Conlon Nancarrow weekend @ the South Bank

22 April 2012

To the South Bank for part one of their Conlon Nancarrow weekend. An American ‘maverick’, Nancarrow (b1912), became a communist, fought in the Spanish Civil War, was invalided home where he was harassed for his beliefs and found no taste for his difficult music, and so exiled himself to Mexico, where he lived and worked till his death in 1997.

Nancarrow pioneered a revolutionary approach to combining tempos, ie having multiple ‘melodies’ or sequences of notes playing simultaneously, creating works so fiendishly complex no human being could play them; instead, he laboriously punched out the music, by hand, hole by hole, into paper rolls for player pianos. Each piece typically took a year to create and lasts 2 or 3 minutes. 50 pieces in all. Even among the avant-garde his work only became known in the 1980s.

This weekend of events has been two years in the making, most of which involved tracking down the kind of player piano he used, restoring it and his tattered piano rolls, standing it on the stage of the Purcell Room, and having two player piano experts take turns loading each roll and briefly introducing each piece. Plus an opening lecture by people who knew and championed his work, an hour-long biographical film, and an evening concert in the QEH of orchestrated versions.

There’s no doubt it’s a hard listen, but sometimes you can make out the structure; other times enjoy the ‘Nancarrow Lick’, the mad glissandi playing swoops of notes impossible for the human hand; or the ‘swarm’ effect of hundreds of notes being played nearly simultaneously. Junior noticed that many of them end with a cheeky flourish. Speakers on the film testified he was a warm and charming man, and the jokiness of some of the pieces reflected his sense of humour. But he wanted to avoid warmth or sentiment; he adapted his player pianos to give them a brighter, harsher sound.

Canon X (Study 21) is relatively easy to understand: the ‘right hand’ starts playing a series of notes very fast, the ‘left hand’ a series very slow; and then they take about 3 minutes to reverse their speeds, thus crossing over half way through, hence Canon X.

Conlon Nancarrow, Study for Player Piano No. 21 (Canon X) on YouTube

The Sinking of The Titanic @ the Barbican

15 April 2012

To the Barbican to see and hear Gavin Bryars’s ‘The Sinking of The Titanic’. He takes a line of music from a tune we know the small string orchestra played on the ship as it sank, and repeats it for more than an hour, overlaying sound effects of docks and liners, the waves and the long ship’s wake, morse code, the noise of icebergs calving, all combining to convey the strange ethereal effect of the ship sinking down, down beneath the waves, creaking metal, watery echoes.

Accompanied throughout by a film projected on giant screens in black and white edited from contemporary footage – faces and figures smiling mutely from another age, so far distant and yet so upsetting. A haunting, insistent and poignant soundworld.

The Sinking of The Titanic

The Sinking of The Titanic by Gavin Bryars on YouTube

Music by Jonny Greenwood and Krzysztof Penderecki @ the Barbican

23 March 2012

To the Barbican for a fabulous concert of pieces by Grand Old Man of European Modernism, Krzysztof Penderecki [pron: Penderexki] (b. 1933) and Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood [pron: Green-wood] (b.1971).

I hadn’t realised Mr P would be there himself, portly, suave and owl-like, to conduct his 1961 classic, ‘Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima’. It was way better live than on disc, as the bowing, scraping, plucking, hitting and furious sawing that he requires of the string players made them look like demented ballet dancers.

‘Polymorphia’ was even better. The stage lit brilliant red, with 40 or so performers writhing and bashing their instruments, it looked and sounded like a scene from hell. I hadn’t realised from disc the way these pieces are divided into distinct sections which explore different aspects of the basic, mind-bending soundscape. Brave, floppy-haired Mr Greenwood had composed both his pieces as replies to Mr P, and they stood up very creditably – though why a composer in 2012 is writing pieces pastiching the style of 1961 is something my neighbour and I discussed for a while afterwards in the bar.

Music by Jonny Greenwood and Krzysztof Penderecki