John McGuire's Double String Trios presents three major late works for two string trios, composed between 2012 and 2021. His musical roots lie in the electronic studios of postwar Cologne, shaped through studies with Karlheinz Stockhausen and Krzysztof Penderecki, and grounded in the traditions of European serialism. Working with synthesizers capable of generating up to 1,800 pulses per second, McGuire developed a beautifully harmonious, crystalline music, shaped by the ear into a world of flowing continuities between one point and the next. Transferred to stringed instruments, that world becomes infinitely more complex-suffused with the richness and impurities of human players and their acoustic technologies. Conceived as two facing string trios in antiphonal dialogue, the music links studio spatial thinking with older split-ensemble traditions, unfolding through Fibonacci proportions, rotating tempi, shifting meters, and continual harmonic transposition.
In his "Pulse Music" compositions of the mid-1970s, composer John McGuire forged a unique interpretation of European serialism. A student of Karlheinz Stockhausen, Krzysztof Penderecki and Gottfried Michael Koenig, McGuire moved to Cologne, Germany in 1970, where he become associated with the world-leading Studio for Electronic Music at Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) in Cologne. Like Stockhausen, McGuire found his musical imagination both constrained and inspired by the technology that was available to him. A conversation with sculptor Hans Karl Burgeff led McGuire to think beyond the horizon and into limitless space. For "Vanishing Points" (1985-1988), McGuire used an entirely digital set-up for the first time: a digital sequencer, eight Yamaha DX-7 synthesizers and a Studer 24-track digital tape recorder. The piece was conceived as a "sequel" to the Pulse Music series, but also a step forward from it. Whereas the Pulse Music pieces had employed steady streams of pulses, with Vanishing Points McGuire employed pulse layers that accelerate or decelerate against one another, vastly increasing the resulting rhythmic complexity. McGuire's exploration of music technology continued in "A Cappella" (1990-1997), written for his wife, the soprano Beth Griffith, known for her recording of Morton Feldman's "Three Voices" made in 1983. Using samples, he created a four-voice choir of voice samples and arranged them into interacting parts. The composition faced challenges due to the organic nature of the human voice compared to the precision of synthesized sounds. This process involved extensive editing and a negotiation between the "material" and the "original conception". This sort of negotiation applies as much to the composition of a single piece as it does to the work of two decades.
In his "Pulse Music" compositions of the mid-1970s, composer John McGuire forged a unique interpretation of European serialism. A student of Karlheinz Stockhausen, Krzysztof Penderecki and Gottfried Michael Koenig, McGuire moved to Cologne, Germany in 1970, where he become associated with the world-leading Studio for Electronic Music at Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) in Cologne. Like Stockhausen, McGuire found his musical imagination both constrained and inspired by the technology that was available to him. A conversation with sculptor Hans Karl Burgeff led McGuire to think beyond the horizon and into limitless space. For "Vanishing Points" (1985-1988), McGuire used an entirely digital set-up for the first time: a digital sequencer, eight Yamaha DX-7 synthesizers and a Studer 24-track digital tape recorder. The piece was conceived as a "sequel" to the Pulse Music series, but also a step forward from it. Whereas the Pulse Music pieces had employed steady streams of pulses, with Vanishing Points McGuire employed pulse layers that accelerate or decelerate against one another, vastly increasing the resulting rhythmic complexity. McGuire's exploration of music technology continued in "A Cappella" (1990-1997), written for his wife, the soprano Beth Griffith, known for her recording of Morton Feldman's "Three Voices" made in 1983. Using samples, he created a four-voice choir of voice samples and arranged them into interacting parts. The composition faced challenges due to the organic nature of the human voice compared to the precision of synthesized sounds. This process involved extensive editing and a negotiation between the "material" and the "original conception". This sort of negotiation applies as much to the composition of a single piece as it does to the work of two decades.
My Strong Will is a new album of "Ethiopian Classical Music" by Girma Yifrashewa. Recorded with Bulgarian musicians and the Sofia Philharmonic Orchestra in Sofia, Bulgaria, the album is a return to where Yifrashewa completed his own conservatory training in the late 1980s and early 1990s, across both sides of the fall of Communism. Guided by Yifrashewa's piano, these chamber works bring the music of Ethiopia into a Western Classical format, uncovering meditative and emotional new vistas for both traditions.
Presented together for the first time, American composer John McGuire's Pulse Music series (1975-1979) blurs the popular narrative that Minimalism was a reaction against Europe's angular, intellectual, inscrutable high-modernism. McGuire, born in California, studied at Occidental College in Los Angeles and UC Berkeley before going to Europe to study with Karlheinz Stockhausen, Krzysztof Penderecki, and Gottfried Michael Koenig. His compositions lock serialism's warped geometries onto an evenly spaced grid, perfectly preserving serial music's multi-dimensionality while smoothing it's wildest disjunctures and sharpest angles. If serialism is Montreal's Habitat 67 modular housing complex, McGuire's Pulse Music compositions are the primary-colored grids of Le Corbusier's L'Habitation apartment complex - an exuberant expression of the same materials and principles. Every layer of pulses is made distinct through it's timbre, register, and tempo. We hear them as a plurality, organized like stars in the sky. Every so often the sky rotates and the stars appear in a different arrangement. Our ear naturally starts to draw connections and, as it sweeps between one layer and another, what was discrete becomes continuous. Pulses become flows; quantitative reality becomes qualitative experience. McGuire's pulse pieces were realized electronically, in the newly built Studio for Electronic Music at the State University of Cologne and WDR, but Pulse Music II adapted his ideas to an orchestral canvas. Commissioned retrospectively by the composer and radio producer Hans Otte for his Pro Musica Nova festival at Radio Bremen. Alongside the Bremen orchestra, conducted by Klaus Bernbacher, were four pianists-Christoph Delz, Herbert Henck, Deborah Richards, Doris Thomsen-and McGuire himself playing a series of twelve drone-like chords on the organ. The techniques of the electronic Pulse Music pieces required a speed and precision too great for live musicians, so for Pulse Music II McGuire adapted his method to an expanding progression of durations; this had the advantage of being much slower and requiring none of the carefully calibrated tempo changes of Pulse Music I or III. It was still based, says the composer, "on what seemed to me an interesting foray into a completely different kind of time structure. Complex time structures had, by 1975, become a condition for me in two senses: a compositional requirement and maybe an illness." The present recording was made by Radio Bremen at the work's first and only performance, and has been held in their archive until now. "108 Pulses" - originally composed a proof-of-concept piece and realized as a single, repeating loop in a 20 minute tableau - is also presented here for the first time.
Vinyl LP pressing. The Plains at Gordium is a premiere recording from the Talujon percussion ensemble of by composer Petr Kotik, whose pioneering work as founder and leader of the S.E.M. Ensemble has been a stalwart champion of the Avant-Garde from it's inception, at the Center of the Creative and Performing Arts, SUNY/Buffalo, in 1970 to present day. Well-loved recordings by the S.E.M. Ensemble (Julius Eastman: Femenine, The Entire Musical Work of Marcel Duchamp, Morton Feldman: For Philip Guston) are easy to find. That has not been the case for Kotik's own music. This beautiful recording of a relatively recent work by Kotik provides a beguiling, labyrinthian entry into Kotik's own musical vision.
A premiere recording from the Talujon percussion ensemble of The Plains at Gordium by composer Petr Kotik, whose pioneering work as founder and leader of the S. E. M. Ensemble has been a stalwart champion of the Avant-Garde from it's inception, at the Center of the Creative and Performing Arts, SUNY/Buffalo, in 1970 to present day. Well-loved recordings by the S. E. M. Ensemble (Julius Eastman: Femenine, The Entire Musical Work of Marcel Duchamp, Morton Feldman: For Philip Guston) are easy to find. That has not been the case for Kotik's own music. This beautiful recording of a relatively recent work by Kotik provides a beguiling, labyrinthian entry into Kotik's own musical vision. Petr Kotik's notes on The Plains at Gordium: When Alexander the Great came in 333 B. C. to the Phrygian city of Gordium (located in what is today central Turkey), he was confronted by a puzzle no one could solve. Alexander apparently solved the puzzle, but all that survived from the story is a parable, a legend of the Gordian Knot. In the summer of 2004, many issues I was facing seemed mysterious and unsolvable. This may be why the legend of the Gordian Knot came to my mind when deciding on the title of the piece. The Plains at Gordium was composed from June to August 2004 and is dedicated to Charlotta Kotik. The incentive to compose the piece came from a percussion group in Brno, Czech Republic, who asked me for a piece of music. Not being a commission-disciplined composer, I wrote a piece for six percussionists, while the Czech group, DAMA-DAMA had only four members and could not perform it. The size of the piece also defies the scale of a standard percussion piece, 1,290 measures over a 108-page score. The Plains at Gordium belongs to a group of compositions that I started in 1971. All of the music is based on a steady pulse. Although the various pieces, for example There is Singularly Nothing, John Mary, If I Told Him, Many Many Women, and many more, are independent compositions, parts of them can be mixed in a collage-like performance. The common, steady pulse is what can unify all the different parts, performed simultaneously, into a coherent whole. In a way, all these compositions, written from the 1970s to early '80s, can be regarded as one endless continuous piece with changing instrumentation. In 1977, I began composing a percussion piece entitled Drums, adding pages and pages to it. It cannot really be said that the piece was finished in 1981, I just stopped adding pages to the score. Drums envisions any number of players (minimum of 2), each with a differently tuned set of four drums, all locked into a steady pulse. It can be performed simultaneously with parts of other compositions from this period, instrumental and vocal (the vocal parts use texts by Gertrude Stein and later by R. Buckminster Fuller). The Plains at Gordium follows the same basic idea, without the intention of making collage-like additions or performing parts of it with other compositions (although there were performances with some vocal segments from There is Singularly Nothing). Unlike the early pieces, it sometimes takes off, doubling in tempo. Also, bells have been added here, in addition to the set of six differently tuned drums for each player. - Petr Kotik, March 2022
New York, 1978, kindred composers Philip Corner and Carles Santos meet at the Bosendorfer piano of Charlemagne Palestine to record four-hand piano versions of Corner's pieces "Chord" and "Gong!". The result is a long-flowing distillation of the source of the two composers' affinity: avant-garde practice of austere artistic devotion at play with perfect imperfections of the uncontainable human spirit.
In essence, the sound of the piano comes in two parts: it's attack and it's decay. The striking of a hammer is followed by the resonance of a string or strings. (Much the same might be said about the vibraphone, as it happens.) This dual quality of sound comes to mind when listening to Moments by New York-based composer Michael Vincent Waller. Performed by pianist R. Andrew Lee and vibraphonist William Winant, Moments - his third album, following Trajectories (Recital, 2017) and The South Shore (XI, 2015) - draws on Western classical music tradition in it's most archetypal forms through it's use of modal melodies, triadic harmonies and metered rhythms. Yet the emotional heart of the music is not in attack, but resonance. The afterlife of sounds. Those elements that can't be grasped and placed into easy historical categories. Behind his surface attacks Waller finds hazy, edgeless zones that draw us downwards, into introspection - an "inward gaze." Waller's music is often compared to that of Erik Satie, and there is certainly something Satie-like in it's concision, it's subtle asymmetries and it's lack of ornament. But where Satie's Gnossiennes, Nocturnes and Gymnopedies were blank canvases, deliberately signifying nothing, Waller's pieces are vessels to be filled. That is partly an effect of titles: Waller's pieces on this disc are all 'moments' of autobiographical poignancy - memorials, birthdays, homecomings; friends, teachers, family members. We are clearly invited to invest certain emotional expectations into these sounds. Liner notes by Tim Rutherford-Johnson and "Blue" Gene Tyranny. Mastered by Denis Blackham for digital and compact disc. Mastered and cut for vinyl by Rashad Becker.
How to begin? No beginning... never ending reverberation, Antoine Beuger writes in the accompanying notes to Leo Svirsky's River Without Banks. Dedicated to his first piano teacher Irena Orlov, River Without Banks is a mesmerizing, emotional collection of pieces that are simultaneously complex and fluid. The title River Without Banks comes from a chapter of musicologist Genrikh "Henry" Orlov's profound work Tree of Music. In said chapter, Orlov traces the history of sacred music from the Western and Eastern tradition and how the forms (of the chant, raga etc.) sought to eliminate the division between the physical and the spiritual-the bank and the river. Arranged for two pianos with accompaniment from strings, trumpet, and electronics, this is Svirsky's first piece to approach the history of the piano and the possibilities of the recording studio, and his deepest dive yet into exploring the instability of listening and it's transformation of musical semantics and affect. Like Wolfgang Voigt's Gas project, Svirsky overlays romantic musical gestures to create a lush unfamiliarity. No sooner than each track begins the next moment unfurls beneath it, cascading time and blurring perception of past and present. Akin to a multidimensional Rzewski thematic interpretation, Svirsky's music defies genre-classification or classical ideology while it's virtuosity clearly stems from somewhere from within disciplined traditions. Continuously revisiting, revising, and renewing it's emotional core, River Without Banks is less an album of songs than songs of a singular, unlocatable album. Performed by the composer with assistance from Britton Powell, Max Eilbacher, Leila Bordreuil, Tim Byrnes, and recorded by Al Carlson.
