|
CONTEMPORARY MUSIC REVIEW
January 24, 2007
|
Banging With Beauty By Jason Victor Serinus
So Percussion prides itself on crossing the line. That this artistic threshold sometimes involves the limits of aural comfort is, of course, related to the space in which the group performs. In the relative intimacy of Stanford’s 700-seat Dinkelspiel Auditorium, the augmented percussion quartet drove this audience member beyond aural saturation. Even before intermission, the old tissue-paper-in-ears remedy had to be called into play. Given that the relatively young performers had themselves donned earplugs, save for San Francisco guest percussionist Ben Paysen (who forgot to bring his along), what some might consider an act of quiet desperation seemed right in line.
So Percussion Photo by Ian Fry
Mere decibel saturation does not detract from the stunning (in all senses) accomplishments of Josh Quillen, Adam Sliwinski, Jason Treuting, and Lawson White. Since meeting at Yale, the four percussionists, still under 30 years of age, have forged a most unusual path. Not only do they perform the relatively few works for percussion ensemble currently in existence, but they have also commissioned an impressive list of new works from David Lang, Carlos Carrillo, Dan Trueman, Suzanne Farrin, and Melanie Schoenberg. Coming soon are a theatrical work by Martin Bresnick, a multimedia opera for percussion quartet and three voices by Dennis DeSantis, a collaborative work for found materials by Matmos and So, and, in a few years, the Stanford Lively Arts U.S. premiere of new work by Steve Reich. So Percussion plays with astounding control, total concentration, and a fine ear for tonal shading. Indeed, the sheer quality of overtone harmonics generated by their mallets on wood, metal, and God knows what else is virtually hypnotic. Although their discography already includes three CDs, all on the Canteloupe label, it is doubtful that anything short of a high-level audiophile system could extract from the digital medium anything approaching the quantity of wondrous sound that So Percussion generates live.
The first half of the concert, consisting of three works by Steve Reich from the early 1970s, served as a belated 70th birthday tribute to the so-called minimalist master. I use the term “so-called” advisedly, because there is nothing in the least minimal about percussionists rhythmically banging on pieces of wood with mallets. In Music for Pieces of Wood (1973), each wood block resonates at a different pitch, the number of players variously changes from one up to five and back again over the course of a timeless 15 or 20 minutes, and the rhythms subtly shift in characteristic Reichian fashion. The patterns and pulsations generated are in some ways the aural equivalent of the multisensate psychedelic excursions of the era. (Come to think of it, those, too, frequently took people to the level of oversaturation.) Regardless of whether the analogy speaks to you, the musical experience, at least in the hands of So Percussion, was both mind-opening and profound. Switching away momentarily, but not entirely, from percussion, Reich’s Four Organs (1970) for four electronic organs and the constant rattle of one maraca seemed less about patterns than about textures. If the work proved less involving than the music that preceded it, the aural saturation factor undoubtedly played a part. Happily, the same cannot be said for Part One of Reich’s great work, Drumming (1971). In So’s performance, Reich’s brilliant exploration of shifting rhythms, patterns, and sonic layering made one hunger for the remaining parts of the work.
After a relatively quiet intermission, So performed the first work written for the group, David Lang’s 30-minute the so-called laws of nature (2001-2002). Featured on So’s debut album, the three movement mini-symphony utilizes original instruments made of walnut planks, tuned steel pipes, tea cups, flower pots, brake drums, and other sundry devices. Lang’s textures and rhythms, in writing that sometimes calls for short periods of silence amid the initial din, immediately distinguish themselves from Reich’s. At first the work seemed less involving, if no less eardrum shaking. But in the final movement, which settled into softer, higher-pitched, patterned plinking of tea cups and flower pots, Lang switched from high octane New York to the tamer English countryside. The sounds were lovely, so lovely in fact that five or 10 minutes of repetition with relatively few variations or shift in sound color held me spellbound. That such sweetness could so quickly follow abrasive sounds speaks to the skill of both composer Lang and his expert dedicatees.
(Jason Victor Serinus writes about music for such publications as San Francisco Classical Voice, Opera News, Stereophile, San Francisco Magazine, East Bay Express, and Bay Area Reporter.)
|