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Showing papers in "Tempo in 2022"


Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: A través de una reflexión enmarcada en la historia ambiental y la ecología política histórica, se busca analizar el proceso de despojo que sostuvo el Estado chileno y la consolidación del capitalismo in la zona as discussed by the authors .
Abstract: Resumen: La invasión militar del Wallmapu tuvo como motivo principal el anexar al dominio estatal dicho territorio para transformarlo en un espacio funcional a la consolidación del predominio político, económico y cultural del Estado moderno. A través de una reflexión enmarcada en la historia ambiental y la ecología política histórica, se busca analizar el proceso de despojo que sostuvo el Estado chileno y la consolidación del capitalismo en la zona. Mediante el análisis de decretos, leyes y documentos oficiales, así como el testimonio de viajeros y cronistas, se destacan las motivaciones y medios utilizados en la ocupación. De esta manera, se reflexiona en torno a la complementariedad de las estrategias utilizadas poniendo el énfasis en la racionalidad sobre la naturaleza que la modernidad impuso, así como ésta es utilizada para someter y dominar los territorios mapuche que hasta la actualidad siguen en disputa.

1 citations


DOI
01 Jul 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: The Navigator as discussed by the authors is one of the earliest operas to be recorded and two operas remain to be released, Tree of Codes (2016) and Atlas of the Sky (2018).
Abstract: the periphery, it is this shimmering presence of both voices and ensemble that makes The Navigator so memorably expressive. Two operas remain to be recorded, Tree of Codes (2016) and Atlas of the Sky (2018). Given how compelling Singing in Tongues is, both in terms of its authoritative performances and Lim’s singular creations for voices, it is to be hoped that they will appear forthwith. Moreover, one can readily imagine the composer creating many more works of music theatre in the future.

1 citations


Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Contemporary music festivals are a neatly packaged way of encountering a variety of new and recent pieces, where someone else has done the hard work and chosen them for you as mentioned in this paper , rather than surfing Bandcamp or similar and following our own predilections, these festivals, in a healthy way, force you to confront your musical barriers and to harmonise your prejudices.
Abstract: Contemporary music festivals are a neatly packaged way of encountering a variety of new and recent pieces, where someone else has done the hard work and chosen them for you. In our online/streaming life, rather than surfing Bandcamp or similar and following our own predilections, these festivals, in a healthy way, force you to confront your musical barriers and to harmonise your prejudices. In the UK and Ireland, Ilan Volkov's Glasgow Tectonics, Eamon Quinn's Louth and Graham McKenzie's Huddersfield seem to me the most interesting at the moment. There are, of course, other useful and enterprising festivals: some are a mixed bag of old and new, some are composer-led or have other agendas, so they have built-in filtering – in other words, prejudices. Festival directors have their likes and dislikes too, I guess, but the evidence from the three mentioned above demonstrates an openness and a researched risk-taking: Huddersfield, with McKenzie in charge, is more open than most, presenting quite a range of different genres and media.

1 citations


Peer ReviewDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Harrison's How Things Come Together as discussed by the authors is one of the earliest works to deal with the same themes in similar fashion, with the piano providing a filigree background to a large part of the disc.
Abstract: processes are rarely discernible’. Instead, the listener gets lost among familiar shapes that seem to shift before our ears, even if – as Harrison’s earlier piece with identical movements demonstrates – they are actually staying the same. The materials themselves tend to be made up of contrasting elements, so that what constitutes a familiar aural scene is their relationship to each other: disparate things clicking together in a way that makes sense. In the opening of How Things Come Together a lumbering brassy loop is paired with string glissandi in a manner that seems so essential that it is something of a shock when the glissandi are heard on their own. Subtle shifts in tempo and intensity do give a sense of shape to proceedings. Loops become shorter and more intense, giving the music an air of contraction and expansion. There are even some recapitulations of material, or at least returns of familiar constellations, yet the focus on such a narrow range of material can make such returns difficult to recognise. The listener is encouraged to join with the music in a sense of an ever present now. I do wonder, however, whether listening to Harrison’s pieces in terms of his own temporal descriptions is all too easy. There is more going on here than the play of time and repetition that he describes. Timbre, for example, is remarked upon little and it is an important part of the music’s effect, while maintaining particular timbral qualities at quiet dynamics is part of its challenge as a player. The ensemble always feels slightly blurred around the edges, the harmonic space saturated in a way that leads in no particular direction. His pieces have a sonic ‘aura’, as if the aural memory has been left open like a long exposure. It is striking that this is the case for both pieces, despite their differences in ensemble size. Considering this timbral aura takes us further into territory that Harrison himself eschews, the combination of luminous sonic image and deep experience of time verges on the spiritual. There are useful parallels here with Morton Feldman. According to Benjamin R. Levy, Feldman’s Jewish faith has received ‘relatively little attention as a source of his artistic sensibilities’, meaning that it is easy to engage with his music without recourse to this level of his identity. This is not to say that there is necessarily a religious component to Harrison’s intentions but that there are significant overlaps with his temporal explorations and certain kinds of religious experience, a feeling that a generous acoustic only adds to in How Things Come Together. Reading Harrison, however gently, against the grain reminds us that this is music, not just some kind of perceptual exercise. With these two pieces, written ten years apart, there is also the question of Harrison’s own development. Both deal with the same themes in similar fashion, with the piano providing a filigree background to a large part of the disc. While this is not a problem, there is a sense that the pieces are not best served by listening one after the other. The journey of one piece is of a particular scale and quality that immediately embarking on another feels unnecessary. In today’s digital age, this is unlikely: perhaps it is only the reviewers listening to CDs from beginning to end. Yet what is exciting about Harrison’s creative development is that relatively small interventions – more silence, for example, or dialogue between two main materials – could have such dramatic consequences in his hands. Moreover, his wider oeuvre already contains more contrast, more ways of approaching his interests, than these two pieces display. Just as in his music, the repetitions and the developments blur one into the other, both offering fascinating worlds of experience.

1 citations


Journal ArticleDOI
01 Jul 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this article , the authors analyse three sound paintings: Klee Alee (based on Paul Klee's Hauptweg und Nebenwege), Rothko and In solitude this fear is lived (inspired by the early work of Agnes Martin).
Abstract: Abstract A considerable portion of Joan La Barbara's compositional work has been concentrated in her ‘sound paintings’ – works that translate into sound the visual and energetic sensation La Barbara experiences when encountering art. Many of these works are ‘ekphrastic’ – that is, they render aurally a pre-existing work. In this article, I analyse three such sound paintings: Klee Alee (based on Paul Klee's Hauptweg und Nebenwege), Rothko (based on Mark Rothko's Chapel paintings), and In solitude this fear is lived (inspired by the early work of Agnes Martin). I argue that these works extend the mimetic impulse of her vocal practice and use translational semiosis to produce their ekphrastic effects.

1 citations


DOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: The Borealis 2017 festival of projects as mentioned in this paper has hosted a series of events where musicians from Mexico, Finland, Singapore and the States have gathered for a gig in a former grain silo that felt more like a pagan ritual or a scene from a horror film.
Abstract: loose-limbed post-everything polyrhythms of the drumming, there are snatches which call sharply to mind the great rollicking swing beats of Gene Krupa. Or maybe Krupa falling down a flight of stairs, still playing. The drumming is never less than thrilling, but it’s the delivery of these four women, who have spent the past two years in dialogue with Trammel and with each other, engaged in struggles over the protection of refugees and Black Lives Matters and the microaggressions of everyday life in a small, mostly white town, with all that bled deep in the texts and in their voices, that will stay with me. A unique and powerful performance. Borealis has become a festival of projects. It feels almost belittling to call these events ‘concerts’ when most of what I see here is the result of long research and one-off collaboration, tailored for a specific venue. Composer and doublebassist Guro Skumsnes Moe gathers musicians from Mexico, Finland, Singapore and the States for a gig in a former grain silo that felt more like a pagan ritual or a scene from a horror film. Across town, a church recalling Xenakis’ design for the Philips Pavilion at Expo ’58 hosts a 90-minute noise concert co-composed with Lasse Marhaug in which the Norwegian Ensemble neoN produce a steady battery of extended techniques – bowing against polystyrene, scraping at guitar strings, dismantling their instruments and playing each part – as members of the Far East Network (Otomo Yoshihide, Ryu Hankil, Yan Jun and Yuen Chee Wai) perform an oblique series of hand gestures in projection on to the sloping concrete walls. In a small room in the centre of town, Benjamin Soistier of the French group soundinitiative performs a ‘concert for one’ directly on to my blindfolded body, drumming on my arms and placing rattles, balloons and other objects into my hands, all mic’d-up and mixed in with field recordings in my headphones. But it was the weekend’s final event, consisting largely of a single man (sometimes two) on an ordinary stage with his instruments, that finally blew everyone away. In a tweed suit and particoloured shades, Roscoe Mitchell looks simultaneously dapper and slightly daffy as he steps out, flanked by a bass drum on one side and a huge gong on the other. On to the screen behind him appears a second Roscoe, sat in his home in Wisconsin (same glasses) holding a bass saxophone. On-screen Roscoe starts up a simple two-note motif: one short note followed by one longer. Nothing to it. But out of the articulation of this basic interval, transformed and turned inside out, augmented by wild runs and filigreed ornamentation, will spin the elements of much of what we hear for the next half hour. A third Mitchell appears on the screen, also with a bass sax, playing the same motif but coming in on the upbeat. The Roscoe on stage comes in on clarinet, a tense, drawn-out squawk of a note. We meet a fourth Roscoe, then a fifth, both encircled by myriad small percussion instruments: plink, plonk, ptock. At some point, Mitchell’s dog, Shuggie, wanders into the camera’s frame and starts to howl along, keening and curiously soulful. At 80 years old, Mitchell can still really shred when he wants to, ripping out frantic, virtuosic lines full of whistling multiphonics and deep guttural grain. There’s life and complexity in every tone. But what really impresses is the level of musical thought at work, the capacity of his playing and his pauses to surprise and delight. Mitchell can seem austere at times with his signature deadpan look, but tonight he comes across full of warmth and levity. And he does all this, moving between the various instruments on stage (clarinets, different saxophones, small percussion instruments, the big drum and gong on either side) with the demeanour of a man testily searching his room for an important document he’s sure he saw right here just the other day. After half an hour of the Roscoe multiverse, there’s a short break before he’s joined on stage by his former Mills College student John McCowen. Watching the two of them play together, facing off from opposite ends of the stage, feels a little like watching a chess grandmaster play a friendly against his star pupil. There’s clearly a great deal of affection between the pair, and this second set proves surprisingly lyrical in places. Bruised and burnished notes break into tender melodies of effortless invention. There’s more breathing space, more air in the room. It all feels like such a treat – especially when Shuggie comes back on to the screen to join in for a brief encore at the end. After two years apart, here is the thrill of an unrepeatable live event and the warmth of human connection that we’ve all been waiting for.

DOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this article , the authors consider the implications of the consideration of epistemic justice within modes of composition pedagogy in higher education and frame the composers themselves as individuals prior to the technical exercises that they may undertake.
Abstract: Abstract This article considers the implications of the consideration of epistemic justice within modes of composition pedagogy in higher education and is in part a manifesto, in part a reflection on my experiences of teaching composition in this setting. I ask how composition education can become, as described in 2015 by the North Macedonian dramatist and creative educator Goran Stefanovski, ‘the politics of the impossible’. I question how composition education could function without a canon of examples or assumed master–apprentice hierarchies and frame this as a question of epistemic justice, one that considers the composers themselves as individuals prior to the technical exercises that they may undertake. I describe why I believe that epistemic justice is a concept that is worthy of consideration in creative education in composition alongside the ways that current models of composition pedagogy might unintentionally cause students to experience epistemic injustice within their education experiences. Rather than a prescriptive model, I propose challenges that I hope can influence my educational approach now and in the future and conclude with some suggestions about what a model of hermeneutic epistemic justice might look like as a pedagogic model for music composition.

Journal ArticleDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , the composer Thomas Meadowcroft discusses his radiophonic work Talkback Burnback, from its genesis and source material to its assembly, placing it in the wider context of his earlier works, Song Buslines (2013) and Moving Home (2016).
Abstract: Abstract In this interview the composer Thomas Meadowcroft discusses his radiophonic work Talkback Burnback, from its genesis and source material to its assembly. The work is placed in the wider context of Meadowcroft's earlier radiophonic works, Song Buslines (2013) and Moving Home (2016), and considered in relation to the different traditions of radiophonic works, sound art, podcasts and the Hörspiel.

Journal ArticleDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , the authors present an abstract for this content, full HTML content is provided on this page and a PDF of this content is also available in through the ‘Save PDF’ action button.
Abstract: An abstract is not available for this content. As you have access to this content, full HTML content is provided on this page. A PDF of this content is also available in through the ‘Save PDF’ action button.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , a series of harmonic moments held for the length of a breath and played by the two instruments as if they were joined together are played on a single track, as if as one pair of instrumental friends wanders away from us, another approaches.
Abstract: others. They both consist of a series of harmonic moments held for the length of a breath and played by the two instruments as if they were joined together. It is a simple idea, and one which reveals some very lovely concordances indeed. The two pieces are presented here slightly overlapping, on a single track, as if as one pair of instrumental friends wanders away from us, another approaches. In ‘Siro’s Garden’, three similar duos also appear. If the album as a whole can be heard as a virtual garden in which sensual beauty and serious conceptual music-making are finely balanced, it is because Weeks is invested in the evocation of sonic virtual spaces and places rather than musical narrative or drama. The importance of the concept of place is most obvious in the two pieces named after cities, ‘Düsseldorf’ and ‘Durham’, the musical material of which derives from the soundscape of their namesakes – most obviously the prominent church bells. In ‘Düsseldorf’, church bells become tubular bells, powerfully pealing over the other instruments’ material, which are largely either long low tones that hover between pitch, breath noise and silence, or high-pitched wisps of sound hanging like gentle breezes. It beautifully recalls the soundscape of a garden in the city without the use of field recording. In ‘Durham’, the cathedral’s bells are transported to the piano, comprising the pitch material for a spare yet moving piece, the shortest on the album. ‘Summer’, the title track, and the first track on the album, grows out of two piano chords. It’s a beautiful, arresting and memorable opening – almost catchy, in that I found myself ruminating on those two chords at random points during the past months, even when I hadn’t been listening to ‘Summer’ recently. In the same interview with Reynell, Weeks says about the genesis of this piece that ‘I think it was literally as simple as finding those two chords at the piano one day while working on another piece, and wanting just to sit with them for a while.’ With that I can certainly empathise. Weeks’ piano writing is simple, taking full advantage of the natural decay of the instrument, a perpetual reminder that everything, whether sound, summer or life itself, must come to an end – decay is the natural state of the world, and humans cannot but be part of nature. The wind and string instruments too frequently measure their long notes in terms of the natural – personal, individual – length of the player’s breath or the speed they draw their bow across the strings – again, a reminder of the essentially corporeal nature of music-making, and that all things are ephemeral.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Jul 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: The ensemble Dal Niente as mentioned in this paper take a broad view, their November 2021 disc confined to three continents (North America, Africa, South America) and describe a rich snapshot of one ensemble's fruitful work in the time of Covid.
Abstract: for prominence alongside the chaos and tension of lockdowns also brought about many aesthetic quandaries for artists. Is the best response a direct one, dealing and engaging with the matter at hand through or via music? Or might this be an opportunity to reassert music’s uselessness, its suspended beauty, its place away from concerns of the moment, focused only on itself? The potential pitfalls are plentiful, stuck between a rock (haggard and inappropriate amid cries of ‘too soon’) and a hard place (aloof and inconsiderate of the struggles of the day). Far from taking a side in that debate, the latest album from Ensemble Dal Niente takes a broad view, their November 2021 disc confined.speak described in the liner notes as ‘a rich snapshot of one ensemble’s fruitful work in the time of Covid’. Adding to that richness, they have managed to find ways around the obstacles the year brought about to expand their horizons and work with an international cast of composers. Three continents (North America, Africa, South America) are represented, as distance was simultaneously restricted by social distancing and neutralised via music’s digital turn. Dal Niente takes its name from Helmut Lachenmann’s clarinet piece of the same name (‘from nothing’ is also a slightly tongue-in-cheek description of the group’s conception). Like Lachenmann’s oeuvre, this disc is pretty uncompromising stuff. It opens with Igor Santos’ composition for violin and piano, which gives the album its name. It’s the sound of an archaic form of confinement: scratches and stutters give a sense of boxed-in architecture, the violin cast as a caged animal clawing its way out of iron bars. The piano writing exudes a similar character, but with a more angled dialectical relationship between confinement and liberation – brash thrashing inside the piano, clusters and percussive high-register strikes when stationed at the keyboard. A dialectical relationship between integral elements also shapes Hilda Paredes’ Dementa Cuerda. In fact, dialectics is built into the title, in a pun that can either mean demented string, as appears in the title, or ‘of sound mind’, as in ‘de mente cuerda’. Dal Niente’s Ben Melsky features as the soloist in this most agile of concertos. Though imaginative, Dementa Cuerda perhaps shows the limits of the harp’s ability to sound truly unruly, a vehicle for enacting the exchange of musical ideas with other instruments, rather than driving that change itself. Accordingly, the dramatic capital of gestures that suggest growth (glissandos) and release (a big double-handed pizzicato) are used up rather quickly. The final three minutes is a more intriguing listen, as pitches coalesce and rhythmic events become more sporadic. Argentinian composer Tomás Gueglio doubles up as Dal Niente’s Ensemble Manager. He describes his Triste y madrigal as an ‘oneiric radio soap opera’. A soupy texture of whistles and trickles lasts for four minutes, interrupted abruptly by a pre-recorded sonic collage of text-to-speech which jostles with another, muffled voice and an old recording of a particularly caustic orchestra. It then slots easily back into the previous texture, a scene change on a soap that could run and run. Where Gueglio’s piece feels like it could last forever, Melissa Vargas’ Es casi como el inicio. . . y comienza stops abruptly. Free in metre but constrained by time (a caught cymbal gesturing like a clock chime), it begins as the sparsest piece on the album, a feat that is quickly erased by the virtuosic interjections of soprano Amanda DeBoer Bartlett, whose oscillations drive the work to its slightly sudden conclusion. Meanwhile, George Lewis’ Merce and Baby is more meandering in its journey. Reflecting on the collaboration between Baby Dodds and Merce Cunningham in the 1940s, it’s full of balletic grace and fire, with a good dose of free-jazz feeling emanating from Kyle Flens’ snare flutterings. The disc culminates in Andile Khumalo’s call for action, Beyond Her Mask, which examines violence against women in South Africa, while burrowing into the sound of the lion’s roar, a friction-based percussion instrument that emits a kind of moaning sound. The words are striking, particularly towards the piece’s conclusion, but more character is drawn from Khumalo’s orchestrations: a feast of raucous anxiety. From Khumalo’s direct engagement with the politics of the moment to pieces like Merce and Baby (from a different time, dragged into today and injected with new meaning), to other works that want to run away in the complete other direction, Dal Niente’s portrait is a good summary of the splintered mindset of pandemic music-making: enterprising but never settled, and always balanced precariously on the edge.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Dec 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this article , análise de seus manifestos públicos buscaremos compreender como uma leitura própria do passado foi utilizada tanto como instrumento de legitimação das ações políticas de ação direta não violenta.
Abstract: Resumo: O artigo analisa os pronunciamentos e as ações realizadas pelos ativistas indígenas que ocuparam a ilha de Alcatraz entre novembro de 1969 e junho de 1971. Na ocasião, um grupo de estudantes chegou à antiga prisão federal, intitulando-se “Indígenas de Todas as Tribos”, com o objetivo de reclamar o território para a fundação de um centro cultural e uma universidade indígenas. Através da análise de seus manifestos públicos buscaremos compreender como uma leitura própria do passado foi utilizada tanto como instrumento de legitimação das ações políticas de ação direta não violenta, visando a autodeterminação dos povos indígenas nos Estados Unidos, como também instrumento para forjar uma agenda interétnica, que pudesse reverter as péssimas condições sociais dos povos nativos nos centros urbanos e nas reservas.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Jul 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , the authors present an abstract of a paper on the use of the Get access link above for information on how to access this content and a preview of the paper.
Abstract: An abstract is not available for this content so a preview has been provided. Please use the Get access link above for information on how to access this content.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Jul 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this article , the authors present an abstract of a paper on the use of the Get access link above for information on how to access this content and a preview of the paper.
Abstract: An abstract is not available for this content so a preview has been provided. Please use the Get access link above for information on how to access this content.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Inside Out as discussed by the authors is an experimental video essay that layered raw footage of Juliet in her erstwhile London studio space, reading her own words, reflecting on the words of others and doing her singing practice.
Abstract: Abstract This text was written in response to a commission from Berliner Festspiele/MaerzMusik – Festival for Time Issues 2021. Juliet Fraser collaborated with filmmaker Jessie Rodger to create an experimental video essay that layered raw footage of Juliet in her erstwhile London studio space, reading her own words, reflecting on the words of others and doing her singing practice. The result offered a glimpse into one artist's efforts to remain creative and connected during the time of Covid. What follows is the written essay; the full video essay, Inside Out, can be seen at www.youtube.com/watch?v=m96xf41-_PA .

DOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Riot Ensemble as mentioned in this paper performed a series of pieces based on the zeitgeist of poetry during the 2011 World Wide Web pandemic, including a suite of pieces by Nathalie Joachim and Laura Kaminsky.
Abstract: computer age. Alec Hall’s Spin featured Sarah Dacey as a soprano Peloton instructor, with the ensemble (four strings, oboe, clarinet, horn, electric guitar and percussion) in places obeying her by responding to her directions in sound. The piece broke into an imaginary playlist, moving through upbeat disco – complete with flashing lights – to fluid glissandi. Dacey’s voice was sometimes distorted by a vocoder, which sometimes made the Peloton’s disembodied voice semi-comprehensible. The oppositions of encouraging/admonishment, human/ non-human voice and electronic/acoustic were deliberately unsettling. As in Riot’s previous Kings Place concert, the double bassist was again showcased, in this case Marianne Schofield. In Joseph Bates’ Sparrow, her giant instrument evoked the tiny bird by conjuring up beautiful plucked harmonic sounds, almost as if the bass had turned into a koto. This was one of 38 ‘Zeitgeist’ pieces commissioned by Riot during the pandemic and premiered online. This type of slow, reflective solo piece now seems very 2020–21, but it was a real pleasure to hear Sparrow live in the concert hall in such a compelling performance. Later that afternoon, Hub New Music gave their UK debut with a programme of five US composers; only Nico Muhly’s I Know Where Everything Is (2007) was not commissioned by this ensemble. The unifying theme of their commissioned works was ‘sonic realisations and responses to poetry’, and Riot’s director Aaron Holloway-Nahum here appeared as a composer. Hub New Music are a quartet of outstanding soloists (Michael Avitable, flute; Gleb Kanasevich, clarinet; Meg Rohrer, violin; Jesse Christeson, cello) who are every bit as impressive as Riot Ensemble. Most of the works on their programme treated the ensemble essentially as two wind instruments contrasting with two strings, the striking exception being Nina C. Young’s to hear the things we cannot see (2022). Young’s rich yet lucid contrapuntal writing treated the ensemble as four individualised voices. Based on a text by Rosie Stockton, the piece grew out of a lockdown exchange of ideas via correspondence, and a recording of the poet’s voice went in and out of focus during the three movements. The second movement opens with tapping, as if on a computer keyboard, and often the voice is distorted as if the sound is breaking up. While this is very much a piece that grew out of the lockdown experience, Young’s imaginative instrumental writing gave it a significance beyond our present time. Laura Kaminsky’s Uncover (2021) started like a series of incipits that didn’t quite go anywhere. The central slow movement of the three was the most striking, a quasi-romantic series of solos, showcasing all members of the ensemble, that coalesced into a chorale-like texture. Nathalie Joachim’s brief They Find Me in Pieces (2021) had an interesting open form: it can be played as four one-minute solos, a quartet or any combination of these. In practice, it was rather similar to Muhly’s work in its rather conventional gestures built up of fragments that are linked in unexpected ways. Aaron Holloway-Nahum’s Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale (2022) was premiered at the concert. It is based on a surreal poem by Dan Albergotti, which, once more, has been given new meanings through the lens of the pandemic: for the belly of a whale, read our individual lockdown rooms. This richly layered multimedia work invited us into the imaginary location with humour by turns dark and wry, and the four performers added precisely imagined evocative sound with their principal instruments and percussion. Avitabile and Kanasevich also proved to be superb swanee whistle players, and later in the piece the mood turned more intense, with violinist and cellist forcing their sound through a practice mute. In a discussion chaired by Sarah Nicolls after the concert, Sarah Dacey noted that we underestimate how much comedy can help us through trauma. Perhaps, therefore, it is not surprising that comedy, particularly dark comedy, was a thread running through both the 30 April programmes. Perhaps comedy is an essential foil to the more serious and poignant moments also present in the concerts, encapsulated by Albergotti’s words: ‘remember all the things you did and could have done’.

DOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this article , the authors argue that the teaching of composition should recognise both the rich global diversity of musics and the plethora of uses to which compositional techniques might be applied, and that such teaching might most productively be focused on imparting a broad selection of technical concepts from many musics, coupled with an interrogation of the underlying purposes of techniques taught.
Abstract: Abstract Musical composition has traditionally been taught with the assumption that students share musical backgrounds and have similar aims. In today's highly diverse musical world, however, composition students are exposed to a multiplicity of musical languages. They develop their personal creative styles from an internal conceptual ‘melting pot’ and must also develop compositional methodologies for a potentially large array of disparate usages. This article argues that the teaching of composition should recognise both the rich global diversity of musics and the plethora of uses to which compositional techniques might be applied, and that such teaching might most productively be focused on imparting a broad selection of technical concepts from many musics, coupled with an interrogation of the underlying purposes of techniques taught. All musics must be treated as equally worthy of study and students’ embodied experiences respected. Curricula need to be designed with such a catholic view in mind, encouraging students to embrace the growing profusion of genres, techniques and resources available and develop a flexible, broadly informed and resourceful outlook.

Journal ArticleDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Dark Spring is an accessible and bold operatic setting of a familiar text, and this recording renders it beautifully as discussed by the authors , which is an appropriate association for a text so deeply concerned with the loss of innocence.
Abstract: Thomalla’s chords slowly built from wide intervals and subtle, motivic work inflected with yearning major sevenths, which is an appropriate association for a text so deeply concerned with the loss of innocence. In another connection with musical theatre, Pierson compares the patter singing in ‘Do you remember how we used to play?’ – performed with wonderfully vibrant and accurate ensemble – to the work of Stephen Sondheim. This is emphatically a compliment, and an influence on the wider opera which should not be understated. Between the drum kit rhythms and vibraphone solos under Wendla’s ‘Boys boys boys’ and Moritz’s unfussy ballad strains in ‘This place is a dark wood’, I can imagine the voice of Bernadette Peters. If some of Thomalla’s post-minimalist and pop-inflected music runs the risk of sounding a little too safe, his setting of the rape scene at the end of Part One does not. Operatic rape scenes are easy to do badly: if the music is too understated, it can feel voyeuristic; if the music is too aggressive, it privileges the violence of the aggressor. Unlike the Broadway version of the musical (which alters this scene so that Wendla gives explicit consent), Clover’s libretto here retains much of Wedekind’s dialogue. Wendla says ‘don’t’ several times. Oversaturated, high-gain electronic noise glitches rhythmically on and off, then gives way to a deafening silence, punctuated only by Wendla’s sobbing. This approach to setting sexual violence is reminiscent of Kamala Sankaram’s in her opera Thumbprint (2014), and results in a similarly apposite soundscape for her trauma. Thomalla’s score asks for minimal vibrato and a light vocal style ‘closer to musical or pop-ballad’ from everyone except Moritz. Each singer is amplified to ensure balance with the electronics. Lavi, Hybiner andDiffey all singwith fabulously clear diction, colouring this requisite lightness with the full gamut of adolescent emotion. Only Moritz is allowed the excess of a full operatic tone, and El-Bushra embraces the opportunity without a hint of sacrificing any clarity. His phrasing is gorgeous throughout, and his final, death-diva top G is devastating. Under Pierson’s direction, the Nationaltheater-Orchester Mannheim offer Sciarrino-style extended techniques, generous grooves and intricate metrical modulations with warmth, energy and apparent ease. Dark Spring is an accessible and bold operatic setting of a familiar text, and this recording renders it beautifully.


Journal ArticleDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this article , the authors present an abstract of a paper on the use of the Get access link above for information on how to access this content and a preview of the paper.
Abstract: An abstract is not available for this content so a preview has been provided. Please use the Get access link above for information on how to access this content.


DOI
01 Jul 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In Winter's House, by Joanna Marsh, is an emotionally direct work in moderate tempo whose shifting chords and close harmony spring from its origin as a choral work as mentioned in this paper .
Abstract: In Winter's House, by Joanna Marsh, is an emotionally direct work in moderate tempo whose shifting chords and close harmony spring from its origin as a choral work. The songs are drawn from three very different sources and feature three different languages: ‘Night of the Flying Horses’ was composed for Sally Potter's film The Man Who Cried;‘Lúa descolorida’ (in Galician) also appears in Golijov's breakthrough work La Pasión según San Marcos (2000);and the group concludes with a setting of two tiny Emily Dickinson poems brought together under the title ‘How slow the wind’. Throughout, the programme is accessible: the ‘renewal’ of the title appears to be something gradual, more akin to the changing of the seasons than a scorched-earth transformation.

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: The Instituto Histórico e Geográfico do Rio Grande do Norte foi criado em março de 1902, e one of its principal objectives was to construir a memória histórica for o estado as mentioned in this paper .
Abstract: RESUMO: O Instituto Histórico e Geográfico do Rio Grande do Norte foi criado em março de 1902. Um dos seus principais objetivos era o de construir uma memória histórica para o estado. Com o intuito de cumprir esse propósito, uma das estratégias utilizadas por seus sócios foi o de organizar e promover várias comemorações alusivas aos eventos históricos da nação e do estado, especialmente aqueles acontecimentos concernentes à experiência republicana. Nesse contexto, o objetivo deste artigo é analisar o papel do instituto no processo de organização e formulação da cultura comemoracionista norte-rio-grandense, evidenciando como esse expediente reforçou e possibilitou a construção de uma memória histórica notadamente republicana. Para isso, a análise se dedicou a examinar apenas as comemorações em torno dos cem anos da Revolução de 1817.

Journal ArticleDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , the authors argue that the teaching of composition should recognise both the rich global diversity of musics and the plethora of uses to which compositional techniques might be applied, and that such teaching might most productively be focused on imparting a broad selection of technical concepts from many musics, coupled with an interrogation of the underlying purposes of techniques taught.
Abstract: Abstract Musical composition has traditionally been taught with the assumption that students share musical backgrounds and have similar aims. In today's highly diverse musical world, however, composition students are exposed to a multiplicity of musical languages. They develop their personal creative styles from an internal conceptual ‘melting pot’ and must also develop compositional methodologies for a potentially large array of disparate usages. This article argues that the teaching of composition should recognise both the rich global diversity of musics and the plethora of uses to which compositional techniques might be applied, and that such teaching might most productively be focused on imparting a broad selection of technical concepts from many musics, coupled with an interrogation of the underlying purposes of techniques taught. All musics must be treated as equally worthy of study and students’ embodied experiences respected. Curricula need to be designed with such a catholic view in mind, encouraging students to embrace the growing profusion of genres, techniques and resources available and develop a flexible, broadly informed and resourceful outlook.

DOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , the Belgian new-music ensemble Nadar created a Zoom performance called FITTINGinSIDE, tailored to a world in the grip of a pandemic.
Abstract: Abstract The Belgian new-music ensemble Nadar created a Zoom performance titled FITTINGinSIDE, which is tailored to a world in the grip of a pandemic. It balances ritual, artistic play and collective performance, all blended in a way that astonishes the ears. We followed Nadar's course through the pandemic and studied their techniques. How did Nadar manage to turn the crisis into – yet again – a new, creative starting point? How ‘live’ did the new ‘live’ feel? And is FITTINGinSIDE the format of the future?

DOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: In this paper , the authors examine the forces of resistance and opportunity that have shaped Emsley's creation of an algorithmic compositional method, and its use and adaptation in two groups of works: the series for piano (1997) and the cycle Still/s (2002-19).
Abstract: Abstract This article considers the recent music of the British composer Richard Emsley. It takes as a framework Tim Ingold's reflections on the creation of knowledge, not as the study of fixed objects but as a study with them, expressed in his 2013 book Making. The article examines the forces of resistance and opportunity that have shaped Emsley's creation of an algorithmic compositional method, and its use and adaptation in two groups of works: the series for piano (1997–) and the cycle Still/s (2002–19). The origins of for piano lie in a creative block that Emsley suffered between 1987 and 1996, during which time he began experimenting with using simple computer programs to create algorithmic compositions. Still/s extends this practice into a cycle of 24 pieces for instrumental quintet, originally inspired by a collaboration with the painter Joan Key. What emerges from both collections of pieces is not a form-based way of making but a practice, out of which forms might be discovered, and which requires skills of attentiveness, or what Ingold calls ‘correspondence’. The origins and subsequent elaborations of both for piano and Still/s show how the music itself has altered Emsley and his ways of working.

DOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Inside Out as discussed by the authors is an experimental video essay that layered raw footage of Juliet in her erstwhile London studio space, reading her own words, reflecting on the words of others and doing her singing practice.
Abstract: Abstract This text was written in response to a commission from Berliner Festspiele/MaerzMusik – Festival for Time Issues 2021. Juliet Fraser collaborated with filmmaker Jessie Rodger to create an experimental video essay that layered raw footage of Juliet in her erstwhile London studio space, reading her own words, reflecting on the words of others and doing her singing practice. The result offered a glimpse into one artist's efforts to remain creative and connected during the time of Covid. What follows is the written essay; the full video essay, Inside Out, can be seen at www.youtube.com/watch?v=m96xf41-_PA.

Journal ArticleDOI
29 Sep 2022-Tempo

Journal ArticleDOI
01 Apr 2022-Tempo
TL;DR: Frey's Notturno as mentioned in this paper is a three-hour piece with three quarters of an hour of unrelenting, quiet beauty, presented at the same unhurried conversational pace with enough variety in instrumental colour, harmonic palette and textural language to map out a delicately winding path in all its gentle, restricted unpredictability.
Abstract: alternating respiratorily with mirroring gestures in the ensemble, the textures gradually thickening, diversifying and expanding. The second half, which picks up seamlessly from the first, forms a series of smaller sections. Each text is set in its own style, according to its own simple and restricted premises. Roud’s sentence-long phrase, for example, is set with a single, surprisingly ‘traditional’ texture: a pedal tone pulses in the viola while the voice and cello move sombrely through a soprano–bass counterpoint that would not be out of place, fundamentally, in the nineteenth – or perhaps even the seventeenth – century. (To my ear, in fact, it brought quite immediately to mind the stunning passacaglia that forms the last movement of Othmar Schoeck’s Notturno, for baritone and string quartet, of 1933.) In subsequent passages, we get more vertical ensemble harmonies; returns to the general attitude of that lengthy opening section with stepwise diatonic fragments set in a thick, luxurious counterpoint that gently rise to a momentary melodic climax; and, finally, a plain, stately drumbeat that heralds a valedictory duo for voice and clarinet and then sinks gently into silence. The performances, despite a few passing moments of sour intonation, are concentrated and well controlled, making the most of the variety presented by the shifts in ensemble texture within a broadly unvarying tempo. The low soprano voice of Hélène Fauchère, nearly omnipresent over this extended duration – if it is not present, it has just been present and lingers in the memory, and we feel its imminent return – has a bit more weight, a bit more self-sufficiency and presence, than I imagine as an ideal for Frey’s work, but I suspect that preference is one the composer does not share. Her phrasing, her command of the entrance and exits of her lilting dyads and isolated lyrical events, is consistently well judged, retaining a rigorous sense of intimacy. So, then.What this work presents uswith, in the end, is three quarters of an hour of unrelenting, quiet beauty, presented at the same unhurried conversational pace,with enough variety in instrumental colour, harmonic palette and textural language to map out a delicately winding path in all its gentle, restricted unpredictability. What it does not present us with is the lingering sense of transcendence of which Frey’s best work is capable, precisely because it answers its own questions. The material behaves as it should; new elements are introduced at appropriate points of contrast; the proportions are as they want to be. The craftsmanship and the handling of large-scale form and rhetoric are impeccable. As a result, the system is closed, and something suffocates: nothing outside the bounds of the piece is invoked or hinted at. Frey’s greatest works evaporate beyond themselves, generating pressures that continue exerting force after the piece is over. When I Listened to the WindAgain. . . is over, it has ended. Itwas beautiful, but it has ended.