There was no pudding.

******************************************
NOTE: The following contains no ratios,
graphs, statistics, or numerical formulae.
******************************************

Listerines,

Music can touch us in a number of ways, I imagine. In my case, I seem to
react to a piece or performance in one (or both, preferably) of two ways:
either it strikes me in a very visceral, possibly physical, context, or it
finds a way to please my mind, be it the construct of the music, effects,
masterful compositional technique. That music of many styles (and yes,
many intonations) can have this effect is not surprising to most of us.

My reflective side appreciates the subtle text settings and sinewy use of
the scale in Partch's "The Street" or "The Rose" (Eleven Intrusions), and
also finds (still) delight and emotional fulfillment in Elgar's "Enigma
Variations". My more earthbound side continues to bounce to the big fun of
"Exordium" from Partch's "Delusion of the Fury", and has a great time
listening to the raw insistence of a former drum student, who now happens
to be in a little band called Soundgarden (last week: live in SD, standing
on stage 15 feet away from him - now *that's* corporeality!). When the two
sides collide and become one experience, it pretty much transcends
explanation.

This little digression was a prelude to my thoughts on attending a concert
of the Southern California Microtonal Group last week here in San Diego,
with the performers being Jonathan Glasier, Brian McLaren, Jeff Stayton and
Bill Wesley. I have known Jon for quite a while, though we don't cross
paths often; he and I played together in the Partch Ensemble back in the
'70's. Outside of offering support to a community I am at least partially
involved, I was curious to see just what kind of music would bring Brian
into the public eye. So many words had I read, so many opinions pondered,
I just had to see/hear for myself what was what. I felt fortunate to sit
with Dr. John (Chalmers), as his regal demeanor would help balance my usual
adolescent enthusiasm. I sincerely hoped to be delighted, and to have one
side or the other stimulated; I never expect to get both at once. I didn't
expect to get neither.

Not so much a concert as a non-lectured exhibition, the group, in varying
combinations (only once more than a duo) proceeded to perform 14
improvisations (omitting two from the program). They ranged from pieces
described as 'free intonation' (being largely done on non-tuned 'sound
sculptures') to pieces in JI (23, 43), 17TET, 23TET, 19TET, and variants on
the harmonic series. Various keyboards and original instruments, in
addition to altered guitars and found objects, were used. The individual
'pieces' varied from about 5 minutes to, I don't know, 15-20 minutes; it
became hard to tell. The overall effect ranged from the mildly curious and
pleasant to mind-numbingly boring.

This isn't easy to say, and of course it's just one human's opinion. That
by the end of intermission more than half of the less-than-capacity crowd
(about 40 people at it's peak) had left does speak to the lack of something
to grab on to. I got worried when Dr. John got up, but he was just getting
a better view of Bill's Nail Violin (a neat instrument!). In general, if
these pieces were in the category of 'directed improvisation' (a basic
scheme or plot to follow, with some freedom, I imagine) then it was not
apparent, save for a few reiterated motives or melodicles. Almost entirely
absent from the works was any sense of harmony: most all players played in
single line melodic fashion, or block 'chord' (an admittedly awkward term
to use with some of the more unique instruments) style, with all voices
moving in parallel. I had truly hoped to hear some of the intricate and
subtle harmonic wonderments of the many intonations paraded before us. It
ended up not unlike wandering though a forest of Gary Kvistad's just-tuned
Woodstock Chimes.

One of the key tenets of improvisation (save for chaotic or chance
improvisation) would seem to be that the players actually *listen* to each
other, and possibly *react* to each other. Outside of Jon Glasier's
soulful guitar and vocal work, most of the playing could very well have
been these same people at home, alone in their rooms. Frequently, one
would look over to another to (my guess) see if he was finished yet, or if
it would go on for a while longer. Close to zero communication. At one
point Brian did a solo piece, which involved coaxing sounds from a machined
piece of aluminum alloy suspended from a cord, accompanied by a DAT of a
CSound sound file. No flow, no interaction, no marvelous concordances (or
discords) - just someone meditatively whonking and stroking a big hunk of
metal, accompanied by a gradually evolving sound-field. A thought: John
Cage might have been proud.

Brian told me later that he had better performances of these pieces on
tape, from earlier sessions; it is hard to imagine that it would make much
difference. There was very little contrast from piece to piece, in spite
of changes in scales and instrumentation (again, Glasier's influence seemed
to have the most effect, and Wesley did have his moments on his instruments
- though they went on far too long). There was nothing, certainly to a
listener *new* to alternate tunings, that would point the ear in a
direction of "Yes, *that* sounds attractive (or powerful, or...). No, they
just were more piles of smaller and larger intervals, wafting about in a
non-existent breeze. Had there been either fully realized melodies that
could have only bloomed in a particular scale, or (more that I hoped for) a
rendering of some of the harmonic avenues completely unavailable in 12TET,
the evening would have been memorable and positive. I left disheartened,
at least in that respect.

And as for building an audience (or even appealing to the few that care
about these matters), it won't ever happen by sheer ratios alone: there was
virtually no dynamic range expressed (even though I know the instruments
were capable of it), no *real physical* playing (much of the action carried
all the excitement of a data entry clerk typing away), pretty much none of
*all the other things* that go into making a musical experience musical
(what a value judgement...); and yet, you didn't get the idea that it was
about a meditative, constant place. It could have been an off night, there
might have been details we don't know about; so many things. None of this
review is said in spite, and I think the performers were sincere in their
efforts.

I am an eternal optimist (just _one_ reason I stayed to the end), and I
won't say that Brian McLaren (or the others) can't or hasn't come up with
some music that might change the course of temperament and/or Western
music. I know that a few people on the list seemed curious as to just what
his involvement in music was like. Coming from a person like Brian, who is
so free with his opinions on other's performances and compositional ideals,
and so ardent in his beliefs as to how things should be, it was a fair bit
of a surprise to find so little substance. It was stunning to hear him say
(maybe in jest?), referring to the harmonic-series pieces, that "there
weren't any wrong notes". That thought, coupled with his use of an
arpeggiator to mechanically noodle through an homage to Augusto Novarro's
23-tone just scale, did me in. I had looked forward to the concert,
half-expecting to be blown away; after all, the proof is in the pudding.
Oh well...

Then, to add insult to malaise, I have to spend this week accompanying
Robert Goulet in "Man of La Mancha" (mortgage payments, you know...); the
cast is apparently using some variant of 57TET. I can't trust my ears -
maybe Chalmers will help me out on this one. Til the next microtonal
concert happens in San Diego...

Your intrepid reporter,
Rusty Cochlea
*------------------------------------------------------------------*
Jonathan M. Szanto | A hobo, in cyberspace, no less . . . . . . .
Corporeal Meadows | . . . . . . . . Partch awaits in the Meadows
jszanto@adnc.com | http://www.adnc.com/web/jszanto/welcome.html
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