a rockin' main course

After an entrée of American ensemble music, I headed down the road to the Basement to hear GangAwry – a local progressive rock band who were celebrating the CD launch of their latest album Politics.

Aside from a quick glance at their MySpace page the night before, I’d never heard of these guys before. My friend – being an avid fan – had organised a bunch of us to check them out. She certainly wasn’t the only fan. The basement was packed with friends, family and groupies who drank heartedly, singing along with the words of almost every song and cheekily heckling the band members.

My friend was probably the biggest heckler of them all: “your mother loves it”, she screamed at one point before glancing mischievously at one of the band member’s mother who was standing just a few metres away smiling proudly.

It’s rare to see such a level of intimacy at a rock gig (although the small, personal nature of the venue naturally played a role here), and it was interesting to catch a ‘behind-the-scenes’ glimpse of the support that these guys obviously have for their music making.

As a band, they were extremely tight and well-rehearsed – a very slick act with excellent stage presence. I did leave feeling a little uninspired though. Their formulaic riffs and harmonies left me yearning for something far more cutting edge and new...

a listener's dilemma

I love being able to peel away the layers of a piece of music, finding multiple meanings and new ways of listening. Most fascinating for me is discovering how the artist arrived at the final point. Where did she find that initial inspiration? What processes did she follow to get the results she wanted? What aspects of the music were important for her in its creation? What decisions did she make along the way? What meaning does it have for her?

Perhaps this is why I’m a huge fan of pre-concert talks. When I go to a performance, learning about the works is just as interesting as hearing the works performed… Besides, this way I can learn more about the works I'm hearing or possibly I’m just too lazy to do this research myself beforehand!

I got thinking about all this during a performance by the Modern Music Ensemble conducted by Carolyn Watson on 24 May. The program – an interesting mix of American contemporary music – included: Copland's Appalachian Spring, Harbison's Confinement and Druckman's Come Round.

Richard Toop gave the pre-concert talk and I was surprised to discover that while the concert hall was pretty healthily filled, only a handful of us attended Richard's talk. Why was this so? Were most people already familiar with these works? Did they not think they'd understand anything that was said? Or could they just not be bothered? Whatever the reason, they missed out! Richard's talks are always thoroughly enjoyable and insightful.

Aside from contextualising the works, one thing that Richard pointed out – for the latter works at least – was that while form was of particular importance for Harbison and Druckman during the compositional process, it isn't necessarily easily perceptible – the listener's perception is very different. He offered suggestions for possible threads throughout the pieces that might give us direction or points of reference on our first listening.

When chatting with friends after the concert about the role of program notes and pre-concert talks, the question arose about whether a work should be able to stand its ground without any supporting documentation. If a work needs a hefty program note alongside it so the audience can ‘get it’ is it actually successful? If it needs someone to rant about the work for half an hour before hand should the composer have even bothered? Interesting questions and not easily answered.

Putting any geeky obsessions aside, I think that notes or talks can be useful for giving listeners various points of reference during an otherwise potentially chaotic listening experience. I don’t think it is about telling the listener how they should be listening; it is more about assisting them to navigate through sounds they might hear. Emphasising that they are different ways of hearing, they might also give listeners confidence that what they are hearing is valid and empower them respond and react to what they are hearing – to give their opinions a voice...

cake celebrations?

I just read that yesterday was the 50th Anniversary of computer music in America. It's so hard to imagine a world without the technology that infiltrates, and bombards our lives (well, at least in the majority of developed countries!).

My curiousity for discovering more about the evolution of computer music led me to an article written by ABC Journalist Cathy Johnson who writes about Australia's first computer (CSIRAC). This computer - the fourth in the world - was used as a musical instrument back in the early 1950s and is believed to be the first digital computer to be "played" anywhere throughout the world...

A good summary of what was going on in electronic music during the 1950s around the world can be seen here.

random overtones

Until last night - when Antares Boyle and Janet McKay performed a collection of contemporary flute duos at the Sydney Conservatorium of music - I'd never heard a bass flute played live. Its deep growling tones left me yearning for more.

The work featuring the bass flute was Dominik Karski's Glimmer, where it and the alto flute interweave through a unique sound world of screeching, flutter tonguing, pitch bending, quarter tones and other extended techniques that exploit almost the entire range of both flutes.

This piece is quite typical of Karski's exploration with sound quality. His scores are dense with minute detail for how the performer should approach each note or rhythm, which by challenging the performers brings the actual physicality of the performance into focus. I don't think this is so much about the concept of the virtuoso (although this is certainly a factor) but more that aspects of playing that are generally hidden - breathing, hitting the keys etc. - are brought into focus and become an integral part of the sound world itself.

Perhaps this is why I found Yve Lavine's imagery projected behind the musicians (as amazing as it was) so distracting - I wanted to stay watching the performers but found my eyes kept switching uncomfortably between the two.

It was an interesting idea though and perhaps one way to make it more effective would be to better coordinate the images with the music. Rather than pre-programming the images, someone could flick between them in real time - at a much slower pace.

At the pub after the concert - where we drunk way too much beer and gobbled down cholesterol-dripping chips - we got chatting about what the images brought to the recital. Did they enhance the meaning? Did they project undue meaning onto the listeners ? Did they simply offer one interpretation of the music? Were they just pretty visuals that offered no meaning what-so-ever? Did they create multiple layers of meaning?

It turned out that the whole concept was actually an experiment for all three girls - none of them had done anything like this before. I'm really keen to see how their ideas evolve from this initial concept.

Distractions aside, I found the abstract images the most effective because they still allowed for my own interpretation of the music. When more recognizable images (such as baby's faces) were used I found it started to imply a particular interpretation on the music that I found at odds with my own listening.

Along with Karski's piece, Janet and Antares performed Toru Takemitsu's Masque, Joli Yuasa's Interpenetrations, Helen Fisher's Muriranga-Whenua, Hitomi Kaneko's Miyabi.

I'm not really familiar with Japanese music and I found most of these pieces fascinating. Like Glimmer, the other works on the program focussed on timbre, exploring interesting sound worlds with techniques such as pitch bending, and harmonics - the physicality of playing again seemed to be an integral and prominent feature of these works. New Zealand Helen Fischer evoked techniques from Maori culture - namely singing and pitch bending - and the piece itself was inspired by Maori legends about Grandmothers.

Janet and Antares are clearly passionate about new music - their vibrance, passion, and dedication was deeply inspiring. But it wasn't just their energy that inspired: their talent and execution of the program was brilliant. They showed a finesse in their music that is often lacking in other similar concerts (largely due to works being desperately under rehearsed, which isn't always our performers fault but one of the lacking support from government bodies! ).

I'm not sure when the duo are playing again - hopefully soon! I do know that Janet is playing with the Modern Music Ensemble on Tuesday 25 May at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. Copland, Harbison and Druckman are on the program, and Richard Toop will be giving a pre-concert talk!

Why Blog?

Six months ago I began pondering the idea of a blog focusing specifically on Australian new music - it seemed like an interesting and fun project to embark upon. So after months of procrastination I've finally entered the blogging world.

And what an exciting world this is. Not only am I able to publish my writing immediately, but also people all over the world can read what I write. And even if no one actually cares, I can dwell in the satisfying illusion that I have a captive audience. Hmm...this could be addictive.

But ego aside, curiosity is actually what draws me to blogging - I want to learn more about music. The new music scene in Australia is growing rapidly and includes a diverse range of genres such as contemporary classical, experimental, electroacoustic, jazz, noise, sound art, sound installation and more. By discussing gigs, concerts, new works, CDs and books, I hope to explore different perspectives on these types of music as well as deepen my understanding about the aesthetics, philosophies and ideas associated with the art form.

Scribbling ideas into a tattered notebook - as I have done for many years - simply doesn't have the same effect. Writing in a public space forces me to be more critical of my own thinking (Yes, it comes back to the self-indulgent idea that someone might actually read what you are writing). But it does more than this: it also opens the possibility of dialogue. And discussion is a crucial aspect of an artistic community – it inspires, challenges and builds confidence, which in turn allows the art form to grow.

Last year I edited an issue of Sounds Australian devoted to examining some documentary processes surrounding new music in Australia. I argued that we - as an artistic community - need to be talking much more about our music. I guess this blog is finally a response to my own criticism of our community - I'm finally practicing what I was preaching!

While I am primarily driven by a passion for new music (and indeed writing itself), I am quite excited by the idea that others - who might share my interests - will be eager to engage with my writing by offering their views and opinions.

How often I post is yet to be seen. I do know, however, that I aim to use this blog as a place to explore different styles of writing: reviews, interviews, exploratory essays, features etc. So stay tuned!