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Brisbane Powerhouse
 
 

 

The Piano in My Life - An evening-long exploration of the keyboard

Date Fri 2 August at 6.00pm (part one), 8.00pm (part two), 10.00pm (part three)
Venue Powerhouse Theatre
Costs

$25 Full / $20 Conc. Season
or
$25 Full / $20 Conc. for both ticketed concerts
$15 Full / $12 Conc. for Part Two
$15 Full / $12 Conc. for Part Three - Part One is Free

PART ONE : WARREN BURT

Solo piano. One hour, without break.

Warren BURT - Silver [1978]

Following Warren’s recital, we will hear the Disklavier play the following in the Turbine Hall: Kyle GANN Eight Studies for Mechanical Piano [Disklavier]


#1 Despotic Waltz [1997] two minutes
#2 The Waiting [1997] seven minutes
#3 Nude Rolling Down an Escalator [1997/99] five minutes
#4 Folk Dance for Henry Cowell [1999] two minutes
#5 Texarkana [2000] four minutes
#6 Bud Ran Back Out [2001] three minutes
#7 Cosmic Boogie-Woogie [2000-1] eight minutes
#8 Tango da Chiesa [2002] six minutes

 

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Kylie Davidson

John Cage

Donna Coleman

 

 

PART TWO : STEPHEN WHITTINGTON with Kylie Davidson, associate pianist.

Solo piano. 75 minutes, plus Intermission

Lois V.VIERK Spin 2 [1992] **for two pianos
John CAGE In a Landscape [1948] and Ophelia [1946]
Philip CORNER C Major Chord [1965]
Peter GARLAND Walk in Beauty [1988] **

During intermission, we will hear the following in the Theatre :

Kyle GANN Tuning Studies for Synthesizer #4 How Miraculous Things Happen [1997] eleven minutes
#3 Fractured Paradise [1995] four minutes

Stephen WHITTINGTON Custom-Made Valses [2002] *
William DUCKWORTH Imaginary Dances [2000] **
Terry JENNINGS Piano Piece [1964]
Erik SATIE Entr’acte [1925] with the film by Rene Clair

Following Stephen’s recital, we will hear the Disklavier play the following in the Turbine Hall:

Kyle GANN Pieces for Keyboard Sampler

So Many Little Dyings [1994], seven minutes
Ghost Town [1994], eleven minutes

PART THREE : DONNA COLEMAN

Solo piano. One hour, without break.

William DUCKWORTH (b 1943)
The Time Curve Preludes (1979) **
Twenty-four short pieces for solo piano

When The Time Curve Preludes appeared in 1979, it was only natural to hear them as an outgrowth of Minimalism, then in its heyday. After all, they were tonal, meditative and well received in downtown New York. And yet, as a Minimalist work, they didn’t fit; they were brief, 24 pieces in an hour (early Minimalist works were dogmatically continuous and evening-length), and they flouted the expectations stirred by the excitement of a new, popular movement.

Now that two decades have passed, one can hear them with fresh ears. While they do call to mind the milieu that surrounded their creation, they also stand out from it due to some profound divergences.

On the Minimalist side, they are spare and meditative, each pursuing a single rhythmic figure to the end. With the exception of moody #6, none are literally repetitive. Each is ground by drones, a device Minimalism picked up from Indian music. Rather than hum consistently, though, the drones appear and disappear, shift delicately from pitch to pitch, and define the rhythmic backbone of each.

Like Terry Riley’s music and the Indian ragas that inspired it, Duckworth’s Preludes are modal, although they tend less towards Eastern cultures (except in the raga-like #15) than toward medieval melodic turns. #13, for example, switches between major and minor on alternate beats, like some convoluted case of Renaissance musica ficta. No Minimalist piece had sounded like that before.

If 1970s New York aesthetics can’t account for the behaviour of these Preludes, a neo-Renaissance approach does them more justice, for quotation and number proportion are central concerns. Their melodies borrow from two sources; the plainchant Dies irae from Latin Requiem Mass and Erik Satie’s Vexations, heard at the outset of this festival.

Still, as the title hints, the Preludes depart most from Minimalism in their intriguing sense of time.

By contrast to works like Philip Glass’s operas and the ensemble pieces of Steve Reich, the Preludes imply a converging sense of time, curving toward their logical endpoints with built-in closure. The ‘time curve’ feeling, a sense of rhythmic proportions slowing down and speeding up, results from the expanding and contracting deployment of a numerical grid, derived from the Fibonacci series -
1,2,3,5,8,13,21, and so on [each number being the sum of the preceding two- found as a formal principle in much ancient art and architecture.

As in so much medieval and Renaissance music, quotations and number games constitute a subtle background, hidden by swirling melodies which follow not-quite-audible levels. Minimalism wore its structure on the surface; its most essential feature was its lack of background. The Time Curve Preludes imitated the surface but moved structure back into a more mysterious position. In fact, they express an air of disciplined devotion, often evoking the ‘grand silence through serious immobility’ Satie used to characterize Vexations. Perhaps a more appropriate context is less the jaunty, hard-edged world of New York Minimalism, but a broader tradition. This stretches back through Messiaen’s piano cycles, the Preludes of Debussy and Chopin to Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier.

Given the tiny quantity of material they use, the diversity of The Time Curve Preludes is virtuosic: #2,6 and 13 are gently lyrical, #4 and 14 storm in perpetual motion. #1 and 24 hint at banjo picking, and #5,10 and 22 offer what Satie complimented as “the ironically glacial bite” in the American sensibility. (Duckworth also cites the influence of Jerry Lee Lewis’s piano style, though so smoothly integrated that few can pinpoint it.)

What unites these 24 meditations on finitude are the recurring curved lines, temporal and melodic, which give each prelude its compelling miniature logic. What makes the cycle one of the major works of the 1970s is not only the unusual rules they follow, but a beauty and delicacy equalled by few pieces of that era.

Adapted from liner notes by Kyle Gann

Silver [1978]

For solo piano.
Warren BURT [born 1949].

This piece is made of three fragments “appropriated” (the polite academic term - a more honest term would be “stolen”) from the works of composer/pianist Horace Silver [see Biography, below]. The fragments are 2, 3 and 5 bars long. They are treated as loops, and played 2, 3 or 5 times each before proceeding to the next fragment.

The order of fragments is chosen improvisationally in performance. In the late 1970s, Silver was used in collaboration with post-modern choreographer Eva Karczag’s dance composition of the same name, and during that period was performed in duo form in Australia, England and the USA.

Warren Burt

Spin 2 [1995]

For two pianos.
Lois V.VIERK [b.1951, Hammond, Indiana].

Astrophysicist Stephen Hawking describes a "spin 2" subatomic particle as one which has the same orientation in space after it has spun through 180 degrees, half a rotation. An arrow with an arrowhead at each end illustrates this idea, as does the visual image of two grand pianos facing each other, with a pianist at each keyboard. As far as this piece is concerned, the middle section contains phrases made up of many single, fast, high-pitched and high-energy notes. The sounds are reiterated into symmetrical musical phrases. I hear these tiny segments of sound as spinning through space, flying from one instrument to the other, combining and recombining with each other to gain new shape and direction.

Spin 2 begins almost as a piece for two percussion instruments. It is first played completely inside the pianos, hitting and strumming the strings, and then moving to the lowest pitches of the keyboards, playing them loudly and broadly. Gradually, pitch content and harmonic movement become apparent as the interlocking piano phrases sweep upward to the highest keys, and towards a lyric middle section. The work ends with dynamic trills and tremolos, expanding the instrumental register.

Spin 2 was commissioned by the duo-pianists Ursula Oppens and Frederic Rzewsk, made possible by a grant from Meet the Composer - Reader's Digest Commissioning Program, in partnership with the Lila Wallace - Reader's Digest Fund and the National Endowment for the Arts.

Lois V Vierk

In a Landscape [1948] and Ophelia [1946]

John CAGE [1912 – 1992]. For solo piano.

These works for 'unprepared' piano were both written to be danced to by Merce Cunningham. In a Landscape is a quiet meditation in the Dorian mode using what Cage called 'square-root form' - in this case a structure of 15 x 15 bars. Ophelia is a more expressionistic work, with obsessive repetitions of small figures, along with accelerating and decelerating rhythmic structures, suggesting a descent into madness.

C Major Chord [1965]

For solo piano.
Philip CORNER [born 1933].

After a stint in the US Army and studies with Olivier Messiaen, Philip Corner was closely associated with John Cage in the late 1950s. During the 1960s he was a prominent member of the Fluxus movement, and founded the Tone Roads Ensemble, dedicated to new music performance, with James Tenney and Malcolm Goldstein. He has been deeply inspired by non-Western cultures, has written many works for gamelan, and is a specialist in calligraphy. The score of C Major Triad says "You can do anything provided it is a C Major chord."

Walk in Beauty [1988]

For solo piano.
Peter GARLAND [born 1952].
Movement 1 : Walk in Beauty [opening song]
Turquoise Trail [sunset song]
Peyote Fan [night song]
Movement 2 : A Pine-Pitch Basket [midnight song]
Lightning Flash [night song]
Walk in Beauty – Calling Home My Shadow [sunrise song]

Peter Garland studied with James Tenney and Harold Budd at California Institute of the Arts. He was the publisher of Soundings (1971-1991), an influential journal which included scores and articles by and about Harrison, Nancarrow, Partch, and many composers of his own generation. He has mostly lived outside of academia and mainstream musical institutions, other than a stint as composer-in-residence at Adelaide University. He now lives in Mexico. His music is notable for its lyrical beauty and dramatic power, both qualities to be found in Walk in Beauty, written for pianist Aki Takahashi.

The concept of the piece is based on all-night peyote ceremonies of the Native American Church and the curing ceremonies of the Navaho. In the fast, nervous repetition of single notes can be heard the influence of Peyote drumming and musical style. Turquoise Trail is dedicated to Louise Varèse , with an evocation of Satie in the middle - an allusion to the occasion when Louise Varèse had Satie to tea in 1921. A Peyote Fan is dedicated to Lou Harrison and William Colvig, and bears the subtitle "It is passed on…" Lightning Flash is dedicated to Conlon Nancarrow and is "a rumba (not really)".

Custom-Made Valses [2002]

World premiere performance.
Stephen WHITTINGTON [born 1953, Adelaide, SA]. Three dances in three-quarter time for three keyboards.

All three dances take as their point of departure, Clemence, a valse for solo violin by the painter Henri (le Douanier) Rousseau [1844-1910]. The most famous of all ‘naïve’ artists, Rousseau was a “Sunday painter’, working during the week as a Customs Officer, hence the nickname “le douanier”. He constructed an elaborate fantasy around his mundane life, including a fictitious sojourn in Mexico, which he depicted in numerous “exotic” paintings, including the famous Snake Charmer.

In his forties, he resigned his customs post to become a professional artist. But his inability to sell any paintings forced him to turn to violin teaching as a source of income. His career parallels that of his younger contemporary,Erik Satie. After enduring years of scorn and ridicule, he found himself, quite late in life, the darling of the avant garde, his work championed by Braque, Picasso and Apollinaire. Clemence is one of his very few surviving compositions: a valse in the salon style, but curiously [naively?] notated [in 6/8 time, though it is obviously in 3/4] and strangely structured. Rousseau performed it himself at the famous banquet given in his honour at Picasso’s studio in Bateau Lavoir in 1908. The guest list was a roll call of the leading artists of the day. Rousseau accpeted his later fame with the same equanimity that he had accepted the ridicule levelled at him earlier in life.

Written at the suggestion of Vincent Plush for this Mini[]Max festival, these new pieces explore the musical possibilities of three quite different keyboard instruments – the concert grand piano, the electronic piano and the toy piano.

Piano Piece [1964]

Terry JENNINGS [1940-1981]

An extraordinarily gifted saxophone and keyboard player, Terry Jennings met La Monte Young in Los Angeles in 1953 when they began playing jazz together. Later, in New York City, Jennings was the featured composer in the first two loft concerts organised by Young in Yoko Ono's apartment. Jennings explored long durations, and was the originator of a lyrical, non-virtuosic keyboard style which became a prominent feature of Minimalism. He returned to LA to study at California Institute of the Arts in 1969, where his music influenced Harold Budd, Peter Garland, and many others. He was murdered behind a supermarket in 1981, apparently during a drug deal gone wrong.

Imaginary Dances [1985-88] First Performance in Australia

For solo piano.
William DUCKWORTH [born 1943].

The first version of these Dances, commissioned by the Pennsylvania Music Teachers Association, was completed in 1985 and premiered that same year in Pittsburgh by Jack Little. It consisted of four dances. After performing this version several times, my teaching colleague at Bucknell University, Lois Svard, asked me to expand the collection. This new version, consisting now of nine pieces grouped into three movements, was completed in 1988, and premiered by Lois Svard at New York's downtown club Roulette in 1990. She also gave the European premiere in Copenhagen in 1992, and recorded the work for Lovely Music in 1993. As a group, these dances reflect my long-term interest in the rhythms and gestures of popular music and jazz, combined with my use of rhythmic systems to generate musical forms.

William Duckworth

Entr’acte [1925]

For solo piano.
Erik SATIE [1866-1925]. With the film by Rene Clair.

Entr'acte -('Intermission') was conceived as an intermission in the 'instantaneist' ballet Relâche. The scenario for the ballet was devised by Francis Picabia with choreography by Jean Borlin for the Ballets Suédois. In the spirit of Dada, the opening night of Relâche (the name means 'No performance tonight') had to be cancelled due to the (possibly alcohol-induced) indisposition of the lead dancer. Satie worked closely with director René Clair, ensuring a unique blending of music and image. The score is conceived in the spirit of 'Furniture Music' (a repetitive style which could be considered an 'industrialised' version of Vexations). Its musical inventiveness complements the extraordinary visual inventiveness of the film. The cast includes Satie himself, Picabia, Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, and members of the Ballets Suédois. Accompanied by a parody of Chopin's Funeral March, the film concludes with a bizarre funeral procession which turns into a D.H. Griffith-style chase. Again, in the spirit of Dada, it seems appropriate to end this concert with an 'Intermission'.

Annotations by Stephen Whittington

The Time Curve Preludes [1979]

Twenty-four short pieces for solo piano.
William DUCKWORTH [born 1943]. First performance in Australia.

When The Time Curve Preludes appeared in 1979, it was only natural to hear them as an outgrowth of Minimalism, then in its heyday. After all, they were tonal, meditative and well received in downtown New York. And yet, as a Minimalist work, they didn’t fit; they were brief, 24 pieces in an hour [early Minimalist works were dogmatically continuous and evening-length], and they flouted the expectations stirred by the excitement of a new, popular movement.

Now that two decades have passed, one can hear them with fresh ears. While they do call to mind the milieu that surrounded their creation, they also stand out from it due to some profound divergences.

On the Minimalist side, they are spare and meditative, each pursuing a single rhythmic figure to the end. With the exception of moody #6, none are literally repetitive. Each is ground by drones, a device Minimalism picked up from Indian music. Rather than hum consistently, though, the drones appear and disappear, shift delicately from pitch to pitch, and define the rhythmic backbone of each.

Like Terry Riley’s music and the Indian ragas that inspired it, Duckworth’s Preludes are modal, although they tend less towards Eastern cultures [except in the raga-like #15] than toward medieval melodic turns. #13, for example, switches between major and minor on alternate beats, like some convoluted case of Renaissance musica ficta. No Minimalist piece had sounded like that before.

If 1970s New York aesthetics can’t account for the behaviour of these Preludes, a neo-Renaissance approach does them more justice, for quotation and number proportion are central concerns. Their melodies borrow from two sources; the plainchant Dies irae from Latin Requiem Mass and Erik Satie’s Vexations, heard at the outset of this festival.

Still, as the title hints, the Preludes depart most from Minimalism in their intriguing sense of time.

By contrast to works like Philip Glass’s operas and the ensemble pieces of Steve Reich, the Preludes imply a converging sense of time, curving toward their logical endpoints with built-in closure. The ‘time curve’ feeling, a sense of rhythmic proportions slowing down and speeding up, results from the expanding and contracting deployment of a numerical grid, derived from the Fibonacci series - 1,2,3,5,8,13,21, and so on [each number being the sum of the preceding two- found as a formal principle in much ancient art and architecture.

As in so much medieval and Renaissance music, quotations and number games constitute a subtle background, hidden by swirling melodies which follow not-quite-audible levels. Minimalism wore its structure on the surface; its most essential feature was its lack of background. The Time Curve Preludes imitated the surface but moved structure back into a more mysterious position. In fact, they express an air of disciplined devotion, often evoking the ‘grand silence through serious immobility’ Satie used to characterize Vexations. Perhaps a more appropriate context is less the jaunty, hard-edged world of New York Minimalism, but a broader tradition. This stretches back through Messiaen’s piano cycles, the Preludes of Debussy and Chopin to Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier.

Given the tiny quantity of material they use, the diversity of The Time Curve Preludes is virtuosic: #2,6 and 13 are gently lyrical, #4 and 14 storm in perpetual motion. #1 and 24 hint at banjo picking, and #5,10 and 22 offer what Satie complimented as “the ironically glacial bite” in the American sensibility. [Duckworth also cites the influence of Jerry Lee Lewis’s piano style, though so smoothly integrated that few can pinpoint it]

What unites these 24 meditations on finitude are the recurring curved lines, temporal and melodic, which give each prelude its compelling miniature logic. What makes the cycle one of the major works of the 1970s is not only the unusual rules they follow, but a beauty and delicacy equalled by few pieces of that era.

Adapted from liner notes by Kyle Gann

 

   
         

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