Mauricio Kagel - Transicion II; Phonophonie

Mode 127

Mauricio Kagel has been called the prankster of the avant-garde. His own description of the essence of his very eclectic compositional technique is that he combines "strict composition with elements which are not themselves pure." Kagel’s works range from the neo-classical, through the aleatoric, to the Ligeti-static, the electronic, the stagy-farcical, and beyond. And there has been no obvious chronological progression at work here. A serial work for orchestra might be followed first by a goofball theater thing, then a piece for tape, then a neoclassical string quartet. His compositions in all these areas are well crafted and idiomatic, and many of his pieces are very enjoyable. I particularly like his Match For Three Players, a work for two sparring cellists and a percussionist/referee, which was reportedly based on several of Kagel’s most vivid dreams. What has never been entirely apparent, however, is a genuine commitment by the composer to any particular vision of the beautiful. I think this Kagel's overall output has suffered from his flightiness, and while this aspect of his personality has helped to produce a clever collagist and master of pastiche, I don’t believe there are any legitimate masterworks in his oeuvre. Transicion II (1958-59), a piece for pianist (on this recording, Aldo Orvieto), percussionist (Dimitri Fiorin) and tape/live electronics manipulator (Alvise Vidolin) is in the style of Stockhausen’s Mantra, but unlike the Stockhausen, it never really takes off. Its little Boulezian explosions are crisp and well executed (both by the composer and the performers), but the piece as a whole is nothing much more than the sum of these flourishes.

It’s a little unfair not to give tape creator Stefano Bassanese co-compositional credit for Phonophonie (1963-64). The general directions for those not opting to use the tapes provided with the score, allow considerable latitude with respect to the content of the recorded material, and while I’ve never heard any earlier version of the work, it’s quite certain that Bassanese’s tape (which consists largely of vocalise) ensures that this instantiation of Phonophonie is significantly different from any that preceded it. These "four melodramas for two voices and other sound sources" are intended as a half-serious eulogy over the death of grand opera. There’s more Stockhausen here (think Momente), as well as Ligeti (of the Aventures), but Kagel is no mere imitator. In fact, for all I know, there was as much "borrowing" going on in the other directions. Kagel has always been a legitimate innovator and important experimenter with new forms and technologies. What defects the piece has (and it isn’t a bad work—just slightly unsatisfying) are, again, the results of what I take to be his lack of firm commitment to any particular style. With Kagel, the moans, howls, and chattering always seem half-serious and half-satirical. This makes the work "safer" I suppose: it’s OK for the listener to swoon, but it’s OK for him to laugh, too. I think this compositional ambivalence has, to a certain extent, always limited the depth of aesthetic responses to Kagel’s work. We never get much more than half-ecstatic and/or half tickled, and, as is well known, that’s a bit like being half-pregnant. This assessment sounds more critical than I intend it to be, however. Composers, like the rest of us, must make do with what's within them: they do what they can. Kagel is a careful craftsman as well as a seminal innovator with a fertile imagination and a hearty sense of humor. He may not be Elliott Carter or Pierre Boulez, but he has written a copious number of entertaining, well-constructed--even elegant--pieces and has influenced many younger composers and performers in the process. That’s a pretty damn good record of achievement for any artist.