STAFF PICKS: Friday Faves

Posted on May 26, 2017 by maestrobeats

Second Inversion hosts share a favorite selection from their weekly playlist. Tune in on Friday, May 26 to hear these pieces and plenty of other new and unusual music from all corners of the classical genre!

David Lang: the national anthems III. fame and glory (Cantaloupe Music)
Calder Quartet and Los Angeles Master Chorale

A survey of national anthems from nations all over the world confronted composer David Lang with a startling reality: the texts of these songs are generally quite violent. It seems that in the course of expressing national pride through song, we tend to reflect on the bloody struggle of war that gave us the freedoms we now enjoy.

Lang put together a sort of “meta-anthem” text from the anthems of a few nations, and observed that “hiding in every national anthem is the recognition that we are insecure about our freedoms, that freedom is fragile, and delicate, and easy to lose.” His music for string quartet and chorus, titled the national anthems in purposeful lower-case, exudes this unsettled feeling of insecurity.

“Fame and glory” has a lot of counterpoint and imitation, seemingly creating a dialogue within the chorus that is mindful of the past and its relationship with the present. It’s not overtly political music, but it is incredibly sensitive, contemplative, and hopeful. Lang has successfully achieved a sort of extra-mindfulness in his setting of this pieced-together text, a fascinating reflection on and transformation of the one-sided militarism of national anthems. – Geoffrey Larson

Tune in to Second Inversion in the 11am hour today to hear this piece.

Toru Takemitsu: Toward the Sea
Michael Partington, guitar and Paul Taub, alto flute

Celebrated Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu breathes a meditative second life into the tale of Moby Dick with his three-section work, Toward the Sea. In the final section, entitled “Cape Cod,” Michael Partington’s guitar gently chops and forms the New England seascape while Paul Taub’s airy alto flute responds as Captain Ahab’s ship, the Pequod.

It is a beautifully haunting meditation paired with images of Cape Cod inspired by Melville’s novel. With these pieces, Takemitsu emphasizes the spiritual dimension of the book, quoting the passage, “meditation and water are wedded together.” He also said that “the music is an homage to the sea which creates all things, and a sketch for the sea of tonality.”

The composer wrote no bar lines and took a Cagian, aleatory approach to the work, in which performers are given more interpretive license. The flute’s primary melodic line derives from the spelling of “sea” in German musical notation – E♭-E-A – a motif which later became a favorite of Takemitsu’s. – Brendan Howe

Tune in to Second Inversion in the 2pm hour today to hear this piece.

Carolina Eyck: “Metsa Happa (Jumping River)” (Butterscotch Records)
Carolina Eyck and ACME

If you thought the theremin was only for corny sci-fi film soundtracks and intergalactic sound effects, think again. Carolina Eyck, one of the world’s foremost theremin virtuosi, has spent the past decade exploring and expanding the musical possibilities of this eerie electronic instrument.

Her album Fantasias for Theremin and String Quartet, recorded with members of ACME, takes the instrument out of the galaxies and into the woods of Northern Germany, with each piece inspired by her childhood memories of growing up there.

In keeping with the whimsical, free-spirited explorations of childhood, Eyck composed her Fantasias in full takes with zero editing. In “Metsa Happa (Jumping River),” theremin melodies playfully hop in and out of a rolling river of strings, soaring high above the waves and diving deep beneath their iridescent surface. – Maggie Molloy

Tune in to Second Inversion in the 3pm hour today to hear this piece.

Stevie Wonder: “Superstition” (arr. Kathy Halvorson)
Threeds Oboe Trio

Turns out you can replace a synthesizer and a clavinet with a few reed instruments and you still have a song that’s funky as hell. Threeds Oboe Trio’s cover of Stevie Wonder’s classic “Superstition” shows off impressive technical ability and a rebellious sense of humor. “Superstition” has a driving bassline provided by clarinet and, since it swings just as hard as the original, it will have you smiling and grooving and bebopping before the oboes even kick in. – Rachele Hales

Tune in to Second Inversion in the 7pm hour today to hear this piece.

ALBUM REVIEW: Carolina Eyck’s Fantasias for Theremin and String Quartet

Posted on October 17, 2016 by maestrobeats

by Maggie Molloy

If you thought the theremin was only for corny sci-fi film soundtracks and intergalactic sound effects, think again. It may be October, but the theremin makes (electromagnetic) waves all year round.
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Just ask Carolina Eyck, one of the world’s foremost theremin virtuosi—in fact, she quite literally wrote the book on it. For the past decade, her performances in classical and contemporary music around the world have helped promote the instrument and build its repertoire.

For Eyck’s latest project, she composed and recorded Fantasias for Theremin and String Quartet: an entire album of works highlighting the theremin’s unique capacity for improvisation and imagination. Oh, and she didn’t collaborate with just any old string players, either: the album features American Contemporary Music Ensemble (ACME) members Caroline Shaw and Ben Russell on violins, Caleb Burhans on viola, and Clarice Jensen on cello.

Conceptually, the album was inspired by Eyck’s vivid childhood memories of the woods of Northern Germany where she grew up. In keeping with the whimsical, free-spirited explorations of childhood, Eyck composed the Fantasias for the 12” vinyl LP format—meaning that all performances were recorded in full takes with no editing. The string players tracked the scores first, and then Eyck overdubbed her deft, fluid, single-take improvisations—hence the title Fantasias.

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The result is an organic virtuosity that leads the listener through the hazy and nostalgic soundscapes of Northern Germany, each piece an open window into Eyck’s imagination. And to add another layer of whimsy, the titles for each piece were devised by Eyck and the album’s producer, Allen Farmelo, by scanning multiple Scandinavian languages for pleasing lingual combinations.

The album begins with “Oakunar Lynntuja (Strange Birds),” Eyck’s nimble hands flittering up and down the theremin’s two antennas to produce the sound of metallic birds chirping amidst a forest of angular strings.

“Leyohmi (Luminescence)” shows a very different side of the instrument: Eyck’s patient fingers pull thoughtful whispers from the theremin, its gentle voice shimmering softly among luminous harmonics. Alternative bowing techniques blur the line between the theremin and strings, immersing the listener in a glistening and ethereal soundscape.

Then, as if having drifted into a fairy tale, “Nukkuva Luohla (Sleepy Dragon)” picks up with a sputtering sparkle of strings. A snarling theremin grumbles across its lowest registers like a drowsy dragon tossing and turning—and the strings flicker about like sparks from its snoring breath.

The strings swell and tumble like waves in the next fantasy, “Metsa Happa (Jumping River).” Eyck’s theremin melodies playfully hop in and out of the rolling river, soaring high above the waves and diving deep beneath their iridescent surface.

Another idyllic forest scene inspires “Dappa Solarjos (Dappled Sunlight).” Wavering string arpeggios imitate the forest of mottled leaves, with Eyck’s theremin painting the full spectrum of sunlight: light and dark, daytime and dusk.

The album closes with a more abstracted fantasia: “Nousta-Needad (Ascent-Descent).” A staggered string backdrop sets the stage for Eyck’s theremin as it hums quietly up and down from its highest, airiest registers to its lowest, earthiest grumbles—at times even crossing the realm into a distinctly humanlike voice.

It’s incredible that an instrument played with no physical contact by the performer could ever sound so human—that music once confined solely to intergalactic sound effects could ever be so intimate. These fantasias are proof of Eyck’s profound understanding of her instrument and, perhaps even more inspiring, her playful and imaginative musical voice.

ALBUM REVIEW: Kalevi Aho’s Theremin Concerto & Horn Concerto

Posted on May 23, 2016 by maestrobeats

by Brendan Howe

Contemporary orchestral composer extraordinaire Kalevi Aho gives us an abstract, impressionistic version of the extremes of Lapland – the far northern region of his native Finland – in a dual release of his Horn Concerto and Theremin Concerto. The concertos feature soloists Annu Salminen and Carolina Eyck, respectively.

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Throughout the single-movement Horn Concerto, Aho added what he describes as a ‘ritualistic’ element, wherein the soloist opens the piece backstage, then moves gradually across the stage from left to right before going backstage again towards the end.

annu Beginning with spare details from Annu Salminen’s French horn, the concerto moves forward to reveal a discordant undercurrent of energy that continues throughout both pieces. Strings pierce like icy wind over the gray landscape, horns call to one another in pine forests, and clarinets and oboes hurry from their front doors to their cars and hope the frost hasn’t yet set in their engines. There are occasional moments of respite and silent wonder in this dreamlike hallucination. The piece has a structural and stylistic integrity that makes it at once recognizable and unpredictable – a unique and intriguing combination.

Before smoothly segueing into the Theremin Concerto as Aho does, here are some brief notes on the unusual device. As the world’s first electronic instrument, it has accrued an extremely limited canon since its debut 96 years ago, due to its otherworldly, hair-prickling tone. For perspective, 1950s sci-fi movie soundtracks and the Beach Boys’ Good Vibrations comprise its best-known works.

JmDl184A_400x400 Carolina Eyck is one of few extremely talented thereminists in the world. When Aho saw her perform, he was fascinated by the way that the instrument is played, merely by moving and manipulating one’s hands within the electromagnetic field of its two antennae. This inherent theatrical element, combined with Eyck’s flair for performance, inspired him to write the Theremin Concerto specifically for her.

The concerto is organized into eight continuous movements, based on the traditional eight-season division of the year of Lapland’s native Sami people. It is telling (though unsurprising) to note that the titles of five of the eight movements involve or imply some form of snow or frost.

Ernte, or Harvest, opens the work, seemingly just after all the festivities have ended and the coming winter looms large in mind. The controlled wail of the theremin complements the orchestra—for now.

The second and third movements, entitled Herbstverfarbung (Autumn Colors) and Schwarzerschnee (Black Snow) make use of the vocal capacities of both clarinet and theremin, each calling their kin to come home as the daylight wanes ever more quickly. Aho expertly evokes the micro-events occurring within the season in preparation for the long darkness, and adds a faint, percussive texture of dead brambles as the work moves into Weihnachtsdunkelheit (Christmas Darkness). Tinkling triangles chime every so often, revealing a mystical spirit in the otherwise bleak scene.

The next movement, Frostwinter, holds nothing back, and the full, cold, spectral fury of the blizzard is unleashed. The listener is enveloped in a white-out world of high winds and ferocious frost, semitonal dissonance between the strings, horns, and woodwinds paint a sort of grayscale Munchian backdrop for the completely out-of-control theremin.

Once the storm is passed, a triangle cautiously pierces the snow-muffled landscape, and people peek out of their windows to see their first sunlight for weeks as the strings build upon a rare, major tonality.

Not being one to give the impression that all is well, Aho continues with the final three turbulent movements—Tragender Schnee (Crusted Snow), Eisschmelze (Melting of the Ice), and the final, longest movement, Mitternachtssonne (Midnight Sun)—tempering his work with the wisdom of those who live through cycles of extremes every year. He allows the listener to recognize that judgments of good and bad are irrelevant because the cycle is, by definition, a unified whole. Each instrument, especially the outlandish theremin, weaves its own path and, occasionally, helps another navigate the harsh seasonal shifts of Lapland.

ALBUM OF THE WEEK: Improvisations for Theremin and Piano

Posted on December 29, 2014 by maestrobeats

by Maggie Molloy

The theremin is not just for eerie sci-fi film soundtracks anymore—theremin prodigy Carolina Eyck is proving that the instrument once restricted to flying spaceships and intergalactic sound effects could just maybe have a wider range than we thought.

Eyck studied theremin from a young age with one of history’s most influential thereminists, Lydia Kavina. By the time she was 14, Eyck had developed her own technique, which she later published at age 17 in a book titled “The Art of Playing the Theremin.”

Now one of the world’s foremost theremin virtuosi, Eyck has performed and taught workshops around the world, and has collaborated with many prominent artists in both classical and contemporary musical settings.

In her latest project, she collaborated with pianist Christopher Tarnow to create an album of improvised theremin and piano pieces which push the boundaries of this electronic instrument beyond simply outer space.

The result is a new type of otherworldly sound—one that is haunting and ethereal, dark but unmistakably sincere.

The album, titled “Improvisations for Theremin and Piano,” combines primarily classical harmonies and counterpoint with the spontaneity and freedom of more avant-garde and experimental musical genres.

Though the two Leipzig-based musicians had originally considered recording an album of through-composed classical music, after discussing repertoire with their producer Allen Farmelo the three decided to create a fully improvised album.

“I was craving a more daring and collaborative approach to working together, one that would allow the studio to become a site of mutual creation rather than just documentation,” said Farmelo, who produced, recorded, mixed, and mastered the album. Farmelo is the founder and director of Butterscotch Records, the label on which the album was released.

In accordance with this egalitarian spirit, the musicians decided not to edit any of the material on the record. Instead, each of the pieces appears on the album just as it was performed in the studio.

“On this record what you hear is exactly what was played, and in my opinion the absence of editing lends these performances an organic vulnerability that is not always heard from meticulous virtuosos,” Farmelo said. “With vulnerability comes depth as we sense something slightly uncertain moving out on the horizon beyond mastery. I wouldn’t trade that depth for any amount of perceived competency, and I consider it one of this record’s most potent qualities.”

In order to create a sense of focus for each of the pieces, Farmelo wrote short phrases on dozens of sheets of paper and gave them to Eyck and Tarnow. Each phrase provided a general image or free-associative idea from which the musicians then created an improvised piece. The eight pieces which made it onto the album get their titles from the phrases that inspired each of them.

For instance, “Earth and Sky” features Tarnow performing as the earth and Eyck as the sky. Her theremin whispers shrilly above Tarnow’s rumbling and echoing bass chords, creating an austere but entrancing musical texture.

The musicians switch to a fuller sound for “Somber Waking Up,” which features a repeated melodic theremin motif weaving in and out of a softly pedaled piano backdrop.

“A Whale in Love” takes a more thematic approach, with the theremin’s tone as large and lethargic as a whale floating slowly through Tarnow’s intermittent harmonic waves and glistening melodic bubbles.

“Quiet Snowfall” features vivid musical imagery as well. Tarnow’s piano melodies sparkle softly above Eyck’s ambient, icy theremin backdrop, reminiscent of delicate snowflakes twinkling on a foggy winter night.

The timbre changes again for “Deep in the Earth,” in which Eyck’s theremin growls and rumbles as though it is drilling deep into the ground, the piano echoing its descent with its ominous intermittent chords.

The album ends with the unforgettable “Haunted Ballerina.” Tarnow sets the stage with jingling piano motif that repeats itself over and over like an eerie, broken music box. His haunting piano motifs dance with Eyck’s ghostly, low-pitched theremin melodies to create a lingering sense of darkness that lasts long after the final notes have been played.

With its remarkably wide range of musical timbres and textures, “Improvisations for Theremin and Piano” proves that the theremin is capable of much more than just cheesy sci-fi sound effects. It showcases the instrument as a genuinely heartfelt and expressive musical instrument, and in doing so, it pushes the theremin into truly uncharted territory.