Significant Works for Acoustic Instruments
- James, S. (2020). Score Version 1 for En'Coda based on songwriting by Tenille Bentley and January Kultura.
- James, S. (2017). A Song for My Beloved for Piano Quintet.
- James, S. (2003). 5 for bass clarinet, french horn, and percussion.
- James, S. (2002). Noctis Labyrinthus: a labyrintho opaco ad occidentalem montem ultra martem for chamber orchestra.
- James, S. (2002). Paradox Theorem for large ensemble.
- James, S. (2000). Negative Tendencies for solo piano.
- James, S. (2000). Kosmische Musik for solo performer (clarinet and percussion).
- James, S. (2000). Temperaments for percussion quartet.
- James, S. (1998). Unstable Equilibrium for string quartet.
- James, S. (1998). Piano Sonata No. 1.
- James, S. (1997). Seven Short Piano Pieces for solo piano.
- James, S. (1996). 地球、太陽、そして人 for percussion trio.
- James, S. (1996). Olaris for violin, viola, and 2 cellos.
- James, S. (1994). Composition for Solo Trombone and Orchestra.
- James, S. (1993). Void for alto saxophone, piano, and synthesizer.
eliquescence | agglutination for Clocked Out and WAAPA Composer Orchestra (2017)
For Prepared Piano, Percussion, and Large Ensemble of variable tuned instruments and percussion
The premise for this work is largely concerned with a theoretical framework was proposed by Albert Bregman, auditory scene analysis (ASA). One of the theories this framework proposes is one of auditory 'stream fusion' and 'stream segregation.' This work explores stream fusion and segregation through a metric and rhythmic impetus. The metaphorical processes explored here are of the scientific concepts of liquefaction versus solidification. The changes in atomic bonds that occur when materials change state are expressed musically through the 'quantised' nature of the rhythmic relationships allocated to the ensemble. The score uses hybrid notation, combining common practice notation with graphic notation. The Decibel ScorePlayer is used as a conductor. A click track is also distributed only to certain conductor/performers. The work explores poly-tempo and free materials coexisting with material with a precise rhythmic intent. There is an underlying melodic and rhythmic motif that is transformed and manipulated throughout.
The premise for this work is largely concerned with a theoretical framework was proposed by Albert Bregman, auditory scene analysis (ASA). One of the theories this framework proposes is one of auditory 'stream fusion' and 'stream segregation.' This work explores stream fusion and segregation through a metric and rhythmic impetus. The metaphorical processes explored here are of the scientific concepts of liquefaction versus solidification. The changes in atomic bonds that occur when materials change state are expressed musically through the 'quantised' nature of the rhythmic relationships allocated to the ensemble. The score uses hybrid notation, combining common practice notation with graphic notation. The Decibel ScorePlayer is used as a conductor. A click track is also distributed only to certain conductor/performers. The work explores poly-tempo and free materials coexisting with material with a precise rhythmic intent. There is an underlying melodic and rhythmic motif that is transformed and manipulated throughout.
A Song for My Beloved (2017)
For Piano Quintet. The premiere performance featured the Sartory String Quartet with the composer on piano
The work is a dedication to the composers’ fiancee Marjorie Angco, who has been living oversees. They have both been in a long distance relationship for almost 3 years, awaiting approval of a Visa so she can move to Australia and marry. This is the first strictly acoustic chamber work by the composer , as he has been largely writing exclusively electroacoustic and electronic works in recent years. The work explores influences found in the works of Josquin De Prez, Monteverdi, J.S. Bach, Fauré, Satie, Milhaud, Poulenc, Tippett, Barber, Górecki, Pärt and songwriters Björk and Nick Cave.
The work is a dedication to the composers’ fiancee Marjorie Angco, who has been living oversees. They have both been in a long distance relationship for almost 3 years, awaiting approval of a Visa so she can move to Australia and marry. This is the first strictly acoustic chamber work by the composer , as he has been largely writing exclusively electroacoustic and electronic works in recent years. The work explores influences found in the works of Josquin De Prez, Monteverdi, J.S. Bach, Fauré, Satie, Milhaud, Poulenc, Tippett, Barber, Górecki, Pärt and songwriters Björk and Nick Cave.
5 for Bass Clarinet, French Horn, and Percussion (2003)
Based on an extract from Roger Smalley's Piano Concerto, this piece treats the theme in a variety of ways in order to create a piece intended to be fast, manic, and virtuosic. Without the original sentiment of the theme, this piece transforms the original into a highly strung game of rhythmic, melodic, and structural counterpoint that concludes in a rampant display of frantic activity.
Noctis Labyrinthus: a labyrintho opaco ad occidentalem montem ultra martem for chamber orchestra (2002)
English translation - the labyrinth of the night: from [away from] the overshadowed [mysterious] labyrinth toward the Western mountain on the far [other] side of Mars
Duration: circa 12 minutes
(1) Noctis Labyrinthus
(2) Tharsis Plain
(3) Ascraeus Mons
"...an effective essay in musical abstraction with intriguing use of, among other devices, the clicking of woodwind keys and the audible bleathiness of blowing into brass mouthpieces."
Neville Cohn, The West Australian (2002)
The Noctis Labyrinthus is a geological formation found on Mars consisting of a complex series of intersecting valleys, canyons, cliffs, and steep rocky terrain. In addition to the inherent instability of the physical structures throughout this region, the Noctis Labyrinthus is perpetually engulfed by dust cloud. These elements have sparked off, for many people, mysterious and mythical connotation. Further west of the Noctis Labyrinthus can be found the Tharsis Dome, a relatively flat region that stretches for two-thousand miles, and which holds home to the Tharsis Montes, some of the most massive volcanoes in our solar system. One of these volcanoes is the Ascraeus Mons: a shield volcano 11 kilometers tall and 450 kilometers in diameter, with a structure that appears to have collapsed at various points due to physical stress.
Despite integral structural elements, the piece remains predominantly "visual" since the piece describes a programmatical journey from the Noctis Labyrinthus, then westward toward the Ascraeus Mons over the Tharsis plain. Certain other musical attributions are made throughout the piece. Firstly, the pitch D has been coupled to the planet Mars, an association that Nichomachus proposes in his Excerpta 3 (2nd Century AD). The use of two ancient greek 10-note melodies found on two different papyrus fragments similarly remain integral: Hymn to Asclepius and the Berlin Papyrus 6870, line 23. Furthermore, the use of numerology and the Mars "magic square" have assisted to develop tonal possibilities. Lastly, the piece is divided, at times, according to ancient greek rhythmic mode: Dactylic, Iambic, Paeonic, Dochmaic, and Ionic.
The structure also follows a more involved musical structure that is defined by three different criteria. The first of these structures represent physical space (i.e. solid, liquid, air). These sections gradually undergo a metamorphosis from a reasonably stable texture to one that is more complex. The second types of material represent transitions in physical state (i.e. condensation, evaporation), and these subsections are characterized by more detailed textures. The third type represents material that is to be associated with the eruption of the volcano (i.e. re-occurrences of the ancient greek melodies) and the complex combinations and changes of physical state that may be present at any one time during a high-energy event.
Duration: circa 12 minutes
(1) Noctis Labyrinthus
(2) Tharsis Plain
(3) Ascraeus Mons
"...an effective essay in musical abstraction with intriguing use of, among other devices, the clicking of woodwind keys and the audible bleathiness of blowing into brass mouthpieces."
Neville Cohn, The West Australian (2002)
The Noctis Labyrinthus is a geological formation found on Mars consisting of a complex series of intersecting valleys, canyons, cliffs, and steep rocky terrain. In addition to the inherent instability of the physical structures throughout this region, the Noctis Labyrinthus is perpetually engulfed by dust cloud. These elements have sparked off, for many people, mysterious and mythical connotation. Further west of the Noctis Labyrinthus can be found the Tharsis Dome, a relatively flat region that stretches for two-thousand miles, and which holds home to the Tharsis Montes, some of the most massive volcanoes in our solar system. One of these volcanoes is the Ascraeus Mons: a shield volcano 11 kilometers tall and 450 kilometers in diameter, with a structure that appears to have collapsed at various points due to physical stress.
Despite integral structural elements, the piece remains predominantly "visual" since the piece describes a programmatical journey from the Noctis Labyrinthus, then westward toward the Ascraeus Mons over the Tharsis plain. Certain other musical attributions are made throughout the piece. Firstly, the pitch D has been coupled to the planet Mars, an association that Nichomachus proposes in his Excerpta 3 (2nd Century AD). The use of two ancient greek 10-note melodies found on two different papyrus fragments similarly remain integral: Hymn to Asclepius and the Berlin Papyrus 6870, line 23. Furthermore, the use of numerology and the Mars "magic square" have assisted to develop tonal possibilities. Lastly, the piece is divided, at times, according to ancient greek rhythmic mode: Dactylic, Iambic, Paeonic, Dochmaic, and Ionic.
The structure also follows a more involved musical structure that is defined by three different criteria. The first of these structures represent physical space (i.e. solid, liquid, air). These sections gradually undergo a metamorphosis from a reasonably stable texture to one that is more complex. The second types of material represent transitions in physical state (i.e. condensation, evaporation), and these subsections are characterized by more detailed textures. The third type represents material that is to be associated with the eruption of the volcano (i.e. re-occurrences of the ancient greek melodies) and the complex combinations and changes of physical state that may be present at any one time during a high-energy event.
THE MUSICAL CREATIVE PROCESS AND THE NOCTIS LABYRINTHUS
The Oxford English Dictionary defines a ‘labyrinth’ as a “…structure consisting of a number of intercommunicating passages arranged in bewildering complexity, through which it is difficult or impossible to find one’s way without guidance.” (The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd Ed., Vol. VIII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), p564).
There appears to have been a significant difference in opinion regarding a generalised interpretation and understanding of the evolution and manifestation of ideas pertaining to the creative process in the field of music composition. Superficially it might seem as though such statements fall into two opposing categories of thought: those statements that have attracted blatant contradiction to other seemingly, yet equally, valid opinions; and those similarities of opinion that might converge, due to the influence of certain dominating schools of thought, culture, and tradition.
New music doesn’t automatically appear by merely writing notes on paper – it occurs through prolonged deliberation about the substances of music, and the highly conscious imposition on them of new modes of thought. Music demands a constant renewal of language….[1]
As a response, in 1968, to what was really an embarrassing – and in his own words, rather boring – definition of ‘modern’ music, Roger Smalley retorted by striking at the heart of the role of the composer-musician. The creative process is, as described here, a careful weighing of merits of various musical substance, with full, intentional, and unhurried consideration. Once this is achieved, new ideas may be developed by the composer based on their refined understanding of the Western musical heritage. It seems that the emphasis here is of a conscious approach to the creative process. An approach which, within the context of Smalley's article, is favored by many streams of twentieth century compositional practice, particularly those devoted to deterministic processes and paradigms of thought. In parallel to the idealogical positivism associated with the industrial revolution was a trend toward systematic methodology. Musicologists and ethnomusicologists then relied on systematic and formal analysis techniques alongside historiographical accounts to explain or support discussions on the inner meaning of music and the way in which it works. In certain streams of music, compositional practice also appeared to follow a trend toward systematic processes too.
One only has to turn back to 1911 to find a statement that is the complete antithesis of what Smalley was to write over fifty years later.
…art belongs to the unconscious! One must express oneself! Express oneself directly! Not one’s taste or one’s upbringing, or one’s intelligence, knowledge or skill. Not all these acquiredcharacteristics, but that which is inborn, instinctive.[2]
It was Arnold Schoenberg, in his candid letter to the painter Wallisy Kandinsky, who expressed these creative ideals. This was through a period that is now recognized as his expressionist phase, when Schoenberg was seeking out a mode of self-expression that did not rely on one’s own training, nor upon any conscious process, but rather an approach that could be understood, in a sense, as a reflection of the essence of ones own primeval ontology. With the development of Freudian psychoanalysis, it is not so surprising that active discourse did arise, due to healthy curiosity in both the notion of the pre-conscious and the subconscious mind. Ironically, however, it was Schoenberg himself who, only a year later, began to drift away from these instinctive ideals in favor of a constructivist and modernist approach to music composition. After turning away from a process governed by intuition, he was to define one of the key aspects of what was to later become a significant ingredient in modernist Avant Garde musical thought: serialism, and the road toward the parametrisation of music.
On the contrary, Sir Harrison Birtwistle (1934-) doesn’t seem to agree with either of these creative ideals entirely:
You see, I think the problem of talking about creativity is that there’s always this idea that the creator is absolutely in control and can answer everything all the way down the line. I don’t think that’s so. I think you’re in control of a certain number of things, and there are also things which happen, which are not accidents, they’re things which are thrown up by context. It’s a bit like making two buildings. You build one here and another one 200 yards down. And they obey certain principles, but what we didn’t take into consideration is the space between the two buildings, and what’s going to be a view from, say, a mile away – we didn’t consider those things.[3]
Birtwistle explains that once one becomes the victim of a pre-compositional structure, one inevitably becomes a slave to the process. He suggests that this is like making methods of composition outside the context of a piece. Secondly, he expresses a mistrust of intuition, believing that it produces only clichés. The creative process for Birtwistle begins with the writing down of an idea until he is satisfied that a context is established. From here, he investigates the idea before creatively elaborating upon the structural basis and context that was initially suggested.
Despite significant recognition as part of the modernist generation of composers, Birtwistle maintains his protest against the pre-compositional structural process. Sir Peter Maxwell Davies (1934-), on the other hand, maintains his own production of extensive pre-compositional workings formulating macrostructure and microstructure. It seems that, even though these composers are of the same generation, they have completely different ideas about the compositional process.
So surely for most composers – if not all – the creative process would remain highly subjective, since each composer will invariably have their own artistic ideals and needs with regard to the exploration of "creative curiosities." These ideals may indeed also evolve through the course of a composers' own career, as can be traced across the lifespan of various composers: Beethoven and Stravinsky are often said to have three significant periods that outline their creative journeys. Creative ideals may indeed also change during the course of writing a single work too.
Perhaps any generalization of the creative process is prone to flaw. Newer ideologies of postmodernist thought have seen a growing acceptance of "anything goes" presenting composers with significantly more freedoms along with an acceptance of music right across the canon of Western Art Music and beyond. The challenge for the postmodernist composer is to be sure about the direction of their endeavour. The ship can sail in 360 degrees, but a sense of conviction, making a firm decision, and setting off course is needed. It is vital the composer describes a sense of intentionality with respect to their own work, and whether this is conceived intuitively, determinately, or using indeterminate processes is hardly the point. What is more the point is that if the composer is presented with the possibility of "all of the possible options", the task is rather like navigating a complex web of options, a labyrinth, that is forever dependent on the nature of how the musical situation unfolds. In an interview, Birtwistle was asked whether his entire musical output was like one big labyrinth; he replied: “Yes, that’s right. That’s right. That is conscious.”[4]
The first stage in the creative process is, no doubt, the realization of an idea. This is the initial spark, or revelation. This idea might exist in a variety of guises. The idea may have been triggered by an event, perhaps inspired, or maybe not. This idea could be musical, or non-musical. The idea may have arisen through some sort of artistic opportunity. The main principle is that this initial planting of a seed provides a context for future endeavor. That it promises a worthy and enlightening journey. A starting point from which a greater understanding can be built. A context from which an idea can grow.
Is his basic instinct directed towards art, or is it not rather directed towards the meaning of art, which is life? Art is the great stimulus to life: how could it be thought purposeless, aimless, l’artpour l’art?[5]
The second stage deals with the development of an initial idea. This could involve processes of brainstorming, research, structural elaboration, experimentation, and planning, relevant discourse with other practitioners, the consideration of ones main sense of purpose, consideration of ones own musical aims, the relative significance of the planned piece, consideration of performers, performance space, instrumentation, duration, and musical substance. Most importantly, it is a process that deals with the intoxication of ideas for the purposes of reaching a manifestation of the main idea.
For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity or perception to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication. … From out of this feeling one gives to things, onecompels them to take….[6]
The point at which one might reach this manifestation cannot be judged temporally, so the journey may often remain not entirely clear or known. A multiplicity of multifarious ideas converge in this process, perhaps even only linked together by the initial idea. Again the analogy of sailing a ship might be appropriate in the sense that, whilst the destination is beyond the horizon, there must be a conviction in the direction of sail to achieve the final outcome, and the composer needs to use the elements of music in a particular kind of conceived balance in order to arrive at this outcome. This process could be related synonymously to the exploration of the labyrinth. The labyrinth of ideas. Only at some unknowing point in time does it become clear how to proceed.
In many ways, the third and fourth stages go hand in hand. The third deals with the setting of boundaries and restrictions, and the fourth deals with the actual composition of the piece itself.
The setting of boundaries essentially deals with a set of rules governing the act of composition. These rules determine the amount of elasticity one has over the work. This process is concerned with the design of the key working systems, i.e. macrostructure and/or microstructure. For example, Birtwistle uses concepts of a foreground, middle-ground, and background to govern his musical space:
One thing that I do seek is…a musical foreground – something that speaks to the surface of the piece. It’s not two dimensional. Once you have a foreground, then you have a middle ground and a background – you have depth, you have something you can go into. That way you can have complexity. I don’t think you can have complexity in a situation where it’s all complex, or all thick, because it’s all of the same order….[7]
The act of composing the piece deals directly with the writing of all musical material, more often than not at a micro-material level. Obviously the ultimate aim of this process is the completion of the piece. However, in order to fulfill this, one often may need a great passion for their work; a sense of passion that is required for a sustained faith in the unifying idea.
The passion is necessary: …an art, does not have as its object the commonplace and the trivial, the valueless. It attaches itself to actions in which the characters have an investment, situations in which they venture their lives and their feelings, their moral and their political choices: their passions! What is a passion? It is a feeling for someone or something, or an idea, that we prize more highly than our own life.[8]
Again, a labyrinth can depict the creative process, but this time it represents the context associated with the composing of the musical score. During this process, it is not difficult to be distracted by the multitude of possibilities. One hopes that the structural and pre-compositional planning may provide a guiding light for these situations.
The fifth stage is concerned with the rehearsal of the work. This process involves the typesetting of parts in a way that must communicate the score as clearly as possible; a valuable practice that saves time and explanation during rehearsal. It may also be necessary to address any technical oversights that might exist within the performance parts. And depending on the situation, it is certainly possible that one may have to mediate through a conductor, rather than dealing with the ensemble directly.
The last stage is the performance. It is only through the performance of a work that an idea suddenly takes on a new form. A sonic form with which a potential audience can respond. It is from here that the work moves into the domain of experience, consciousness, and perception outside of the world of the artist. The work has been given an opportunity to exist.
Is it possible for an audience, however, whilst experiencing a new and ‘alien’ piece of music, to experience this unfolding of the labyrinth - this very conscious experience by the composer writing the work from beginning to end, deliberately conscious of this metaphor. It is unlikely, nevertheless those that did experience the work expressed a sense of the music emerging from nebula-like clouds of sound. The latter sections of the piece are also contrasted with a sense of clarity and austerity and power.
Initial Idea
The originating idea for this piece was not an inspired moment, nor the revelation of an idea. Quite simply, it seemed appropriate for me, as a young composer, to further myself in my compositional capacity, by writing a work for the West Australian Symphony Orchestra’s New Music Ensemble. It was after approaching Roger Smalley in Jan 2002 about this possibility that the opportunity came about.
Development of the Idea & Pre-Compositional Working
The pre-compositional working for Noctis Labyrinthus developed over the course of about five months. Initially I was preoccupied by compositional structures that might result in interesting, and quite possibly hidden, relationships. The first sketches dealt with a systematic approach of transposing lines of melodic material within transpositional matrices for use as pitch-class series. At some point it seemed appropriate for me to be using fragments of ancient greek melody, since I had been curious about Ancient Greek Music theory for some years, and had developed a fascination with musical traditions that had disappeared long ago. The idea that many of these ancient systems approached music in a way that would be considered quite foreign to us now had great appeal to me. I selected melodies that presented unusual melodic contours, which I transposed according to a transpositional matrix with the expectation of finding some unusual and interesting harmonic possibilities.
Through my reading of Peter Maxwell Davies in previous years, I decided to use, as he had done, a renaissance astrological “magic square” for the pre-compositional working. Davies used these mathematical formations to re-order series of pitch-class sets according to the special numerical order of the “magic square.”
The Oxford English Dictionary defines a ‘labyrinth’ as a “…structure consisting of a number of intercommunicating passages arranged in bewildering complexity, through which it is difficult or impossible to find one’s way without guidance.” (The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd Ed., Vol. VIII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), p564).
There appears to have been a significant difference in opinion regarding a generalised interpretation and understanding of the evolution and manifestation of ideas pertaining to the creative process in the field of music composition. Superficially it might seem as though such statements fall into two opposing categories of thought: those statements that have attracted blatant contradiction to other seemingly, yet equally, valid opinions; and those similarities of opinion that might converge, due to the influence of certain dominating schools of thought, culture, and tradition.
New music doesn’t automatically appear by merely writing notes on paper – it occurs through prolonged deliberation about the substances of music, and the highly conscious imposition on them of new modes of thought. Music demands a constant renewal of language….[1]
As a response, in 1968, to what was really an embarrassing – and in his own words, rather boring – definition of ‘modern’ music, Roger Smalley retorted by striking at the heart of the role of the composer-musician. The creative process is, as described here, a careful weighing of merits of various musical substance, with full, intentional, and unhurried consideration. Once this is achieved, new ideas may be developed by the composer based on their refined understanding of the Western musical heritage. It seems that the emphasis here is of a conscious approach to the creative process. An approach which, within the context of Smalley's article, is favored by many streams of twentieth century compositional practice, particularly those devoted to deterministic processes and paradigms of thought. In parallel to the idealogical positivism associated with the industrial revolution was a trend toward systematic methodology. Musicologists and ethnomusicologists then relied on systematic and formal analysis techniques alongside historiographical accounts to explain or support discussions on the inner meaning of music and the way in which it works. In certain streams of music, compositional practice also appeared to follow a trend toward systematic processes too.
One only has to turn back to 1911 to find a statement that is the complete antithesis of what Smalley was to write over fifty years later.
…art belongs to the unconscious! One must express oneself! Express oneself directly! Not one’s taste or one’s upbringing, or one’s intelligence, knowledge or skill. Not all these acquiredcharacteristics, but that which is inborn, instinctive.[2]
It was Arnold Schoenberg, in his candid letter to the painter Wallisy Kandinsky, who expressed these creative ideals. This was through a period that is now recognized as his expressionist phase, when Schoenberg was seeking out a mode of self-expression that did not rely on one’s own training, nor upon any conscious process, but rather an approach that could be understood, in a sense, as a reflection of the essence of ones own primeval ontology. With the development of Freudian psychoanalysis, it is not so surprising that active discourse did arise, due to healthy curiosity in both the notion of the pre-conscious and the subconscious mind. Ironically, however, it was Schoenberg himself who, only a year later, began to drift away from these instinctive ideals in favor of a constructivist and modernist approach to music composition. After turning away from a process governed by intuition, he was to define one of the key aspects of what was to later become a significant ingredient in modernist Avant Garde musical thought: serialism, and the road toward the parametrisation of music.
On the contrary, Sir Harrison Birtwistle (1934-) doesn’t seem to agree with either of these creative ideals entirely:
You see, I think the problem of talking about creativity is that there’s always this idea that the creator is absolutely in control and can answer everything all the way down the line. I don’t think that’s so. I think you’re in control of a certain number of things, and there are also things which happen, which are not accidents, they’re things which are thrown up by context. It’s a bit like making two buildings. You build one here and another one 200 yards down. And they obey certain principles, but what we didn’t take into consideration is the space between the two buildings, and what’s going to be a view from, say, a mile away – we didn’t consider those things.[3]
Birtwistle explains that once one becomes the victim of a pre-compositional structure, one inevitably becomes a slave to the process. He suggests that this is like making methods of composition outside the context of a piece. Secondly, he expresses a mistrust of intuition, believing that it produces only clichés. The creative process for Birtwistle begins with the writing down of an idea until he is satisfied that a context is established. From here, he investigates the idea before creatively elaborating upon the structural basis and context that was initially suggested.
Despite significant recognition as part of the modernist generation of composers, Birtwistle maintains his protest against the pre-compositional structural process. Sir Peter Maxwell Davies (1934-), on the other hand, maintains his own production of extensive pre-compositional workings formulating macrostructure and microstructure. It seems that, even though these composers are of the same generation, they have completely different ideas about the compositional process.
So surely for most composers – if not all – the creative process would remain highly subjective, since each composer will invariably have their own artistic ideals and needs with regard to the exploration of "creative curiosities." These ideals may indeed also evolve through the course of a composers' own career, as can be traced across the lifespan of various composers: Beethoven and Stravinsky are often said to have three significant periods that outline their creative journeys. Creative ideals may indeed also change during the course of writing a single work too.
Perhaps any generalization of the creative process is prone to flaw. Newer ideologies of postmodernist thought have seen a growing acceptance of "anything goes" presenting composers with significantly more freedoms along with an acceptance of music right across the canon of Western Art Music and beyond. The challenge for the postmodernist composer is to be sure about the direction of their endeavour. The ship can sail in 360 degrees, but a sense of conviction, making a firm decision, and setting off course is needed. It is vital the composer describes a sense of intentionality with respect to their own work, and whether this is conceived intuitively, determinately, or using indeterminate processes is hardly the point. What is more the point is that if the composer is presented with the possibility of "all of the possible options", the task is rather like navigating a complex web of options, a labyrinth, that is forever dependent on the nature of how the musical situation unfolds. In an interview, Birtwistle was asked whether his entire musical output was like one big labyrinth; he replied: “Yes, that’s right. That’s right. That is conscious.”[4]
The first stage in the creative process is, no doubt, the realization of an idea. This is the initial spark, or revelation. This idea might exist in a variety of guises. The idea may have been triggered by an event, perhaps inspired, or maybe not. This idea could be musical, or non-musical. The idea may have arisen through some sort of artistic opportunity. The main principle is that this initial planting of a seed provides a context for future endeavor. That it promises a worthy and enlightening journey. A starting point from which a greater understanding can be built. A context from which an idea can grow.
Is his basic instinct directed towards art, or is it not rather directed towards the meaning of art, which is life? Art is the great stimulus to life: how could it be thought purposeless, aimless, l’artpour l’art?[5]
The second stage deals with the development of an initial idea. This could involve processes of brainstorming, research, structural elaboration, experimentation, and planning, relevant discourse with other practitioners, the consideration of ones main sense of purpose, consideration of ones own musical aims, the relative significance of the planned piece, consideration of performers, performance space, instrumentation, duration, and musical substance. Most importantly, it is a process that deals with the intoxication of ideas for the purposes of reaching a manifestation of the main idea.
For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity or perception to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication. … From out of this feeling one gives to things, onecompels them to take….[6]
The point at which one might reach this manifestation cannot be judged temporally, so the journey may often remain not entirely clear or known. A multiplicity of multifarious ideas converge in this process, perhaps even only linked together by the initial idea. Again the analogy of sailing a ship might be appropriate in the sense that, whilst the destination is beyond the horizon, there must be a conviction in the direction of sail to achieve the final outcome, and the composer needs to use the elements of music in a particular kind of conceived balance in order to arrive at this outcome. This process could be related synonymously to the exploration of the labyrinth. The labyrinth of ideas. Only at some unknowing point in time does it become clear how to proceed.
In many ways, the third and fourth stages go hand in hand. The third deals with the setting of boundaries and restrictions, and the fourth deals with the actual composition of the piece itself.
The setting of boundaries essentially deals with a set of rules governing the act of composition. These rules determine the amount of elasticity one has over the work. This process is concerned with the design of the key working systems, i.e. macrostructure and/or microstructure. For example, Birtwistle uses concepts of a foreground, middle-ground, and background to govern his musical space:
One thing that I do seek is…a musical foreground – something that speaks to the surface of the piece. It’s not two dimensional. Once you have a foreground, then you have a middle ground and a background – you have depth, you have something you can go into. That way you can have complexity. I don’t think you can have complexity in a situation where it’s all complex, or all thick, because it’s all of the same order….[7]
The act of composing the piece deals directly with the writing of all musical material, more often than not at a micro-material level. Obviously the ultimate aim of this process is the completion of the piece. However, in order to fulfill this, one often may need a great passion for their work; a sense of passion that is required for a sustained faith in the unifying idea.
The passion is necessary: …an art, does not have as its object the commonplace and the trivial, the valueless. It attaches itself to actions in which the characters have an investment, situations in which they venture their lives and their feelings, their moral and their political choices: their passions! What is a passion? It is a feeling for someone or something, or an idea, that we prize more highly than our own life.[8]
Again, a labyrinth can depict the creative process, but this time it represents the context associated with the composing of the musical score. During this process, it is not difficult to be distracted by the multitude of possibilities. One hopes that the structural and pre-compositional planning may provide a guiding light for these situations.
The fifth stage is concerned with the rehearsal of the work. This process involves the typesetting of parts in a way that must communicate the score as clearly as possible; a valuable practice that saves time and explanation during rehearsal. It may also be necessary to address any technical oversights that might exist within the performance parts. And depending on the situation, it is certainly possible that one may have to mediate through a conductor, rather than dealing with the ensemble directly.
The last stage is the performance. It is only through the performance of a work that an idea suddenly takes on a new form. A sonic form with which a potential audience can respond. It is from here that the work moves into the domain of experience, consciousness, and perception outside of the world of the artist. The work has been given an opportunity to exist.
Is it possible for an audience, however, whilst experiencing a new and ‘alien’ piece of music, to experience this unfolding of the labyrinth - this very conscious experience by the composer writing the work from beginning to end, deliberately conscious of this metaphor. It is unlikely, nevertheless those that did experience the work expressed a sense of the music emerging from nebula-like clouds of sound. The latter sections of the piece are also contrasted with a sense of clarity and austerity and power.
Initial Idea
The originating idea for this piece was not an inspired moment, nor the revelation of an idea. Quite simply, it seemed appropriate for me, as a young composer, to further myself in my compositional capacity, by writing a work for the West Australian Symphony Orchestra’s New Music Ensemble. It was after approaching Roger Smalley in Jan 2002 about this possibility that the opportunity came about.
Development of the Idea & Pre-Compositional Working
The pre-compositional working for Noctis Labyrinthus developed over the course of about five months. Initially I was preoccupied by compositional structures that might result in interesting, and quite possibly hidden, relationships. The first sketches dealt with a systematic approach of transposing lines of melodic material within transpositional matrices for use as pitch-class series. At some point it seemed appropriate for me to be using fragments of ancient greek melody, since I had been curious about Ancient Greek Music theory for some years, and had developed a fascination with musical traditions that had disappeared long ago. The idea that many of these ancient systems approached music in a way that would be considered quite foreign to us now had great appeal to me. I selected melodies that presented unusual melodic contours, which I transposed according to a transpositional matrix with the expectation of finding some unusual and interesting harmonic possibilities.
Through my reading of Peter Maxwell Davies in previous years, I decided to use, as he had done, a renaissance astrological “magic square” for the pre-compositional working. Davies used these mathematical formations to re-order series of pitch-class sets according to the special numerical order of the “magic square.”
It was in so doing this that several major structural elements emerged. These became some of the main features of the work that was to develop. As a result of re-ordering the pitches, one of the squares resulted in an entire row of the pitch D. It was this particular pitch that developed a special structural role within the work. After following up on a few other leads, it also became clear to me thatNichomachus, in his Excerpta 3 (2nd Century AD), had attributed the string of the Lyre named the lichanos meson to the planet Mars. It is this particular string which was recognised as the pitch D. And so I decided to set these relationships in stone from here. The piece would be concerned with the planet Mars, and the pitch D. There were also a series of tetrachords, relating to the fundamental tuning of the fixed pitches of the Lyre, that also developed a significance within the piece.
At this time I had been inspired by a name of a geological formation on Mars by the name of Ascraeus Mons. For me it gave an immediate and positive impression of a stark, barren, and austere formation. Though it also stimulated in me a deep sense of grandeur, and of course, the alien.
I had also been inpired by another formation within the same region called the Noctis Labyrinthus. These formations, for me, seemed to be highly evocative in many ways. Certainly of the landscape, that may not inhabit life as we know it, but appear to be full of life in terms of their landscape and geological formations.
Though, while making note of this inherent beauty, both structures have been prone to structural collapse and deterioration. It is this structural paradigm that seemed to stick with me during the composition of the piece. This became a significant element of the final section concerned with the Volcano: Ascraeus Mons.
The Setting of Boundaries
After a preliminary graphic sketch (a visionary attempt at conceiving a possible score) of the textural and temporal progression, it was necessary to devise a more specific macrostructure for the work. With a total duration of twelve minutes in mind, I used specific temporal divisions to devise a working macrostructure. It was also necessary to differentiate sections by way of their micro-material and sectional purpose. However, I wasn’t to know that my concept of the macrostructure was to continually change throughout the course of the creative process. And for this reason, the formal structure also gradually gave way to some other elements that were not motivated by the macro-structure itself.
I took four main structural concepts: the multi-layered, the labyrinth, atmosphere, and collapse as a basis for establishing structures. The multi-layered is reflected in the layering of musical idea. Each section of the chamber orchestra has, at many times, characteristic material only applicable to a given section (i.e.woodwinds). The labyrinth is developed through the complex pitch and tonal formations developed by the process of transposition and transformation with the re-ordering of pitch-class sets according to the Mars “magic square.” The atmosphere is maintained in the strings for the majority of the work. With incredibly long and sustained lines, the strings remain fairly stable (structurally) for the majority of the piece. The notion of collapse is presented in the work with the use of descending (and sometime ascending) glissandos which permeate the structure at both the micro-level and the macro-level. This notion of structural decay and collapse was also taken further with the gradual introduction of aleatoric writing toward the end of the piece. In some ways, this might indicate the breaking down of what might have been a constructivism formation.
Musically the work describes a programmatical journey (in the 19th century sense) from the Noctis Labyrinthus, and then westward toward the Ascraeus Mons over the Tharsis plain. Essentially the divisions listed below, are a series of ‘snapshot’s’ from which the musical material has been based. These images are described with brief description in the right column of this table.
At this time I had been inspired by a name of a geological formation on Mars by the name of Ascraeus Mons. For me it gave an immediate and positive impression of a stark, barren, and austere formation. Though it also stimulated in me a deep sense of grandeur, and of course, the alien.
I had also been inpired by another formation within the same region called the Noctis Labyrinthus. These formations, for me, seemed to be highly evocative in many ways. Certainly of the landscape, that may not inhabit life as we know it, but appear to be full of life in terms of their landscape and geological formations.
Though, while making note of this inherent beauty, both structures have been prone to structural collapse and deterioration. It is this structural paradigm that seemed to stick with me during the composition of the piece. This became a significant element of the final section concerned with the Volcano: Ascraeus Mons.
The Setting of Boundaries
After a preliminary graphic sketch (a visionary attempt at conceiving a possible score) of the textural and temporal progression, it was necessary to devise a more specific macrostructure for the work. With a total duration of twelve minutes in mind, I used specific temporal divisions to devise a working macrostructure. It was also necessary to differentiate sections by way of their micro-material and sectional purpose. However, I wasn’t to know that my concept of the macrostructure was to continually change throughout the course of the creative process. And for this reason, the formal structure also gradually gave way to some other elements that were not motivated by the macro-structure itself.
I took four main structural concepts: the multi-layered, the labyrinth, atmosphere, and collapse as a basis for establishing structures. The multi-layered is reflected in the layering of musical idea. Each section of the chamber orchestra has, at many times, characteristic material only applicable to a given section (i.e.woodwinds). The labyrinth is developed through the complex pitch and tonal formations developed by the process of transposition and transformation with the re-ordering of pitch-class sets according to the Mars “magic square.” The atmosphere is maintained in the strings for the majority of the work. With incredibly long and sustained lines, the strings remain fairly stable (structurally) for the majority of the piece. The notion of collapse is presented in the work with the use of descending (and sometime ascending) glissandos which permeate the structure at both the micro-level and the macro-level. This notion of structural decay and collapse was also taken further with the gradual introduction of aleatoric writing toward the end of the piece. In some ways, this might indicate the breaking down of what might have been a constructivism formation.
Musically the work describes a programmatical journey (in the 19th century sense) from the Noctis Labyrinthus, and then westward toward the Ascraeus Mons over the Tharsis plain. Essentially the divisions listed below, are a series of ‘snapshot’s’ from which the musical material has been based. These images are described with brief description in the right column of this table.
On the whole the micro-structure was freely composed using certain differentiations between sections to indicate how textures were to develop, evolve, and coalesce. This structure (indicated in the second column in the table above) follows a musical scheme defined by three different criteria. Type A represents physical space (i.e. solid, liquid, air), and gradually undergoes a metamorphosis from a reasonably stable texture to one that is more complex. Type B represents transitions in physical state (i.e. condensation, evaporation), and is characterized by more detailed textures. Type C represents material that is to be associated with the eruption of the volcano (i.e. re-occurrences of the ancient greek melodies) and the complex combinations and changes of physical state that may be present at any one time during a high-energy event.
The Composition of the Piece
The composition of the piece progressed over the period of five weeks. From the 15th – 28th July and from the 5th – 25th August.
By the time it became necessary for me to evaluate the title, most of the work had been completed, and so it was quite clear to me how the rest of the work would follow. Collaboration with Kathryn Barras allowed me to be able to work out a subtitle for the work that reflected the programmatical journey of the piece. The use of latin was, for the most part, for reasons of consistency, but also to emphasise, yet again, a sense of the alien, or the unknown.
It seems that, for the concert-going audience, there is pressure for the composer to use titles that allow the listener to relate to the work at a more personal level. However, I consciously was after a title that immediately reflected the impersonal. This was through a conscious desire and inner need for not wishing the audience to be able to relate to the piece on a personal level. I wanted the feeling to be one of mystery. The feeling of the unknown. Like the experience of the labyrinth.
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
-----------------, ‘Labyrinth’, The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd Ed., Vol. VIII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), p564.
Boal, Augusta, The Rainbow of Desire: The Boal Method of Theatre & Therapy, trans. Adrian Jackson (London: Routledge, 1995), p16.
Butler, Christopher, Early Modernism: Literature, Music, and Painting in Europe, 1900-1916 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), pp25-6.
Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), pp54-5, 58-9.
Nietzsce, Friedrich, Twilight of the Idols and the Anti-Christ, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (London: Penguin Books, 1990), pp81-2, 91.
Smalley, Roger, ‘Some Recent Works of Peter Maxwell Davies’, Tempo, Vol. 84/1 (1968), p2.
[1] Smalley, Roger, ‘Some Recent Works of Peter Maxwell Davies’, Tempo, Vol. 84/1 (1968), p2.
[2] Butler, Christopher, Early Modernism: Literature, Music, and Painting in Europe, 1900-1916 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), pp25-6.
[3] Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), p55.
[4] Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), pp58-9.
[5] Nietzsce, Friedrich, Twilight of the Idols and the Anti-Christ, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (London: Penguin Books, 1990), p91.
[6] Nietzsce, Friedrich, Twilight of the Idols and the Anti-Christ, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (London: Penguin Books, 1990), pp81-2.
[7] Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), pp54-5.
[8] Boal, Augusta, The Rainbow of Desire: The Boal Method of Theatre & Therapy, trans. Adrian Jackson (London: Routledge, 1995), p16.
The Composition of the Piece
The composition of the piece progressed over the period of five weeks. From the 15th – 28th July and from the 5th – 25th August.
By the time it became necessary for me to evaluate the title, most of the work had been completed, and so it was quite clear to me how the rest of the work would follow. Collaboration with Kathryn Barras allowed me to be able to work out a subtitle for the work that reflected the programmatical journey of the piece. The use of latin was, for the most part, for reasons of consistency, but also to emphasise, yet again, a sense of the alien, or the unknown.
It seems that, for the concert-going audience, there is pressure for the composer to use titles that allow the listener to relate to the work at a more personal level. However, I consciously was after a title that immediately reflected the impersonal. This was through a conscious desire and inner need for not wishing the audience to be able to relate to the piece on a personal level. I wanted the feeling to be one of mystery. The feeling of the unknown. Like the experience of the labyrinth.
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
-----------------, ‘Labyrinth’, The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd Ed., Vol. VIII (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), p564.
Boal, Augusta, The Rainbow of Desire: The Boal Method of Theatre & Therapy, trans. Adrian Jackson (London: Routledge, 1995), p16.
Butler, Christopher, Early Modernism: Literature, Music, and Painting in Europe, 1900-1916 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), pp25-6.
Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), pp54-5, 58-9.
Nietzsce, Friedrich, Twilight of the Idols and the Anti-Christ, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (London: Penguin Books, 1990), pp81-2, 91.
Smalley, Roger, ‘Some Recent Works of Peter Maxwell Davies’, Tempo, Vol. 84/1 (1968), p2.
[1] Smalley, Roger, ‘Some Recent Works of Peter Maxwell Davies’, Tempo, Vol. 84/1 (1968), p2.
[2] Butler, Christopher, Early Modernism: Literature, Music, and Painting in Europe, 1900-1916 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), pp25-6.
[3] Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), p55.
[4] Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), pp58-9.
[5] Nietzsce, Friedrich, Twilight of the Idols and the Anti-Christ, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (London: Penguin Books, 1990), p91.
[6] Nietzsce, Friedrich, Twilight of the Idols and the Anti-Christ, trans. R.J. Hollingdale (London: Penguin Books, 1990), pp81-2.
[7] Ford, Andrew, ‘The Reticence of intuition: Sir Harrison Birtwistle’, Composer to Composer: conversations about contemporary music (Sydney: Hale & Iremonger, 1997), pp54-5.
[8] Boal, Augusta, The Rainbow of Desire: The Boal Method of Theatre & Therapy, trans. Adrian Jackson (London: Routledge, 1995), p16.
Paradox Theorem for large ensemble (2002)
A large ensemble poly-stylistic work combining bebop, funk, baroque counterpoint, metal, and pop/rock stylistic elements.
Negative Tendencies for Solo Piano (2000)
Duration approximately 7-8 minutes
(1) Consolidation
(2) Acceptance
"A response to the death of a friend, James' piece is primarily suggestive of the darker emotions, with austerely introspective keyboard musings redolent of sadness and resignation."
Neville Cohn, The West Australian (2000)
Negative Tendencies was written in memory of the tragic death of a good friend: John Irvine (1977-1995). With a burly physique, John was known for his innate strength, and was widely loved by friends for his uninhibited joie de vivre and kindness. John died from sustained horrific injuries as a result of a car accident. The work is a musical metaphor divided in two sections, each representing the process of consolidation and acceptance, given the irreversible circumstances that have come into being with regard to his death. The piece describes metaphorically the composer’s own personal struggle with loss, grief, and regret. The highly systematic and structured nature of the work metaphorically represents the causality, circumstances that are unchangeable and fixed. The struggle to accept this causality is described in a series of episodes that are through-composed, each adhering to a very strict set of rules. The length of these episodes are previously undetermined, but allow for the exploration of "moments" that are representative of the composer’s own emotional struggle to come to terms with the circumstances, before arriving at acceptance.
The work is influenced by the quasi-harmonic devices used by Sir Harrison Birtwistle. The overall structure follows an alternation between contrapuntal and vertical structures. The contrapuntal layers are also bound by a constant state of rhythmic flux. They follow like so:
(1) Consolidation
(2) Acceptance
"A response to the death of a friend, James' piece is primarily suggestive of the darker emotions, with austerely introspective keyboard musings redolent of sadness and resignation."
Neville Cohn, The West Australian (2000)
Negative Tendencies was written in memory of the tragic death of a good friend: John Irvine (1977-1995). With a burly physique, John was known for his innate strength, and was widely loved by friends for his uninhibited joie de vivre and kindness. John died from sustained horrific injuries as a result of a car accident. The work is a musical metaphor divided in two sections, each representing the process of consolidation and acceptance, given the irreversible circumstances that have come into being with regard to his death. The piece describes metaphorically the composer’s own personal struggle with loss, grief, and regret. The highly systematic and structured nature of the work metaphorically represents the causality, circumstances that are unchangeable and fixed. The struggle to accept this causality is described in a series of episodes that are through-composed, each adhering to a very strict set of rules. The length of these episodes are previously undetermined, but allow for the exploration of "moments" that are representative of the composer’s own emotional struggle to come to terms with the circumstances, before arriving at acceptance.
The work is influenced by the quasi-harmonic devices used by Sir Harrison Birtwistle. The overall structure follows an alternation between contrapuntal and vertical structures. The contrapuntal layers are also bound by a constant state of rhythmic flux. They follow like so:
The first section - consolidation - explores contrapuntal ideas, and follows successive four-note cells taken from a pitch series that diverges in a fan formation from a center pitch B.
Following this "progressive" pitch series, a transpositional pitch matrix is created in order to expand pitch material.
These four lines of pitches then serve to create the four equivalent pitch series' for the piece.
Other contrapuntal layers are, on the most part, transpositions of this same pitch sequence.
In the second section (Acceptance) there is simply nothing left to say; the piece concludes by returning to the note B, a pitch which is perhaps the closest to what one might call a resolution. There is no more attempted consolidation, but simply acceptance. Here is a structural representation of the entire piece. Note the nomenclature: numbers in standard brackets indicate the first "n" numbers taken from the pitch series (i.e. Z-series(5) would represent the first five pitches of series Z); square brackets indicate specific pitches taken from the series (i.e. Z-series[5] would represent only the fifth pitch from series Z); greater-than signs represent a transition from one value to another (i.e. quaver 5 > 2 would represent durations equivalent to 5 quaver lengths converging into durations of 2 quaver lengths).
In the second section (Acceptance) there is simply nothing left to say; the piece concludes by returning to the note B, a pitch which is perhaps the closest to what one might call a resolution. There is no more attempted consolidation, but simply acceptance. Here is a structural representation of the entire piece. Note the nomenclature: numbers in standard brackets indicate the first "n" numbers taken from the pitch series (i.e. Z-series(5) would represent the first five pitches of series Z); square brackets indicate specific pitches taken from the series (i.e. Z-series[5] would represent only the fifth pitch from series Z); greater-than signs represent a transition from one value to another (i.e. quaver 5 > 2 would represent durations equivalent to 5 quaver lengths converging into durations of 2 quaver lengths).
There are numerous tonal references in the work, and it is vitally important for the performer to consider these in their approach to the piece (ideally with an emotive frame of mind). It is from here that the contrapuntal and tonal nature of the work may come to the fore.
Kosmische Musik for Solo Performer (Clarinet and Percussion) (2000)
- Hierarchies I
- Trope and Sequentia
- Paraphrase and Retrograde Canon
- Hierarchies II
- Anagram
Temperaments for Percussion Quartet (2000)
"This is not for the timid mallet wielders. An iron nerve and rock-solid technique are required to embark on this obstacle course and emerge, reasonably intact, at the other end. Tetrafide did so with aplomb, taking the listener into a sound world of mysterious tappings, rumbles and frenzied crashes."
Neville Cohn, The West Australian (2000)
Temperaments was commissioned by the Tetrafide ensemble, and is written almost exclusively for untuned percussion. Some vestiges of tonality are to be found in the gongs and crotales, which make vague references to some eastern pentatonic and heptatonic scales.
The structure provides a temporal frame that dictates the explorations of distinct timbre's: metal, wood, or skinned instruments. The structure is based on a nested binary form, that is the first section of the work forms a binary structure (AB) which then it turn forms a binary structure with the following section that follows ((AB)C) and so on. This pattern repeats, and forms the overarching structure of the work:
A B A B A C D E D E A B A B A C D E D F D
A A B C C A A B C C D (coda)
A B A B C (coda)
A B (coda)
These secondary binary sections can either be the responses that explore the combinations of timbres and textures in development, or may contain contrasted materials to previous sections. The length of sections in the work are determined by Mesopotamian and Babylonian base-60 numbers, and the common factors of 60.
The structure is also derived from the first six factors of 360 which is the duration of the work (in seconds). By splitting the entire duration into 6 X 1.00 minute segments, these are then divided up again each by the first six factors 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. This results in 1 x 60 second section, 2 x 30 second sections, 3 x 20 second sections, 4 x 15 second sections, 5 x 12 second sections, and 6 x 10 second sections.
These divided sections are then distributed into an order where one section divided by a particular factor may not be next to the divided section with an adjacent 'factor number'. For example, a 10 second section may not be next to a 12 second section, just as a 60 second section may not be next to a 30 second section. This forced the order of sections listed below (and above) made up of the sequence of factors:
6 4 6 4 6 2 5 3 5 3 6 4 6 4 6 2 5 3 5 1 5
Whilst these determine the higher-level durations of sub-sections in the work, they also determine the kinds of rhythmic groupings explored. For example a variety of tuplets explore further micro-sub divisions of these factorisations of 60.
These numbers provide the durations and division points of the sections throughout the entire work.
TEXTURE
Complex orchestration creates a 'mesh'-like texture. This writing makes the ensemble performance particularly difficult. Much of the texture is also made up of dual dialogue interchanges between the players.
TIMBRE
Most sections of the piece focus on single timbres. These may be of the metal, wood, or skinned variety (drums). Some longer sections in the piece respond to these sections by using combinations of timbres in development.
The differing timbres and dynamic throughout the piece provide the moods throughout, eventually leading to a furious finale on metal, wood, and skinned instruments.This finale is a 'response' to the entire work.
Neville Cohn, The West Australian (2000)
Temperaments was commissioned by the Tetrafide ensemble, and is written almost exclusively for untuned percussion. Some vestiges of tonality are to be found in the gongs and crotales, which make vague references to some eastern pentatonic and heptatonic scales.
The structure provides a temporal frame that dictates the explorations of distinct timbre's: metal, wood, or skinned instruments. The structure is based on a nested binary form, that is the first section of the work forms a binary structure (AB) which then it turn forms a binary structure with the following section that follows ((AB)C) and so on. This pattern repeats, and forms the overarching structure of the work:
A B A B A C D E D E A B A B A C D E D F D
A A B C C A A B C C D (coda)
A B A B C (coda)
A B (coda)
These secondary binary sections can either be the responses that explore the combinations of timbres and textures in development, or may contain contrasted materials to previous sections. The length of sections in the work are determined by Mesopotamian and Babylonian base-60 numbers, and the common factors of 60.
The structure is also derived from the first six factors of 360 which is the duration of the work (in seconds). By splitting the entire duration into 6 X 1.00 minute segments, these are then divided up again each by the first six factors 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. This results in 1 x 60 second section, 2 x 30 second sections, 3 x 20 second sections, 4 x 15 second sections, 5 x 12 second sections, and 6 x 10 second sections.
These divided sections are then distributed into an order where one section divided by a particular factor may not be next to the divided section with an adjacent 'factor number'. For example, a 10 second section may not be next to a 12 second section, just as a 60 second section may not be next to a 30 second section. This forced the order of sections listed below (and above) made up of the sequence of factors:
6 4 6 4 6 2 5 3 5 3 6 4 6 4 6 2 5 3 5 1 5
Whilst these determine the higher-level durations of sub-sections in the work, they also determine the kinds of rhythmic groupings explored. For example a variety of tuplets explore further micro-sub divisions of these factorisations of 60.
These numbers provide the durations and division points of the sections throughout the entire work.
TEXTURE
Complex orchestration creates a 'mesh'-like texture. This writing makes the ensemble performance particularly difficult. Much of the texture is also made up of dual dialogue interchanges between the players.
TIMBRE
Most sections of the piece focus on single timbres. These may be of the metal, wood, or skinned variety (drums). Some longer sections in the piece respond to these sections by using combinations of timbres in development.
The differing timbres and dynamic throughout the piece provide the moods throughout, eventually leading to a furious finale on metal, wood, and skinned instruments.This finale is a 'response' to the entire work.
Unstable Equilibrium for String Quartet (1998)
Piano Sonata No. 1 (1998)
Seven Short Piano Pieces for Solo Piano (1997)
Duration: 12 minutes
The set is comprised of seven contrasting short pieces restricted to a page in length. They each demonstrate a different musical style or compositional technique, and therefore must be interpreted and subsequently performed differently by the performer.
1. Like Plainchant
Each phrase must be performed like plain chant might be sung, with a slight stylistic swell, an accelerando toward the peak of the phrase, and a ritardando and diminuendo toward the end of the phrase. With this in mind, the phrase can start quite slow, and also end similarly with a relatively exaggerated ritardando. Obviously the piano, as an instrument, is far from the characteristic sound of the human voice. However, if the phrases are legato pedalled and played with minimum attack, a desired performance can be achieved. Keep in mind to also play off the acoustics (resonance) of the venue. The two phrases in the piece are written in differing registers of the piano for antiphonal effect. Both phrases must be played with equal priority, as opposed to call (leader) and responce (group). Try to find recordings of any form of "chant" (Byzantine, Gregorian, Old-Roman etc...) to obtain a clearer idea of how to interpret this piece. This piece is based on duple organum (which I have extended to five voices) as opposed to a "single line" chant melody.
2. Adagio, molto espressivo
Dynamics, articulation, and melodic nuance are the absolute key for the effectiveness of this piece. The piece must be performed with a certain level of conviction. To enhance this it is possible to exaggerate the rhythmic character of the piece (ie. if there are dotted rhythms, play them slightly more dotted). Play on this, until you feel that it enhances this sense of conviction (they need only be very slight). The melody is to be performed generally legato throughout. When there IS a legato marking it is to be exaggerated by heavily emphasizing the first note, as apposed to the second. The instruction 'with ever increasing tension' can be achieved with an exaggeration of dynamics, and the performer can 'lean' into certain notes when there is a larger dynamic marked. The tempo can also become progressively faster during the piece to heighten the sense of 'increasing tension'. Despite the fact that I am allowing so many elements to be exaggerated, they must still have a sense of controlled conviction. Exaggerated does not give the performer free license. In fact, quite the contrary. The contrasts, particularly in dynamic, must be accurate. The "Dying Away" section should be self-explanatory.
3. Lent
This piece is based on Eric Satie's earlier Gnossienes. The performer may be more familiar with the interpretation of Eric Satie's style, as opposed to some of the other short works in this set. Listen to early 20th century recordings of french works during the fin de siecle and the early 20th century to obtain a clearer understanding of a possible interpretation. Reading up on Eric Satie's life is recommended, as well as any other written material concerning the late 19th century in France.
4. Espressivo
This piece demonstrates a fragmented and very chromatic polyphonic style. It is probably most concerned with elements of German high romantic and post-romantic composers (Wagner, Schoenberg) from the about the middle of the 19th century to the early 20th century. From this time frame, the piece fits the mould of the "expressionist" vein in terms of its free atonality demonstrating the notion of "emancipation of dissonance", although I wouldn't call the piece expressionist in its structured and considered form. There are tonal elements in the piece, mostly distinguished by the continual occurrence of voice leading and the resolution of "non-consonant" intervals. However, there is, no doubt, a precedence for dissonance, mostly for "expressive" effect throughout the piece. It is essential that, in performance, each polyphonic layer is played independently from each another, bringing their individual melodic characteristics out to the foreground. Listen to late romantic German music from Wagner (particularly Tristan und Isolde), Richard Strauss, Max Reger, Gustav Mahler, Arnold Schoenberg, and Alban Berg (particularly Wozzeck).
5. Fluid and Free
For a successful performance, the piece must be performed by retaining a smooth and flowing melodic line, with no breaks or hesitations. Slight accelerando's and deccelerando's are desirable, but should be used subtly. It is mostly recommended that these devices are used to dramatise the harmonic flow of the piece, either accelerating into harmonic pivots for dramatic effect, or softening these changes through decceleration. The accented notes within the line form another melody, which should be "played out" as a seperated voice, and similarly for the bass melodic line. Ontop of projecting this line, the accented melody can be performed in a physically distinct way, resulting in a different timbral quality, helping to separate the melodies from the overall texture. Also keep in mind, the sustain of the melody must be significant enough to allow the melodic phrase to sound like its own connected line. Because of the 19th century "sound" to this piece, I have decided that it is most effectively performed in the "romantic" "Lisztian" manner. Despite this, however, the piece has a considerably more modern underlying formal scheme to its composition.
6. Very Slow Free Time
This piece is based on Morton Feldman's latter music. The most important aspect of the performance of this music is to take in the experience of each sonority individually. In this lies the key to finding the meaning in this music. These general performance rules should be taken into account:
7. In Dark Humour
This piece would have to be the hardest to find a convincing interpretation for. There are certain general aspects of performance that should be kept in mind. Firstly, much of this piece must be performed half pedalled, so that the initial chords are held right through for their duration. Secondly, dynamically some of the melodic material may be found to be quite veiled by the initial loud chords. If so, they may have to be marked up a dynamic (a little, and only if absolutely necessary). One main problematic aspect in the performance of this piece can be the tempo. Performers generally rush this piece far too much. Preferably, it must be steady and rhythmically solid. Once the tempo is steady, the melodic lines can be characterized a little more. This will aid the performance by providing conviction and energy. I would mostly suggest to listen to Olivier Messiaen's music for this piece, most particularly his piano works. The element of "dark humour" is a further musical influence and response to Harrison Birtwistles opera Punch and Judy.
- Like Plainchant
- Adagio molto espressivo
- Lent
- Espressivo
- Fluid and Free
- Very Slow Free Time
- In Dark Humour
The set is comprised of seven contrasting short pieces restricted to a page in length. They each demonstrate a different musical style or compositional technique, and therefore must be interpreted and subsequently performed differently by the performer.
1. Like Plainchant
Each phrase must be performed like plain chant might be sung, with a slight stylistic swell, an accelerando toward the peak of the phrase, and a ritardando and diminuendo toward the end of the phrase. With this in mind, the phrase can start quite slow, and also end similarly with a relatively exaggerated ritardando. Obviously the piano, as an instrument, is far from the characteristic sound of the human voice. However, if the phrases are legato pedalled and played with minimum attack, a desired performance can be achieved. Keep in mind to also play off the acoustics (resonance) of the venue. The two phrases in the piece are written in differing registers of the piano for antiphonal effect. Both phrases must be played with equal priority, as opposed to call (leader) and responce (group). Try to find recordings of any form of "chant" (Byzantine, Gregorian, Old-Roman etc...) to obtain a clearer idea of how to interpret this piece. This piece is based on duple organum (which I have extended to five voices) as opposed to a "single line" chant melody.
2. Adagio, molto espressivo
Dynamics, articulation, and melodic nuance are the absolute key for the effectiveness of this piece. The piece must be performed with a certain level of conviction. To enhance this it is possible to exaggerate the rhythmic character of the piece (ie. if there are dotted rhythms, play them slightly more dotted). Play on this, until you feel that it enhances this sense of conviction (they need only be very slight). The melody is to be performed generally legato throughout. When there IS a legato marking it is to be exaggerated by heavily emphasizing the first note, as apposed to the second. The instruction 'with ever increasing tension' can be achieved with an exaggeration of dynamics, and the performer can 'lean' into certain notes when there is a larger dynamic marked. The tempo can also become progressively faster during the piece to heighten the sense of 'increasing tension'. Despite the fact that I am allowing so many elements to be exaggerated, they must still have a sense of controlled conviction. Exaggerated does not give the performer free license. In fact, quite the contrary. The contrasts, particularly in dynamic, must be accurate. The "Dying Away" section should be self-explanatory.
3. Lent
This piece is based on Eric Satie's earlier Gnossienes. The performer may be more familiar with the interpretation of Eric Satie's style, as opposed to some of the other short works in this set. Listen to early 20th century recordings of french works during the fin de siecle and the early 20th century to obtain a clearer understanding of a possible interpretation. Reading up on Eric Satie's life is recommended, as well as any other written material concerning the late 19th century in France.
4. Espressivo
This piece demonstrates a fragmented and very chromatic polyphonic style. It is probably most concerned with elements of German high romantic and post-romantic composers (Wagner, Schoenberg) from the about the middle of the 19th century to the early 20th century. From this time frame, the piece fits the mould of the "expressionist" vein in terms of its free atonality demonstrating the notion of "emancipation of dissonance", although I wouldn't call the piece expressionist in its structured and considered form. There are tonal elements in the piece, mostly distinguished by the continual occurrence of voice leading and the resolution of "non-consonant" intervals. However, there is, no doubt, a precedence for dissonance, mostly for "expressive" effect throughout the piece. It is essential that, in performance, each polyphonic layer is played independently from each another, bringing their individual melodic characteristics out to the foreground. Listen to late romantic German music from Wagner (particularly Tristan und Isolde), Richard Strauss, Max Reger, Gustav Mahler, Arnold Schoenberg, and Alban Berg (particularly Wozzeck).
5. Fluid and Free
For a successful performance, the piece must be performed by retaining a smooth and flowing melodic line, with no breaks or hesitations. Slight accelerando's and deccelerando's are desirable, but should be used subtly. It is mostly recommended that these devices are used to dramatise the harmonic flow of the piece, either accelerating into harmonic pivots for dramatic effect, or softening these changes through decceleration. The accented notes within the line form another melody, which should be "played out" as a seperated voice, and similarly for the bass melodic line. Ontop of projecting this line, the accented melody can be performed in a physically distinct way, resulting in a different timbral quality, helping to separate the melodies from the overall texture. Also keep in mind, the sustain of the melody must be significant enough to allow the melodic phrase to sound like its own connected line. Because of the 19th century "sound" to this piece, I have decided that it is most effectively performed in the "romantic" "Lisztian" manner. Despite this, however, the piece has a considerably more modern underlying formal scheme to its composition.
6. Very Slow Free Time
This piece is based on Morton Feldman's latter music. The most important aspect of the performance of this music is to take in the experience of each sonority individually. In this lies the key to finding the meaning in this music. These general performance rules should be taken into account:
- Dynamics generally low throughout
- Each sound with a minimum of attack
- Grace notes to be played slowly
- Piece played with the sustain pedal down with exception to 'short notes' (grace notes)
- Each event is played as the other begins to fade
- There is a longer gap between bars as apposed to individual events within each bar
7. In Dark Humour
This piece would have to be the hardest to find a convincing interpretation for. There are certain general aspects of performance that should be kept in mind. Firstly, much of this piece must be performed half pedalled, so that the initial chords are held right through for their duration. Secondly, dynamically some of the melodic material may be found to be quite veiled by the initial loud chords. If so, they may have to be marked up a dynamic (a little, and only if absolutely necessary). One main problematic aspect in the performance of this piece can be the tempo. Performers generally rush this piece far too much. Preferably, it must be steady and rhythmically solid. Once the tempo is steady, the melodic lines can be characterized a little more. This will aid the performance by providing conviction and energy. I would mostly suggest to listen to Olivier Messiaen's music for this piece, most particularly his piano works. The element of "dark humour" is a further musical influence and response to Harrison Birtwistles opera Punch and Judy.
地球、太陽、そして人 for Percussion Trio (1996)
- 地球
- 太陽
- 男性
- 華道
Olaris for Violin, Viola, and 2 Cello's (1996)
