1.23.2006

Keep Going: The Text of the Third Movement of Berio's Sinfonia

[Editorial note: Here is a more flowing transcription of the third movement; the transcription of the entire work, in a more academic manner can be found in this posting. The spirit of this transcription is to try to capture a little of what the piece sounds like. I've filled in the blanks, so to speak, in honor of a wonderful performance I heard from the BSO, lead by David Robertson. Those who are interested in every word in the score, complete with punctuation and every last "Keep going!" should consult the other transcription. That one is complete with everything you can't hear, no matter how many times you listen or how many different recordings you own.]

A couple of days ago, someone came to my Carnival of Music post searching for words from the third movement of Berio's Sinfonia. I sympathized with this person; I had searched very hard in vain for its text, unable to find it on the internet. I got it the only way I could: when I visited my college, I stopped by the music library with my laptop and copied the whole thing out of the score.

As a public service, here is my copy. It should be noted that there are many overlaps and repetitions, not all of which are reflected below. I don't claim this to be definitive; if you have any questions, check the score.

I'll also note that there is one error in the score that I'm silently correcting.

III

IN RUHIG FLIESSENDER BEWEGUNG


This represents at least a thousand words I was not counting on. I may well be glad of them But seeing Daphne and Chloé written in red, counting the seconds while nothing has happened but the obsession with the with the chromatic and the chromatic again

I am in the air, the walls, everything yields, opens, ebbs, flows like the play of waves--

Yes, I feel the moment has come for us to look back, if we can and take our bearings if we are to go on. Yes, I feel the moment has come for me to look back. I must not forget this, I have not forgotten it. But I must have said it before, since I say it now. They think I am alive, not in a womb, either... Well, so there is an audience it’s a fantastic public performance -- and the curtain comes down for the ninth time. You never noticed you were waiting. You were waiting alone, that is the show. Keep going.

I shall say my old lessons now, if I can remember it then I shall have lived they think I am alive, not in a womb, either, even that takes time.

it is as if we were rooted, that’s bonds if you like – the earth would have to quake. it isn’t the earth, one doesn’t know what it is-- But you all know that they will bring me to the surface one day or another and there will be a brief dialogue in the dunes-- maybe a kind of competition on the stage, with just eight female dancers and words falling. you don’t know where, where now -- under the sun -- who now? But now I shall say my old lessons if I can remember it. I most not forget this. But I must have said it before, since I say it now.

I am listening. Well, I prefer, that, I must say I prefer that, oh you know, oh you, oh I suppose the audience, well well, so there is an audience, it’s a public show, you buy your seat and you wait, perhaps it’s free, a free show, you take your seat and you wait for it to begin, or perhaps it’s compulsory, a compulsory show...

you wait for the compulsory show to begin, it takes time, you hear a voice, perhaps it is a recitation, that is the show, someone reciting, selected passages, old favourites, or someone improvising, you can barely hear him, that’s the show, you can’t leave, you are afraid to leave, you make the best of it, you try to be reasonable, you came too early, here we’d need latin, it’s only the beginning, it hasn’t begun, he’ll appear any moment, he’ll begin any moment

He is only preluding, clearing his throat, alone in his dressing room, or it’s the stage-manager giving his instructions, his last recommendations before the curtain rises-- that is the show -- that’s the show waiting for the show, to the sound of a murmur, you try to be reasonable, perhaps it is not a voice at all, perhaps it’s the air, ascending, descending, flowing, eddying, seeking exit, finding none, and the spectators, where are they, you didn’t notice, in the anguish of waiting, never noticed you were waiting alone, that is the show, for the fools, in the palace, waiting -- the brightest star -- waiting alone that is the show waiting alone in the restless air, for it to begin, while every now and then a familiar passacaglia ] filters through the other noises waiting, for something to begin, for there to be something else but you, for the power to rise, the courage to leave, picking your way through the crossed colors, seeking the cause, losing it again, seeking no longer. We shall overcome the incessant noised, for as Henri says, if this noise would stop there’d be nothing more to say. You try and be reasonable, perhaps you are blind, probably deaf, the show is over, all is over, but where then is the hand, the helping hand, or merely charitable, or the hired hand, it’s a long time coming, to take yours and draw you away, that is the show, free, gratis, and for nothing, waiting alone, blind, deaf, you don’t know where, you don’t know for what, for a hand to come and draw you away, somewhere else, where perhaps it’s worse. It’s a real pleasure upon my word it is to be unable to drown under such conditions in a lake full of colors far from my walls

I am here so little, I see it, I feel it round me it enfolds me, it covers me, if only this voice would stop, for a second, it would seem long to me, a second of silence I would listen, I’d know if it was going to start again or if it was stilled for ever what would I know it with, I’d know. And I’d keep on listening I’d know if it was going to start again it’s late now, and he is still talking incessantly, any old thing, repetition after repetition, talking unceasingly, in yourself, outside yourself

It’s late now, he shall never hear again the lowing cattle, the rush of the stream. In a chamber, dimensions unknown, I do not move and never shall again on long road or short. But the fact is I trouble no one. But I did. And after each group disintegration, the name of Majakowsky hangs in the clean air.

And when they ask, why all this, it is not easy to find an answer. For when we find ourselves, face to face, now, here, and they remind us all this can’t stop the wars, can’t make the old younger or lower the price of bread -- say it again, louder! -- it can’t stop the wars, can’t make the old younger or lower the price of bread, can’t erase solitude or dull the tread outside the door, we can only nod, yes, it’s true, but no need to remind, to point, for it is all with us, always, except, perhaps at certain moments, here among these rows of balconies, in a crowd or out of it, perhaps waiting to enter, watching. And tomorrow we’ll read that Stravinsky's Firebird made tulips grow in my garden and altered the flow of the ocean currents. We must believe it’s true. There must be something else. Otherwise it would be quite hopeless. But it is quite hopeless. Unquestioning. But it can’t go on. It, say it, not knowing what. It’s getting late. Where now? When now? I have a present for you. Keep going, page after page. Keep going, going on, call that going, call that on. But wait. He is barely moving, now, almost still. Should I make my introductions?

But now it’s done, it’s over, we’ve had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. David Robertson

1.22.2006

Assessing Tan Dun

After thoroughly enjoying Tan Dun's Water Concerto a few weeks ago, I was a bit surprised by Lloyd Schwartz's review in the Phoenix:
It’s a shallow piece, three percussionists slapping and plunging various objects into deep, clear-plastic, electronically amplified “hemispherical water basins” — plish, plosh, drizzle, drip — with movie-melodrama accompaniment, in a pretentiously darkened hall. The orchestra and NY Phil principal percussionist Christopher Lamb, for whom the piece was commissioned, were expert, but the piece is all wet.
That isn't the first time that Schwartz has written an unenthusiastic review of Tan's works. He also criticized The Map for formal reasons:
The Map amounts to an inflated orchestral accompaniment to 10 excerpts (more like a suite than a concerto) from films of Chinese folk musicians Tan made with video and sound artist Davey Frankel — which are projected by Frankel as part of the performance.
I'm willing to believe that the video elements of The Map works better viewed on DVD than projected in large concert hall. However, I've never found its suite-like structure problematic. Its strength is that it brings in such a variety of folk music and is able to bring them together. These two pieces share a focus on virtuosity. In the case of The Map, it is a showcase for the folk music (rather than the solo cello). The Water Concerto is as much a showpiece for percussionists (and for the composer) as anything Liszt or Paganini wrote for their respective instruments.

But is that enough? Isn't empty virtuosity still empty?

I think these pieces are original enough and interesting enough that they are worthwhile. Tan is in the difficult position of living between worlds, and does a good enough job balancing the Western orchestra with his Chinese heritage. While I understand where Schwartz is coming from, I think Tan is able to overcome the formal difficulties.

1.19.2006

The First Love

Some things are ubiquitous. I don't think anyone can remember the first time they heard Bach or Beethoven. There music has just always been there.

Other types of music may require introduction. I never listened to opera until I heard Die Walküre. I'd been devouring Strauss's tone poems for six months, at that point. I had read about Wagner's influence, so I decided to see for myself. There was no looking back. Die Walküre was my first love of opera. The first love is that piece that opens a new world for you; it ends up not just standing alone, but standing for a whole genre.

Before Berg's Violin Concerto, I never listened to 12-tone music. I found Mozart boring until I heard K491. I didn't listen to lieder before Dichterliebe.

And that huge gap between chant and Palestrina? My first love of medieval polyphony was the rondeau "Rose, liz, printemps, verdure," by Guillaume de Machaut, featured in the Norton Anthology of Music. Before long, the rest of the pieces of late Medieval and early Renaissance music fell into place.

This was on my mind as I listened to the finale of Reece Dano's piece C#DG#BEC#G#F#D#ECD# (Pierre Boulez is Dead) on cacaphonous. It is, in effect, a transcription of the Rondeau for string quartet. I don't mind transcriptions and arrangments. (One of these days, I'm going to take a look at four very different Bach orchestrations from the 20th century.) However, taking a transcription of a Medieval rondeau and calling it Pierre Boulez is dead just made me angry. I'd like to give the piece the benefit of the doubt, as I haven't heard the first three movements (described an the ensemble's web page), but it's hard to get excited about this finale.

1.16.2006

Et Resurrexit!

But now it’s done, it’s over, we’ve had our chance. There was even, for a second, hope of resurrection, or almost, Mein junges Leben hat ein End. We must collect our thoughts, for the unexpected is always upon us, in our rooms, in the street, at the door, on a stage. Thank you, Mr. TexasBestGrok.
-Luciano Berio, Sinfonia

Welcome one and all to the Carnival of Music, back from a bit of a year-end vacation.

This is the first carnival since December 19th. Quite a bit has happened since then.

For starters, the year ended. And a new one began. Which means that everybody had to write lists. So, here's a quick list of lists: Alex Ross, Ionarts, Sequenza21 , Night After Night.


Sad news on Christmas: legendary soprano Birgit Nilsson passed away. Here's a nice obit on NPR, an audio-tribute at La Cieca, a tribute by Jane Eaglen, snippets of a 1966 New Yorker profile posted at Hella Frisch, an appreciation of her recordings at Ionarts, and a remembrance by Astrid Varnay at Wagner Operas.


Moving from Wagner to pseudo-Wagnerian news, a movie based on the Tristan legend opened this past week. I think Jerry Bowles said it best in his one-line review: "Oed' und leer das meer." The Wellsungens did an interesting riff on it, and I had a series of questions I hope will be answered.


2006 has been dubbed the Mozart Year (everywhere except Symphony Hall). What better way to celebrate than playing with his remains?


The Grammy Nominations came out, and did include some classical CD's, despite the Academy's best attempts to hide that fact. Naxos was nominated once or twice. The amazing last-ever studio opera recording wasn't. (Big surprise there.)


I hope you've found my classical-centric links interesting. One of the nice things about this Carnival is that each week, it is a reflection of its host. Accordingly, it's very different every week. I encourage you to consider hosting it, so that it's short vacation this past month was just that -- a vacation. Long live the Carnival!


UPDATE:

Er, requiescant in pacem

1.10.2006

Water Music Version 2

Tonight, I finally made it to Symphony Hall for the first time this season, to hearTan Dun's Water Concerto (lead by Kurt Masur, with Christopher Lamb as the soloist). The piece was written in response to TakemitsuToru's death, and takes up one of his favorite subjects: water. Tan takes it one step farther, however, and promotes water from subject matter to featured soloist. The percussionist is given the following battery play with:
hemispherical water basins, a small bottle, a pair of water cup drums, water gong, four water drums (wooden bowls of different sizes floating upside down in basins of water), slinkyphone, long water tube with foam paddle, water shaker, four Agogo bells, sieve, vibraphone (prepared with coins taped to the bars), and waterphone, plus a double bass bow
In addition to some creative and specialty instruments (such as attaching a slinky to a sounding board, or using water escaping from a seive as percussion), Lamb was asked to take gongs and Agogo bells and dip them into water. This changes their pitch and resonance, making a deeper sound that oscillates. It also adds a visual element: you can't see vibrating air, but the water makes the disturbance visible.

The piece is a great example of Tan's theatricality. For example, the beginning intimates ritual. It opens in total darkness. One percussionist on either side of the orchestra begins playing a waterphone, as a third enters from the back of the hall. Slowly, pillars of light reveal clear ciruclar basins of water.

There's much more to it than lighting effects, though. The various improvised water instruments are quite entertaining to watch. I had the good fortune of being right on top of the action -- second balcony, first row, right over the stage. I think the most interesting instrument to watch were the water drums, consisting of wooden bowls overturned in the water. The result is a nice, mellow pitch that can be manipulated by lifting or lowering the bowl with one hand while striking it with the other. It provides a unique challenge: unlike other percussion instruments, the bowls move as they float around the basin. (Tympanists never need to worry about that problem.)

Lamb manipulated all the objects so well, and Tan wrote such an engaging score that I was disappointed the piece ended so quickly. It's a shame he didn't write a set of encores for various water percussion instruments.

The comic highlight of the night came from the oboist that saw it fit to accompany the emptying of the basins with the famous theme from Handel's Water Music.

Unfortunately, there aren't any commercial releases yet. However, it is part of volume 6 of the Kurt Masur box set released by the NY Philharmonic, with Lamb as the soloist.

The Water Concerto shared the program with Bruckner's 7th.

1.09.2006

Berkshire Record Outlet

Do you remember those really productive excursions to the record store when you were first starting to build a collection? I mean those trips where the number of CD's or cassettes or LP's increased by 10%, 20%, maybe even more?

I've been thinking about such a spree.

The first netted me a lot of music I have since outgrown: Carmina Burana, Stravinsky's three early ballets, the Planets. Of the pieces I acquired that day, the only one that I haven't lost any affection for is Also Sprach Zarathustra.

I came to think about this trip to the Berkshire Record Outlet when I recently ordered Leslie Howard playing Liszt's transcriptions of Beethoven's 9 symphonies on Hyperion. The BRO price of 29.95 puts Amazon.com's 87.98 and Tower's 70.99 to shame.

The outlet takes advantage of close outs and deletions to provide a very diverse catalogue at a very low price. In addition to the horses listed above, I've found some more interesting and unique selections there. I was able to find some Babbit, Pendercki, and Cage there, along with Dufay and Harmonia Mundi's recording of Biblical songs.

There are a couple of catches: because of the ephemeral nature of their catalogue, you never know what you'll find. That record you passed on last time you ordered may not be there this time. Also, the web site is pretty clunky, but sufficient.

The best way to experience the outlet, though, is in person. It is very close to Tanglewood, on Rte. 102 in Lee, Massachusetts. The bins are wonderfully disorganized, leading to wonderful surprises.

With the price of CD's rocketing so much, BRO is one of the places where you can still find a value. It's a great store, and well worth the patronage of any classical music fan.

1.08.2006

The Subtext gets a Promotion

I wrote a posting nominally about my long stretch of buying only "new" or "early" music.

The main point, though, was the subtext: a list of CD's or links I wanted to throw out there, just to show that I have the CD's or use the web sites or whatnot.

Why load a post with tons of subtext, though, when you can just write posts about the ideas in question?

I'll start off by plugging Classical Junk. Dave does a great job with his eclectic playlists. At any given moment, you'll either hear something new, or have a chance to hear something familiar in a new context. It's a great example of what classical programming should be. Sure, there's no shortage of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and the other WCRB 1700-1900 set, but they intermingle with other music, old and new, solemn and light.

1.07.2006

The Deep of Night and the Sunrise

Greg Sandow, in his post on Art and Entertainment, threw in this little cookie:

In Götterdämmerung, the scene for Hagen and Alberich is a comparative low ebb, given Wagner’s standard, for both art and entertainment, but Hagen’s call to the vassals rates high on both counts.

I was really taken aback by that. My immediate reaction was that this scene has one of my favorite moments in the entire ring cycle, how can he dismiss it so? (In fact, the binding of my score of Götterdämmerung is cracked at that scene.) After all, this scene is the one moment of sympathy that Hagen gets. If Alberich were your father, and he pestered you for your entire life about the ring, you'd be evil too. (Alberich really pounds it away, using the phrase "mein Sohn" seven times in a relatively short scene.) Not only that, but Alberich insists to his son "Sei treu!" repeatedly as he fades away. (That isn't entertaining?)

The real high-point, though, for me is at the end of the scene -- the Morgendämmerung music in the transition to scene two. It opens with a bass clarinet solo (against a cello pedal), followed by a horn choir. When I first learned about imitative counterpoint in high school, I nominated this canon for closer study. What makes it so interesting is that Wagner is able to use some tricks to make it seem much longer than it really is. He uses fake entrances to create the illusion of a 7-part canon, even though the strictly canonic part had already ended by the final entrance. Even though the true canon is very brief, what follows is still a great example of tight-knight counterpoint.

Overall, the piece is very short -- just 50 measures -- and comes across as chamber music because of the severly reduced texture (at least until the end, when the low strings get into the game). This moment of stillness really is one of the hidden gems of the ring.








As a side note, I never noticed the (incidental) pun on the Well-Sung pair's name until I saw "Wälsung" in print in the score. I feel quite a bit behind the curve on that one, as everybody else has been talking about their name since before I even read their blog. (Evidently, they mentioned it as far back as November 5.)

1.03.2006

鲍元恺,祝你生日快乐

I purchased my first contemporary classical Chinese cd by accident.

Near the beginning of my year in China, I found a CD of the Long Yu and the Chinese Philharmonic Orchestra playing Schoenberg and Wagner. They did a fine job with the decidedly European selections. I didn't think much more about it for a long time.

When I got home, I listened to the disc on my computer. Something very bizarre happened. Instead of automatically playing, it opened a folder. What was in this folder? Mp3's of another China Philharmonic Orchestra CD, this time playing the music of Bao Yuankai, Wang Ming, and other Chinese composers of the past 50 years.

Today (at least by Beijing time), Bao turns 61. I'm very happy to (accidentally) know who he is and have some of his music.