Riley - Minimalism Jukebox at Los Angeles Philharmonic
Los Angeles Philharmonic "Minimalism Jukebox", March '06
“In C”
I went to several of the Los Angeles Philharmonic concerts at Disney Hall for the Minimalism Jukebox festival. First of all, congratulations and thank you to the LA Phil for having the courage to throw their weight behind the idea and get John Adams here to curate it.
I absolutely loved the performance of Terry Riley's minimalist landmark "In C", where there were 80-100 musicians on the stage – 2 grand pianos, 4 uprights, many synthesizers, guitars, lots of percussion including timpani, saxes, a chorus, and of course a host of strings, winds and brass. The only thing missing was the Disney Hall organ. And when the timpani came in, around module 15, it caused a ripple of excitement among audience members where I was sitting, myself included. How many times do you get to hear a performance of “In C” with timpani?!
The piece filled the hall. And the performance was not only well played, but also planned out with a trajectory that was more than just about everyone getting softer then louder then softer then louder.... The performance was organized around numbered flash cards corresponding to the module numbers that were signaled from the podium. Players entered pretty much on cue, but with some give and take as to timing decisions. One can infer from Riley’s instructions in the score that such an interpretation would be welcome. The piece took on a scale and scope and shape that was truly symphonic and took advantage of the colors of this massive orchestra. And it sounded and looked like it was just a lot of fun to play.
It was especially surprising to me how well some of the modules worked with full-on brass – sounding absolutely Bruckner-esque in places! Who would have thought that? But then, Bruckner sometimes sounds like a proto-minimalist to me, the guy who took all that E-flat pedal at the beginning of Das Rheingold to heart and ran with it. After the performance, audience members not only gave it a standing ovation, but I noticed several of them near the front jumping up and down with glee, barely able to hold in their enthusiasm. I felt refreshed and joyful after the performance, and thankful too. Thank you Terry Riley. This piece has survived well and has the rare chameleon-like ability to actually pull off its own reinvention and shape-shift itself with every performance in any given context. I’ve heard it many times, though this is the first symphony hall version I have ever heard. Each time is a revelation to me. CalArts School of Music Dean, David Rosenboom (himself a fascinating composer and one of the original performers at the premiere of “In C” in 1964) led the performance from the podium on violin, and fellow CalArts students and faculty made up the outstanding orchestra. Thank you to them too.
The piece by Terry Jennings that preceded this was tedious. It reminded me of that Saturday Night Live skit from the first season with the dead string quartet, the difference being that the skit was really funny. In the skit there’s a string quartet and each player is dead, having been propped up by a stage hand, with bows placed across the strings. All is still, and then the first violinist starts to teeter, in slow motion, and eventually crashes into the second violinist. The fall causes the bow to drag across a string in the process. And this causes a chain reaction where the second violinist, then violist, and finally cellist go through the same motion, like dominoes. It’s hilarious. Each dead player produces one note before crashing into the next player. It’s conceptual and minimal art and it’s smart and funny! (This reminds me, check out the Peter Fischli and David Weiss film The Way Things Go.
The string quartet by Jennings, a protégé of LaMonte Young in the 60’s, however, lacked the humor certainly. It wasn’t meant to be funny. Although it shares in the early ground breaking purist drone long-tone brand of minimalism propounded by Young, I found it excruciatingly dull. It was so quiet that I could hear people’s stomachs roaring a few aisles down from me. And to add to my own misery I had one of those nightmare scenarios where as soon as the lights went down and the musicians’ bows were drawn and about to produce the very first note of the piece, right on cue I got a powerful tickle in the back of my throat and unbelievably strong urge to cough. Anyone who knows Disney Hall realizes that the slightest noise is amplified through the whole building; and in a piece this quiet, it would be all the more disturbing. So I spent the next 30 minutes of the piece controlling this urge. I couldn’t just get up and leave because I was in the middle of the aisle and there’s no room to squeeze by anyone. Everyone would have had to get up to let me by, causing a loud stir just as the piece was getting underway. It was quite a predicament. I suppose looking at it another way it was good practice for me in controlling coughing urges. The piece went on and on for 40 minutes, all of it pppp to pp dynamic, long drawn out notes and plenty of silence. Granted, my reaction to the piece was colored by my miserable condition. But I also think that the piece contributed substantially to it.
Oh by the way, my seat was in row ‘C’ in section ‘E’ on the house right side of the hall. The first 2 notes of the first module of “In C” are C-E. I did get some goofy delight out of that little coincidence.
“In C”
I went to several of the Los Angeles Philharmonic concerts at Disney Hall for the Minimalism Jukebox festival. First of all, congratulations and thank you to the LA Phil for having the courage to throw their weight behind the idea and get John Adams here to curate it.
I absolutely loved the performance of Terry Riley's minimalist landmark "In C", where there were 80-100 musicians on the stage – 2 grand pianos, 4 uprights, many synthesizers, guitars, lots of percussion including timpani, saxes, a chorus, and of course a host of strings, winds and brass. The only thing missing was the Disney Hall organ. And when the timpani came in, around module 15, it caused a ripple of excitement among audience members where I was sitting, myself included. How many times do you get to hear a performance of “In C” with timpani?!
The piece filled the hall. And the performance was not only well played, but also planned out with a trajectory that was more than just about everyone getting softer then louder then softer then louder.... The performance was organized around numbered flash cards corresponding to the module numbers that were signaled from the podium. Players entered pretty much on cue, but with some give and take as to timing decisions. One can infer from Riley’s instructions in the score that such an interpretation would be welcome. The piece took on a scale and scope and shape that was truly symphonic and took advantage of the colors of this massive orchestra. And it sounded and looked like it was just a lot of fun to play.
It was especially surprising to me how well some of the modules worked with full-on brass – sounding absolutely Bruckner-esque in places! Who would have thought that? But then, Bruckner sometimes sounds like a proto-minimalist to me, the guy who took all that E-flat pedal at the beginning of Das Rheingold to heart and ran with it. After the performance, audience members not only gave it a standing ovation, but I noticed several of them near the front jumping up and down with glee, barely able to hold in their enthusiasm. I felt refreshed and joyful after the performance, and thankful too. Thank you Terry Riley. This piece has survived well and has the rare chameleon-like ability to actually pull off its own reinvention and shape-shift itself with every performance in any given context. I’ve heard it many times, though this is the first symphony hall version I have ever heard. Each time is a revelation to me. CalArts School of Music Dean, David Rosenboom (himself a fascinating composer and one of the original performers at the premiere of “In C” in 1964) led the performance from the podium on violin, and fellow CalArts students and faculty made up the outstanding orchestra. Thank you to them too.
The piece by Terry Jennings that preceded this was tedious. It reminded me of that Saturday Night Live skit from the first season with the dead string quartet, the difference being that the skit was really funny. In the skit there’s a string quartet and each player is dead, having been propped up by a stage hand, with bows placed across the strings. All is still, and then the first violinist starts to teeter, in slow motion, and eventually crashes into the second violinist. The fall causes the bow to drag across a string in the process. And this causes a chain reaction where the second violinist, then violist, and finally cellist go through the same motion, like dominoes. It’s hilarious. Each dead player produces one note before crashing into the next player. It’s conceptual and minimal art and it’s smart and funny! (This reminds me, check out the Peter Fischli and David Weiss film The Way Things Go.
The string quartet by Jennings, a protégé of LaMonte Young in the 60’s, however, lacked the humor certainly. It wasn’t meant to be funny. Although it shares in the early ground breaking purist drone long-tone brand of minimalism propounded by Young, I found it excruciatingly dull. It was so quiet that I could hear people’s stomachs roaring a few aisles down from me. And to add to my own misery I had one of those nightmare scenarios where as soon as the lights went down and the musicians’ bows were drawn and about to produce the very first note of the piece, right on cue I got a powerful tickle in the back of my throat and unbelievably strong urge to cough. Anyone who knows Disney Hall realizes that the slightest noise is amplified through the whole building; and in a piece this quiet, it would be all the more disturbing. So I spent the next 30 minutes of the piece controlling this urge. I couldn’t just get up and leave because I was in the middle of the aisle and there’s no room to squeeze by anyone. Everyone would have had to get up to let me by, causing a loud stir just as the piece was getting underway. It was quite a predicament. I suppose looking at it another way it was good practice for me in controlling coughing urges. The piece went on and on for 40 minutes, all of it pppp to pp dynamic, long drawn out notes and plenty of silence. Granted, my reaction to the piece was colored by my miserable condition. But I also think that the piece contributed substantially to it.
Oh by the way, my seat was in row ‘C’ in section ‘E’ on the house right side of the hall. The first 2 notes of the first module of “In C” are C-E. I did get some goofy delight out of that little coincidence.
posted by Martin at 8:31 PM
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