Every
note you see represents a violin sound (although,
Problems and solutions concerning live-plus-tape composition.
By Bart McLean
Director, Electronic Music Center
University of Texas, Austin
From "Polyphony" magazine (later to morph into "Electronic Musician."), Jan/Feb. 1980, pp. 9-11, 20.
The age of reconciling acoustic instruments with electronic tape in the
same composition has plagued composers since the electronic medium began
in the early 1950s. A multitude of interesting works have been created
since then, a testament to the continuing need for interpretive renewal,
for the performance ritual to be maintained, and as insurance that the
composers' work will not fade away (as in a strictly tape composition)
for lack of performers or publishers to champion it.
However telling these reasons may be, many of us have, at one time or
other, come to an impasse in dealing with the coexistence of "live" and
"canned" materials in one composition. This article will be confined to
abstract non- commercial live-plus-tape composition, since it is here
that the issues about to be raised are most clearly focused. The basic
problem as I see it is in the realm of "illusion."
What is illusion and how does it operate in musical composition? Its
essence can be found in the atmosphere surrounding the work as well as
in the soul of the work itself. By atmosphere I mean (for example) the
concert hall setting, musicians' seating and tuning ritual, entrance of
the conductor, as well as the acoustic ambiance of the hall itself as it
reinforces and resonates. The second aspect of illusion is what the
composer creates uniquely and strongly to project a specific image in
the listener's mental realization of the work. All art is involved with
illusion in that it transports the receptor's mind to a specific and
defined universe within its own laws. Illusion creates the framework,
provides the listener expectation, and is the unique image of a work of
art. Why the term "illusion?" Because the art work can be said to exist
in the receptor's mind even without reference to performance, recording,
or score. Thus, a physical act of performance can be transferred later
into a mental image of that performance. Take recordings for example,
and consider the tremendous amount of research allocated toward the
elimination of tape noises, pops, clicks and distortion to ensure that
the illusion projected is one of a real live performance.
A considerable number of acoustic instrument-plus-tape works have
personally disappointed me in that they utilize tape sounds different
from acoustic sounds accompanying them (often purely synthesized tape
material presiding). Unfortunately in this case the acoustic instrument
or voice creates by its mere presence a powerful illusion of its own
which conflicts with that of the tape. What are some of these
conflicting aspects? An important part of the acoustic illusion finds
the performer overcoming odds before the eyes of the audience (for
example in projecting his sound against a large empty hall space or in
the technical prowess of the performer). Also crucial is human gesture,
spontaneity, and the assumption by the audience that anything can go
wrong at any time (a string can break, etc.). The electronic tape
composer, on the other hand, has none of these built-in factors to work
with. Technical prowess, hall ambiance, lack of performance accidents
and the rest are all guaranteed by the act of tape composition, thereby
eliminating the possibility of transferring the illusional
characteristics of acoustic performance to tape. The problem surfaces
when, as stated above, the two media are mixed. It seems that illusions
are delicate to handle and easily shattered, as when that previously
mentioned orchestral recording is subjected to a gash in the record
surface, immediately projecting the listener out of the
orchestral-performance illusion into the "canned" sound system illusion.
And in its doing so we become aware that it is easily possible to
project a live performance illusion through a recorded medium provided
that the latter does not intrude. It follows, therefore, that the
biggest danger in the composition and performance of acoustic
instrument-plus-tape is the intrusion of the sound system illusion upon
the live-acoustic or vice versa.
Although I do not claim to have found a solution that will work for
everyone, I would like to describe a series or works written by me for
single instrument and tape entitled "Dimensions" in the hope that they
may shed light of the reconciliation of "acoustic" with the "tape"
illusion in one piece. The term "illusion" implies, in addition to the
above mentioned criteria, fooling the listener into perceiving an image
that is greater than the constituent parts (the Oxford Dictionary
defines illusion as "sensuous perception of an external object,
involving a false belief or conception...") A good example of this is
the transition of a late classical symphony, where its motivic
identification with the "A" theme combined with the blurring of the
cadence between the "A" theme and the transition often creates in the
listener's mind an illusion of no transition at all. It is all handled
so naturally that we are at the "B" theme without perceiving the process
or arrival, the trick being to hide the seams.
A recurring illusion-creating device in a considerable amount of 20th
century electronic tape (only) music is the setting up of sound events
which are drawn from recorded "live" sounds (music concrete) and then
the creation of a synthetic analog to that event, blurring the
distinction between the two so that they may appear as an organic whole.
One only needs to hear the terror and beauty with which the synthesized
sounds surround and merge with the female voice in Berio's "Visage," or
the way the taxi horns overlap and merge with their electronic
equivalent in Appleton's Times Square Times Ten to appreciate this
statement. In both instances the exact moment at which one can
distinguish between the acoustic and the synthesized counterpart can not
be known. It is this blurring of the distinction between the two that
creates the illusion of one unified concept. Instead of our being
conscious of two separate illusional forces competing with weakening
each other, we are fascinated by how they merge and interact. The live
sound becomes its electronic equivalent and vice versa.
As this use of metaphor (that is-- the idea of one event becoming
another) has been employed effectively to reconcile synthesized and
concrete sounds in purely tape composition, so it has also been used by
myself and others in acoustic instrument-plus-tape works. In Ex. 1, from
my Dimensions I for violin and tape (ed note--these examples can be obtained by contacting the author),
the solo violin exists in the center box, the two tape channels appearing in smaller notation in the
outer boxes.
Every
note you see represents a violin sound (although,
since this is a performance and not a representational score, some
synthesizer material exists also but is not indicated). Many of the tape
sounds are somewhat modified (tape echo, equalization, etc.). The solid
lines between the boxes represent solo violin start cues, and the broken
lines, stop cues. It could be argued that the mere saturation of the
work with violin material in itself does not guarantee a unified
concept, since the performers will still sound "live" and the tape
"canned". This is true, and so I have only considered this saturation as
a first and necessary step. The second phase consists, in this page at
least, of setting up interplay between the two forces so complex in its
coordination that it is often impossible for the ear to separate the
two. Thus, the illusion is created of one "super-instrument". The ear is
tricked into disregarding the differences between tape and live
performance because of the creation of a more powerful illusion through
metaphor.
In my Dimensions II for piano and tape a more complex situation exists.
Although every single tape sound is derived from the piano, several are
unrecognizable as such, particularly the "ethereal choir" idea which
permeates the whole work. This sound event, produced by sustained
stroking of low piano strings close-miked and highly processed with
variable tape speed, some tape echo and modulation, acts as the "bed"
over and through which the piano soloist emerges, fades and interacts.
Since there is such disparity between the acoustical qualities of solo
piano and this main type of event, quite unlike my Dimensions I, I had
to find a means of reconciling the two forces. At the first solo
entrance this is done by implanting similar material in tape and solo
piano, and by bonding them together spatially in a panning situation.
This is done over the basic "ethereal choir" sounds. As can be seen by
Example 2 the close interaction between tape and piano created the
illusion of a unified concept.
Since
this, the very first piano
entrance, appears as bound to the tape, the illusion continues and
projects itself throughout the work, allowing the piano to depart
significantly from the tape material later on without breaking the
illusion.
A second characteristic employed later on to bind the two forces
together is the organic quality of the piano-tape interaction. In
Example 3 (not shown) the piano solo is constantly emerging from and receding back
into the tape material. This creates the illusion of the solo part
growing organically from the electronic material, thereby bound to the
latter, a characteristic found throughout the work. This can be quite
striking in performance, as when pianists such as David Burge, to whom
the work is dedicated and who has performed it throughout the U.S.,
completes the illusion by actually "becoming" the piece through gesture
and performance presence, thereby completing the metaphor.
Thus, we have come full circle, beginning with explorations of how the
performance illusion can be projected through the recording medium (as
in orchestral recording), to the projection of the tape illusion through
acoustical material (by employing similar material in both), through the
composer's reconciliation of the two by techniques explained in Examples
1-3, and finally to the performer's reconciling the live-acoustic with
the tape illusion by his attention to the sonorous and organic qualities
inherent in the work and by his performance-gestural attitude.
Wit has replaced pomposity
Priscilla McLean
From "Musical America" magazine, Oct. 1981, pp. 33-34
Imagine a fairytale opera sung and acted by clowns; two performers in
pink body suits encased in a musical clock with stuffed birds and
animals; three puppet-like comic performers on an unusual array of
wooden percussion instruments; several mime groups and circus
"street-theater" performers; a still-life opera of perverts. Such an
atmosphere illuminated the eleventh international Music Biennale
(Festival of Contemporary Music) that took place May 9-16 in Zagreb,
Yugoslavia.
First held in 1961 under the direction of Milko Kelemen, the Music
Biennale was formed to expand the cultural horizons of post-war
Yugoslavian composers. It has grown to become one of the very few major
new-music festivals in Europe, and has commissioned and/or performed
works of virtually every major contemporary composer. Recent festivals
have been turning more toward younger composers and adding more local
new music, perhaps due to general economic problems throughout Europe,
but also from a desire for fresh ideas and new faces.
A timely theme
Each Biennale focuses on a theme, this year's being "theatricality and
visualization"- a timely one indeed since it mirrors a recent European
trend toward greater communication with the audience through a more
accessible musical language, and the desire to explore European roots in
street theater, traveling composer-performers, and the colorful acting,
dance, and costume derived from the medieval past.
This year's Biennale, directed by Igor Kuljeric, presented a colorful
and varied series of programs, enjoyed by enthusiastic (and often too
noisy) audiences participating in five or six hours of continual new
music per day. Halls were crowded even at 1 a.m. on the eighth day of
the festival-- listeners undaunted by the marathon of choices: three
operas, three full and three chamber orchestras, three ballet companies,
and a deluge of smaller ensembles or soloists from ten different
countries, including the U.S. and Canada.
Sixty-three composers from twelve countries were represented. Of these,
twenty-three were Yugoslavs, a perhaps too-liberal sprinkling of native
new music, not all of which lived up to the quality of the rest. The
Yugoslav music was often less visual and encased in conservative, less
interesting musical styles. Notable exceptions were the late Branimir
Sakacís highly textural Matrix Symphony with organ, compelling
narration, and folk melodies, and Milko Kelemen's orchestral work Mageia
(1977), revealing intricate rhythms and trance-like repetitions,
inspired by Mexican culture.
Zimmermann's "Schuhu..."
One of the week's highlights was the three-act opera (1975) by Udo
Zimmerman (East Germany) entitled Schuhu and the Flying Princess and
performed by the Dresden State Opera. The production was magical, with
superb sets, costumes, fine singing, and a vivid musical score that used
echo and repetition in complex textural interweavings as well as in
simple lines. The libretto, based upon a fable by the poet Peter Hacks,
describes the wanderings of a Schuhu, a kind of Peter Pan child-man
bird, who is "wiser than ten thousand Mesopotamian scientists." Puppets,
smiling paper moons, a stage calliope, jests and clowning abound. The
opera won a long standing ovation.
Another "spectacle" was the production by Trevor Wishart, a young
composer from York, England, who with his band of three performers
(Melvyn Poore, tuba; Kathryn Lukas, flute; and Martin Mayes as
improviser on the French horn in between pieces) put on three theater
works of black humor. (There was hilarious appreciation from the few
English-speaking members of the audience, and bewilderment from the
others.) Wishart's ideas are basically grim: humanity crushed by
technology and bureaucratic thought control. These concepts are realized
through fantastic and stifling tuba mutes (in Tuba Mirum), boxes filled
with "technology" taped flutes confusing the improvising soloist (in
Fidelio), and in Adam and Eve (the tubist and flutist in body suits)
trapped in a "utopian" giant musicbox clock with stuffed birds, animals
and rain (in Walden II). The integration of message, wit, and music
made for a memorable late evening.
Theatrically
Other groups contributed to the theme of theatricality. The Ballet of
the National Theatre of Serajevo performed Kreature by Japanese composer
Shin Ichiro Ikebe-- a dance of conception and life using texturally rich
orchestral music and a setting which included a paper mache moon and
huge mobile balls. The Le Cercle trio from Paris combined superb
mime-acting, humor, and musicality in Mauricio Kagel's Dressure for
Three Hooligans and Wooden Instruments. And there were stunning dramatic
productions by the Italian Camerata Strumentale of Ligeti's Aventures
and Nouvelles Aventures.
Of three seemingly endless "Non-Stop" concerts during the week, one was
devoted to electronic music, which featured the only two American
composer-performer groups. Daniel Lentz (California) with his pianist
Gary Eister presented a forty-five-minute hypnotic, repetitive,
amplified work entitled Dancing on the Sun, to the occasional
accompaniment of thrown green paper balls by the uncomprehending, very
noisy audience. At midnight, anyone still awake (and considerably
quieted down) could hear the McLean Mix (Barton and Priscilla McLean
from Austin, Texas) performing their virtuosic music for piano and tape.
Another North American group, especially assembled for the festival,
was Soundstage Canada, a group of about twenty artists presenting varied
works of eleven Canadian composers. Unfortunately this reviewer, due to
performance conflicts, was unable to attend their two ambitious
concerts.
Current trends
How did the 1981 Zagreb Biennale reflect current music trends on
contemporary music? One of the main threads seemed to be the new
awareness of, and growth in, the audiences, brought about by more
appealing performances-- visually, dramatically, and musically. Pomposity
and intellectual posturing seem to be (almost) passe-- perhaps humor and
a sense of the fantastic being their successors. Apart from that, and to
quote from director Kuljeric, "certain recognizable schools... [are]
giving way to an increasing number of independent musical artists who,
in building up their own artistic micro-world, are stretching to the
very extremes the broad spectrum of possible answers to the question:
what is contemporary music today?"
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