San Francisco Classical Voice

Les Percussions de Strasbourg, a sextet of French percussion virtuosi, brought a program of three substantial works, along with dozens of instruments, both familiar and exotic, to the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts on Wednesday. The music, though some of it quite recent, was all very much in the mode of high modernism, a reminder that this group's 39-year history has been closely interwoven with the postwar avant-garde. There was none of the American trend toward accessibility, and I was reminded of the gulf that still exists between European and American trends and styles of presentation.

The evening's centerpiece came in its second half, given over to Iannis Xenakis' Pléïades, a 45-minute tour de force. Among the work's four sections, the second, third, and fourth were each given to single instrumental families, while the opening section gave a taste of nearly all the instruments assembled. Short bursts on pitched instruments and drums came out of silence, then quickly faded away. Instrumental phrases expanded in length but remained unresolved, then disappeared unexpectedly, setting the stage for the more developmental sections that followed. A further element of surprise was added by the sixxen, a metal-keyed instrument invented by Xenakis for this piece.

An important part of the appeal of percussion concerts is visual. The Xenakis piece, particularly in its opening minutes, exploited this trait to the hilt. Along with the spectacle of many instruments assembled on stage, the work required a great deal of movement and physical energy. Arrayed across the front of the stage were three vibraphones and three marimbas, all paired with xylophones. Behind them were the six sixxen. At the back of the stage were extensive setups of timpani and drums for each player, ranging from small toms to bass drum. In utilizing so many instruments to introduce the piece, the composer tested not only the group's virtuosity but their lung power, as players repeatedly ran across the stage, from station to station, playing brief phrases before moving on again.

The work's second section was played entirely on the sixxens, and Xenakis, always an inventor of new sounds, fascinated my ear with this unusual instrument. The dynamic level of the playing has an unusually strong effect on the amount of pitch produced. Struck softly, the instrument can recall a set of tuned gongs or gamelan instruments, while a stronger attack suggests a sort of sour, piercing steel drum. Played with greater force, the sixxen was almost without pitch, more harsh and metallic. This section revealed new sounds continually, as combinations of soft accompaniment and forceful solos again produced fascinating timbres.

The work's next section moved to the vibes and marimbas before ending with passages on six xylophones. The concluding section moved the players to the drums and reached a delirious volume and velocity before repeated unison drumbeats faded into nothingness. In both of these sections, as with the sixxen passages, Xenakis obtained effects of great power with a simple device, following passages of complex, layered polyrhythms with forceful unisons among the six players. In fact, the sometimes-lengthy unison passages often consisted of simple subdivisions, delivered with great intensity by the ensemble. Although Xenakis is one of the genuine futurists of postwar music, his fertile imagination doesn't exclude ideas from the history of music that have proven to be effective.

The work's commissioning date, 1979, is indicative of a period of phenomenal growth of percussion music and musicians. Twenty-one years later, the Strasbourg players who premiered the piece have all been succeeded by younger musicians, ages 30 to 45. The youth and extraordinary ability of the performers offered testimony to the continuing flowering of ability among percussionists, with a growing number of players able to play at this group's remarkable level.

The evening's first half consisted of two substantial works, each with its own valuable aspects but neither as transporting as the Xenakis. François-Bernard Mache's Aera, from 1978, was like the Xenakis in conjuring its own sound world, but it deliberately avoided any forward motion. The work was shaped mostly by gradual changes in timbre and lengthy dynamic arches. Bowed vibes, marimba tremolos, and melodies played on tuned Thai gongs floated in and out of the texture, culminating in two crashing gongs over the polyrhythms of four timpanists.

Although many effects were striking and suggested a lengthy ritual, the final result, with its lack of motives or traditional kinds of development, was less than memorable. The work might have proved more effective if it had focused on a developmental approach to its primary aspect, timbre, rather than simply shifting from one engaging sound collage to another.

Daniel Augusto D'Adamo, a young Argentinean composer, contributed his Die Runde Zahl, premiered by Les Percussions last year. His focus is on mallet percussion, with many engaging passages built with layered tremolos, close imitation, and exchanges between the collected marimbas and vibraphones. But there is sameness among these episodes, which are distinguished from one another mainly by their length. A transition to glockenspiels and crotales with the onset of tutti rhythms sharpens the work's focus, but not to the point where it seems this work will be a major addition to the percussion repertory.

Through the entire program, the ensemble gave an extraordinary performance, distinguished not only by rhythmic precision but also by matched tone, unanimity of attack, and beautifully shaped phrases and passages across great lengths of time. The history Les Percussions have with each of these pieces and composers testifies to the contribution they have made to postwar music, while the level of Wednesday's performance suggests they have a long and rewarding road ahead.

(Benjamin Frandzel is a Bay Area musician and writer. In addition to writing concert music, he has collaborated with dance, theater, and visual artists, and has written about music for many publications and musical organizations. He is currently a graduate student in composition at San Francisco State University.)

©2000 Benjamin Frandzel, all rights reserved