Rob Burger's keyboard work can be heard in everything from Guggenheim showcases to the blockbuster film Ocean's 8 - in addition to albums by John Zorn, Laurie Anderson, and Iron & Wine - but the moonlit compositions he spins up on his own may be his most compelling work. His newest solo venture, Marching With Feathers, departs from the controlled exotica and kosmische of 2019's The Grid towards a genreless seesaw of electrified apprehension and capacious piano rumination. Piano-based tracks like "Figurine" and "Still" draw the listener into a realm of quiet contemplation, while arid psyche vignettes like "Library Science" and "Hotel For Saints" imbue the collection with a vital groove, conjuring images of a searing, high desert plain. At the core of the album is a central dichotomy between strength and gentleness, power and vulnerability. By uniting these seemingly opposing concepts, Burger catches you off guard by carving trails that turn from mirage to stark reality at every bend. As the album draws to a close, the listener feels as though they're waking from a dream, pensive yet determined to rise, like a lost hiker reaching a vista - or a clenched fist full of feathers.
Tignor has released 9 LPs across the Western Vinyl and New Albion labels to critical acclaim within the classical and experimental communities. He has collaborated with numerous artists at the boundaries of popular music including Keith Kenniff (Helios), Jefre Cantu-Ledesma, John Congleton, and post-rock titans This Will Destroy You. While a young artist in NYC, Tignor mixed bands at CBGBs, was an assistant to La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela, and served as the technical director for 9 years for a New Music festival produced by Phillip Glass. Tignor discovered computers through his college electronic music studio (as a creative writing major), subsequently obtained his Masters in computer science from NYU, proceeded through Princeton's PhD program in music composition, and was later recruited for a software engineering position at Google, where he has worked since 2011.
The Art of Surrender marks a return to life, sown from primal impulses and hard-won emotional truths. Unrestrained melodic rapture soars above a relentless kick drum, speaking a need to move, to dance, to love. The music is as ambitious as it's origins are personal. Tignor plays with scale, crafting multi-movement epics alongside one-minute miniatures. The smallest, most fragile violin gestures, where the finger barely touches the string to extract natural harmonics exist side by side with angular, exotic melodies, asymmetric rhythms, and rapid-fire string crossings. On this LP, Tignor digs even more deeply into the violin and it's technicolor reimaginings under his electroacoustic treatments. The album title refers to the creative process of letting go of expectations, submitting to the will of the creative process. Following a collapsed relationship that left Tignor alone half-time with his daughter, this period was also one of surrendering to a dark unknown, rebuilding life's basic meanings from passion and creative will. Likewise, Tignor's unwavering approach to live performance embraces the rewards of taking risks: using his custom setup with meticulously controlled violin processing and drum triggered synths, this LP, like it's predecessors, was created without pre-recorded tracks or live looping, allowing bodily gesture to invite audiences into the process of music making. The first single, Ritual of a Thousand Limbs is a reference to the extended solo electro-acoustic instrument Tignor has created, processing his violin through software using pedals that also perform synths, an instrument played with both feet and hands including a kick drum with custom triggering software. Likewise, the title alludes to the 1000 arms and hands of the Avalokiteshvara, a bodhisattva associated with compassion. The song weaves back and forth between this impulse and it's more somatic, lustful urges, a study in the duality of desire and acceptance. The video for the work is a collaboration with girlfriend Rachelle Somma, who's unique, award-winning approach to dance blends pole-dancing with modern forms to create a spellbinding interpretation completely unique to both mediums. Off-Centered Hearts imagines a pas de deux between lovers yearning, like so many, to make their own asymmetrical ways of being fit as one. The work's spellbinding dance contains some of the album's most breathtaking, quietest confessional moments, planting seeds which eventually bloom into a huge, lyrical release driven by processed violin octaves above profound, kick-drum triggered bass. Forms in a Flame, elides multiple scenes together to create the album's largest scale journey, ambitiously blending heartrending synth and violin elligies alongside hyper-rhythmic, dovetailing counterpoint built from Tignor's interactive "mirrored violin" processing. In contrast, the album's one minute closer, Would that I Could is Tignor at his most concise, leaving listeners with a perfect parting prayer, suggesting we discover which, if any, ideals we might consider worthy of surrender.
Since the release of his last album - 2017's Finding Shore, a collaboration with Brian Eno - pianist and singer-songwriter Tom Rogerson's life has undergone a number of dramatic transformations. While writing his new album Retreat to Bliss, Rogerson had a child, lost a parent, and received his own diagnosis of a rare form of blood cancer. The new decade brought him from Berlin to the Suffolk of his childhood, composing profound pieces of minimal songwriting in the church next to his parents' home. Rogerson studied composition at the Royal Academy of Music under mentors like Harrison Birtwistle, and he made his live debut as an improvising pianist in 2002, before releasing an improvised record with Reid Anderson (Bad Plus) and Mike Lewis (Happy Apple, Bon Iver) in 2004. He formed the band Three Trapped Tigers in 2007, expertly blending elements of electronic, jazz and noise rock into a cohesive whole. The band earned a reputation for innovative live shows and went on to perform and collaborate with artists like Brian Eno, Deftones, and the Dillinger Escape Plan. It was working with Eno, another Suffolk native, that eventually led Rogerson back to his roots and back to a place where he could write Retreat to Bliss, his solo debut album. "All my life, the piano has been my constant companion, my confessor, my best friend, and my worst enemy," Rogerson explains. "I've always written music on and for the piano, but it felt too personal, too private to release." Indeed, listening to Retreat to Bliss feels almost like eavesdropping, as though you're crouched in the belfry of a Suffolk church, bearing witness to a form of musical bloodletting. For the first time in his noteworthy career, Rogerson has combined masterful piano playing and subtle electronics with the texture of his own voice, an attempt to express deeply private emotions that were difficult to articulate using instrumental music alone. "The last few years have brought some struggle, some joy, and a lot of change. My response has been to retreat to what I trust the most: the piano, my voice, and the landscape I grew up in. That's how the album got it's title, and how I came to be ready finally to release a solo record." Secular yet devotional, intensely personal yet profound, the experience of listening to Retreat to Bliss seems to evade characterization. It's physical and emotional, a glimpse into the mind of an artist who has chosen exposure over withdrawal, who uses his command of the piano to chart an unflinching path forward, never looking back.
In the fall of 2021, Simeon ten Holt's "Canto Ostinato" was reborn in a 'solo version for seven keyboards'. During the weeks leading up to the birth of his son Lark, Erik Hall moved methodically among the instruments in his recording studio, conducting a multi-track conversation with himself and the piece's score. Ten Holt composed "Canto Ostinato" between 1976 and 1979. The rhythmic motif (ostinato) repeated over it's entire length has a limited number of printed notes. It is up to the performers how to play them, for how long, where to place accents, etc. In the score, the composer calls on musicians to interact and evaluate, to fuse sounds and colors into one cohesive musical universe. Then a cosmos is created. You can get lost in that. You want to get lost in that, like in the original live recording with four pianos. "That performance is deeply compelling, almost otherworldly," says Hall. He has always been drawn to music that is based on repetition, harmonically rich, and tonal. He previously added a groundbreaking dimension to Steve Reich's 1976 minimal masterpiece "Music for 18 Musicians", and- as again now with 'Canto'- his motivation is the love of the music itself. "When I first heard the piece, I was captivated." Then the plan emerged to undergo the same focused practice as before. He stacked seven total layers of his 1962 Hammond M-101 organ, a 1910 Steinway grand piano, and a 1978 Rhodes electric piano, each performance informed by those that preceded it. Erik Hall's "Canto Ostinato" lasts for one hour, and from the sheer joy of playing this wondrous composition emerges an elegantly meandering journey. In it, music rises above itself, higher and higher, like a lark jubilating freedom in the sky.
Layers of Afternoon is meant to reflect a certain experience of time-something both tangible and vague, felt yet not easily described. These moments often emerge in patterns, sometimes brief, sometimes sustained, but always formative. We recognize their uniqueness, yet something subconscious in us yearns to identify and indulge in these patterns. Perhaps we avoid discussing them for fear of sounding mundane or inconsequential, yet they return to our memories often, offering collective comfort. For Keith Kenniff aka Goldmund, language does little to convey these experiences; only art and music seem to come close to capturing what makes them special. Kenniff explains, "My aim for the music in Layers of Afternoon was to find this in-between place and write from there, hoping to communicate my experience of the world as ideal-free from goals, musical training, or emotional complexity. I wanted to visit this space and let the moments float freely within the act of creation." Working with violinist Scott Moore, Kenniff crafts a sonic landscape that lingers between nostalgia and fleeting presence, allowing listeners to drift through the blurred edges of memory.
The slyly absorbing new volume from Michigan-based musician Erik Hall understands the contemplative joy in repetition. Solo Three is the culmination of what Hall describes as a loose trilogy, following his radical reinterpretation of Steve Reich's minimalist masterpiece Music for 18 Musicians, and his subsequent rendition of Simeon ten Holt's Canto Ostinato, a winding work of Dutch minimalism. This time, Hall boldly reimagines works by four distinct contemporary classical composers: Glenn Branca, Charlemagne Palestine, Laurie Spiegel, and, again, Steve Reich. It is a particular grouping that exists through Hall's singular lens for magnetic repetition and harmonic resonance. The resulting program unravels subtly but masterfully, each piece a kind of contrapuntal bliss a touch livelier than the last, all building to the Reich-ian reprise-an apt bookend to the series. Altogether, Hall has crafted a richly varied homage to four pillars of American minimalism, an elegant mix of accessibility and discovery. As ever, he performed and multitrack-recorded all the parts himself without loops, programming, or sequenced instruments, his solitary method still arguably novel to the classical canon. Meanwhile, within the context of modern production, this analog approach works as a gentle rebellion against a culture of faceless automation, instilling these recordings with a flesh-and-blood human touch. "It's just so much more interesting to actually play every note," Hall says. "You then get them directly juxtaposed, and as they repeat, all of those micro-differences between them create a sort of living, breathing magic." That living, breathing magic imbues every crevice of Solo Three, making it not just a stirring tribute to four giants of 20th-century minimalism, but a reflection of how their influence continues to reverberate today.
Christopher Tignor is a composer, violinist, lecturer, and software engineer. His emotionally charged scores and unique focus on live, performance-based electroacoustic practice has won acclaim within both the classical and experimental communities across 10 LPs on the Western Vinyl and New Albion record labels. He creates the live performance software he uses, shared freely. As a composer he has written and recorded work for ensembles including The Knights, A Far Cry string orchestra, and Brooklyn Rider string quartet, performing alongside them at premiere venues including Carnegie's Zankel Hall. As a collaborator he has worked with Rachel Grimes, Helios, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma, John Congleton, This Will Destroy You and several other artists at the boundaries of popular music. Tignor holds a Ph.D in music composition from Princeton University, an M.S. in computer science from NYU's Courant Institute of Mathematical Sciences, and a B.A. in creative writing from Bard College where he studied fiction and poetry with John Ashbery.
Sometime in 2020 I listened to Canto Ostinato for the first time, and my enthrallment with the piece had begun. I was transfixed by it's particular amalgam of harmony, repetition, and pacing. By the spring of 2023 I had constructed and released my own solo interpretation, and I assumed at that point my working relationship with the composition had run it's course. But I underestimated it's magnetism. The following year I was back in it's grips, having been invited by Metropolis Ensemble's Andrew Cyr to expand on the foundation I had laid with the piece. Soon I was in Brooklyn, on a team of six with Cyr and the members of Sandbox Percussion, humbled and thrilled to be helping architect a brand new large ensemble arrangement of Canto Ostinato for a summer solstice performance at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. We did so, our cohort growing to include the students of The New School's Sandbox Percussion Summer Seminar, as well as composers David Leon, Ben Wallace, and Ledah Finck and the Bergamot Quartet. It was a day we will all remember-sweeping, dreamlike, and what felt like a quintessential culmination. But even then... The piece still beckoned, and it became clear this new orchestration called for the embarkment on a studio album. A permanent document of our now collective ardor. Refined over a year and recorded in New York, 2025, this performance recasts the piece anew in a towering framework of mallet percussion, woodwinds, strings, and piano. It is our truest attempt at conveying Canto's beauty and magnitude in all it's kaleidoscopic harmony, dynamism, tension, and release. I stand once again in awe of Simeon ten Holt's monumental creation; to be a thread in it's sonic fabric is one of the great honors of my musical life. I don't assume we might be so fortunate again... but who knows.
Rob Burger's keyboard work can be heard in everything from Guggenheim showcases to the blockbuster film Ocean's 8 - in addition to albums by John Zorn, Laurie Anderson, and Iron & Wine - but the moonlit compositions he spins up on his own may be his most compelling work. His newest solo venture, Marching With Feathers, departs from the controlled exotica and kosmische of 2019's The Grid towards a genreless seesaw of electrified apprehension and capacious piano rumination. Piano-based tracks like "Figurine" and "Still" draw the listener into a realm of quiet contemplation, while arid psyche vignettes like "Library Science" and "Hotel For Saints" imbue the collection with a vital groove, conjuring images of a searing, high desert plain. At the core of the album is a central dichotomy between strength and gentleness, power and vulnerability. By uniting these seemingly opposing concepts, Burger catches you off guard by carving trails that turn from mirage to stark reality at every bend. As the album draws to a close, the listener feels as though they're waking from a dream, pensive yet determined to rise, like a lost hiker reaching a vista - or a clenched fist full of feathers.
Since the release of his last album - 2017's Finding Shore, a collaboration with Brian Eno - pianist and singer-songwriter Tom Rogerson's life has undergone a number of dramatic transformations. While writing his new album Retreat to Bliss, Rogerson had a child, lost a parent, and received his own diagnosis of a rare form of blood cancer. The new decade brought him from Berlin to the Suffolk of his childhood, composing profound pieces of minimal songwriting in the church next to his parents' home. Rogerson studied composition at the Royal Academy of Music under mentors like Harrison Birtwistle, and he made his live debut as an improvising pianist in 2002, before releasing an improvised record with Reid Anderson (Bad Plus) and Mike Lewis (Happy Apple, Bon Iver) in 2004. He formed the band Three Trapped Tigers in 2007, expertly blending elements of electronic, jazz and noise rock into a cohesive whole. The band earned a reputation for innovative live shows and went on to perform and collaborate with artists like Brian Eno, Deftones, and the Dillinger Escape Plan. It was working with Eno, another Suffolk native, that eventually led Rogerson back to his roots and back to a place where he could write Retreat to Bliss, his solo debut album. "All my life, the piano has been my constant companion, my confessor, my best friend, and my worst enemy," Rogerson explains. "I've always written music on and for the piano, but it felt too personal, too private to release." Indeed, listening to Retreat to Bliss feels almost like eavesdropping, as though you're crouched in the belfry of a Suffolk church, bearing witness to a form of musical bloodletting. For the first time in his noteworthy career, Rogerson has combined masterful piano playing and subtle electronics with the texture of his own voice, an attempt to express deeply private emotions that were difficult to articulate using instrumental music alone. "The last few years have brought some struggle, some joy, and a lot of change. My response has been to retreat to what I trust the most: the piano, my voice, and the landscape I grew up in. That's how the album got it's title, and how I came to be ready finally to release a solo record." Secular yet devotional, intensely personal yet profound, the experience of listening to Retreat to Bliss seems to evade characterization. It's physical and emotional, a glimpse into the mind of an artist who has chosen exposure over withdrawal, who uses his command of the piano to chart an unflinching path forward, never looking back.
Tignor has released 9 LPs across the Western Vinyl and New Albion labels to critical acclaim within the classical and experimental communities. He has collaborated with numerous artists at the boundaries of popular music including Keith Kenniff (Helios), Jefre Cantu-Ledesma, John Congleton, and post-rock titans This Will Destroy You. While a young artist in NYC, Tignor mixed bands at CBGBs, was an assistant to La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela, and served as the technical director for 9 years for a New Music festival produced by Phillip Glass. Tignor discovered computers through his college electronic music studio (as a creative writing major), subsequently obtained his Masters in computer science from NYU, proceeded through Princeton's PhD program in music composition, and was later recruited for a software engineering position at Google, where he has worked since 2011.
Sometime in 2020 I listened to Canto Ostinato for the first time, and my enthrallment with the piece had begun. I was transfixed by it's particular amalgam of harmony, repetition, and pacing. By the spring of 2023 I had constructed and released my own solo interpretation, and I assumed at that point my working relationship with the composition had run it's course. But I underestimated it's magnetism. The following year I was back in it's grips, having been invited by Metropolis Ensemble's Andrew Cyr to expand on the foundation I had laid with the piece. Soon I was in Brooklyn, on a team of six with Cyr and the members of Sandbox Percussion, humbled and thrilled to be helping architect a brand new large ensemble arrangement of Canto Ostinato for a summer solstice performance at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. We did so, our cohort growing to include the students of The New School's Sandbox Percussion Summer Seminar, as well as composers David Leon, Ben Wallace, and Ledah Finck and the Bergamot Quartet. It was a day we will all remember-sweeping, dreamlike, and what felt like a quintessential culmination. But even then... The piece still beckoned, and it became clear this new orchestration called for the embarkment on a studio album. A permanent document of our now collective ardor. Refined over a year and recorded in New York, 2025, this performance recasts the piece anew in a towering framework of mallet percussion, woodwinds, strings, and piano. It is our truest attempt at conveying Canto's beauty and magnitude in all it's kaleidoscopic harmony, dynamism, tension, and release. I stand once again in awe of Simeon ten Holt's monumental creation; to be a thread in it's sonic fabric is one of the great honors of my musical life. I don't assume we might be so fortunate again... but who knows.
