Classical Ear

Audacious, informal, and energetic, Brooklyn Rider performs music that is not only cross-cultural but also cross-genre. The string quartet is named after the city in which it is based – quite fitting, considering the fact that Brooklyn is most famous for its vibrant multicultural background. On Monday, February 16^th, the quartet gave a relaxed concert in FUEL, a trendy lounge in the basement of the Collis Center. Performing pieces that range from Franz Schubert and Philip Glass to Mexican rock and gypsy folk music, Brooklyn Rider seems to value pure musical enjoyment over technical prowess.

That night in FUEL, the quartet played seven extremely diverse pieces that were (paradoxically) united by a theme of cross-culturalism. After all the pieces had been performed, I was confused by the strange amalgam, but astounded by the sheer energy that the musicians had channeled. I was also amazed by the ease with which the musicians were able to shift from piece to piece (genre to genre, culture to culture, etc.) so seamlessly, as if no transition were taking place at all. After the concert, Johnny Gandelsman, the first violinist, was sure to explain the incongruousness of the repertoire that we had just heard. “This music,” he told us, “is so diverse, but [it] has no boundaries.” Only then was it apparent that the pieces were united by the diversity itself. Switching from traditional Japanese flute music to a jazzy blues melody was just as easy as walking from the Irish side of the street to the Jewish side of the street in Brooklyn, New York. The transitions were not meant to be jarring, but liberating.

The first piece of the night was called “Brooklesca,” which – judging from a quick glance at Brooklyn Rider’s website – is one of their most popular pieces. The piece, written by second violinist Colin Jacobsen, is a fast and vigorous adventure that combines gypsy themes, Spanish motifs, and American “hillbilly” fiddle, all in a vaguely classical milieu. Although that may sound confusing, the piece came together as a heart-pounding masterpiece, much of which was improvised. During one of Gandelsman’s improvised solos, the cellist (Eric Jacobsen) even cracked a giggle! I also noticed that Gandelsman held his bow about four inches above the frog, allowing for greater versatility while sacrificing power. Unfortunately, this technique seemed to produce a couple of missed notes and some faulty intonation during some parts of the concert. The second piece was Philip Glass’s Company. Despite its repetitiveness, the musicians made it remarkably dynamic and gave it direction without taking too much artistic freedom. The next piece was a somber theme in variations by Schubert, which completely changed the mood; however, the musicians seemed disconnected. The intense connection that existed in some of the other pieces was severed during the Schubert, perhaps because there was less room for improvisation and embellishment. Next, the quartet played La Muerte Chiquita, a tune made popular by a Mexican rock band. Full of glissandos, heavy pizzicatos, and percussive tapping, the piece had a spirited attitude. The fifth piece was a collaboration with shakuhachi player, Kojiro Umezaki. Despite my initial disbelief, the string instruments blended perfectly with the traditional Japanese flute, mostly through call-and-response imitation. Even though Umezaki frequently improvised and made great use of microtones (in between the notes of the normal tonal scale) the string players were able to copy him flawlessly. The concert ended with a piece written by Gandelsman’s cousin, called Cross Town, a mimetic representation of a bus ride through Brooklyn, plagued by traffic and constant honking. As expected, the piece was comedically excruciating and playfully discordant, full of false starts and random changes in tempo. The piece was folksy and lyrical, and included Umezaki at one point as well.

While Brooklyn Rider may not always be as technically proficient as other string quartets, it is certainly more playful and diverse. By constantly experimenting with their instruments and playing music from all around the world, the quartet embodies the cross-culturalism of Brooklyn with avant-garde flair.

Combining the musical traditions of different cultures is a risky endeavor. By merging different kinds of music, it is almost guaranteed that certain aspects of each style will be omitted in order to befit the piece as a whole. Therefore, it is often difficult to gauge whether or not a musical “fusion” has been successful, and such a claim is always in the eye of the beholder. Philip Glass’s Orion, for instance, is a unique piece that incorporates music of many different cultures in a distinctly classical milieu. Unfortunately, the piece falls short of achieving multicultural fusion, and instead, only manages to represent a slew of culturally diverse instruments.

“Musical fusion” can be described as the blending of two or more musical traditions or genres in a single piece of music. In successful scenarios, these different styles complement each other, resulting in a piece that is both elegant and aesthetically pleasing. Every region of the globe has its own unique, proprietary styles and traditions, making cross-cultural fusion extremely difficult to coordinate. A piece that incorporates a Tuvan throat singer, a sitar, and a French horn, for instance, would seem awkward to almost anybody. It takes a skilled and open-minded composer to conceptualize such a blend of traditions.

In Orion, Glass attempts to bring together the traditions of seven different countries from all corners of the globe: Australia, China, Canada, Gambia, Brazil, India, and Greece. He wrote the piece for the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, which explains his desire to promote pan-culturalism and global unity. As Glass himself explained, “Orion, the largest constellation in the night sky, can be seen at all times of year, from both hemispheres… And so the star-studded skies, seen from every corner of our planet, inspired [me] to present a multicultural, international, musical composition” (http://www.greekworks.com). Glass hoped to demonstrate the harmony in which all human beings coexist, while simultaneously preserving the uniqueness of every civilization’s musical heritage. To a certain extent, Glass does what he sets out to do. The Australia movement features the Aboriginal didgeridoo, which keeps a constant drone below the rest of the ensemble. Similarly, China features the pipa (stringed lute), while Canada illustrates the indigenous country-folk style of music with the Celtic fiddle. The Gambia movement features a Mandingo griot, while Brazil features some indigenous percussion instruments and various bells. India is portrayed by its most famous national instrument, the sitar. The piece comes to a momentous end with Greece, which employs a somewhat haunting folk song, rewritten by Glass. There are three brief interludes that connect some of the movements, allowing for further collaboration between the various instruments. In the first interlude, for example, the pipa playfully interacts with the didgeridoo in an improvised vignette.

Ultimately, however, Orion’s shortcomings outnumber its accomplishments. Instead of creating music that is fresh and original, Glass relies on his signature style of articulated arpeggios throughout most of the piece. In fact, the indigenous instruments are mostly auxiliary in the grand scheme of Orion. In the first movement, Glass does not blend American and Australian musical traditions; instead, he uses the didgeridoo as a singular representation of Australian music in an otherwise classical piece. Instead of merging musical traditions with each other, Glass tries to unite them with techniques that are largely derived from his repertoire of compositions. Even the interludes are pointless – they are brief experiments in which two completely different instruments are juxtaposed without any overarching structures or themes. In this sense, any true cross-cultural dialogues are overshadowed by the overemphasized dissimilarities between the instruments. Therefore, the didgeridoo, the pipa, and the sitar are reduced to mere puppets in a grandiose, somewhat pretentious, cross-cultural hodgepodge of global sounds.

Dartmouth College is one of the coolest educational institutions on the face of the earth, and it never ceases to amaze me.  On January 15th, Philip Glass simply strolled into my Ethnomusicology class, holding a hot cup of coffee, and began speaking with us as if we were a group of old friends.  Whenever he spoke, the classroom would go completely silent, except for the sound of my jaw dropping to the ground.

When I wasn’t too busy keeping my jaw from hitting the floor, I was asking as many questions as time would allow.  It was truly an incredible experience.  Of course, when I wasn’t asking questions, I was scribbling notes, trying desperately to salvage his words.  After all, is Philip Glass not the most famous classical composer of today’s world?  And now, I would love nothing more than to post some quotes that I was able to catch.  These quotes cannot be found on any other site, for I heard them uttered straight from his own mouth, only a few days ago.  Enjoy!

“All art forms have a purpose and a focus.  Poetry is about speaking.  Music is about hearing.”

“Film music is counter-musical.”

“I started writing music because I wanted to know where it came from… To this day, I have been unsuccessful in finding the answer.”

“World Music is a two-way street.  In fact, it’s a highway.”

“Professor [Nadia] Boulanger taught me the art of auditory hallucination.”

“There are many languages: the language of mathematics, the language of art, the language of dance… the most elegant is the language of music.”