Listening this week focused on the Neo-Romantic School. What a farce. These composers don't belong together at all. It is like pairing Shostakovich and Debussy together because they both worked with the symphonic orchestra. Pairing these completely different composers together is like putting Disturbed back to back with N'Sync.
As a result, this week's listening was rather angular, but had some beautiful moments, even if these pieces don't make a lot of sense together. The works themselves each have some merit.
Rochberg's String Quartet no. 3 was the first one I dove into this week, a more complex work than it will get credit for most of the time I imagine. As it is based on Pachelbel's Canon, it may be glossed over as simple and easy, when in reality, it is quite a complex and deep work. It does not begin to take on it's own life until after the first full minute, following the baroque work practically to the letter. Here the change is simply in ornamentation, a subtle change to decorate this relatively simple melody, but gradually the work moves away from Pachelbel entirely. Moving from an unstable sound around the second minute to full blown uncertainty and confusion in the third minute. The pulse is intentionally lost and obscured, and the work even becomes dull through it's lack of stability around the fifth minute. Gradually it comes full circle to reinstate the theme at one of the more unstable points. An intriguing take on Pachelbel's overplayed work, and very enjoyable overall.
Moving from Rochberg to Crumb's Black Angels was a mistake to be sure. I listened to his Departures. This movement alone was enough to get a sense of the work. I really liked it at first, grating and in your face, unapologetically dissonant. However, it never moves away, provides any contrast, and begins to sound like noise. At one point it does gain a little stability or sense through a little tempo, which doesn't last. Why, how, who thought it was a good idea to lump George Crumb together with Rochberg and Adams? How does this make any sense? Occasionally this gains the sound of raw, seething emotion, like Ruggles or Cowell, but Crumb's emotional content lacks substance and contrast. It never culminates with anything or reaches any pinnacle.
Now for something completely different I move to Adams Grand Pianola. Without prefacing this work, I assumed it would be for Piano alone. I enjoy walking into a listening without any preconceived notions or background knowledge. Adams was a composer I had heard about but never heard, and before reading, I decided to jump right into the listening. I think that by listening this way, it provides us a much truer sense of objectivity, an ability to judge without any prejudice or restriction. In his Grand Pianola, Adams does not sound like anyone else. His work moves tonally steadily along, and transcends many stylistic trends. At moments it will sound like Reich in it's continuing melodies, moving slowly through one another, at other times I hear Respighi, grand moving lines with ethereal motives in the high register over moving lines. And yet, I can almost hear the heavy pulsations and intensity of Stravinsky emanating through his occasional dissonances coupled with a driving, almost forceful ostinato.
Lastly was Rzewski. Compared to our recent listenings, he is pretty tame. Again, I see no corollary between him, Crumb, and Adams, how are these four the same genre?!
The only reason for these four to be combined is based upon time frame. Rzewski sounds like Shostakovich a lot of the time to my ear. Quiet pulsations and intensity permeate the opening of the People United, but then it moves to a more Joplin-esque sound, somewhere that the heavy Russian hand of oppression meets a lighthearted, syncopatic dance. A truly captivating sound, his Cotton Mill Blues creates the same aura. Where did he get this unique mood? It has the hypnotic elements of minimalism, but the intensity of Shostakovich Symphony no. 5.
All in all a cool set of listening. Every piece had it's merit, not without their flaws, but still intriguing enough to hold attention.
As a result, this week's listening was rather angular, but had some beautiful moments, even if these pieces don't make a lot of sense together. The works themselves each have some merit.
Rochberg's String Quartet no. 3 was the first one I dove into this week, a more complex work than it will get credit for most of the time I imagine. As it is based on Pachelbel's Canon, it may be glossed over as simple and easy, when in reality, it is quite a complex and deep work. It does not begin to take on it's own life until after the first full minute, following the baroque work practically to the letter. Here the change is simply in ornamentation, a subtle change to decorate this relatively simple melody, but gradually the work moves away from Pachelbel entirely. Moving from an unstable sound around the second minute to full blown uncertainty and confusion in the third minute. The pulse is intentionally lost and obscured, and the work even becomes dull through it's lack of stability around the fifth minute. Gradually it comes full circle to reinstate the theme at one of the more unstable points. An intriguing take on Pachelbel's overplayed work, and very enjoyable overall.
Moving from Rochberg to Crumb's Black Angels was a mistake to be sure. I listened to his Departures. This movement alone was enough to get a sense of the work. I really liked it at first, grating and in your face, unapologetically dissonant. However, it never moves away, provides any contrast, and begins to sound like noise. At one point it does gain a little stability or sense through a little tempo, which doesn't last. Why, how, who thought it was a good idea to lump George Crumb together with Rochberg and Adams? How does this make any sense? Occasionally this gains the sound of raw, seething emotion, like Ruggles or Cowell, but Crumb's emotional content lacks substance and contrast. It never culminates with anything or reaches any pinnacle.
Now for something completely different I move to Adams Grand Pianola. Without prefacing this work, I assumed it would be for Piano alone. I enjoy walking into a listening without any preconceived notions or background knowledge. Adams was a composer I had heard about but never heard, and before reading, I decided to jump right into the listening. I think that by listening this way, it provides us a much truer sense of objectivity, an ability to judge without any prejudice or restriction. In his Grand Pianola, Adams does not sound like anyone else. His work moves tonally steadily along, and transcends many stylistic trends. At moments it will sound like Reich in it's continuing melodies, moving slowly through one another, at other times I hear Respighi, grand moving lines with ethereal motives in the high register over moving lines. And yet, I can almost hear the heavy pulsations and intensity of Stravinsky emanating through his occasional dissonances coupled with a driving, almost forceful ostinato.
Lastly was Rzewski. Compared to our recent listenings, he is pretty tame. Again, I see no corollary between him, Crumb, and Adams, how are these four the same genre?!
The only reason for these four to be combined is based upon time frame. Rzewski sounds like Shostakovich a lot of the time to my ear. Quiet pulsations and intensity permeate the opening of the People United, but then it moves to a more Joplin-esque sound, somewhere that the heavy Russian hand of oppression meets a lighthearted, syncopatic dance. A truly captivating sound, his Cotton Mill Blues creates the same aura. Where did he get this unique mood? It has the hypnotic elements of minimalism, but the intensity of Shostakovich Symphony no. 5.
All in all a cool set of listening. Every piece had it's merit, not without their flaws, but still intriguing enough to hold attention.
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