[net.music.classical] Four American Composers - Cage/Ashley/Monk/Glass

tbray@mprvaxa.UUCP (Tim Bray) (03/26/86)

I recently saw these films, and recommend them.   All four are  by Peter
Greenaway, best known for his film "The Draughtman's Contract", which is
opaque, disturbing, well-photographed, and worth seeing.

Anyhow - each of these films is one  hour long.  The  composers are John
Cage, Meredith Monk, Phil Glass, and Robert Ashley.

General comments: Too often the films degenerate  into fast cuts between
composers  rapping   and  their work  being   performed.  This  is often
uncharitable to both the composer and the  work.   Sometimes though, the
two enhance each other.

Film by Film:

Start with Robert Ashley - his work  was a TV  "opera", "Perfect Lives".
It  had moments, but  there was  too much vocalizing  about  the  hidden
structure beneath the surface of the  work.  Nice visual  presentation -
all the talking heads were echoed with multiple video images.  Anyhow, I
hadn't  heard of him before, and  am not a fan.  Oh  yes - the principal
pianist was named "Blue" Gene Tyranny - good name, dynamic player too.

Meredith Monk - For those  who don't know,  MM  is  a New York   singer,
dancer,  composer, filmmaker.  Her  vocal work ranges  from  operatic to
elevator to throat-wrenching screaming.  All of her work  lent itself to
the movie medium very well.  Much of the music  is not pretty but almost
all is beautiful.   I was dazzled  by  her choreography,  film work, and
presentation.  Her troupe  of performers was  very   impressive in their
musical virtuosity and commitment to the work.  Unfortunately, they  had
a LOT of MM talking  about her work.   This was unfortunate.  Anything I
say about this will make me sound like  a raving sexist  bigot.  But the
music... any  time  you  get a chance to see  "Dolmen Music", run  don't
walk.

Phil Glass - we all like Phil Glass now.  He had not much interesting to
say except about the kind of  people, and  the number of  people, in his
audiences over the years.  I own and love "Glassworks", and it was  nice
to see a few shots  of it being  performed, but I still don't  think I'd
pay for a ticket to a concert.  "Floe" from Glassworks was fun to watch.
Most interesting were the discussions of the  technical problems - Glass
on the problems of notation for dense, repetitive music.  His singer  on
the problems  of voicing given the  speed and range of  the  parts.  The
wind players on breathing difficulties.  An enjoyable hour.

John Cage - this film <watch out, cliche  approaching> changed the way I
think about music.  I have long felt that  John Cage  is an entertaining
charlatan, whose ideas, though  provocative, are wrong  (music, I think,
is a place  for minimizing  entropy),  and whose music   is unlistenable
didactic masturbation.  I  still  think this -  mostly.  But some of the
thoughts and music in  this very dense  hour have  opened  my eyes.   To
begin with, Cage's story of  his experience in  the echo chamber at MIT,
that launched  him  on   the road  to   aleatoric music   -  flawed  but
compelling.  The work made up  of many  (27?) one  minute stories, which
were used to punctuate the film.   His stern  lecture on  why he doesn't
"use"  records, as  though they were a  particularly  noxious drug.  His
amusement at himself  and the world.  The  film is true to  the ideas of
Cage.  Among other things, it opens with an extended cinematic  essay on
the  destruction of the  interior of a church  in preparation for a Cage
concert - the noise of this destruction is, Cage would say, music.

Two  of  the  pieces   presented  in  the  film  are   real ear-openers.
"Roarratorio" is Cage's tribute to Joyce,  consisting  of words selected
randomly from  "Finnegan's  Wake", interspersed  with  Irish traditional
music and aleatoric noise.  It is unusually  large and complex for Cage,
and  unforgettable.  Finally,  a work    whose name  I  have  lost,  for
electronics and three  performers on  a variety  of conch  shells filled
with water.  The shells are not blown, they are tipped back and forth in
the immediate   vicinity  of a microphone.   They   make pretty bubbling
sounds.  The combination of conch bubbling and electronics was evocative
and truly  new. The internal structure   of  the shell  is  sufficiently
complex  that the  performer cannot   consciously control the timing  or
nature  of the  sounds -  an  instrument after  Cage's heart.  He  was a
performer,  and the film   of his 70  year  old child's face  bent    in
wonderment over his shell, continually surprised at the music  for which
he would deny authorship...

Guess I have run on some.  The movies should be seen.
Tim Bray  (ihnp4!alberta!ubc-vision!mprvaxa!tbray)

koko@uthub.UUCP (M. Kokodyniak) (03/26/86)

>                     I have long felt that  John Cage  is an entertaining
> charlatan, whose ideas, though  provocative, are wrong  (music, I think,
> is a place  for minimizing  entropy),  and whose music   is unlistenable
> didactic masturbation.  I  still  think this -  mostly.
> 
> Tim Bray  (ihnp4!alberta!ubc-vision!mprvaxa!tbray)

	I like your reference to entropy in music.  It seems that many
modern composers (or at least the ones I have heard) maximize the entropy
in their music.  One piece that comes to mind is "Little Organ Concert"
by some composer whose name eludes my memory.  (This piece was first performed
at the inaugural organ concert at Roy Thompson Hall in Toronto.)
	I have never heard the Canadian Brass and the Elmer Eisler Singers
make such pitiful and grotesque sounds.  At times, one could hear the
audience giggling and even laughing.  I don't know what the composer's
intentions were, but I certainly got a few laughs out of it.  At certain
seemingly random moments, various choir members made the sounds similar
to cats in heat, hissing at a human intruder.  However, at one point, it
sounded as if the composer really got going with a musical idea.  The choir
and brass were going at full blast and full organ was engaged -- it
started to sound like the majestic ending to a symphony.  But within
a few seconds, the organ stopped, the choir went flat and the brass
fell off their notes and dwindled into a menagerie of random notes
so typical of modern composition.
	In general, the entire piece seemed to be a disarray of
detatched musical ideas, like islands in a sea of entropy.  Listening
to that piece is analogous to hearing a would-be philosopher utter
some broken phrases, some of which superficially sound as if they were
extracted from some great literary works.  My reply would probably
be "So what?  What does it all mean?"  But if it doesn't mean anything,
then what is the point of expending the effort to say anything at all?