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FTE.1
(Damnila) (1998)
It begins with an artificial reconstruction of a man and a girl
talking in Italian. As if both are taking part in a language course
for mannequins or marionettes. Then come elegant tone rows, strings
of lights. High-pitched electronic textures. Futurist performances
revealed in the instantaneous, the dynamic. Isolated lines of dialogue
emerge from the music. They are adapted from ‘Amoooore’, a theatrepiece
by Volt, real name Fani Ciotti, form the volume Archivoltaici
published in Milan in 1916 by Edizione Futurista di Poesia. A ‘THEATRICAL
Parolibera SYNTHESIS’; it presents three dynamic sequences simultaneously,
involving Musical synchronism, a puppet show in a hotel hallway,
and the Futurists’ most notorious murder victim, moonlight.
A love
story for emotional machines can be heard, unfolding in simple repeated
sentences.
  Ti dono il mio cor (I present you with my heart)... Damni
la (Give it to me)...
 
Non posso, ho guirato fede ad altri (I can’t, I swore to be faithful
to others)...
  Lei gli offre al fronte (She offers him her forehead)...
‘The
Futurists are, in a way, the industrial form of the same theatrical
things which I find connected to Sun Ra, Armstrong, and Stockhausen,’
Peter comments.
Footsteps
and a rain storm, elements from some forgotten radio play, come
and go. And beyond them, a vast electronic world, offering the possibility
of new sounds and structures in music.
‘I
use electronics as a soundscape but in a way that are aligned out
of a free jazz composition. Electronics are an extra line which
represents free jazz. Again, as in all those pieces, it’s structure
and expression that are fighting each other. One of the lessons
you learn from things people say about free jazz is that it’s very
expressive but after a while, it has no structure any more. It’s
so predictable. But I do like the high energy and the directness
of it.’
FA.5.1
(1994)
‘I swear...The
structure is so concise, the compression of thought so extreme that
Dennis Rudge’s voice appears to have been squeezed out of the music;
a compacted mania formed under pressure.’ ‘I
swear...the words become raw slivers of sound, lost in silence.’
‘I
swear I blew my top!’ ‘I
swear...’ Peter van Bergen explains, regarding the composition’s
tight, percussive thrusts. ‘I regard it as a melodic song. In this
piece only timing, length, and repetition are free.’ The text, a
simple line of five words caught somewhere between laughter and
rage, is taken from an old Louis Armstrong record. Why Armstrong?
‘Because
he is a colorful person and he has all kinds of different sides
to him, so what he does is very expressive. I regard it as sometimes
very joyful and sometimes very sad. It’s very expressive in terms
of his musical playing, but also in his facial expressions. He is
very explosive in what he does. I see him as a great artist, and
for me he has a very strong connection with people I feel closest
to. People like Sun Ra, Stockhausen, Anthony Braxton. For me, he
is in that same line.’
FE.3
(Life/Death) (1997/8)
‘Life...Death...’
Words are also sounds. They reverberate in the silence. Their meaning
expands to fill the space around them. What we are listening to
now is the sound of Sun Ra reading aloud from one of his own texts.’
  ‘Forget
the word "life"’.
Peter
van Bergen: ‘For
me, silence is as important as what is played. One of the nicest
features of jazz and improvised music is that you can hear the musicians
think. And this is an aspect of the silences in these compositions.
You can feel the tension: where will the music go next? Will someone
take a solo? What direction will the piece take? There are so many
possibilities in compositions such as these, which consist of very
small elements. That is why the pieces are called "The Factory
Series", because there is a row of factors which make up each
piece, and you can switch form one chord to another but never in
the same order, of course. So this is one aspect...’
  ‘To
be rather than to die.’
‘The
other
aspect is its connection with Noh Theatre and to its thinking about
Yin and Yang: silence and sound.’
  ‘Everything
you do here affects other beings...above.’
‘What
is apparent to me about Sun Ra and Armstrong, is that they have
a very funny side, a very aggressive and expressive side, and also
a very sad side. They have many theatrical sides, which offer so
many more possibilities for expressiveness. Sun Ra has these sides.
I met him and the Arkestra a lot, and what struck me was the very
joyful songs and, at the same time, the extreme anger in the free
improvisations.’
The
second text, declaimed by Dennis Rudge, ‘I’ and ‘Mine’ is adapted
from Book 3/XXI: ‘Anger’ from The Dialogues of Seneca, a
praetor of Imperial Rome who was entrusted with the education of
young Nero. He eventually committed suicide.
Words
are just events in time. Like lives: Lucius Annaeus Seneca (AD 4–AD 65), Sun Ra (22/5/1914–30/5/1993). The third text, ‘The
Endless Realm’ is taken from The Immeasurable Equation by
Sun Ra, originally published in 1972 by Infinity Inc/Saturn Research,
Chicago, and then reissued in an abridged form in 1985. Dennis Rudge’s
delivery conveys a majestic impression of nothingness without limit,
‘that stretches out, realm beyond realm...’
‘And
then it disappears into space. It ends with electronics and Dennis
laughing.’
  ‘Life...Death...’
‘The
length of the chords is partly specified and partly open,’ Peter
comments. ‘This is one of the main rhythm features of the pieces
because decay is a very important element out of which to organize
a rhythm feeling. Techno works that way as well, did you know that?
The rhythms in Techno are determined by the decay of the echoes,
but in jazz, classical and free improvised music it’s a highly underestimated
feature. In fact, it’s a technique. The implications of working
with chords like these, which is why I mentioned Techno, offer great
possibilities for connecting music with electronics.’ And will electronics
play an increasing important role in future compositions?
Pause.
‘Yes.’ Laughter.
F.001.6
(1996)
Peter van Bergen: ‘It’s a vehicle for Huib Emmer. He can
direct the group, and it’s a kind of solo piece for him.’
Huib
Emmer: ‘There are a few tones I play on my guitar-four tones,
in fact- and we switch around groups of musical gestures. So if
I play a G sharp, the players go into one group of musical gestures,
but if I play a B, they go into another one. I conduct the ensemble
through these separate groups of ideas. These four notes become
four triggers that lead towards different textures.’
A composer
in his own right, Huib Emmer has worked closely with both Girard
Bouwhuis and Peter van Bergen since their time playing together
in the Hoketus ensemble during the 1980’s.
Peter
van Bergen: ‘Huib’s ability to shape things is apparent in this
piece. It has a very clear form, and he’s very funny in his playing.
His musicality comes out.’
F.T.1
(1995)
OK, let’s go crazy. ‘What is it you got that my wife thinks you
so hot?’
‘That’s
very much Louis Armstrong.’ Splayed out against the staccato of
intensities of Girard Bouwhuis attacking the piano in his opening
solo. Or Johan Faber’s busy percussion work powering up beneath
Peter van Bergen’s flailing, unfettered tenor sax.
‘This
is not a kind of historical CD. I don’t want it to be seen as a
rediscovery of Louis Armstrong. It’s about how much you can get
from a few single elements. You throw four elements on the ground,
and they start to react with each other and it gets more and more
volatile, like a chemical reaction, so you add the element of the
voice to the piano, and you have little things coming in from the
group, which all have very different characters. Then you start
to move them around, and they set each other off. The chemical reaction
becomes more and more explosive. The role of Dennis is that he’s
the guy who takes a lighter and sets is on fire.’
FA.3
(1994/5)
Born into poverty in New Orleans, the son of a Storyville prostitute,
Louis Armstrong was arrested as a young boy for carrying a gun.‘...Happy
Dixie Band...’ He learned to play the cornet in Joseph Jones’
reform-school marching band. The name inspires confidence. Commands
a little respect, even.
‘This
is a blues number,’ Peter observes. ‘A beautiful song with a lot
of entertainment, but what it consists of is being torn apart.’
As its core is the sound of a divided social space collapsing in
on itself, as Armstrong’s words become heightened fragments of a
barely controlled inner frenzy.
‘The
Armstrong text pushes this very blues-like song more towards hysteria.
I made an arrangement with Dennis that he has to break up certain
lines and the happiness should be turned into a kind of madness.’
  ‘WellhulloJack.’
As
a recording artist Louis Armstrong was able to cross certain barriers
which the color of skin would not otherwise permit. Where black
performers in mainstream movies were kept firmly in the background,
the studio microphone permitted him to get up real close to his
audience. Meanwhile, hundreds of ‘race movies’, featuring all-black
casts were being made for segregated theatre audiences. Imagine
the forces at work: big band singer Herbert Jeffrey appearing as
a singing cowboy in The Bronze Buckaroo and Two Gun Man
From Harlem, or Dusty Fletcher in Boarding House Blues,
with Crip Heard, a one-legged, one-armed dance act.
  ‘WELL
HULLO JACK!’
There’s
an icy moment of suspension: Huib Emmer and Patricio Wang chiming
together on electric guitar over Peter van Bergen’s billowing bass
clarinet lines. ‘The boys and I are...’ The
performance takes on an impassioned schizophrenic urgency, no longer
contained by conventions by stage or screen. ‘...glad you came.’
‘As an entertainer,’ Peter says, ‘his psychological behaviour
is treated in the same way as a blues, and the blues is completely
torn apart, and that is what happens to Louis Armstrong in this
song. He flies away into madness.’ ‘You wait until I come back.’
FL.1
(1994/5)
‘This is not so much music theatre.’
The
mood is one of pure abstraction wordless and serene. It offers
a subtle distillation of what occurs between the separate musicians
in LOOS as they work towards the concentrated silence and sense
of stillness which this ensemble is capable of attaining both live
and in the studio. ‘That’s why I picked these musicians. They have
the ability of knowing when to stop and when to go. We have been
playing together now for ten years.’ The discipline and restraint
are both impressive; apparent from the accumulated textures and
chords at the very start of this composition and throughout its
subsequent development. ‘This is a very melodic piece, very musical,
with a separate line for guitar and piano. Three people within the
ensemble can give the cues. In other pieces more can do this, but
in this piece, it all happens at the same time, constantly. The
group should perform the melodic line, but towards a designated
row of chords. What they must do is use this material to perform,
within this technique, a beautiful musical melody. It’s a game all
the time between individuality and a group feeling. It’s a battle
too, but when the process is working, individual expression is able
to come out clearly along with the group feeling. For me, that’s
an ideal situation.
Energy
and directness.
From
the beginning of the century to the end of the millennium.
Ken
Hollings
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