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Shining the Artistic Spotlight on a Decade of War

By Guest Bloggers Arlene and Larry Dunn

Well past the 10-year mark, we are engaged in the longest war in our nation’s history. We have spent at least $1.5 trillion dollars prosecuting war in Iraq and Afghanistan – much more if you count the full costs, such as the interest on the debt to borrow this money. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers have been deployed, many multiple times. Over 6,000 have died, and another 42,000 wounded. At least 132,000 Afghan and Iraqi civilians have died as well. And yet the large majority of American citizens are oblivious to the stark realities of these wars and only a very small percentage of us actually serves.

On May 23 and 24 in Chicago, Spektral Quartet, in collaboration with High Concept Laboratories, presented Theatre of War. This artistic effort to raise the level of discourse about our wars was scheduled just days after the NATO Summit, where our leaders negotiated our future military commitments in Afghanistan. All ticket proceeds from the event were donated to the Vet Art Project (www.vetartproject.com) to support their vital mission.

Theatre of War was a disquieting evening in which artists from a variety of genres brought forth elements of our nation's wars in Iraq and Afghanistan to an awestruck audience. Music, film, poetry, and drama were presented without breaks and with a request to the audience to hold their applause until the end. We were reminded of the nightly TV News reports during the War in Vietnam which brought the horrors of war into our living rooms every evening. That war affected everyone. Young men of all backgrounds were drafted. Everyone knew someone in uniform or waiting for a call from the local draft board.

For us, the knockout punch of the evening was the combination of Richard Mosse’s film "Killcam" and George Crumb’s Vietnam-era string quartet "Black Angels." “Killcam” juxtaposes two settings. Injured soldiers recuperating at Walter Reed Hospital are enthusiastically playing a video war game, with images that look eerily like combat locations in Iraq. Interspersed are scenes from actual Iraq war footage (via LiveLeaks). Men and vehicles are blown up by missiles delivered via remote control. The targeting crosshair images in these clips are nearly identical to the crosshairs in the video game being played at the hospital. But these are real people getting blown up by real explosives and really dying. Frightening enough just to look at, it is even more disturbing that these deaths were caused by antiseptic remote control.

Shortly after ”Killcam,” Spektral Quartet performed “Black Angels,” the original raison d’etre for Theatre of War. In this extraordinary piece for amplified string quartet, the musicians are challenged far beyond the standard bowing and plucking techniques. They used a panoply of accoutrements from thimbles, small bells, and glass rods, to tuned wine glasses of various sizes. At times they also chanted number sequences in several languages, in loud bursts or almost at a whisper. Crumb wrote this piece about the Vietnam War. The opening, THRENODY I: Night of the Electric Insects, was startling and terrifying, thrusting us into the jungle theater of that war. Quiet interludes were suddenly disrupted by shrieks of sound, like a surprise attack by guerrilla fighters. Death is ultimately portrayed in near silence; the stunned audience was held in it’s thrall. It is hard for us to imagine a more deeply committed performance of “Black Angels.”

The other most moving piece of the evening was “Blackbird,” a short story by Virginia Konchan, adapted for the stage by High Concept Laboratories Artistic Director Molly Feingold. Mitch Spalding, a soldier struggling with post-traumatic stress, is about to be redeployed. He finagles the Army for access to psychiatric counseling before he departs. But he finds no healing in it. Dustin Valenta, as Mitch, ably portrayed the anxiety plaguing soldiers overdosed on combat. He personified the human cost of serving in today’s military. Jeremy Clark, as the psychiatrist, maintained a cool, detached demeanor. He repeatedly stated “Good,” as Mitch reeled off examples of how bad things are, callously invalidating Mitch’s every emotion. ”Blackbird” powerfully illustrated the disconnect, not just between the soldiers and the general public, but also between those who serve and the people assigned to help them bear that burden.

The evening’s other components -- pianist Lisa Kaplan’s nerve-jangling performance of Drew Baker’s “Stress Position,” two additional Mosse films, and readings of poems by Wislawa Szymborska -- each contributed meaningfully to making Theatre of War a momentous achievement. We commend Spektral Quartet and their artistic partners for their boldness in holding these troubling realities up to the light for the audience to confront. So where does that leave us?

No matter where one stands on the rightness or wrongness of our continuing military actions, we are going about this in an irresponsible way that is not healthy for our society. We owe it to our “Mitches” that we fully understand what we are asking them to do in our names, whether they are shrugging into a kevlar suit for face-to-face combat in Afghanistan or sitting down at a remote control drone command center in a bunker in South Dakota. And we owe it to ourselves to demand from our elected officials that decisions about committing the lives of our soldiers and our treasury to war-making must be vigorously debated in the public square.

As to where we ourselves stand, we are deeply troubled. If we are going to war, we believe we should pay for it, and we do not mean by deluding ourselves that we can tax-cut our way to growth to cover the costs. We have to stop abusing our military families with endless deployments. We are driving them to despair. We hear people say: “They volunteered to serve; they knew what they were getting into.” That is simply unacceptable, self-delusional crap. We worry that the military actions we are taking are doing as much to prolong our problems with terrorism as they are to stop them. As we write this article, we are learning in the New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/29/world/obamas-leadership-in-war-on-al-qaeda.html?ref=opinion) that our President is directly involved in the decisions about who will get death-by-drone rained down upon them. On the one hand, we are heartened that at least he is taking personal responsibility. But we find the whole secret drone strike campaign legally dubious and morally suspect. And if nothing else, it is hard to imagine a more effective terrorist recruiting tool.

We are grateful to Spektral Quartet for helping our community to confront these difficult issues. We fervently hope this leads to more serious public discourse about our ongoing commitments.

Arlene and Larry Dunn are avid fans of a wide range of contemporary arts and music endeavors as well as life-long social activists. They are frequent contributors of “audience perspective” blog postings for ICE, the International Contemporary Ensemble. They live in rural LaPorte County, Indiana.   Follow them on Twitter: @ICEfansArleneLD

Canon Fodder: Thomalla's Albumblatt

Hans Thomalla: Albumblatt (2010) - www.hans-thomalla.com

Hans Thomalla was born in Bonn, Germany in 1975, he currently lives in Evanston, IL and teaches at Northwestern University.

First performance: 7/22/10.  Written for the Arditti Quartet, commissioned by the Ernst von Siemens Foundation.

If you're looking for more, check out this video of Hans' opera, Fremd.

The lights turn on abruptly at the start of Hans Thomalla's Albumblatt. You are standing in an empty white room. Whether or not there is a floor is unimportant. You are not grounded by gravity or time. Strands of sound, shape and thought move past you, or is it the remnants of light swirling on the inside of your eyelids?

These strands float and whiz past, each with its own density and following its own arc. Occasionally, they coalesce into a fragment of a memory, the faded photograph of a past life. Memory, charged with the nostalgic beauty, but still fleeting.

I hope to offer you those few thoughts as a way of setting a mood for contemplative listening to this truly arresting piece. Hans has said the rest better than I ever could:

We know albums – or Poesiealbum, as they are called in German – from our childhood: the collection of entries from friends or family as an attempt to hold onto something ephemeral: seemingly inseparable friendship, a notable experience, a song or a poem that should not be forgotten; all of those stand next to leaves that have dried long ago, and whose decomposition lets us experience vanity rather than durability.

My composition Albumblatt is a study about these tries to get a hold of such unsteady phenomena: the players’ fingers slide in almost uninterrupted glissando across the fingerboard at the beginning of the piece, while bow-pressure and bow-tempo swell constantly. A restless sonorous flow, continuously changing its direction, and in which chords shine through only in passing – just long enough to be perceived before the notes drift on: short moments of orientation, memory, meaning.

A steady decrease in bow- as well as in glissando-tempo (up to their eventual halt) attempts to grip these chords, to literally hold on to them. But instead of a stable and fixated harmony a different type of sonorous world emerges, one that follows its own flow and eventually its own elusiveness. The grasp for the chords, the attempt to get a hold of those gestures, becomes a fleeting gesture itself.

Albumblatt is dedicated to the Arditti Quartet

Hans Thomalla, 2011

Repeating the Performance

Walking on stage at Ripon College's Demmer Recital Hall at 3 PM last Friday, Doyle and I were in good spirits. We had just spent the car ride past Milwaukee and Fond du Lac listening to some wild segments of the Walking the Room podcast and a little Buena Vista Social Club.

Having come in a separate car, Russ and Aurelien arrived a bit later and we got down to the business of getting comfortable in the space. While we bring our own stands to our concerts, the chairs were a little unusual.  So, we all sat on big wooden piano benches. (A decision I would later regret when my tailbones were nearly bruised by the end of the show.) I love halls with acoustical curtains, and we were afforded that luxury here, being able to pull them at will.

Once we settled into a sound we liked, sampling large sections of Brahms' A minor Quartet, we covered all the standard spots we like to have in mind for Thomas Ades' Arcadiana and Haydn's Op. 77 No. 2. We know these spots because we've played this program several times before. While this is nothing remarkable to ensembles with more mileage than us, having a run of performances on a major and unchanging program has been a revelation for the comfort level it provides.

In fact, we were so ready for that night that we rehearsed for our following evening's show. We still had some sounds to unify in Marcos Balter's intricate Chambers, so while we had a stage to utilize we figured out our articulations in a rhythmic canon and our bow speeds in an infamous section.

I have to say, that night may not have been the most electricity we've ever had coming from an audience, but it's the most limitless I've found myself to be in performance. We took risks that I would've thought ridiculous just weeks before and didn't fall on our faces. We were able to express the big picture in Brahms while reveling in the details and play whisper-quiet in the Ades.

And the next day we played a wonderfully revised and contrapuntally rich piece in front of a most generous Chicago audience without fear. For us (and the audience members I talked to), Chambers is a work that feels 10 minutes long, but lasts 16. There are few greater compliments for a piece than that. The moving parts all fit into place so snugly and the sounds are so vividly colorful that the ear simply follows along without concern for the passage of time.

But, I'm clearly interested in the passing of time. Things are changing in the way I look at performing with each concert the quartet gives. I'm becoming more aware of the constant learning process that I'm a part of and finding new ways to free my mind to be a part of this ensemble we're building to present on stage.

Plus, what better way to learn how to live the performer's life than keeping yourself awake with the killer dubstep of Skrillex while flying down I-94 to get home from rural Wisconsin?

Canon Fodder: Haas 2

Georg Friedrich Haas: String Quartet No. 2 (1998)

Haas was born in Graz, Austria in 1953. His childhood was spent in the mountains along the Swiss border and he currently lives and works in Basel, Switzerland.
The Second Quartet was commissioned by the Wiener Konzerthaus for the Hagen Quartet.
My other favorites (not for string quartet) by this composer are In Vain and …und…

The Second String Quartet of G.F. Haas opens in the bedrock. The cello's open C string anchors the entire opening four minutes of the piece. We know where we are, and where we have been.

However, atop this seemingly impervious rock, minerals are interacting and tectonic plates are slowing grinding. The rest of the quartet traverses the complex, high overtones of the cello's C. The harmonies are full of potential energies and unexpected geodes.

Then, at 4:19 the cello crushes its sound, as if a sudden schism has opened in the earth. This violent change leaves a gulf in the musical space and our eyes cast downward. Around 7 minutes in, the quartet begins a series of plummeting glissandi. Arriving on an A-flat that is seething with white hot energy - full of clashing flows of lava - a crack in the surface of this inner-chamber of the earth opens and we can see the shimmer of a beautiful light.

Just as quickly, it closes, and we are left with a mystery. What will this moment of beauty bring us? As the music re-awakens after this scene in the depths, we realize that we couldn't have possibly been there. It was just a dream. But, the surface of the earth begins to rumble, something is forcing its way upward.

As the second part of the piece (as I've linked it) begins, we don't even believe what we've seen. But, as the energy builds to the point of bursting the earth wide open, what should begin to spout from the ground but the very sparkling, flowing lava of our dreams. (4:10 in the second video)

Time opens up. These unknowable geological forces are building something we've never seen before, full of natural beauty and covered with a sheen unlike any mineral we've known. At 5:30 this eruption creates the most beautiful towering cliff. Soaring into the sky, it needs not reveal itself with might and bombast, but simply announces its presence and rises heavenward.

By seven minutes into the second video, it has reached its full form, but we've seen something more than just a monument to the earth's creative powers. Looking up, we see the sky for the first time, and everything we've just witnessed is put into scale. Simply a speck in the cosmos, we look up it this mountain which reaches toward the stars and slip back into sleep.

 

The Old Man and the C: Metronomics

Nothing will ever best pumping a Dr. Beat through an amp for deep rhythmic exploration and practice, but the inconvenience of shouldering a 30-Watt-er to rehearsal every day is difficult to argue. Until recently, Frozen Ape's "Tempo Advanced" was the Spektral (iPhone) app of choice with its intuitive finger-swipe interface and not-unpleasant tick timbres. With the plethora of polyrhythms we've encountered in Thomas Adés' "Arcadiana" or Hans Thomalla's "Albumblatt" a standard metronome loses its efficacy.

     

Mining through the droves of metronome apps, I happened upon "Metronomics", a simple-looking program with one killer feature: customizable subdivisions. As a tear of joy rolled down my cheek (and the soundtrack swelled, etc.) I discovered that 1-100 beats per 1-100 subdivisions were now possible. Best educated guesses at how Eliza Brown's 15:4 lies in her "Quartet No. 1" are now a thing of the past. The real boon here is the ability to hear subdivisions against the prevailing beat as a composite, allowing the musician to get a global sense of each figure. Also, if the performer wants to determine how a particular subdivision falls in relation to the larger beat (extremely useful when working with a conductor), this clarifies the geography.

         

Of course, no app is perfect. Here, the beats are derived from percussion instruments, which can be distracting when spending hours at a score, disassembling complex passages. I'll look forward to developer John Nastos offering a wider array of sonic choices in the future, but for the moment, I'm in love.

Readings at University of Chicago

Yesterday, we had the pleasure of reading pieces by three University of Chicago students during an open session in Fulton Hall.  Moderated by Director of Performance Studies Barbara Schubert, we gave feedback and advice to the composers and fielded questions from the lively observers.  Here's a picture we snapped of us tuning while the audience filed in from a short break:

Canon Fodder: Adagissimo

Brian Ferneyhough: Adagissimo (1983)

  • Brian Ferneyhough was born in Coventry, England in 1943. He currently teaches at Stanford University.
  • Adagissimo was written for the Arditti Quartet.
  • My other favorites by this composer are Terrain and La Chute d'Icare.

 

Brian Ferneyhough has gained a reputation for being a composer of hard music: hard to play and listen to. This piece, while certainly not easy for the performers, is a great in-road to his style due to its extreme brevity. Give it a chance, you'll only need two minutes.

The broad brushstrokes of his pen remind me of an early painting by Jackson Pollock that I love. It's full of emotional depth, but bursting with flourish, energy and wild virtuosity. Oddly, I even think of a short story by David Foster Wallace. Like Wallace, Ferneyhough has a masterful command of his technique, and is teeming with material to work with, but there's also a deeply soulful underpinning to the music.

The violins splash colors as the work opens, revealing the dolorous music of the viola and cello below. The lower voices lay it on thick with dark browns and dirty navy blues while the violins sparkle in golden threads.

If you're interested in more of the technicalities, the YouTube notes provide information from the composer.

Canon Fodder: Hyla 4

[dropcap_1]W[/dropcap_1]elcome to the 2nd edition of Canon Fodder, a series dedicated to presenting string quartets that deserve to be heard.  Lee Hyla is a close friend of quartet, and he's got a new piece in the pipeline for us.  Hope you like our old favorite by him, with video from our recent performance -Austin


Lee Hyla: String Quartet #4 (1999) - www.leehyla.com

Lee Hyla was born in Niagara Falls in 1952, he currently lives in Chicago, IL and teaches at Northwestern University.

First performance: 9/23/99 at University of Mass. Amherst.  Written for the Lydian String Quartet, commissioned by New England Presenters

My other favorites by Lee are We Speak Etruscan and Pre-Pulse Suspended.

 

 

As a second part to this series on contemporary works for string quartet, I thought I'd continue with another Spektral favorite.  I think you'll see from the video below that this piece takes full advantage of the expressive and virtuosic possibilities from each chair of the quartet.
Keep an ear open for those spots where Lee has the quartet playing in different tempos.  Particularly at 1:53 you can hear that transition from "together" to "apart" as the cello picks up its own faster tempo, as well as the large section in duos (cello/vln. 2 and vla/vln 1) starting at 3:34.  The conversation happens from so many angles, pairs, and tones of voice from each instrument throughout the piece!
Lee's music is a continual joy for me to listen to and perform because of its integrity to his own personal voice (he reminds me of the musical equivalent of Lenny Bruce).  His combination of disparate musical impulses into a coherent language that's immediately "Lee's Music" would make Stravinsky or Beethoven giggle.

Canon Fodder: Dig Absolutely

[dropcap_1]W[/dropcap_1]elcome to the first of my Canon Fodder, a series dedicated to presenting string quartets that deserve to be heard.  I thought I'd start with a personal and Spektral favorite, accompanied by a brand spankin' new video by us.  I will be featuring a new quartet each week, and I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.   -Austin


Christopher Fisher-Lochhead: Dig Absolutely (2010)  -   www.cflmusic.com

Chris was born in Lewiston, ME in 1984 and currently lives in Chicago, IL where he is pursuing a Doctoral degree in Composition at Northwestern University.

"Dig Absolutely" is dedicated to Laurel Borden and was premiered at the Manhattan School of Music on Feb. 6, 2011.

My other favorite pieces by Chris were written for me, of course! I love his string writing and think his solo violin pieces "water(l)ily" and the piece I'm premiering next month, "Belles Letteres" are fantastic.  Also, "Gouache: 'Runcible Spoon" is almost as fun to play as "Dig".

The opening of "Dig" spins out a twisting line of music that weaves between the upper three voices of the quartet.  The patience of this piece as it waits to burst the initial bubble of energy is quite remarkable.  When Russ enters just after the 2:00 mark all the energy flies into the air, fragmented but not fully released.

In this heightened realm of expression where we land - floating above the earthy, gritty gestures of the opening - there is a sense wonder at the sounds a string quartet can make.  Harmonics build upon each other and swish by like insects.

By 3:20 all the angst of the opening has been filtered out by the air of this fragile nocturnal region.  The journey from the dense forest of rhythmic counterpoint and metric instability at the beginning to this place of rest is one worth taking more than once.

From this point, the unification of this newfound metric stability with the sighing and expressive gestures of the opening builds up to the climactic moment the opening's energy was begging for.  But, afterward…why is Doyle left alone, journeying through the terrain of fragile harmonics by himself?  A fascinating short story.