pulsoptional – debut cd

On this CD pulsoptional is:

marc faris: composer, electric guitar
Jennifer Fitzgerald: composer, piano
Todd Hershberger: composer, bassoon, alto sax
Thom Limbert: percussion
Caroline Mallonée: composer, violin
John Mayrose: composer, acoustic and electric guitars, electric bass
Carrie Shull: english horn

The Durham-based “band of composers” released this finely recorded album of six all-original compositions in early spring of 2007. The overall musical style (which I would roughly and playfully describe as asymmetrically funky, groovy chamber art-music) remains remarkably coherent throughout the entire album despite the fact that there are five distinct compositional personalities. The unique instrumentation quite well lends itself to taut rhythmic gestures and pattern-driven textures, which we hear in delightfully diverse contexts in each work. I am also very happy to hear, finally, some more attention given to crafty and insistent counterpoint from these young American composers. Many of the up-and-coming composers here in the US write in an overly prettified and “safe” tonal style, which usually can be too easily digested. It always leaves me hungry for something with a little more edge.

pulsoptional delivers that edgy counterpoint with gusto and frenetic energy, and each composer relishes the bright sounds of their instrumental choices. Though the band’s name implies freedom of choice when it comes to tempo regimentation, “pulse” is a fairly constant topic in this album’s music. It is a good thing, too, because these folks know how to lay down a groove.

John Mayrose’s opening piece, What Hath God Wrought (2003), introduces the listener to the funky, terse licks that are a hallmark of the musical style throughout the CD. Based on a Morse code “theme”, the music is appropriately syncopated and jazzy. I hear a little melodic influence from Steve Reich in the guitar, vibraphone, and piano accompaniments. The dots and dashes of the Morse code language are gradually layered into a barrage of intense rhythmic interaction which closes the piece in dramatic fashion.

I Heart Rosa Luxemburg (2005) by marc faris comes next (he prefers his name to be presented without capitalization). It continues to explore increasingly dissonant counterpoint and asymmetric rhythms in its opening section, but the journey veers into unexpected territory when the pulse suddenly stops and the tense silence is broken by the gentle clanging of Tibetan prayer bowls. In this little moment of “West meets East”, the listener can sense a profound juxtaposition of musico-cultural values: ancient tradition vs. modern innovation, density vs. space, cerebral palpitations vs. meditative poise. In such carefully designed transitions arises an unavoidable sense of the political, via purely musical phenomena. This is one of the most interesting sides to faris’s more recent works. Since he has been a good friend for many years, I have been able to witness the gradual incorporation of the abstract reflection of political discourse in his music. It gives his music other layers of meaning. Now would be a good time to reveal the piece’s surrealist-inspired subtitle: Why Embracing Socialism Should Result in the Irrevocable, Systematic Rejection of the Major Principles of the EuroAmerican Art Music Tradition (But Seldom Does). (!)

If the prayer-bowl moment represents rejection of Western ideals, the music just following unmasks the impossibility of maintaining such a stance (“but seldom does”). To my ears, a Hegelian synthesis is the result: The burbling liquidity of background electronica melded with quiet marimba pulsations and mellow melodic guitar fuses the distinct values of “East” and “West”. It is one of the most beautiful passages on this album, not in the least due to the nicely balanced softness in the orchestration of this ending section. To read more about faris’s political influences and thoughts during the compositional process of this piece, click on the piece's title here.

I really enjoy the combination of marimba and piano (so wonderfully utilized in Reich’s modern classic Music for 18 Musicians) and it is the color that opens Todd Hershberger’s wildly fun piece Kid Sparkle and the Parliament Prince (2003). I cannot do better than the composer’s own description of this work:

Kid Sparkle and the Parliament Prince introduces two contrasting musical characters - one: sweet, playful, and quite amiable - the other: hard-edged and chaotically funky. What results is a highly volatile musical play-space where lyricism and groove are matched by organized disorder.

And what a disorder it becomes: honky bassoon, whining violin slides, punchy piano clusters and blustery marimba tremolos all coexist in the playground of this brief and splashy work.

The centerpiece of the album, in more ways than one, is Jennifer Fitzgerald’s tour-de-force How Terrible Orange (2005). For me, this is the most challenging and difficult piece on the album. It is not for the faint-of-heart! After the “misleading” tranquility of the opening, the instruments are used to create terrorizing blocks of alternating harmonic fields that pummel the listener into sublime submission. I do admire the formal properties of this piece. After its gradual build-up of intensity, a much-welcomed contrasting middle section of worn-down emotionality ensues. Fitzgerald patiently weaves in a recap of the chordal material from the opening over the course of a nice long accelerando. At this point in the album, it is refreshing to hear a continuous tempo change. The work reminds me a little of the music of Louis Andriessen (especially his piece Workers Union).

Caroline Mallonée’s contribution, ‘stain (2002) offers a nice contrast to Fitzgerald’s head-crushing sound colossus. It features the leanest instrumental line-up of all the pieces: just bassoon, two electric guitars, marimba, and piano. The title is an abbreviated, slang-ish treatment of the word “sustain”; the work features a predominance of sustained gestures and harmonies. The title is also an obvious double-entendre in its reference to the word stain. The piece develops layers of color, staining the musical texture, in Mallonée’s words, “like a deep batik pattern”. Jumpy, extroverted gestures collide with the medium-groove ostinatos. But my favorite moment in the piece is towards the end: just quiet, yearning piano notes with gentle guitar note-slides. It is the most delicate passage on the CD, and one of the most beautiful. Moments like this really stand out because of the pervasiveness of attack-heavy instrumentation. I would like to hear more of these delicate moments. Perhaps that will be pursued in future recordings.

The CD ends with another offering by faris, What Chaos Received Bounds (2004), which is a great finale to such a satisfying collection of new pieces. If pulsoptional’s work can be considered as chamber music in some ways, this piece gleefully throws off any association with classical music tradition. pulsoptional becomes the ultimate stadium-friendly heavy metal band in this “piece”, a real rocker that ends the show on an upbeat note. Guitar distortion and drum set take us out of the concert hall and straight into the garage. Even if he didn’t mean it, faris pays tribute here to technically solid hard-rock groups like Led Zeppelin, King Crimson, and Don Caballero. Hear it to believe it.

Now that I have tried to offer some of my personal reactions to these six pieces, go to this page and give a listen to some of the samples. Their CD is also available from that page.

Please also read my previous post that explores how pulsoptional’s performance events can help reorient our concepts of the “chamber music ensemble”.

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Sounds from "The White Diamond"

I’m going in a slightly new direction here reviewing and presenting some music that is not necessarily piano-related. Why? Because, honestly, all of us musicians (regardless of the big meta-genres of classical, jazz, rock, electronica, folk, etc.) live in this crazy postmodern era and we’re all vying for attention in one way or another from audiences. In the interests of considering all working musicians as colleagues on some level, I’d like to begin writing about some of the neat stuff being created and performed today. After all, the music world in the 21st century is richer, wider, and more accessible than at any other point in history.

So I’m starting a new category at my blog called “Music Reviews” and this will be the first post in that category. The posts in this category will be my forum to bring some attention to new music, obscure repertoire, good soundtracks – basically whatever is floating my boat at the moment. Maybe it will be piano music, maybe not. Today’s pick is indeed a soundtrack album: the dreamy and colorful music from Werner Herzog’s films THE WILD BLUE YONDER and THE WHITE DIAMOND. The album is called Requiem for a Dying Planet (on the Winter & Winter label; a link to the album at Amazon is provided below the post text).

I was quite taken aback by the eclectic yet thoroughly organic nature of the music I was hearing when screening The White Diamond a few nights ago. Herzog is one of my favorite directors and he has been on a creative tear recently with no less than six movies produced since 2000. Who knows, maybe there could even be a seventh by the time anyone reads this post! For anyone who likes movies about redemption and atonement, The White Diamond is a poignant must-see documentary. But I am here to discuss some of the music I heard, so you can read about the movie here and here if you want to find out more.

The musicians gathered for this soundtrack include cellist Ernst Reijseger, Senegalese singer Mola Sylla, and a vocal group from Sardinia called the Tenore e Cuncordu de Orosei. It would be correct to assume that this improbable assembly would produce a new and different kind of sound combination. The style reached by these musicians is ultimately reflective and calming; yet it also seems provocatively ancient and authentic despite the clash of cello sounds meshed with two different vocal traditions.

The track “Sanctus” (listen to an excerpt at Amazon.com here) combines all the musicians together in a kind of haunted, lonely hymn that sways with just a hint of gospel styling in the harmony. Upon close listening whenever the tenore are singing together, it is possible to detect multiple tones being produced by some of the singers. This is a feat usually heard in traditional Tibetan throat-singing, but the technique has obviously reached other cultures and peoples.

Many of the tracks feature cellist Ernst Reijseger’s never-ending creative vocabulary: He plays harmonics, fiddles around and below the bridge, and creates myriad effects with arpeggiando, pizzicato, and tremolo techniques. Some of these effects can be heard in isolation on the tracks “Intro Dank Sei Dir Gott” and “Bad News from Outer Space.” I get a keen sense of improvisation as I listened throughout the film, and indeed Reijseger is a seasoned improviser. It is never readily apparent when improvisation meets hard and rigorous composition, and in this case it is a magnificent blur.

It is interesting to note that the soundtrack album is subtitled “Sounds for two films by Werner Herzog.” (The emphasis is mine.) These tracks are certainly among the sounds found in the films, but there is a deeper suggestion of fragility and fragmentation by not calling them songs or pieces. A further evocation is the idea of the ephemeral moment; perhaps we are merely lucky to have captured on a disc such rarified instances of beauty created by human beings flung together through the whims of the visionary director Herzog. I, for one, wouldn’t mind another foray into additional “sounds” from this specific group of musicians. That guy Herzog is on to a good thing.

Requiem for a Dying Planet

(at Amazon.com)

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