Inuksuit in Melbourne, outdoors vs. indoors

About 10 days ago, while the group was in Melbourne for the 2012 Metropolis Festival in Melbourne, Australia, I had the chance to experience John Luther Adams’ monumental Inuksuit, a 80-90 minute work for 9-99 percussionists (in this performance, I believe, 33), performed outdoors on the campus of Melbourne University. eighth blackbird was first involved with this work as part of the programming at the Park Avenue Armory last year, an event that Alex Ross described as a sonic and scenic glory almost beyond description. If you don’t know the work, it’s simply something that MUST be experienced live if you can swing it–but to get an idea, go here. And check this out.

John Luther Adams has a long and well known history of writing for and about the environment, and most if not all of his compositions reference these views. Inuksuit perhaps best exemplifies this, as it was composed to be performed outdoors. For the performance a year ago in New York, eighth blackbird was involved with the first performance in an indoor space, and while from my perspective as a performer I felt this was a successful and “valid” interpretation of the work, I feel that this piece more than any other is shaped by the location and physical and sonic space in which it is performed. Though my experience of the two performances differed in that in one I was a performer (Armory) and one an observer (Melbourne), I think the greater difference was in experiencing it indoors vs. outdoors.

It’s worth noting that the Park Avenue Armory is located in New York City, the most urban of environments in the United States. The space of the Armory, while huge, is still enclosed, though it is possible to hear outside noises, particularly ambulance sirens. It’s also very resonant, and as a result created a massive maelstrom of sound at the peak of the work, almost terrifyingly loud depending on where you were during the piece (in both performances, audience members are encouraged to wander around the performance space during the work). The work for me had a “caged beast” quality, in that the performers were trying to harness and explore elemental sounds and gestures within a cavernous space, but at all times within an urban environment; explosive, but contained.

Not so the Melbourne performance. Any outdoor space is at once less resonant but also filled with other noises, if one stops to really listen to them. This was true of the campus of Melbourne University, and the beginning of the piece began visually clearly but inaudibly, emerging from the surrounding noise, with audience members quieting down as the piece progressed. The first call on a conch shell evoked some wild beast calling out to others, soon answered, though with the eventual addition of drums, it evoked for me nothing so much as the machines of war beginning to stir, and eventually of a great human battle. This was enhanced by the addition of sirens (more on this below) and multitudinous cymbals conveying a bloody aftermath, which eventually subsided. And then the real magic, and the real difference between the indoor performance, became apparent.

The end of the work includes high ringing instruments (glockenspiel, triangles, etc.), but also a few flutists and piccolo players, who are instructed to play bird calls native to wherever the piece is being performed. This in itself makes every performance unique to its environment, and I would have loved to have heard this except, from where I was laying down on the grass, this sound drowned out everything else. I learned later that this is the call of the native currawong, and this rather large flock, situated in the trees above the performance space, decided to join the performance, at first loudly in response and then, as the piece died away and the sounds from the performers became more sparse, the currawongs became quieter and eventually flew away. It was a magical moment, and this ending, with the birds having the last and final voice, suggested to me the impermanence and futility of man, that long after his wars and machinations on earth, nature will still remain.

It’s hard for me to hear certain elements of this work as being anything other than man-made, which I realize is a much different view than most people, or even the composer, share. In particular, I can’t help but hear air raid sirens as man-made and evoking danger, whether from tornados or, in particular, man-made disasters such as the bombing of London during WWII. I even asked JLA about this in an email after the Armory Performance:

Me: Let me tell you again what a pleasure it was to do Inuksuit at the Armory on Sunday, which was really transporting. One thing I wanted to ask you about but forgot–sirens. Most of the instruments you specify for the piece, at least to me, have a “natural” sound, or can be derived from nature. Except sirens, which to me sound more “man-made” and artificial, though I thought they worked amazingly well in the Armory (visions of call to battle, firetrucks and “danger” in general). I’ve also heard other pieces where you use sirens—does their sound mean something specific to you, and do they mean something in Inuksuit?

JLA: I use them for purely sonic reasons. And although I’m well aware of the extra-sonic associations, over the years I’ve come to hear them just as they are. At the Armory they seemed to fit in with the surroundings perfectly. During the rehearsal on Saturday, I heard a lone siren very late in the piece. My first thought was that one of the musicians was lost. Then I realized it was an ambulance or fire truck passing by on Lexington Avenue. In our performance of Strange and Sacred Noise out on the tundra, the sirens also seemed very natural. They might well have been wolves howling or other animals calling.

While the Melbourne performance was outside, it felt more enclosed and literally walled off and apart from the city by being contained with a ring of student housing and university buildings, though not as enclosed as the Armory. eighth blackbird’s next performance of Inuksuit, on Sunday August 26 for the Midwest premiere of the work, will be another interesting juxtaposition of the piece vs. its environment, as Millennium Park is right in downtown and the sonic backdrop will be at least as much man-made (people, cars, low flying aircraft, Rahm Emanuel’s motorcade) as it is natural. But still, definitely worth checking out, especially if you haven’t had this experience live.

At the bottom of the world

It’s 6:30pm in Hobart, Tasmania, but it still feels like pre-dawn to my jet-lag-addled body. We perform the Higdon tomorrow night, and my main concern is that I won’t be awake. The orchestra sounds great and we’ve had such a generous amount of rehearsal that I feel positively spoiled. So all I have to do is…stay…awake.

Hobart is nothing if not picturesque. It’s been unseasonably warm since we arrived on Wednesday, although the shorter days are a bit jarring having come from the lengthening days in the northern hemisphere. We’re a stone’s throw from the wharf and I can see much of the city from my hotel window. I’m dying to see a Tasmanian devil, but the only Tassie devils I’ve seen so far have been on postcards. Sadly, that’s unlikely to change since the zoo is too far of a drive to visit before we leave on Sunday. We might, however, get a chance to visit the Museum of Old and New Art tomorrow after rehearsal, where visitors vote whether they like a piece, and the museum removes the pieces with the most likes.

Today we had a meet and greet with students from the Tasmanian University Union after our open rehearsal. One of them was wearing an eighth blackbird T-shirt, a fact that distracted us in rehearsal while we wondered where on earth he got it. (Turns out that he bought it last September when he heard us in Brisbane.) I spoke at length to a young violist about the vicissitudes of a life in music, and I saw in him many of the same doubts I had when I was his age. I could see him thinking that it was easy to say the things I was saying from where I am now, but the truth is, it hasn’t been long since I seriously wondered what I was doing with my life and whether I should continue pursuing music. I tried to reassure him, but perspective cannot be given; one has to earn it.

Hopefully I’ll sleep all the way through the night tonight. We all have our methods: Lisa and I take Ambien, Nick and Michael take melatonin, and Tim runs uphill until he exhausts himself. Whatever works…

reading rainbow

Reading Rainbow

Ever since I could read, books have been my constant friend. You know, the kind of friend who makes a great travel partner and who’s good company both at a dinner party and a sob party. While I do love my TV shows, I think of TV more as my drinking buddy – but that’s a whole ‘nother thing.

I’m usually in the middle of reading several things, a situation I find annoying but somehow unavoidable. As a little kid, I would burrow into my bed and read a book from start to finish, stopping only for bathroom breaks. If I had my druthers, I would read like this all the time. But life, cruel as it is, forces me to put that book down, and then I forget where I put it, or even that I was ever reading it. As a result, I am in the middle of a book on either side of my bed, two books in the bathroom, a book by the sofa, probably a dozen New Yorker articles, and two books on my iPad.

My lovely colleagues are also big readers. Tim is a fiction junkie, as am I, and he’s usually already read or heard of what I’m currently reading. He is also on a crusade to cure me of my guilt-driven need to finish everything, including books I don’t like. Nick loaned me one of the last paper books I read, and Lisa is currently reading the last book I finished on my iPad. But I had no idea what the tastes of Matthew, Michael, or our staffers were. So I thought it would be fun to take a poll of what everyone’s reading.

Me

Last: The Quickening Maze by Adam Foulds

Current: The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell (iPad), Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks (bed), A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace (other side of bed), Death Interrupted by Jose Saramago (bathroom), I’m a Stranger Here Myself by Bill Bryson (sofa), a million New Yorkers (every location, including the car)

Future: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, Ulysses by James Joyce (3rd attempt)

Tim

Last: Vox by Nicholson Baker

Current: Poems by Philip Larkin, Shakespeare Sonnets, the first five books of a new translation of the Bible, The New Yorker, The New York Review of Books, Gramophone

Future: The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

Lisa

Last: Moonwalking with Einstein by Joshua Foer

Current: Great House by Nicole Krauss, The New Yorker

Future: Grace in the Wilderness by Aranka Siegal

Michael

Last: The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest by Steig Larsson

Current:  A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin, Wired Magazine

Future: A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin

Nick

Last: Medium Raw by Anthony Bourdain

Current: A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin (not so into it), Wired Magazine

Future: The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell

Matthew

Last: Heaven’s Reach by David Brin

Current: can’t decide

Future: Little Bets by Peter Sims, Wherever You Go, There You Are by Jon Kabat-Zinn, An Iliad by Alessandro Bariccio

Kyle

Last: 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

Current: The Black Forest by Christopher DeWeese, Dear Jenny, We are all Find by Jenny Zhang, and The New Yorker semi-regularly

Future: will figure it out when he gets there

Ryan

Last: Honey Badger Don’t Care by Randall (he swears this was a gift)

Current: Some sound engineering technical manual that he refused to name, The Road by Cormac McCarthy

Future: The Road to Reality by Roger Penrose (I’m giving Ryan $100 if he actually understands this book)

 

Rachel

Last: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, Catching Fire – from The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins, Dune by Frank Herbert

Current: When You Are Engulfed In Flames by David Sedaris, Just Kids by Patti Smith, Bleak House by Charles Dickens, Bust magazine, TimeOut Chicago

Future: Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami, House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, Mockingjay – from The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins