recording classical music in the early 80’s, saw digital recording as a revolution because it was devoid of tape hiss, which they considered to be noise. These are the dandelion haters.

If some people like tape hiss, then it is not unwanted, and doesn’t fit our subjective definition of noise. But it can still be considered noise in the spectral, timbral sense, due to its complexity and harmonic characteristics.

Brahms is a revered composer – considered one of the 3 “B’s”. (Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, though I think Bartok is a better fit). Some consider his music to be stunning, gorgeous, compelling, unique and interesting. But some people think his music is contrived, boring, and dull. If Brahms appeared suddenly in our speakers, they would rush over to turn it off, yelling “Oh god, stop that noise!” while others would enter trances of serenity. The same goes for Berg, Cage, Crumb, Mozart, and any number of composers.

Basically, what I’m saying is that we have two definitions of noise – one quantitative, based on harmonic spectra, and one qualitative, based in subjective opinion. We must clarify to which we are referring quite often, as they can mean two totally different things, and evoke different responses from different people.

October 27th, 2010

2010-10-12T23:32:00.002-06:00

More Thoughts on the "Masterpiece" Question...

2010-10-09T16:13:00.002-06:00

After hearing some of the questions bouncing forth in seminar this semester, I have become "stuck" on this very one... I have contemplated this in the past (the distant past) and, honestly, I guess it never really left my grey matter. It's just so provocative, isn't it!!? To think that we can enter into a discussion so exacting, so acutely about something altogether subjective as music. And, moreover, within the "traffic jam" of ephemeral art we find ourselves in at the beginning of this century.

After batting this around a good stretch, let me offer this idea....

I've just spent about 10 minutes trying to come up with two movies that were made around the same time (recently) and fall into the same category (comedy): 'Wedding Crashers' and 'Sideways.'

I enjoy them both. I find nothing within each film to be tasteless or trite as comedies go. The scripts are tight and very quotable. The duet acting is good-great. The direction and music are both well-crafted to the screen. My attention doesn't wane during these movies. However, if you know both these films, you will most likely walk away with a subtle, soulful imprint after watching 'Sideways.' Something from that movie leaves itself with me once I've experienced it. Same for a motley group of films like 'The Godfather' 'Singin' in the Rain' 'Amadeus' 'Delicatessen' 'Schindler's List' 'Leaving Las Vegas' 'Risky Business' etc etc...

I draw this comparison to music in an effort to anchor an analogy.

Music: I do not think a deep enough understanding is breeched by simply 'liking' or 'disliking' a work (old or new). Though this is a snap-judgement qualifier and can be helpful in navigating one's personal path, I would like to respect the art of music by nosing around just a bit more...as an experiment....

There is an essential difference between description and analysis. Description tells you what is there. Analysis attempts to tell you why it is there. If you read that "The opening theme of Mahler's Second Symphony is funereal, set in the bass, and staunchly in c-minor," you have learned nothing that a single hearing of the music does not tell you more directly and more effectively. But once you have discovered why Mahler chose that theme to open his symphony AND the themes he chose to contrast it later on... and why, in short, they hang together so satisfactorily, you know something of fundamental interest about the work.

Why does a great composer choose the contrasting ideas of a masterpiece to share the same framework? Why those particular contrasts rather than others? Why, in fact, do particular themes belong to particular movements? Why do particular movements belong to particular works? I believe these questions are worth asking. They force one to abandon simple description and the knee-jerk "I like this" or "I think this is a load of....," and subsequently inspires a truly analytic attitude.

At the risk of rolling some eyes out there, I want to put forward a hypothesis about great musical structures. All contrasts in a masterpiece are foreground projections of a single background idea. Masterpieces diversify a unity. Behind the shifting, kaleidoscopic variety of a great work's manifest music lies its latent idea, the inspired, unitive source which makes that variety meaningful. Analysis is a process of moving from the manifest to the latent level of music. It seeks to explain musical foregrounds in terms of music backgrounds. In so far as it succeeds it is a reversal of the composing process which needs must move from the level of unity to that of diversity.

What evidence is there for me to suppose that the foreground/background aspect of musical structure is true? Simply and directly, our experience of music. There is a perceptible difference between works (music, literature, film, dance, sculpture, etc) which hang together and works which do not. Moreover, as soon as you try to exchange different themes from different works you lose the compelling inevitability of the originals. Of course, this butchery may still allow you to retain a semblance of continuity; but this is a poor substitute for an inspired unity... phew!

*I personally regard the presence OR absence of background unity as a criterion which enables us to distinguish between mastery and mediocrity.

This is precisely why I find the works of a composer like Jean Sibelius so compelling. There is an unmistakable background unity behind his diverse foreground material. I may not 'like' all the materials Sibelius conjured up in his symphonies in particular, but I can certainly see past that into their worth as masterfully designed events in music.

I feel the same about most of the music of Gustav Mahler, Claude Debussy, Witold Lutoslawski, Gyorgy Kurtag, and Aaron Copland... not to mention so many greats from the past!

As a provocation against the masterful composers in the sense above: Mendelssohn. Aside from the truly masterful "select few" pieces he composed during his short lifetime, Felix Mendelssohn's work leaves me wondering whether or not I just experienced music with a deep and affixed background or (more likely) music with incredibly diverse (and much of the time attractive) foreground material alone... like the frosting you love to stick your finger in every now and then.

~Carter Pann

What constitutes a masterpiece?

2010-09-14T14:19:00.002-06:00

The Oxford dictionary presents one definition as “a work of outstanding artistry,” and defines artistry as “creative skill or ability.” While appropriate, this is quite broad as to what outstanding artistry implies. I have a more concise version: a work can be considered a masterpiece if it demonstrates a high level of artistic maturity at all perceivable levels. It is something that never leaves one with the feeling that anything is missing. This requires the artist to focus on all aspects of a piece equally. How is the foreground related to the background? Do the various parts flow together? There should be a strong feeling of synergy between all material.

Whether a work is a masterpiece should be considered regardless of ones taste. The cohesiveness of a work is unaffected by if you care for the subject matter or not. Additionally how well the various aspects of a piece work together transcends style or period. The sacred music of Palestrina is no less masterful than Stravinsky's Rite of Spring or Reich's Music for 18 Musicians. Each of these come from different styles and exhibit different levels of complexity but all demonstrate a high level of artistic maturity and a great deal of interconnectedness between the various parts and the overall form of the work.

Sometimes a particular work of an artist may be deemed their masterpiece. This is a designation I do not agree with. By saying that one piece is the highest achievement of someone's career I feel it devalues their other works. If Beethoven's 9^th Symphony is his best work, it implies that the 5^th is not as good. Elevating a single work to such a status devalues their other work whether that is the intention or not. The category of masterpiece, if used at all, should be refer specifically achieving the high level quality mentioned earlier and not to imply any single work is better than all others in ones collection.

An other indicator people sometimes use for determining whether a work is a masterpiece is “the test of time.” If a work is still viewed in high regard years, decades, centuries later it must be a masterpiece. For me this is problematic as it implies that no new works can be immediately considered masterpieces. If time is a requirement of quality then what is the period after which such a determination can be made? Can there then be new masterpieces? Under this criteria, no, because by the time it has been around long enough, it is not new. By this I mean “new” not as new additions to the overall masterpiece collection but as newly created works. One could not leave a concert thinking “that premiere was definitely a masterpiece.”

One problem with the entire notion of masterpiece is the concentration of attention this title creates and how it can affect new art. A masterpiece automatically draws audiences, some of which know and appreciate the work and others that have simply heard reference to it enough to feel that it is something they should have experienced. While it is great that a piece could achieve such a level of respect, it sometimes results in the mentality that nothing new could possibly be better. This notion can leave little room for contemporary artists to present their work. Audiences should remember that at one time Bach, Shakespeare, and Michelangelo were new too, and while continuing to appreciate the classics one should continue to be receptive of the new.

In short, I define a masterpiece as an example of high quality work, which may encompass any number of pieces, and should be admired but not idolized.

~Cole Ingraham

Stockhausen is Coming

2010-09-06T14:19:00.002-06:00

Hunter Ewen: Ohia and Lehua

2010-08-25T23:06:00.000-06:00

Liz Comninellis: a man said to the universe

2010-08-25T23:05:00.000-06:00

Leanna Kirchoff: Dreams Go Through Me

2010-08-25T23:01:00.001-06:00

2010-2011 Concert Season

2010-08-12T12:35:00.005-06:00

Click on the season calendar to enlarge.

CU College of Music - Composition Prizes - Spring 2010

2010-08-12T12:02:00.000-06:00

The composition program at the University of Colorado at Boulder, College of Music,

proudly offers three composition prizes to its student composers each year.

Edward Levy Prize

$1000 commission for a solo or chamber piece to be presented at the College of Music

during the following academic year. This prize is given in memory of Edward Levy.

George Lynn Prize

$1000 prize and premiere performance of a large ensemble piece by the University of

Colorado Wind Symphony, Symphonic Band or Concert Band. This prize is given in

memory of George Lynn and his work as a choral conductor and composer. George

Lynn’s compositions can be found in the library at the College of Music, University of

Colorado at Boulder.

Undergraduate Composition Prize

$500 commission for a solo or chamber piece to be presented at the College of Music

during the following academic year.

Judges: John Drumheller, Daniel Kellogg, Allan McMurray, Carter Pann, Michael Theodore, Keith Waters

2010 Winners

Edward Levy Prize

Liz Comninellis

George Lynn Prize

Keane Southard

Undergraduate Composition Prize

Andrew Buckner

A Conversation with Paul Moravec

2010-08-12T11:00:00.002-06:00

An interview with Pulitzer Prize-winning composer Paul Moravec. Recorded January 20, 2010 at the University of Colorado. Conducted by Greg Simon and Daniel Kellogg, presented by Pendulum New Music at the University of Colorado.

Boob Tube

2010-03-20T18:36:00.010-06:00

During my latest procrastination odyssey, I encountered the latest video from rock outfit OK Go. OK Go has a history of cool, imaginative videos dating back to the “Here it Goes Again” video (the one featuring the band dancing on treadmills), so I knew I was in for something exciting. If you haven’t seen the YouTube sensation, it’s certainly worth four minutes:

This comes mere weeks after the advent of another internet obsession, this visual treat I borrowed from the wonderful Molly Sheridan:

Vanishing Point from Bonsajo on Vimeo.

Which in turn came right on the tails of my adventures with Pogo’s video catalogue (see "The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse," down below). Meanwhile, the last few weeks brought the Black Box Pendulum, which featured almost entirely pieces with a video component, and Hunter Ewen’s Hullo, My Name Is Lily Foster, which relied heavily on video for the entire 90 minutes. So in the last two months, a sizeable chunk of my musical intake has been accompanied by video all presumably working to enhance the listening experience.

The amount of visual aids in my music diet is interesting, because unlike many of my colleagues at CU, I’ve never felt comfortable adding a visual component to my music. It could be attributed to technological ineptitude, lack of inspiration, or just stubborn conservatism. Anyone who attended our Black Box concert last month, though, knows that I’m the exception around here, not the rule. Every piece on the program showcased a video to accompany (or in some cases, be) the performance, save for Liz Comninellis’s wonderful song cycle - but even she costumed her performers in 1930’s-like garb to fashion a period piece. On the whole, the evening was about compositions that told their stories visually as well as aurally.

The idea of composing a video specifically for a given musical work is, obviously, nothing new; remember MTV, before it became, well, MTV? Artists in popular genres across the spectrum have made music videos since the 50’s, and used videos as an artistic extension of the song (rather than just a documentary of the performance) since at least the 80’s. And while we don’t generally connect the music video to the concert hall, it’s hard to forget the role dance has played in our history, much of which has very little to do with the music’s subject matter (particularly post-1900, as modern choreographers have felt less and less the need to be programmatic). So for years, if not centuries, a visual element has been not only welcome in Western music, but even expected in some genres.

And why wouldn’t it be? After all, light travels faster than sound; the listener will perceive any visual we provide before he/she hears a note of our music. If we can control that, and put together a visual that serves our artistic vision, we can create a more immersive artistic experience and drive our message home more reliably. Not only that, but using a visual opens up a whole new world of expression through use of color, image, texture... things that have equivalents in music but that a purely sonic artwork can’t provide on its own. So really, there’s no downside to using a visual; all we can do is involve the audience more fully in our artistic world, so we should never shy away from visual enhancement of our music... right?

Let’s go back to the OK Go video. Like most of my internet obsessions, it excited me to the point of frenzy; in the 24 hours since the first viewing I clocked at least five more. By Monday I was bursting with excitement about my new internet find, and I had to tell someone. But when I stopped a colleague in the hall that morning to tell him about the OK Go video, I realized: after all those viewings, I had a vivid recollection of the video, but couldn’t remember one note of the song.

What the heck happened?

Being neither a psychologist nor a particularly self-aware person, I can’t explain it concretely. But the simplest explanation seems to be that I was so engaged by the visual component of the video that I forgot to listen. Given a spectacular, hand-crafted machine with obviously high production values and a “story” that demands near constant concentration so you don’t lose track of the machine’s progress, I stopped caring about the unremarkable indie-rock backdrop (the irony, of course, is that the video only exists to sell its soundtrack).

Perhaps this is the source of my skepticism about “visual music.” I find it far too easy to over-inundate the audience with information and cause them to shut down, or at least direct their attention elsewhere than your music. For all the flaws with our concert performance construct (and there are many), this is one thing it gets right; providing a visual to connect with the music that does nothing to overpower it. But the more information we add, the closer we get to overloading the listener/viewer, who has a finite attention span. It may not make him/her consciously uncomfortable (or might it?), but in response he/she may concentrate on a single element to avoid getting overstimulated. And, because sound is the least proximal piece of sensory information (and therefore the last to be received), when pitted against the visual (or the tactile), music loses every time.

I’m curious to hear from composers and other artists who deal with this issue in their own work. If you make a habit of working with the visual and the aural, how do you balance them? Is it a concern for you during the creative process? When are visual aids appropriate, and when do they begin to detract from the musical experience? And listeners: have you ever been to a performance of a mixed-media piece where, no matter how much you enjoyed it, you left thinking you might have missed something?

The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse: Part 3

2010-02-09T13:05:00.005-07:00

The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse is a 3-part series on copyright law, of which this is the conclusion. Part 2 can be found below and part 3 can be found in January's archives.

Sony’s filing and subsequent withdrawal of copyright claims against Pogo brought a few important truths to light. First, the remix and derivative culture that the Internet has born is large, smart, and supportive of its members. Second, it firmly believes in a legal remix culture and is not afraid to fight copyright holders on issues of fair use (at least outside of court, using their own unique tactics). Third, entertainment conglomerates are very aware of this growing cultural movement, and they are not happy about it.

Of course, that last one wasn’t really a secret; by Pogo’s debut in 2009 there had been a grand tradition of copyright warfare between entertainment producers and digital junkies. DJ Danger Mouse, whom we met in Part 1, spurred perhaps the most publicized remix battle; on the subject of copyright circumvention we might also mention Defective by Design’s ongoing campaign against Digital Rights Management (DRM) and Fredrik Neij’s wildly controversial Pirate Bay. And who could forget Shawn Fanning and his pet project? Really, since the advent of the web, users have been fighting with industry about digital copyright laws and enforcement. With so much bad faith against the entertainment industry it’s understandable that they would invest so heavily in fighting infringement. All of their fighting hasn’t gained much ground, though -- as of this writing The Pirate Bay is still up and running, all music sold on iTunes is certified DRM-free and Napster has given way to a host of file-sharing programs like Gnutella, Limewire, and Azureus, just to name a few. And with every loss, the entertainment industry sustains a little more bad publicity for going after the little guy. So when Sony made the choice to back off of Pogo, it was understandable. A battle with an celebrated internet celebrity, where the offending product would continue to pop up across YouTube illegitimately and ad infinitum, was a headache that would not justify the small victory for copyright protection, especially when the company was still hung over from the myriad (and extremely vilifying) copyright lawsuits of the nineties and 2000’s.

Disney, however, took a lesson from Sony’s failure, and decided on a slightly different strategy. In November of 2009, they approached Pogo and offered him the opportunity to write a promotional track for Up, the Disney-Pixar headliner of 2009. Pogo would be granted free reign to use any sample from the film, with permission; and commissioned, so Pogo would profit on his work immediately. The one condition: Pogo remove any other Disney remixes from his YouTube and Last.fm accounts. And it worked - on Christmas Day of 2009, all of Pogo’s tracks that sample Disney-owned content (including Alice, Expialidocious, and White Magic) were removed from public view on YouTube, save for Upular, the one bought and paid for by the corporation itself.

This didn’t go unnoticed, of course; remember, among the casualties of this deal was Alice, the video that skyrocketed Pogo to Internet fame. Almost instantly, Pogo’s fans (the same that responded with such force and speed when Bangarang was threatened) were on the scene, wondering aloud on Pogo’s YouTube, MySpace and website what had happened to their beloved Alice and Expialidocious. In a statement through his publicist on his website, Pogo came clean, told the whole story, adding that he understood Disney’s position in the whole mess:

Disney, or any corporation for that matter, can not contract an ongoing infringer. At the time of releasing ‘Upular’, Pogo was not (and still isn’t to this day) legally allowed to sample audio and video from ‘Alice In Wonderland’, ‘The Sword In The Stone’ and ‘Mary Poppins’. While none of Pogo’s tracks for these films have ever produced revenue or been used commercially, the law still considers them infringements of copyright.

Are we convinced by Pogo’s rhetoric? Maybe not; after all, this is quite a change from the artist who so angrily fought Sony for the right to sample. Quite a change, indeed, from the artist who insisted that the remix culture was not only legally fair use, but free publicity for the corporate entertainers he borrowed from and that they should stop resisting it. But even if his concessions to Disney were disingenuous, it’s hard to blame Pogo for accepting their deal. It’s always been tough to make ends meet as an artist, let alone internationally, let alone in a niche genre. This is all ignoring, of course, the fact that the fair use doctrine Pogo relied on for legal protection (assuming he were brought to trial under U.S. copyright law; Australian fair dealing would offer him no protection) puts particular weight on the issue of profit, keeping Pogo from relying on his work for any income. Regardless of the time or energy Pogo put into his work, current copyright law would make him forever a hobbyist; Disney gave him the opportunity to profit from his art, without fear of legal retribution, and create whatever sort of new piece he wished. It was the dream commission for an electronic musician. And at what cost?

All of Pogo’s most popular tracks, including the ones that sealed his reputation, gone.

Hundreds of hours of work, discarded.

An indefinite end to Pogo’s firm stand for fair use.

And perhaps worst of all, a statement to entertainment conglomerates that while the remix culture will not be trampled, maybe it can be bought.

So this is where we find ourselves: in the midst of an artistic revolution, fostered by the Internet, where remixed and bootlegged content reigns supreme. It’s a movement born out of reworking the past with the tools of the future, and the following behind it is one of the most intense and devoted ones in the digital age. Given the right tools, everyone can participate in the movement, regardless of expertise; and with the help of the Internet a remix artist’s product is instantly available to the entire planet. We have on our hands a purely democratic art form that could only exist in our time and has nearly limitless potential to reach an audience.

But the law has yet to catch up to the technology. The current copyright legislation allows artists (and media conglomerates) tyrannical control over their work, even from far beyond the grave. The architects of copyright law are no longer working for lesser-known or niche artists; the 1998 Copyright Extension Act was lobbied by Disney, the estates of Sonny Bono and George Gershwin. And in the name of protecting the interests of these blockbuster artists, we are sweeping the legs out from under an artistic movement that could define a generation. The lip-service protections afforded these artists leave them unable to profit from their work (which, remember, was the entire point of this legislation), and as we see with Pogo’s story, vulnerable to influence by the giants of the art world.

Artists continue to try circumventing the system - the copyleft and Creative Commons, imperfect they may be, are a step towards a new way of thinking about artists’ rights, both to their own work and the work of others. But these communities scratch the surface of a much bigger problem with our current system. What’s really needed to protect small artists, remix and otherwise, is a rethinking of copyright legislation that allows statutory licenses for derivation, extends fair use, and caps copyright terms. No individual’s ability to profit would be substantially affected, and the lesser level of control might remind more covetous artists that we’re all in this together, and we are, ultimately, all creating our work as a public service to audience and fellow artists alike.

But accomplishing the above would mean wrestling the reins on copyright away from the groups that have fought so hard to get it to its current state. It would mean going head-to-head with Disney, Universal, and Sony, not to mention artists that love the attractive idea of profiting from their work forever. Let’s always remember the dark side of copyright: Robert Frost, John Lennon and Robert Rauschenberg all retain tight-fisted control over their work even though they’ve passed. Depending on the estate’s stinginess, any work directly inspired by Andy Warhol or Mr. Rogers could be a crime worth thousands of dollars to an already-struggling artist. And, assuming that Pogo’s agreement with Disney remains in place (and that there are no more term extensions), the next time you can hope to see Alice, Expialidocious, or White Magic, the three pieces that introduced the world to Pogo, will be in 2023 when Steamboat Willie finally enters the public domain.

Somewhere, a Mouse is laughing.

Hullo, My Name is Lily Foster - An Interview with Lily

2010-02-05T18:00:00.004-07:00

Hunter Ewen, doctoral candidate at CU, has been working for months now on his performance piece Hullo, My Name is Lily Foster, featuring Liz Comninellis as Lily Foster. The performance of this monumental new work is on February 27 (ONE NIGHT ONLY!) and everyone on Hunter's crew is in full swing getting it together. Pendulum was lucky enough to get some time with Hunter and Lily, and ask them some questions about their piece, the ups and downs of performance art, and get a small glimpse into the world of Lily Foster.

Hullo, My Name is Lily Foster premieres on Saturday, February 27. Tickets and more information can be found at www.lilyfoster.org. Because of the show's content, audience discretion is advised.

The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse: Part 2

2010-02-02T19:00:00.008-07:00

The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse is a 3-part series on copyright that will be posted through the first part of February. Look for Part 3 next week.

Our ballad has two main characters: Pogo, an Australian electronica artist; and Disney, multinational corporation and the most important entertainment franchise in American history.

There’s really nothing quite like Disney in this country. The Disney name is about as American as apple pie and baseball at this point in our history, and it’s touched nearly every citizen regardless of geography, political views, heritage or any other dividing factor. Disney reliably provides us with a feeling of togetherness, nostalgia, and relief from our cares and woes - it’s the comfort food of entertainment.

This virtuousness is also Disney’s greatest curse - every one of its products deals in this currency of innocence and playfulness. Sure, at this point the money derived from this brand name is trivial (being that they also own ESPN, ABC, Pixar, Miramax...) but image is important, and they are thoroughly invested in protecting theirs. This investment mainly means protecting their copyrights on hallmarks of their company, including (but not limited to) the images of the Muppets, Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, and of course, Disney’s calling card: Mickey Mouse.

Mickey has historically been the principal player in Disney’s quest for copyright protection, because Disney’s owned trademarks begin with his appearance in Steamboat Willie in 1928. As soon as Steamboat Willie enters the public domain, so does Mickey, and therefore all of his Disney appearances (and his own likeness); and so Disney has fought tooth-and-nail to extend copyrights whenever the public domain crossover draws near. So far, they’ve won the fight four times, delaying its copyright expiration from the original 1956 to 1984 (through renewal) to 2003 (under the Copyright Act of 1976) and finally 2023 (under the Sonny Bono Act mentioned in Part 1).

There’s room for argument over how much Disney’s lobbying really affected the passing of the copyright extension legislation, but Disney has certainly been defensive of Mickey in other ways. When an ex-Disney employee suggested that a technicality might mean that Steamboat Willie is public domain after all, it inspired an ongoing debate in law schools across the country. Meanwhile, it put Disney on full-field offense, sending lawyers cross-country to preliminary hearings to get possible disputes thrown out and even threatening to sue anyone who advanced the suggestion, calling it “slander of title.” This defensiveness is hardly an isolated incident; also in Disney’s past are such absurdities as filing suit against day-cares in Florida that paint Disney characters on their walls and suing a party-planner for carrying Eeyore and Tigger costumes.

The latest to go head-to-head with Disney on their copyrights is an Australian electronic composer who goes by the alias of Pogo. Pogo’s trademark is simple: he uses small samples (as small as a tenth of a second) from popular films and backing tracks which he composes himself. Although his base of operations is in Perth, his YouTube and Last.fm presences (there were upwards of 4 million YouTube views of just one track, Alice, back in November) have rocketed him to fame among an international group of internet junkies. Here’s a random sampling of some of his finer tracks, although it’s almost all great listening:

In many ways, Pogo couldn’t have gotten where he is today without Disney. His humble beginnings on the internet were almost all derived from Disney works, as diverse as Mary Poppins and The Sword in the Stone. Hands down, his most popular project has been an EP called Wonderland, featuring four songs derived from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland. The leading track from that album, “Alice,” was one of his first smash hits on YouTube.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Disney that would take the first blow at Pogo for copyright infringement - it was Sony Pictures Entertainment, for a track called “Bangarang” that Pogo created using samples from Hook. After a copyright claim, “Bangarang” was taken off of YouTube; the resulting outcry was immediate and substantial. Bootleg versions of “Bangarang” appeared all over YouTube, with an inspiring outpouring of support from Pogo’s internet followers; and Pogo himself posted a sizable defense of himself on his website, laying out the fair-use case for his work and adding:

My work serves as free viral marketing to the organisations that own the films I sample from. It's high time the music industry pulls its head out of its ass, and realises that today's remix culture is an asset, not a liability. To shoot down the potential here would be utterly illogical.

Let’s revisit the issue of fair use, which is Pogo’s sole defense for his activities. “Fair use” is a small statute of copyright law which allows for limited use, quotation or derivation of copyrighted work without permission; in other words, it’s in place to protect people who “borrow” copyrighted material for good-faith purposes. Whether or not a use is considered “fair” depends on four factors:

Purpose and character of the use. This factor considers both what the borrowing’s intention is, and whether the borrower stands to profit from it. In general, non-profit projects are permissible, and works of parody or what the law considers “transformative” are permissible.

Nature of the copied work. This one’s more abstract; it considers the basic character of the work in question, from whether it’s fictional or non-fictional to its original intent.

Amount and substantiality. How much of the work is being used. Is it a “legally cognizable appropriation” (a phrase coined in Grand Upright Music, Ltd. v. Warner Bros. Records, Inc.), or is it so small that it’s virtually unrecognizable?

Effect on the original’s value. Will the new work be in competition with the old? Will it affect the original copyright holder’s ability to profit from his work?

This is all in addition to the common-sense judgment of whether a use fulfills copyright law’s intention of stimulating new creativity, or whether it’s simply hoping to profit off of copyrighted work. With all these factors, the whole fair use question is a gray area, but it’s worked to protect many an artist since its inception.

It’s important to keep in mind, though, that fair use is a legally defensible position, not a right or a copyright. Anytime you use copyrighted material, you take the chance that you’ll be sued and lose, regardless of whether you feel that it’s fair use or not. Still, some uses are more obviously fair than others, and it looks like Pogo would have a decent shot in court. Pogo doesn’t make much money from YouTube or Last.fm, and many of his tracks are available for free on his website, so the purpose of his use seems toward the non-profit. The snippets of sound he uses for each one are tiny, and the end product is light-years away from the original, definitely not “legally cognizable.” And unless Disney’s planning to break into the underground DJ scene sometime soon, he’s not competing with the original work in any way. Most importantly, he is, as he says, “fulfill[ing] the intention of copyright law by stimulating creativity for the enrichment of the general public.” So Pogo passes three of the four “fair use” criteria, and a good lawyer could probably find plenty more points to argue.

The promise of a difficult fair-use battle and the resulting PR nightmare caused Sony to cave, and within months “Bangarang” was back on YouTube legitimately. Disney wouldn’t be far behind in noticing Pogo, though; after all, he’s borrowed material from Disney upwards of fifteen times, rather than just once for Sony. But the Magic Kingdom doesn’t like confrontation, and clearly the public defense of Pogo wouldn’t allow them to silence him with litigation without causing a serious image problem. A firing squad wouldn’t work to keep Pogo away from their copyrights; so, in true Disney fashion, they went with a poisoned apple instead.

To Be Continued

The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse: Part 1

2010-01-25T17:13:00.006-07:00

The Ballad of Pogo and the Mouse is a 3-part series on copyright law that will be posted throughout the month. Look for Part 2 in February.

United States copyright law is a funny thing.

Current law stipulates that any work is the protected property of the creator until 70 years after his death - and that’s only without a good lawyer. Thanks to copyright renewal and estate protection laws, works can remain protected for upwards of 100 years. Protection, meanwhile, doesn’t just guarantee the right to sell and profit; it protects the work from any use in derivatives by other artists, save for the flimsy “fair use” clause which does little more than give you a leg to stand on if you’re sued for using something (derivatives, in this case, include any sort of musical setting of text, adaptation for a different medium, new work based on a theme or plot of an old one, etc.). The protection these statutes afford artists and writers is meant, says the Constitution, to "promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.”

Let’s revisit the last hundred years of copyright, and see how far we’ve come: as late as 1909, copyright was only protected for 28 years, with an option for renewal for an additional 28 (to put things in perspective: were this law still in place, Welles’ radio version of War of the Worlds, Orwell’s 1984, and the Miles Davis Kind of Blue album would all be public domain). In addition, the Copyright Act of 1909 required that a work be registered with the Copyright Office to be eligible for protection. The next major change in U.S. copyright law came in 1976, when the aptly-named Copyright Act of 1976 extended copyright terms to the author’s lifespan plus 50 years, or 75 years for works before 1976, and a 75-year flat term for pre-1978 works (now none of these are available for use, although War of the Worlds is coming up on public domain in 2013). Things change again in 1998 with the Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act, where lobbying by Rep. Bono’s wife Mary, the estate of George Gershwin and (mainly) the Walt Disney Corporation resulted in a term extension to death-plus-70 years (still all copyrighted, except no using War of the Worlds until 2033). That same year, the Digital Millennium Copyright Act criminalizes online infringement, largely in response to Napster; and in 2004, the Senate passed the Pirate Act (currently before the House), which allows these cases to be handled by federal prosecutors (now using any of these isn’t merely infringement, it’s potentially a misdemeanor).

As artists, we tend to get really excited about long copyright terms that extend our control over our work. But the extent of the protection we’re granted is a double-edged sword with a definite dark side. Like that Robert Frost poem and want to set it to music? You’d better wait until 2033, when the tight-fisted Frost estate loses his work to the public domain. How’s that Citizen Kane opera you’re working on going? Hope it’s not going anywhere until 2065, 70 years after Orson Welles passed. Fascinated by the bootleg culture that’s growing all over the internet? Well, beware, because using even a ten-second Beatles riff is infringement on someone’s copyright and record labels don’t mess around. And I really hope you don’t draw too much inspiration from Disney, because there’s no entity more litigious with their copyrights or looking harder to extend them. For law specifically designed to promote progress in the arts, our current copyright legislation does a great job of stifling creativity among a slew of artists. And this grey area hasn’t gotten any clearer with the advent of the Internet. It was the Internet, after all, that spawned the controversy around Danger Mouse’s Grey Album (see the link above), and was the impetus for the DMCA; meanwhile, it’s made derivative work an extremely powerful artistic force in the music world, with its tight-knit communities around mashups and other electronic remixes, not to mention Wikipedia, open-source and the entire culture of information sharing.

The Internet’s not the only problem here; our law hasn’t evolved to accommodate a culture of derivative art. Consider this: if you want to record an entire cover of Bob Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind, you need only pay a fee, and you are granted a “compulsory” or “statutory” license to do so, with no permission required by Mr. Dylan. However, if you want to make an electronic composition using a three-second sample from the original recording, and Mr. Dylan finds out, he’s able to sue you and force you to find a good fair use lawyer; if you lose, he can order you to destroy your work or charge you exorbitant infringement fees.

There’s arguably a fair equivalence in both of the cases above (recording a cover vs. sampling for a new work); if anything, an artist has more to lose from a cover of his work than from a small sample being used in another. So why are we insisting that one is punishable and the other is not? We acknowledge that once you’ve recorded and released a piece of music, it is, to a certain extent, owned by the public; that's why subsequent recordings aren't up to you. It’s not such a stretch to argue that ownership of art is shared among the artist and his/her audience. We subconsciously invest in art that’s important to us all the time; what couple hasn’t designated a love ballad “their” song? Who hasn’t defined their childhood by a favorite Saturday morning cartoon? Who thinks twice about copyright before singing the “Happy Birthday” song? If we take a certain amount of public intellectual ownership as a given, then artists seem to be perfectly within their rights if they derive new art from older works which inspire them, even if the price is to pay a fee, as is the case with the statutory license. Certainly, no one is helped by allowing an artist to possessively protect his work from any and all derivatives.

As militant as these ideas may seem, there’s a thriving community of artists who have embraced it, the most-developed of which are the copyleft movement and the Creative Commons. But even these are far from perfect; at best, most versions of reduced-rights licenses require someone to give up their right to profit from their work, and force the artist to approach his work as a hobbyist or part-timer. Meanwhile, the Creative Commons derivative art can only draw from inside its closed-off community, while much of the art truly relevant to a greater public remains under the stringent U.S. copyright protections. This community of artists, then, is largely pursuing their work pro bono and in a vacuum, and the ability of their art to reach a wider audience is severely limited.

So the question becomes: who’s copyright law really helping? It is working in the best interest of 21st century artists when it prevents a composer from setting his favorite text until he’s 60? Does it foster innovation and forward-thinking by throwing hundreds of hours of work by Danger Mouse in a bonfire? Can we really our art to be expected to remain connected and relevant when even the most innocuous cultural icon is kept under lock and key until it’s obsolete? Who really wants to keep extending these limits?

Here’s one answer: Disney has lobbied with every ounce of corporate strength they have since the 70’s to protect and extend copyright terms - namely, to retain their copyright on the extremely marketable image of everyone’s favorite Mouse. And it’s with Disney that our ballad continues.

To Be Continued

Welcome Back!

2010-01-22T11:19:00.002-07:00

The Pendulum series and the CU composers have officially awakened from our winter hibernation, and been very busy preparing for the exciting season ahead. We're off to a great start - here's what's happening in the next few weeks:

- Don't miss our season premiere next week at Wednesday; see the post below for details.

- This past week, Pulitzer-winning composer Paul Moravec was in town for a performance of his work, and graciously afforded us the opportunity to sit down with him for an interview. A video of the enlightening conversation will be available soon!

- On February 9, the CU Wind Symphony will be having their spring opener, featuring three premieres by CU composers! Greg Simon's "Foolish Fire," recipient of the George Lynn Prize, will be featured, along with new works by our very own Carter Pann and Richard Toensing. A concert not to miss!

- Our bi-weekly op-ed pieces return next week - as always, if you want to add your voice, it's as easy as emailing your essay to cupendulum@gmail.com.

January 27, 2010: Raga and Other Works

2010-01-22T11:14:00.001-07:00

Our Spring 2010 season opens with premieres by Anthony Green, Mary Mixter, Keane Southard, along with works by Bright Sheng and a special performance with Maestro Gary Lewis - one of our most exciting programs of the season! See you next Wednesday at the usual time and location! Visit www.cu-pendulum.com for more information.

Throwback: Why I Love Unsilent Night

2009-12-06T16:55:00.003-07:00

This year's performance of Unsilent Night is coming up fast - less than a week to go! (See our homepage for more information.) In the almost three years that I've been at CU, this has become one of our biggest events of the year, and a great opportunity for us to mingle with the wonderful Boulder community. For this week's update, and in anticipation of the third annual Boulder UN, I wanted to share with you my Pendulum debut from two years ago, "Why I Love Unsilent Night." Enjoy:

I love Phil Kline’s Unsilent Night.

It’s not the music itself that I love, although that part of it is fine too. I love Mr. Kline’s idea that during the time of year that’s most about togetherness, we, the musicians, can come down from the stage and the ivory tower to create art music with people from all walks of life, some of whose understanding of modern music may end at “Britney Spears is a bad mom.” And I love this idea’s nearly limitless implications for other art music projects.

Think about it. Western music has traditionally been based on a somewhat artificial construct: the performer is an acknowledged expert interpreting writings of another acknowledged expert for a group of acknowledged non-experts that presumably enjoy listening to these experts. Surely there’s a little more nuance to this structure, but at its root the performer/audience setup is a somewhat feudalist lecture between two groups of unequal knowledge. While some composers of the past and present have and are trying to circumvent this dichotomy there’s always been this sense of imbalance between those who create the art and those who merely witness it.

Enter Phil Kline, who has created a performance environment in which every listener has the opportunity to be a performer; no longer is anyone forced to be passive in the new music experience. Perhaps the specialist nature of performance is being broken down, but considering that we as an artistic community are more concerned with public outreach than ever, that may not be a bad thing at all. What better way to break down the audience/artist barrier than to offer the layperson an active role in the creation of music? For that matter, what better way than this to remind ourselves that music should be used to draw people together? The part of me that dreams big can see this collaborative experience growing and growing until everyone within earshot of the performance carries a pair of speakers; and when that happens we will have created a new music in which everyone is both a performer and listener, and enjoys the cathartic and spiritual experiences unique to each role.

There’s never been a time in new music where it’s more important for us to welcome listeners into the musical experience. There’s scarcely been a time in history where we need more to be reminded about togetherness and community. Unsilent Night accomplishes all of this, and because of that it may be the first step toward a new tradition of art music that’s based around community creation and enjoyment rather than the arbitrary model we work around now. What an exciting revolution that would be.

And that’s why I love Phil Kline’s Unsilent Night. Please join us on Friday. Happy holidays, everyone.

The End is Near!

2009-11-28T14:54:00.002-07:00

I awoke this morning from my Thanksgiving-induced coma to find that the virtual music community had lit up with commentary on composer Glenn Branca’s piece this week on the New York Times’ Opinionator Blog, “The End of Music.” It’s been a while since a single piece of online writing has sparked this much controversy (anyone remember the Maria Schneider incident?), but everyone’s talking about it. For those of you who’d rather not migrate to read it, here are some highlights:

“For more than half a century we’ve seen incredible advances in sound technology but very little if any advance in the quality of music. In this case the paradigm shift may not be a shift but a dead stop. Is it that people just don’t want to hear anything new? Or is it that composers and musicians have simply swallowed the pomo line that nothing else new can be done, which ironically is really just the “old, old story.””

“There’s no question that in music, like politics, the bigger the audience gets the more the “message” has to be watered down. Muzak’s been around for a long time now but maybe people just can’t tell the difference anymore. Maybe even the composers and songwriters can’t tell the difference either. Especially when it’s paying for a beach house in Malibu and a condo in New York.”

“Why bother doing anything new at all? Why bother having any change or progress at all as long as we’ve got “growth”? I’m just wondering if this is in fact the new paradigm. I’m just wondering if in fact the new music is just the old music again. And, if that in fact it would actually just be the end of music.”

Far be it from me to say anything bad about Mr. Branca, but the controversy around this essay is no surprise. I think there’s plenty to take Glenn to task on in this extremely opinionated diatribe (Jazz is a dead art? Composers with houses in Malibu? Where to begin...), but in this space I’m going to concentrate on one point in particular that Branca makes, and has been a pet peeve of mine for a long time. For me, this essay begs one question in particular, and in six years of searching I’ve never gotten a satisfactory answer:

Since when does innovation equal quality?

It’s hard to dissect this somewhat convoluted essay to figure out what Branca’s problem really is, because it’s so hard to define “progress” or “innovation.” These two ideas, after all, exist on countless fronts in the extremely broad modern musical landscape. But given his track record as a composer - his principal claims to fame are work with “harmonic series instruments” and a symphony for 100 guitars - it’s safe to say that he’s looking for hip-and-now instrumentation in the concert hall, maybe experiments with language above and beyond what we’ve seen.

I guess I should expect such a belief from a composer like Mr. Branca, - obviously this is an artist for whom unique and groundbreaking soundscapes are of great importance. But this seems to be a common sentiment among composers, performers and a particular breed of classical music naysayers, this idea that musical quality is about breaking new ground... or perhaps that new music’s problem is that it’s not evolving fast enough.

Here’s the thing: we’re already moving at the speed of light. Consider that in the 18th and 19th centuries, large musical innovations came about every 50 years, give or take; let’s consider Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, Wagner’s Ring cycle and Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire as one possible track. In between, music evolved by degrees, but the movement between esthetic ideas was largely pretty patient. Starting in the early 20th century, we go into hyperdrive. Since 1930 we’ve moved through serialism, minimalism, neoromanticism, countless stages of electronic music innovation; art music has factioned and brought in artists from jazz, pop and rock; Messiaen, Ligeti, Subotnick, Zorn, Coleman, and hundreds of other figures have all left their profoundly unique, indelible stamp on the music world. Now we’re simultaneously exploring (to name but a few) spectralism, all sorts of bizarre eclecticisms and a reactionary return to tonality - and it’s not even 100 years after The Rite of Spring. So, I don’t find it altogether surprising that composers across genres are in a period of meditation, trying to make sense of the deluge of new styles we’ve seen born and die in the last century, or even in our own lifetimes.

More importantly, I don’t consider meditation on existing musical ideas to be a bad thing. I’m inherently suspicious of musical gimmickry - just because a cellist can play his instrument with his feet doesn’t mean he should - and the line between it and Mr. Branca’s particular breed of “innovation” seems to be thin. More importantly, to insist that every piece break some boundary is to suggest that any innovation becomes immediately stale upon presentation, and that nothing new can be said using old ideas.

Herein lies the heart of my issues with this essay. When I visit a concert hall, my craving for new music and composers isn’t based in the music’s fresh language, groundbreaking soundscapes, or any ostentatious avant-gardism. I want to hear new music because knowing that the composer lived during the Vietnam War, the invention of the cell phone, or Hurricane Katrina makes the music more immediate and personally resonant, no matter what it sounds like. If a composer uses thousand-year-old tropes to make a statement based in the issues surrounding our lives, that’s “innovation” enough for me to accept it as modern and relevant (whether I like the product or not). That’s why I don’t appreciate Branca’s false dilemma that if we’re not going to experiment, we might as well just enjoy the old stuff. The old stuff doesn’t speak for us the same way the new stuff does, no matter what the lineage of influence.

Clearly these issues aren’t enough for Mr. Branca, but what is it exactly that he’s looking for? More avant-garde experiments? Further blurring of genre lines? If that’s the case, what he’s really looking for is further manifestations of himself, as if he believes his way of composing is the only way forward, and if we don’t follow it we’re doomed to extinction. Well, Mr. Branca, my music and that of my colleagues might be nothing like yours, but it’s still relevant. It’s moving the art forward in its own way. And I think that we’re doing just fine, thank you.

The Blogroll (Updated Often)

2009-11-15T20:35:00.004-07:00

It's a big, wonderful Internet out there, and Pendulum New Music is just one of the many corners where music discussion lurks. The advent of New Music Box and other discussion sites have inspired countless musicians, critics and music-lovers to share their own thoughts and insights; and what a wonderful thing, too! The quality of music writing one can find is astounding -- as good as any print medium you can think of. Some of them should be mandatory reading for anyone interested in music criticism - writing about music is very, very hard; and there's no better cure for writer's block than examining the work of people you admire. The wealth of fantastic music blogs and writers out there have gotten me out of countless creative dry spells, and will no doubt save me from many more.

If you enjoy the writing you see here, there's tons of quality material around to fill the space between our bi-weekly updates. I'll use this space to share some of my favorite blogs with you, and other Pendulum crewmembers will certainly jump in with your own. If you maintain a blogspace that you're proud of and would like us to list, just email cupendulum@gmail.com and we'll add you to the roll here.

Matthew Guerierri - Soho the Dog

Matthew is the classical music critic for the Boston Globe, and a contributor to the fledgling online paper The Faster Times. He's also a fine composer, a surprisingly witty comic artist and economic-theory enthusiast. Soho the Dog jumps freely between acerbic, hilarious music commentary; serious discussion of real-world industry issues; and anything in between. You'll surely be entertained, and if you're not careful you might even learn something.

Molly Sheridan - Mind the Gap

Anyone who was lucky enough to catch Molly's panel discussions at last year's Conference on World Affairs knows that she's a smart, insightful musician whose ideas about technology (from Twitter to the Creative Commons to GFDL and beyond) as tools for musicians are revolutionary. Mind the Gap offers engaging commentary on the state of our art and its relationship with the digital age.

Jonathan Bellman and Phil Ford - Dial 'M' for Musicology

Just as nerdy as the blog's title suggests, but one of the smartest and most fascinating academic blogs around. Dual-maintained by Dr. Ford at Indiana University and Dr. Bellman, just up the road from us at UNC Greeley, Dial M is my destination for serious, hardcore discussion about the philosophy, psychology, and landscape of academic music. Don't let the name fool you - there's material here for everyone: composers, performers, and music enthusiasts could all have a great time with this blog.

Kyle Gann - PostClassic

Kyle Gann is one of the elder statesmen of contemporary art music, a totalist composer and minimalism scholar who has written for the Village Voice and taught at the prestigious Bard College. His blog is the new home for most of his extremely smart writings about music; it's also a superb database of music and recordings you may never find elsewhere. On and off, Gann also keeps a radio station of concert music from every conceivable corner of the last 50 years, itself called "PostClassic Radio." As of this writing, it's off... but with any luck it'll be back soon.

Nate Wheeler: The Art of Collaboration

2009-11-09T23:35:00.003-07:00

"Good art, I believe, never looks exactly the same to two people." -Greg Simon

In our last post, Greg Simon brought up the topic of interdisciplinary collaboration, and the concepts and ideas behind unifying perspectives to achieve some (ideally) cohesive creative end. In my various creative endeavors, I have been everything from lowly peon to equal collaborator to creative director. In my experience, I have learned that people have different creative processes, and that it's generally difficult to please everyone. Every collaborative creative endeavor is some sort of compromise. But these compromises often lead to new perspectives and ideas that take us directions we never would have conceived had we lacked the perspective of our collaborators.

I've heard and said many times that being in a band is like dating a group of people. There's always drama, conflict, and situations involving tension. A good band not only makes good music together, but figures out ways of functioning and staying together as a group. This inevitably involves communication. When two people disagree, the best thing they can do is explain to each other why, and be sympathetic to the other person's perspective.

Creating art is no different. A common vision, no matter how broad, is necessary in order to make a successful piece of collaborative art. This common vision has many factors, and can be facilitated in many ways. An important factor in collaboration is finding the right people with whom to collaborate. I would not choose to collaborate with someone whose art I do not enjoy. When I find someone whose art I find valuable or entertaining or beautiful, I am drawn to them. This is often my first step in working with others, and has been the reason for many of my jobs in many situations - someone has enjoyed what I do, and has approached me with an idea or an offer. (This personal connection is also why personal referrals are so important in "the business").

The next step is usually to discuss the inspiration for the work. We create art as a reaction or discussion of an idea. Landscape paintings are a statement about the beauty of the natural world. Punk rock is a blatant sociopolitical statement. As such, the idea behind a collaborative creative work must be collaborative. Even if I am just working as a sound engineer on a project, I need to know what the client is looking for, and how I can best achieve it. My main motivation is the paycheck I will receive for a job well done. But when I'm working with someone (as opposed to for them), there are usually incentives outside of money that are involved. This is where things get interesting.

The incentive to create is an expectation that in the end, some amount of satisfaction will be felt, some sort of idea will be investigated, some feeling will be purged. In order to do this together, we must be willing to discuss and investigate these things with each other. It is convenient that, typically, these issues are brought up during the introductory phase of the project, when collaborators are chosen and ideas discussed.

Collaborative works depend on finding common ground in our experiences, and learning from what all of our colleagues bring with them. What I bring with me to a project may help to inform or expand someone else, and I have many times been helped by the people with whom I have collaborated. It is how we learn most efficiently - it helps to eliminate trial and error on our part as individuals. We bring people to projects to help us fill in the gaps, or to help us in our investigation of our craft. These are the people we seek out as collaborators - those with whom we share both clear commonalities and clear differences.

Sometimes our differences are too broad or extreme to effectively collaborate. Sometimes we begin as beautiful, prefect matches, and after a few years (or weeks, or hours) grow to understand that our aims are different. We feel as though we have learned all we need to know, and move on to new investigations and adventures and collaborators. These experiences are equally as valuable to me as longstanding creative relationships. Knowing what I don't want is important in understanding what I do want. And I always learn something.

Common ground is what allows us to connect as people. It is why we still listen to Bach. It is why Greg's piece was chosen for performance. It is what brought the Greeks to the theater, what brings us in droves to sporting events, picnics, and conventions. It is why we study history and make our buildings beautiful. It is what leads us to make art. We express our views to bring in relationships, agreement, disagreement, any sort of reaction, to remind us that we are alive. We create to foster dialogue, whether it is within ourselves or with the world. Sharing an experience with someone who is alive and breathing and passionate, just like we are, makes the experience all the more gratifying, and we learn about ourselves when we create.

In the end, this dialogue is the artist's whole motivation to make, and creating with each other can make the process more efficient, more frustrating, or more enjoyable than when we do it alone. I would argue that we can't do it alone. What do you think?

Wendesday, November 11: ATTICA and other works

2009-11-09T22:41:00.002-07:00

The Pendulum season continues with another fantastic program! See Colorado and world premieres by CU composers Greg Simon, Nate Wheeler, and Anthony Green, with other works by Theofanidis, Glass and Felder featuring CU students and faculty. The concert also includes this year's composition studio hitting the stage in a performance of Rzewski's goregous Attica. 7:30 PM in Grusin, this Wednesday, November 11 - see you there!

Speaking in Tongues

2009-10-26T11:00:00.004-06:00

In the venerable halls of CU’s School of Music, there’s a perpetual buzz among composers about interdisciplinary collaboration. Many of my colleagues (I’m looking at you, Nate and Hunter) are always excited at new possibilities of collaboration and genre-blurring, both inside and outside the world of music. It’s no surprise, really; we’ve got a fantastic environment for these kinds of projects. The other humanities departments are filled with talented and motivated people excited about collaboration; our own faculty show a penchant for working outside their building; and we’ve got the facilities to make projects of any scope and design possible. During my time at CU I’ve seen composers, painters, dancers, actors and writers work together on all manner of projects, with mixed success. In these past three years, it’s only recently that anything close has happened to me, and it’s left me rethinking my ideas about collaboration.

The Fifth House Ensemble of Chicago recently included the first movement of my piano quintet, Kites at Seal Rock, on a series of performances. The program, entitled Black Violet, was a collaboration with graphic novelist Ezra Claytan Daniels, who drew a full-length graphic novel to be projected panel-by-panel above the ensemble during the program (which included Brahms, Piston, and Villa-Lobos in addition to little old me). This program was the first installment of three that the ensemble will present this season.

Black Violet tells the story of Violet, a black housecat in 16th-century England during the Black Plague, when black cats were persecuted for suspected connections to the rampant disease. My piece accompanied the final scene of the program: Violet has lost her beloved master and caretaker to the plague, and her only feline friend has been kidnapped, presumably to be killed. As she wanders the streets of London alone, she reflects on her tribulations, happier times past and the challenges ahead; meanwhile, a plague doctor coats dead bodies with perfume and flowers, singing the chilling last verse of the nursery rhyme “Ring Around the Rosie” (“ashes... ashes... we all fall down”) just as Kites at Seal Rock draws to a close.

The presentation of my piece with against such a dark, vulnerable story was actually quite captivating, and I thought it worked beautifully. Which is interesting, considering that the piece’s actual program couldn’t be further from this story. I meant Kites at Seal Rock as a sparkling reflection of kites through a child’s optimistic eyes, and never could have guessed that it would be used for something so chilling and morbid. As well as the piece worked in the context of the program, I couldn’t help but feel I should be put off by the experience. After all, I craft my music to be colorful and evocative of a certain program, or at least a certain emotion. Shouldn’t I be bothered by the fact that my intended message was so thoroughly discarded? Is it a problem that my intentions for the music proved to be so inconsequential for a successful performance?

These are the issues that have always given me pause regarding collaboration between artists. Good art, I believe, never looks exactly the same to two people. The artist might offer his intentions as a roadmap, but there are infinite views through the kaleidoscope of perception, and any individual viewer/listener will adopt a thoroughly unique view of a given piece. And, of course the same is true of artists. There are infinite paths to expression of an idea, and the variety in approaches to that expression is the beauty of art; it’s the reason we can listen to a hundred sonatas, view a hundred still lifes or read a hundred mysteries and never get bored. But consider a true collaborative artwork, with multiple artists giving input toward an idea. For a cohesive expression, this variety has to be set aside -- every artist needs to view the message through a single lens. When, if ever, is this guaranteed, even among artists who think alike? How do you get professionals who thrive on their individuality and uniqueness to think as one? And if you can’t, what stops the end product from being a Tower-of-Babel-style mess that no listener/viewer could hope to decipher?

After one performance, Ezra and I had a fantastic conversation about this very issue. If there’s anyone who’s tackled these demons head on, it’s him. And the conversation resulted in a fascinating epiphany. For Ezra, my piece isn’t really about childhood, or kites, or a colorful portrait; on its most basic level, it’s a piece about nostalgia. It’s about the same nostalgia that Violet feels during her final reflections on the tumultuous events of the first chapter: a nostalgia for a simpler and comfortable time, which is really what the final scene of Black Violet I is all about, too. Here is an artist who was able to take my work and reduce it down to a core I didn’t realize it had, but could readily agree on. And as I reviewed the performance in my head, I realized why this new presentation hadn’t bothered me: while the piece’s decoration had changed, the core of the expression (at least a facet of it) had stayed very much the same.

So perhaps this is what a successful artistic collaboration needs: artists who can, at least subconsciously, work at the same fundamental frequency, even though every other level of processing and expression may be radically different. Maybe the truly successful collaborative artists have a sixth sense of sorts that helps them find those colleagues to whom they’re so closely attuned, or perhaps it happens by accident. Assuming this connection is necessary for success in collaboration, how do we find it? How do we know when it’s really not there? And are coherent, evocative collaborations possible between artists without it, or do different artistic languages always mean a message that gets lost in translation?

Keane Southard: Examining the Relationship Between Art and Society

2009-10-16T11:48:00.002-06:00

As I have become increasing aware of the state of the world in my college years, I have become overwhelmed by the multitude of crises and problems that we as humans and a global society have created for ourselves and the deep pits we need to dig ourselves out of. I decided early on that my passion for music and the Arts was strong enough that that is what I wanted to spend my life doing, but in light of all these global problems, I have gained a huge feeling of guilt because of my chosen career path. How can I be spending my life in so esoteric a field as contemporary, and often abstract, concert music when in a hundred years (or less) the world may not even exist, never mind my music, if we do not do all we can to solve problems of climate change, nuclear weapons disputes, racism, genocide, finite energy and water resources, etc.? Maybe I should become a scientist, or social worker, or engineer, because what good is an artist in solving these problems? The Arts are just a luxury that we can do without, or at least that is often what seems to be the case, as in public schools, when the budget is tight, it inevitably seems to be the first thing cut.

Obviously this is not what I believe. The Arts would not have survived for hundreds of years if this were the case. On one level, Art has the power to make people feel good, which fits right into the hedonistic society we live. There is nothing like listening to and enjoying a beautiful piece of music that makes me feel wonderful (The problem is that many people feel that this is it's only purpose or are upset when this potential aspect of Art is missing, but that is a topic for another blog post...) But Art has most definitely been a force in the progression of history. The composer and pianist Frederic Rzewski talks of the power and force of music in society,

Of course music is a political force. It’s a very powerful political force. Music influences millions of people. If a composer comes to grips with this fact, this tremendous potential force that is in this form of art, then there is a possibility of really doing something to change the situation, perhaps on a small level at first, but nonetheless important. I think it’s very necessary today to begin to think of music as not simply a form of art for art’s sake but a form of spiritual expression

that potentially influences masses of people. (Joe Goldberg, “The Art of Political Process, Frederic Rzewski,” WaxPaper, 5/7 (1979) 21.)

But Rzewski also realizes the challenges and limitations of this potential,

The important thing is to get past the notion that an individual can, with his own resources, make any significant progress on solving a problem which is social in nature. This is one of the biggest hurdles that artists have to overcome, the idea that art alone can solve problems that really need other forms of action. Art can help: it can be useful in solving human problems. It always has been and it always will be, but only as long as it recognizes its own limitations.” (Ken Terry, “Frederic Rzewski and the Improvising Avant-Garde.” Downbeat (Jan. 11, 1979) )

When I try think of what artist(s) have had the greatest positive impact on the world, I have to say that it probably has been the Beatles, and more specifically John Lennon. The most popular band of the 60's, and probably of all time, took their fame and wide appeal and decided to do what they could to bring peace and love to the world, and probably has had, and continues to have as each generation discovers their songs, an incredible impact in many people's lives in a positive way. How they did this was to send very clear and direct messages to the world (“Give Peace A Chance”, “All You Need Is Love” etc.), but these messages were essentially inartistic. Their music was tied to this message, but didn't necessarily express it in musical or poetic terms. So as a composer of classical music, must I always set texts and attach programs to my works if I want to express and contribute to bettering the world (after all, even Beethoven felt the need to use a choir and set a poem in his ninth symphony)?

I turn again to Frederic Rzewski. This is a composer who I have been deeply fascinated with in the past couple years, both for his concern of creating social change through his art and for his actual music. In fact, I first fell in love with the music of his hour-long set of variations on The People United Will Never Be Defeated! before I knew anything about the extra-musical elements (although, I have to admit, I sought out and listened to the piece because I was intrigued by the title). The theme he uses is a Chilean revolutionary song from the 1970's, whose text says exactly what the title says, that when diverse peoples are united by a common cause, they will succeed against all odds. The history of the Chilean coup of the 70's, the text of the song, the conditions of premiere of Rzewski's work, the many allusions and connotations in the music; these are all extra-musical elements that are wonderful and contribute much to the understanding and power of the work, but before all of these Rzewski's piece works on a purely abstract musical level. Even more than this, it displays, in purely musical means, the ideological theme of the song it uses, that of the power of unification.

He does this by creating 36 variations that stylistically range across the history of western music, using styles reminiscent of composers such as Boulez, Cage, Glass, Chopin, Liszt, and Art Tatum. In some of these variations, the theme is obviously present, yet in others it seems to disappear completely. Then every sixth variation is a recapitulation of the previous five, allotting a phrase for each in the new variation, bringing the styles temporarily closer together. In the final group of six variations, there is no new material, instead all of these variations are recapitulations, the first of which recapitulates every sixth variation, the next recapitulates every sixth beginning with variation no.2, etc. This pattern continues so that the 36^th and final variation is both a recapitulation of the recapitulations. In other words, the result is that, contained in this single variation of twenty-seven measures is a condensed version of all variations into one single variation. The entire hour-long work is now, in a way, played in approximately less than a minute, a shrinking in size of approximately fifty times. The result is that the bulk of the original theme is heard twisting and turning through twenty-five different and widely contrasting guises. One moment the theme is clearly recognizable and the variation procedure is obvious and immediately apparently, but literally a second later the theme may be lost completely, only to return seconds later. It is as if looking at an object through twenty-five extremely different lenses, from extreme zooming to different tints to out-of-focus distortions and supernatural dimension alterations. The amazing effect this has is to make “sense” of the previous aurally confusing variations, where the theme seemed to be absent altogether. When these variations were a minute or so long, they were quite temporally detached from the other variations that were “closer” to the theme. As the temporal distance between these variations decreases, so does their apparently wide musical and stylistic distance. No matter from what angle this work is seen, its purpose is to show that neither angle, neither compositional style, neither culture, neither race, etc., is correct or incorrect, but that they are all connected in a deep and profound way and capable of creating beautiful and great things while increasing the understanding amongst all. When any of these contrasting elements, aspects, people, cultures, etc., come closer together, their similarities transcend their differences and enhance and strengthen each other, and this is shown completely through the arrangement of sound and pitches in time and space! Rzewski himself says,

I feel a bit uncomfortable being put in this, or any kind of box. I don’t like feeling obliged to make a political statement with every piece of music. First and foremost as music; and then if one can enrich this musical discourse with extra musical ideas, then so much the better.” (Richard Steinitz, “Imperialist Piano-Thumping Was One Avant-Gardiste Description of Frederic Rzewski This Week Because of His New Accessible Style.” Guardian. November 2, 1979.)

Of course the question must now be asked, how much of an impact has this piece had on the world? (You may even be saying, “I am a fan of contemporary classical music, and even I've never heard of this guy!”) That, of course, is impossible to determine, but what I know is that I have personally been deeply transformed by this music, and it inspires me to know that it is possible to uses pure abstract music to spread messages of most the sincere, powerful, and inspiring thoughts and dreams of a better existence for all, and that keeps me going as an artist in this world today.

- Keane Southard

Wednesday, October 14: MIRRORS AND LENSES

2009-10-14T11:14:00.003-06:00

Our season premiere (not counting the extremely successful Crumb Festival) is this evening at 7:30 PM in Grusin! The program is Mirrors and Lenses, a prism concert constructed by CU faculty Allan McMurray and featuring his CU Wind Symphony. Among the wonderful music to be performed are works by CU composers Greg Simon and Leanna Kirchoff, alongside everyone from Carter to Mozart. Hope to see you there!

Looking For a Little Romance

2009-09-28T12:27:00.003-06:00

Anyone who knows me reasonably well knows that among my less-savory pastimes is TV. In fact, I take my affinity for the box a fair amount further than pastime -- I love it. Nowhere is there a form of artistic expression more perfect for our attention-deficit culture than the half-hour episode. As the talent and budgets working in television have gotten bigger, the quality and artfulness of the average show have risen in leaps and bounds. With the advent of Hulu and network websites, content is more accessible than ever; and in the quest for relevance in art, a half-hour block of stories about our modern world and the people in it is as relevant as it gets.

As we roll into premiere season, I find myself thinking more and more about my favorite shows, what I see in them, and where (if anywhere) they transcend from being entertainment to being art. These are complex questions with plenty of valid answers, but some common threads do appear. One thing in particular has been on my mind: the romantic genius protagonist.

The primetime lineup is filled to the brim with main characters who are masters of their particular field, whether it be diagnostic medicine (House), creative fiction (Californication) or criminal anthropology (Bones); all are savants who live for their work, and all have pronounced trouble interacting with others. Their disconnect from their friends and surroundings makes them the geniuses that they are, but it torments them in private. Variations on this theme are all over television (House, Bones, Californication, Monk, M3ntal, just to name a few), and often they’re some of the highest rated shows on the air. We love characters who are the best at the expense of themselves, prodigies whose relationship with their surroundings recalls the impenetrability of the Romantic artist.

Meanwhile, the concert music community is, as always, afire arguing about our inaccessibility, our struggle to relate to the average American. Outreach programs abound that feature “regular-guy” lectures by composers and performers. It seems almost every working chamber group is integrating popular genres into their programming (see Alarm Will Sound, the Turtle Island Quartet, and the Sybarite Chamber Players, to name a few), and with the advent of the Final Fantasy program Dear Friends and other such endeavors, pop concerts are trickling into the concert hall too. It doesn’t seem far-fetched to say that relevance is the motivating factor; the more we can say “See? We’re just like you!” the more we can deconstruct our stigma as a bastion of elitism in America and draw the rest of the country in.

We can debate the relative merits of this kind of programming later, but for now let’s tackle a (perhaps) more important question: is this really what people want? I’ve written before that full disclosure and abandonment of the mystery of our craft could be counterproductive. Now that I’ve permanently fixed myself to the boob-tube I’m thinking the entire line of friendliness may be misguided. If characters like Dr. House, Temperance Brennan and Hank Moody are any indication, the fact that an average audience member doesn’t understand a protagonist is not a deal-breaker. In fact, maybe they appreciate the mystery and the disconnect -- after all, half the charm of these characters is that they stubbornly remain themselves no matter how much their relationships suffer. This fascination with the mysterious genius isn’t new; looking as far back as Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Jekyll we see a familiar preoccupation with the misunderstood genius.

Suddenly we find ourselves in a different position. In a world whose mainstream entertainment fetishizes a certain Romanticism, our art form is naturally mysterious and given to Romantic tropes. We have a great deal of mystery about us already; instead of trying to sweep it under the rug, what if we made it a selling point? TV shows us that relevance doesn’t necessarily mean characters exactly like ourselves; it can also mean making the unknown enticing and piquing the viewer’s curiosity. If we focused our energies on making the music seductively arcane, rather than striving for accessibility at any cost, what would be the consequence? Would we lose audience members to the prevailing wisdom no one likes this complicated music that they don’t understand? Or maybe, just maybe, can we make this mystery work for us? After all, our music has all the drama, sophistication, romance, and mystery of any TV show’s leading man -- and there’s no Vicodin required.

George Crumb: Celestial Mechanics

2009-09-16T11:05:00.000-06:00

Alejandro Cremaschi and Andrew Cooperstock, piano. Anthony Green, page turner. Performed at the University of Colorado's George Crumb Festival. For more information, visit www.cu-pendulum.com, www.georgecrumb.net, www.alejandrocremaschi.com, or www.opustwo.org (Andrew Cooperstock).

Crumb Festival Log: Day 3

2009-09-11T13:02:00.005-06:00

Yesterday began with George Crumb giving a masterclass on his 1971 masterpiece, Vox Balaenae (Voice of the Whale). We were also treated to a performance of CU composition student Nate Wheeler's Apotheosis, giving us a glimpse into Crumb's teaching life. Voice of the Whale will be performed on this afternoon's recital (see below); it's one not to miss.

Last night's concert was one of this festival's best; in addition to the piano four-hands odyssey Celestial Mechanics the audience saw two of Crumb's most recent works: Spanish Songbooks I and II. II was premiered just this summer at the Bowdoin International Music Festival, and was given a stellar performance by George's daughter Ann; I recieved its world premiere last night by the Crazy Jane Trio, featuring CU's own Patrick Mason. Both ensembles were terrific, and of the extremely high caliber we've seen so far this Festival. Crumb's beautifully haunting text settings seem to take on a new dimension with the texts of Lorca, a poet Crumb has a self-described "obsessive" affinity for. Within the wonderful, surprising soundworlds of these pieces, we develop a true affection for his characters; so often we are used to a sort of fascinated disconnect with Crumb's narrators, particularly in his surreal settings of other poetry. Both Ann Crumb and Patrick Mason conveyed their characters with conviction and passion, and to wonderful effect.

The centerpiece between these song cycles was Celestial Mechanics for piano, four hands. But a fourteen-hand performance was given, with seven different CU pianists contributing (faculty Hsing-ay Hsu, David Korevaar, Alexandra Nguyen, Alejandro Cremaschi, Andrew Cooperstock and Margaret McDonald, with CU composer Anthony Green). The dynamic, varied piano writing went hand-in-hand perfectly with the constant switching of performers, and the performance proved a visual excitement as well as an aural one. With the dramatic musical action came extremely physical piano playing with a plethora of unconventional practices. Here's a small clip from movement III (with Hsing-ay Hsu and David Korevaar playing, Anthony Green assisting):

Today is the final day of the wildly successful Crumb Festival, and the performances promise to send us off with a bang. The performances begin at 5:15 in the Chamber Hall with Vox Balaenae and other works to be announced. Tonight at 7:30, in the ATLAS Black Box, we welcome some new composers to the program, including Paul Elwood and CU's own John Drumheller. We'll also hear Crumb's Apparitions with a guest from our dance department, Rachel Deckert; and his 1980 A Little Suite for Christmas, A.D. 1979, performed by Alejandro Cremaschi. Join us if you can, and help us say "happy birthday" once more to one of America's musical legends.

Crumb Festival Log: Day 2

2009-09-10T11:04:00.006-06:00

A panel yesterday afternoon featuring George Crumb with faculty from CU and Colorado College gave listeners a chance to explore the philosophy and teaching style of Dr. Crumb, from the perspective of him as well as his students, colleagues, and the next generation of composition pedagogues. The lively discussion was a wonderful warm-up for the afternoon recital, featuring (among other things) a piece by Ofer Ben-Amots from Colorado College, written during his time in Crumb's studio at the University of Pennsylvania.

The bar had been set remarkably high by Tuesday's performance for the evening concert, but the performers delivered strongly on every expectation. The performance of the enchanting Night Music I, directed by Stephanie Texera, was a delightful juxtaposition of floating, textural music and intricate percussion work. The chemistry between the ensemble was electric, particularly when the vocalist, Patti Peterson, joined the fray. Her voice delicately shaped Crumb's melodic lines, moving in and out of traditional technique with eloquence and poise.

An ensemble built of Ysmael Reyes (alto flute), Daniel Silver (clarinet), Lina Bahn (violin) and Alejandro Cremaschi (piano) followed with Eleven Echoes of Autumn, 1965 (Echoes I), a piece full of extended techniques and with obvious demands of every member of the ensemble. As with the previous number, the ensemble's bristling energy made the piece look and sound easy; the audience never worried about the performers' abilities (as so often happens with more difficult music) and instead was able to concentrate on the fascinating sonic palette that Crumb draws out of this small, simple ensemble.

The program concluded with the incredible piano duo Quattro Mani playing the timeless (no pun intended) Zeitgeist from 1987/1989. As we've grown to expect, Crumb constructed beautiful and dynamic textures from seemingly constricting resources. Of course, pulling such a variety of sounds out of two pianos doesn't come cheap; the demands on the performers were obvious, with frequent trips inside the piano, changes of setup and music placement, and a near constant stand-up/sit-down dance for each of the players. Quattro Mani handled the challenges flawlessly, and played with an obvious passion for the piece. It made for a wonderful conclusion to the program, leaving us all wanting more.

Turns out, though, we weren't quite done. After all, this is a birthday celebration, and what's a birthday party without a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday"? Quattro Mani retook the stage, and played a version of the classic birthday song written by Ofer Ben-Amots in the style of the guest of honor:

Tonight, the wonderful music continues. At 4:00 PM in Grusin Music Hall, Crumb will give a composition masterclass for the CU composers' studio, featuring a piece by undergrad Nate Wheeler. This evening is the Festival debut of George's daughter, soprano Ann Crumb. She'll be performing a brand new cycle of Lorca songs: Sun and Shadow (Spanish Songbook II) premiered just this summer. Also on the program is a "round-robin" version of Celestial Mechanics for piano, four hands, featuring seven CU pianists; and the world premiere of a second Lorca cycle, The Ghosts of Alhambra (Spanish Songbook I). This is a concert not to miss, and is sure to be some of the finest of the incredible music we'll see in the remainder of the festival.

Crumb Festival Log: Day 1

2009-09-09T11:11:00.007-06:00

The University of Colorado George Crumb Festival began with a bang yesterday. At the morning's convocation, in a packed Grusin Hall, Steve Bruns and Allan McMurray sat down with the guest of honor to introduce him, his music, and his extremely productive career.

The evening's concert featured faculty pianist David Korevaar performing Crumb's Eine Kleine Mitternachtmusic (Ruminations on Round Midnight by Thelonious Monk). It's hard to think of a better introduction to Crumb for someone unfamiliar with him; the extended techniques Crumb uses are limited (and, by his standards, somewhat conservative) but the end result is still the deep, shimmering landscape and ingenious pastiche of musical ideas that Crumb fans love. Korevaar played it with remarkable subtlety and a bit of theatricism, making it a beautiful beginning to the festival that introduced Crumb in an eloquent, evocative manner. A short video clip of the performance:

The second half of the concert was devoted to the fifth work in an ongoing cycle of American Songbooks, cycles based on American songs from every genre and corner of the country. This cycle is titled Voices from a Forgotten World, and subtitled "A Cycle of American Songs from North, South, East and West." The cycle, performed by an all-star ensemble featuring Julie Simson and Patrick Mason, was made of ten wildly different settings. The contrast between songs is extraordinary, made possible by the giant battery of percussion that consumed nearly the entire stage and Crumb's masterful use of it. Simson and Mason sang wonderfully, but especially enthralling was their theatrical performance, bringing to life not only the music but the extremely different characters in each song. The performance was mesmerizing and intense; when Mason and Simson's characters walked offstage, it was as if we had woken up from a dream (or, given the way the cycle ends, perhaps we hadn't).

The evening concluded with a birthday toast, celebrating Crumb's 80th year and wishing him many, many more. Today's activities include a seminar with George Crumb and one of his student alumni, Ofer Ben-Amots and a chamber concert in the School of Music's Chamber Hall. The evening's concert features Night Music I, Eleven Echoes of Autumn, and the wonderful Zeitgeist for two pianos.

Photos from yesterday:

The Music of George Crumb: An Introduction

2009-09-07T13:44:00.002-06:00

George Crumb was born on October 24, 1929 in Charleston, West Virginia. After studying at Mason College, the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, the Berlin Hochschule für Musik (on a Fulbright Fellowship), and the University of Michigan, Crumb accepted a teaching position at the University of Colorado. He would relocate to the University of Pennsylvania in 1965, after six years teaching at CU. Dr. Steven Bruns has put together a wonderful essay on Crumb’s career and relationship with Colorado; it can be found in the official Crumb Festival program.

Crumb has established a reputation as one of America’s most important composers, both at home and abroad. His ingenuity extends not only to the creation of surreal and unique musical landscapes, but to nearly every other element of the concert music experience: the visual, the psychological, and much more.

Perhaps the most apparent defining characteristic of Crumb’s style is his innovative use of extended techniques and non-traditional instruments. In pursuit of vivid and evocative sonic worlds, Crumb has never been afraid to manipulate instruments in unusual ways, or to pair them with sounds rarely found in the concert hall. Ancient Voices of Children (1970) calls for a harp threaded with strips of paper and tuned “prayer stones.” In his Music for a Summer Evening (Makrokosmos III) from 1974, the strings of a piano are covered with paper (creating a muted, rattling effect), and the percussionists whistle in unison with various keyboard percussion. Sometimes these sounds suggest natural or “real-world” sounds; often they exist in their own universe, with little ostensible connection to ours. Unlike many other composers, the audience never perceives Crumb’s innovations as self-consciously experimental; rather, they are an indispensable part of the gorgeous, ethereal, and often frightening soundworld that results.

Crumb’s creation of an immersive musical experience extends far beyond the sounds themselves. He is profoundly aware of the theatrical and visual aspects of performance, and very often his manipulation of these elements is as integral to a work as any musical element. Vox Balaenae (Voice of the Whale) from 1971 (on Friday’s chamber concert) is one such piece; in performance the performers wear black masks and are bathed in a cool, blue light. Not only are they using sounds to evoke the voices of whales, they are stepping into the roles; the masks remove them from their human identities, and the light transforms the stage into a quiet corner of the sea. Beyond the stage, Crumb’s scores are themselves visual works of art. His graphical presentations of ideas can be conventional, but often are beautiful re-imaginations of musical staves in shapes and figures that further serve his conceptions for the piece’s imaginary world. The conference room at the Imig Music Building is featuring an exhibition of Crumb’s scores -- if you haven’t seen it yet, be sure to make time to do so.

Crumb has long drawn on poetry from every corner of the world for inspiration. The Spanish 20th-century poet Federico Garcia Lorca has figured prominently in his output (having provided text for nine of his vocal works), but at different times Crumb has drawn on Edgar Allen Poe (The Sleeper), African-American spirituals (A Journey Beyond Time), and Appalachian folk songs (Unto the Hills). Very often poetry is seminal in the conception of a work, and may appear even in non-vocal works (as the words Rilke and Pascal do in Makrokosmos, Volume I).

Despite its surreal, otherworldy nature, Crumb’s music is heavily rooted in the modern world. Beyond the supreme structure and innovation, the musical allusions that showcase a deep understanding of tradition, or any other considerations of craft, Crumb writes music that reflects the issues of our time with insight and sensitivity. The most immediate example is his iconic string quartet Black Angels, inspired by the Vietnam War and, as Crumb says, “a kind of parable on our troubled contemporary world.” Of An Idyll for the Misbegotten, he says the following:

Mankind has become ever more "illegitimate" in the natural world of the plants and animals. The ancient sense of brotherhood with all life-forms (so poignantly expressed in the poetry of St. Francis of Assisi) has gradually and relentless eroded, and consequently we find ourselves monarchs of a dying world. We share the fervent hope that humankind will embrace anew nature's "moral imperative.”

If we consider the job of a composer to create sonic pictures of our world, to examine life through a colorful, abstract lens in hopes of enhancing all of our understanding of it, then George Crumb truly is the consummate composer. His art has brought music to new levels of immersion with its engrossing musical and extramusical ideas. He has never sacrificed integrity for sonic accessibility; yet while he offers unprecedented challenges to our ears and concert hall experience, the immediacy and relevance of his music makes it accessible. Whatever images we see in Crumb’s music, no matter how foreign or surreal, we are always aware that they are reflections of us. This element of Crumb’s music -- how it can be so unearthly and, at the same time, so utterly human -- is his true genius. As we head into this week’s Festival, we’ll be treated to some of the finest music of the 20th century, performed by some of the most talented artists in the country. Be prepared to hear sounds you’ve never heard before, to experience beauty, ugliness, mystery, and drama, often in unexpected ways. And keep in mind that what we’re really seeing is ourselves.

Chris Malloy: Cold Light

2009-08-25T11:10:00.000-06:00

NWEAMO Festival
October 13th, 2007
ATLAS Black Box Theater
University of Colorado at Boulder

Cold Light, composed and performed by Chris Malloy

Co-sponsored by the ATLAS Center for Arts Media & Performance and the Pendulum New Music Series

Charles Nichols: De Grijze Boom

2009-08-25T11:08:00.000-06:00

NWEAMO Festival
October 13th, 2007
ATLAS Black Box Theater
University of Colorado at Boulder

De Grijze Boom, by Charles Nichols
Sam White, tenor saxophone
Charles Nichols, laptop

Co-sponsored by the ATLAS Center for Arts Media & Performance and the Pendulum New Music Series

Thomas Ciufo: Silent Movies

2009-08-25T11:06:00.000-06:00

NWEAMO Festival
October 13th, 2007
ATLAS Black Box Theater
University of Colorado at Boulder

Thomas Ciufo, guitar, live electronics, moving images

Co-sponsored by the ATLAS Center for Arts Media & Performance and the Pendulum New Music Series

Welcome Back!

2009-08-18T17:20:00.003-06:00

Hi everyone,

As the beginning of the 09-10 schoolyear draws ever closer, and the Pendulum New Music Series begins to kick off anew with the spectacular Crumb Festival, it's time for the CU composers to come out of our summer hiding and welcome everyone to another wonderful season of Pendulum! The talent at CU is bigger than ever, with enthusiasm to match; this year's programs are sure to be among the most memorable in our history.

As media manager for the 09-10 season, I'm responsible for keeping the website updated with the latest PNMS news, and keeping this blog just as fresh. I plan to post a new, thought-provoking piece every two weeks, and hope that the exciting dialogue we're used to on this blog continues. I know that there are many devoted Pendulum readers with strong voices and enlightening ideas about music; if you'd like to contribute to the PNMS blog with a story or opinion piece, email it to pendulumblog@gmail.com and we'll do our best to post it here. Of course, everyone is able (and encouraged) to add their comments on published pieces; most of our authors come by often enough that you can expect a response, and maybe even some intense discussion.

There's much more to be said, especially leading into the Crumb Festival, but for now, let me extend another warm welcome to our readers, listeners, composers, and friends. We'll see you soon!

Greg Simon: Rant

2009-08-12T11:02:00.000-06:00

Andrew Stonerock, soprano saxophone. Neal Postma, alto saxophone. Christopher Maddox, tenor saxophone. Sterling Steffen, baritone saxophone. Performed at the University of Colorado on October 14, 2009. For more information visit www.cu-pendulum.com or www.gregsimonmusic.com.

Apotheosis (2009), for Violin and Electronics, by Nate Wheeler

2009-05-06T11:19:00.000-06:00

Visit http://www.cu-pendulum.com or http://www.nathanwheelermusic.com for more information on the Pendulum New Music Series at the University of Colorado at Boulder College of Music, or Nate Wheeler, composer and electro-acoustic musician.

Rachel Sliker, violin with live electronics.

Flow II, for Tuba and Electronics (2009), by Ryan Wurst

2009-05-06T11:18:00.000-06:00

Visit http://www.cu-pendulum.com for more information on the Pendulum New Music Series at the University of Colorado at Boulder College of Music.

Ed Wagner, tuba
Ryan Wurst, computer

Strange Attractor Study No. 1: Henon Map (2009), by Paul Hembree

2009-05-06T11:16:00.000-06:00

Visit http://www.cu-pendulum.com or http://www.paulhembree.com for more information on the Pendulum New Music Series at the University of Colorado at Boulder College of Music, or Paul Hembree, composer and electro-acoustic musician.

Members of The Boulder Laptop Orchestra (BLOrk):
John Drumheller, Nate Wheeler, Ryan Wurst, computers
Paul Hembree, conductor