reviews
John Cage -One4/Four/Twenty-Nine - John Cage - One7 (from One13)/One8
The OgreOgress label continues its mission of documenting many of the late works of John Cage, especially the so-called number pieces. In a sense, they’re very hard compositions to evaluate. The aspects I enjoy about them (and there are many)—I’m never quite sure if it’s what I’m “supposed” to be enjoying. For example, being generally a fan of drones and sustained notes, I find myself lolling—not idly lolling but lolling nonetheless–very comfortably in the extended tones of “Twenty-Nine” but I’m not at all sure that this sort of aural “comfort” was what Mr. Cage intended. Partly this is due to the greater amount of severity present in the accompanying, approximately contemporaneous pieces. “One4” (the “4” should be superscripted, as in a power sign), for solo percussion (performed by Glenn Freeman) consists of isolated segments of cymbal rides, snare rolls, tom poundings and such with periods of silence between. The spacing of these elements seems to be of greater import than the sounds themselves which are (intentionally?) rather prosaic. But by varying these sounds instead of dealing with self-similar sonic material (only snare rolls, for instance), one’s ears are drawn a bit away from that spatial aspect toward the sounds as such, causing an amount of tension that’s less than comfortable. Of course, perhaps that’s the intent and disquiet is certainly a valuable commodity itself. Not having seen the scores, I have no idea of what latitude, if any, is given the performers, so I’m left simply reacting to what I hear and find that I (inevitably) slip into enjoying the “fuller” pieces much more.
“Four” is presented in six versions, each lasting exactly five minutes, with alternate listening patterns offered on the sleeve, in 10-, 20-, or 30-minute morsels. If I’m not mistaken, the piece is performed on occasionally overdubbed violins/violas (Christina Fong) and cellos (Karen Krummel). Generally, you hear longish (five to ten second) bowed notes, layered on top and around each other, sometimes singly, sometimes in dense harmony, fairly tonal and varying subtly in intensity. I find the music somewhat difficult to concentrate on, always flitting away from my grasp, never quite congealing into a solid object. Though, when listened to “out of the corner of my ear”, there is something of a meditative quality that emerges; a troubled meditation, though.
But, ah, “Twenty-Nine”—what a stunner! Bringing Freeman back into the mix along with bassist Michael Crawford, not only are all the previous tracks’ elements and then some on luxuriant display, but the lines are lengthened into an omnipresent flux, a rich, vibrant field of sound of apparently endless variety and texture. Remember that 24-hour elastification of Beethoven’s Ninth that appeared a couple years back? I had a roughly equivalent sensation here. Take some high, ecstatic burst of free jazz, say the initial several seconds of “Machine Gun”, retain the pitch but stretch it out 29 minutes, losing the shriek but magnifying each constituent thread, listening to them leisurely unfurl and drift off. It’s a wonderful tonic for the relative astringency of the other pieces and, taking the disc as whole, provides a fine balance.
The second recording contains two of Cage’s last works; in fact, I believe “One8” is actually the final (possibly unfinished) piece of his. “One8” was originally written for cellist Michael Bach to take advantage of the curved bow he’d invented, apparently adapted from models used in the Baroque and perhaps previously, which allows it to come into contact with as many as all four strings simultaneously. A salient feature of this performance is that the cellist has chosen to remain unidentified. A little more on this below.
“One7 (from One13)” is 30 minutes of the same note (F sharp), played over and over in long segments. It’s fantastic. The cellist wisely doesn’t vary her (I’m entirely guessing as to gender) attacks in a drastic manner, rather choosing to subtly vary the dynamics, graininess and timbre in addition to altering the duration of the sounds and the silences, often prolonged, between them. The recording has a wonderful rawness to it, every rough edge limned, every resonance and overtone captured in fine detail. You inevitably get drawn into a kind of breathing rhythm, carefully contemplating each in- and exhalation.
You can hear the difference the Bach bow makes immediately as “One8” begins, especially after the austerity of the first piece. Though structurally somewhat similar, consisting of longish notes placed amidst silences (the work, by the way, lasts precisely 43:30, heh-heh), the notes have become complex chords, full of whistles, groans and scratches. There are occasions–the stretch beginning about 8 minutes in, for instance–where she achieves a remarkable juicy, gurgling texture that’s simply quiver-inducing. The silent spaces are longer than the prior piece, leading one away from hearing it in breathing terms. For me, it’s more like being out in a quiet landscape, the silence broken sporadically by birds, wind, far-off highways. Unlike “One7”, for which I couldn’t locate any other recordings, I understand that “One8” has been released by several musicians, including Mr. Bach. I’d be very curious to hear comparison thoughts from Bags readers who know any of the other versions.
Though I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head, it wouldn’t totally surprise me if there have been recordings released by people without any sort of personal credit, but I’ve certainly never seen anything like it in the “classical” world. I do find this kind of self-effacement quite appealing, removing a layer between listener and music. It’d be interesting to see what would happen if this sort of thing ever became the rule, not that there’s the slightest danger of that happening.
In the meantime, do yourselves a favor and check out these discs.
OgreOgress appears to be operating out of a sub-site located here: http://home.swipnet.se/sonoloco2/Rec/OgreOgressProductions/ogreogressframes.html
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Points of Interest
Thanks for this review Brian I’ve been curious about the releases on OgreOgress for a while now. Due to the ridiculous name of the label and the proprietors relentless spamming on the Silence list I’ve been reluctant to check them out. A situation that I’ll rectify in the near future.
Hi Robert. Please point us to an example of the spam you describe and also why you perceive it as spam … you can search the database at http://list.mail.virginia.edu/pipermail/silence
What is the cause of such reluctance?
FWIW, I think that’s an extremely charming label name and I’m pretty sure in purely lexicographical terms that advertising John Cage CDs on a mailing list about John Cage doesn’t fit the meaning of “spam”. Just another point of view…
[Brian]- I find myself lolling
Richard: “You mean you dared review a CD without fully understanding the intentions of the composer Brian? Lets hope Mr Morris doesn’t look at this thread!”
Like God, Joe Morris is everywhere and nowhere in particular, he sees and knows everything you do and think, and he’s angry and vengeful. Beware!
My Joe Morris is a New Testament Joe Morris.
My Joe Morris is a New Testament Joe Morris.- derek
A necessary fiction?
Whenever his apoplectic self shows up here, I imagine his resting b.p. to be about 200/180.
The bane & entertainment draw of the bbs-much ado predicated on a misperception. Splenetic, & at least twice removed from reality!
That’s entertainment.
“Any musician that dies not want their music to go through this inevitable process really should think hard about why they are releasing CDs for sale into the public domain.” — Richard Pinnell
Cage himself wanted his later pieces to be recorded and released on CDs (some of them were even composed as projects to be recorded for CD; Four4 is an example … take a look at the score). Cage revised his view on recordings the last few years of his life and was fully aware of the implications of that change. Cage made clear his dislike for vinyl, as compared to CD, due to the impossibilty of genuine silence on a vinyl-based recording.
Many of those who grew up with Cage and those who are most aware of his early writings are unaware of his final works and his changing views, which came about at the end of his life.
Final works meaning what, Glenn? There are a huge number of recordings of the Number Pieces available - noone could argue late Cage has gone unrecorded - when does the “final works” period begin for you?
When I refer to Cage’s “final works” I am referring to the Number Pieces and a few earlier works. I never suggested these “final works” were going unrecorded. I do suggest there is a big difference between the aesthetic of these works and earlier Cage.
I completely agree with that, Glenn, but don’t you think the awareness thing works both ways: there are many people who have got into Cage through the late (Number) pieces and who probably know little about the pre-Music of Changes pieces, let alone the period between 1952(ish) and Rooratorio (a huge span of music to start with!). Several free improvisers of my acquaintance have expressed a desire to play the late Cage pieces, perhaps under the mistaken impression they’re “easy” (compared to something by Ferneyhough or Lachenmann, say). Tell us some more about the difficulties you face as a performer of this music yourself - that would be most informative.
Dan: “Tell us some more about the difficulties you face as a performer of this music yourself - that would be most informative.”
I agree. One of the peculiar qualities of the Number Pieces is that the performer/interpreter seems to disappear, leaving only the music. Glenn, I’d be very keen to hear what you have to say about that.
I’ll echo Dan’s and Brian’s request. I was particularly interested in what Glenn had to say about “One4″ and how far off (!) my read of it was. I went back and forth listening to it as a) just as music and finding it not too compelling and b) as a piece of music *designed* to be uncompelling, forcing one to contemplate the tension that resulted. Perversely, the second method resulted in a more “enjoyable” listen!
I participated in a performance of Four with Jack Wright, Bhob Rainey and matt ingalls in early 2003 (please, MAP, restrain yourself!). It was “easy” in the score-reading sense, engaging in terms of sketching out and discussing an interpretation, and very satisfying to play among such distinguished company. However, it wasn’t easy to make the thing sound good (forgive a performer for being unable to completely kill such quaint aesthetic biases!), and reactions among the audience were wildly mixed, ranging from near-ecstasy to severe dislike. (Is that anything new for Cage?) By that measure, I call it a successful performance. I always feel I’ve done my work best when there’s a big range of reaction after a performance. I can’t speak for the other players, but I sensed a desire among us all to “make it work.” Whether it worked on Cage’s terms or someone else’s, it seems only the listeners at the show could say.
As a performer, my aesthetics were indeed challenged, but at the same time I had to bring something of myself to the process of interpreting the score - but that was the ‘composer’ side of me. Of course, “performerly” instincts or any interpretive showmanship are to be suppressed in the playing - so what’s left in it for the player? No wonder there’s so much hostility among symphonic players to that music. It’s basically a big “fuck you” to them, so they fuck it off. I’m just noting that viewpoint, not endorsing it btw.
About a year before that performance, ingalls and I saw a concert by some new-music rockstars and we agreed it was amusing but, musically, highly unsatisfactory - one of the performers chose to not follow the score, injecting some “real music” into it (a fucking annoying G-minor arpeggio-WTF?), while the others seemed to merely on hand to showcase their most vaudevillian tricks. Only the percussionist, William Winant (wearing a “HATED” tee-shirt), seemed to put any real verve into his performance. Four seemed, in that context, more of an entertainment piece for a mostly long-in-the-tooth audience of Cage neophytes who could be benignly diverted with a few minutes of improv schtick before they could get started with the cat-calling. The score was subverted, not just by the arpeggiator, but by the whole project and even the audience, who willingly lapped up the gimmicks, encouraging more, and were unaware of Cage’s intentions to present some previously-unrelated yet partially determined sounds unfolding over a composed period of time.
I’m not convinced that Cage himself offered conclusive answers pertaining to the usefulness of, or meaning to be found in recording his late works. The man was insidiously contrarian and subversive — I could well imagine a desire on his part to upend whole segments of the classical music “industry” with such a project as flooding the market with recordings of his stuff which by some measures “unrecordable.” (I have yet to find much Cage that works for me as a recording; hopefully there’s not too much at the level of the execrable Janacek Phil’s release on Asphodel.) Cage was also a hell of a media manipulator/publicity hound, whether he meant to be or not.
This music is extremely easy to perform. There is nothing to it at all. Anyone can perform the Number Pieces well and thus many great musicians have missed the boat. Just be careful to follow Cage’s very clear and precise rules and to view these pieces as seriously as Mozart or Wagner. No one is “wrong” when it comes to performing the “Number Pieces” … and there are a zillion possibilities. But there is nothing in these scores that can be fudged. Cage knew all along that chance could be very precise and effective method for composing beautiful and subtle music. He proved it in these late works. Difficulty is not the issue.
The Number Pieces pieces are strict musical compositions and are not improvisations at all, although improvisational methods can be used to realize them … as long as Cage’s rules are followed. They can be best described as “Composed Improvisations” and it seems Cage wanted to blur the line between strictly composed music and the use of improvisational methods paradoxically required to realize that strict music. Thus, many musicians do not know what to make of such a situation. Again, they are really very easy to perform once an understanding of their nature becomes clear.