I like Reich
Nov. 2nd, 2009 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pallas_athenaOn Halloween night, since I was neither in Oxford nor Whitby, I headed to the Royal Festival Hall to see Steve Reich. Yes, the man himself was in town for a performance with the London Sinfonietta; the show was long since sold out, of course, but they were screening it live in the RFH's ballroom for free. I got to hear "Sextet" and Music For 18 Musicians, both of which were ...
I'm struggling for an adjective here. I could use an anodyne one like "lovely", but this music is not lovely. Its nature requires you to commit to it on its own terms. It is made with the precision of the gods of geometry; with an exactitude that leaves no room for mercy. It is not music that makes you think. It is music that renders you, after a while, incapable of thought. It has the mathematical inexorability of Bach with added metallophones and maracas. It is, in short, Steve Reich.
...Or that's one way of looking at it. Another way: Music For 18 Musicians is an hour long without a break. In the first and final sections, called "Pulses", sixteen of the eighteen musicians play repeated staccato semiquavers on a single chord. Underneath the chord, the two bass clarinettists sustain a throbbing note for as long as their breath lasts. After two breaths, one of the clarinettists stands up to inhale; at this signal, without missing a beat, the chord changes. This cycle continues through eleven different chords, the duration of each defined by the fragile human breath. So much for mathematics; so much for exactitude.
Towards the end of the piece, Reich's score calls for maracas to keep up a steady pulse for about 15 minutes. This is not humanly possible. No matter how buff you are, your arms will turn to spaghetti in their sockets. So in performance, Reich has arranged for two of the 18 musicians to alternate at intervals on the maracas. On being relieved, the off-duty maracista shakes their arms out, then heads straight to the marimba or piano. Reich insisted that every part had breaks built in, but it's still physically and mentally an extremely demanding hour. Reich himself was performing it two days after flying to the UK; having experienced what jetlag does to the brain, I am awed.
Afterwards, Reich came to the ballroom for a post-performance talk, which was great. He talked quite a bit about music history, saying "There's always been an open window between the concert hall and the street," and citing Guillaume de Machaut, Palestrina and Kurt Weill among others as examples of this. He was scornful of composers who feel required to "do something new," saying that it was better to write something you actually like. "On long car journeys, I listen to quite a lot of my own music. I think that says something," he said with a smile.
So if you ever have the chance to hear Reich speak, go: he's knowledgeable and funny as all hell. And to hear a living composer play their own music is always inspiring. I have to say, though-- traitorously-- that as far as the music itself, I still kind of prefer Philip Glass. The reason is simple: You can listen to Philip Glass with a hangover. Reich, not so much.
If you don't believe me:
Clapping Music
Music For Pieces Of Wood (extract)
Piano Phase
City Life part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
I'm struggling for an adjective here. I could use an anodyne one like "lovely", but this music is not lovely. Its nature requires you to commit to it on its own terms. It is made with the precision of the gods of geometry; with an exactitude that leaves no room for mercy. It is not music that makes you think. It is music that renders you, after a while, incapable of thought. It has the mathematical inexorability of Bach with added metallophones and maracas. It is, in short, Steve Reich.
...Or that's one way of looking at it. Another way: Music For 18 Musicians is an hour long without a break. In the first and final sections, called "Pulses", sixteen of the eighteen musicians play repeated staccato semiquavers on a single chord. Underneath the chord, the two bass clarinettists sustain a throbbing note for as long as their breath lasts. After two breaths, one of the clarinettists stands up to inhale; at this signal, without missing a beat, the chord changes. This cycle continues through eleven different chords, the duration of each defined by the fragile human breath. So much for mathematics; so much for exactitude.
Towards the end of the piece, Reich's score calls for maracas to keep up a steady pulse for about 15 minutes. This is not humanly possible. No matter how buff you are, your arms will turn to spaghetti in their sockets. So in performance, Reich has arranged for two of the 18 musicians to alternate at intervals on the maracas. On being relieved, the off-duty maracista shakes their arms out, then heads straight to the marimba or piano. Reich insisted that every part had breaks built in, but it's still physically and mentally an extremely demanding hour. Reich himself was performing it two days after flying to the UK; having experienced what jetlag does to the brain, I am awed.
Afterwards, Reich came to the ballroom for a post-performance talk, which was great. He talked quite a bit about music history, saying "There's always been an open window between the concert hall and the street," and citing Guillaume de Machaut, Palestrina and Kurt Weill among others as examples of this. He was scornful of composers who feel required to "do something new," saying that it was better to write something you actually like. "On long car journeys, I listen to quite a lot of my own music. I think that says something," he said with a smile.
So if you ever have the chance to hear Reich speak, go: he's knowledgeable and funny as all hell. And to hear a living composer play their own music is always inspiring. I have to say, though-- traitorously-- that as far as the music itself, I still kind of prefer Philip Glass. The reason is simple: You can listen to Philip Glass with a hangover. Reich, not so much.
If you don't believe me:
Clapping Music
Music For Pieces Of Wood (extract)
Piano Phase
City Life part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5