Bryan Christian: Each flows into the other
Irritable Hedgehog

Michael Vincent Waller: Moments
Unseen Worlds

R. Andrew Lee reasserts his standing as today's preeminent durational pianist with this two-hour work for piano and electronics by Bryan Christian, a composer and data scientist based in the Washington D.C. area. It's hardly the first time Lee's tackled something of such magnitude: also issued on Irritable Hedgehog, his 2013 recording of Dennis Johnson's November weighs in at almost five hours, and his rendering of Randy Gibson's The Four Pillars Appearing from The Equal D under Resonating Apparitions of The Eternal Process in The Midwinter Starfield 16 VIII 10 (Kansas City) lasts three and a half. Speaking of his attraction to extended minimalist works, Lee says, “Rather than pushing and pulling listeners through a piece ... minimal music presents an invitation to explore a musical space slowly and carefully.” That's certainly applies to Each flows into the other, which, like the other two, advances in languorous manner, with Lee sustaining a remarkable level of concentration throughout and executing it with equally remarkable degrees of control, patience, and pacing.

Each flows into the other (its title stemming from a line in Geoffrey of Vinsauf's thirteenth-century Poetria nova: “Each flows into the other; and from this double river, expression will overflow”) exemplifies the composer's longstanding interest in juxtaposing diatonic and spectral sound worlds, the former associated with the traditional Western classical system of major and minor scales (think clear interval delineations) and the latter focused on tone color, microtones, and overtones. Representative of the two sound worlds, piano and electronics appear, the keyboard appearing as delicate acoustic improvisations against an ever-mutating backdrop of sixteen electronically generated drones. To characterize the relationship as foreground and background doesn't quite cover it: during the two hours, the overtones of the harmonic series in the electronic component stretches until a state of harmonic stability is reached seventy-four minutes into the work. The sounds cross over into various diatonic keys, whereby the pitches weave back into the piano part and fade out of the electronics. Instead of separation, then, the two parts flow into and out of each other, their movements manifesting both convergence and divergence.

The contention made by Rebecca Lentjes in the liner notes that Each flows into the other is more environment than journey is accurate. The listener isn't moved along from one narrative position to another but instead inhabits an extended sound pace. She's also correct in asserting that after hearing the album, the listener may well experience heightened levels of attunement to sounds normally overlooked, such as the hum of a refrigerator engine or the buzz emanating from hydro wires. That said, Each flows into the other isn't static: changes in presentation do occur over the course of the work, and very discernible differences in the piano writing are present between the two halves. Lee drapes minimal sprinklings across the electronics in the opening half, the latter always and audibly present as a softly shimmering element that generates tension when its unusual tonalities are paired with the diatonic pitches of the piano. With the passing of time, his harmonious extemporizations grow more elaborate—the gaps between notes lessen, and single notes eventually become double-handed patterns—until moments arise when his playing swells so dramatically in density the electronics are rendered inaudible. Seventy-one minutes into the work, the repetition of a single bass note is joined by rolling waves and clusters that rise in triumphant affirmation, Lee's chiming chords and melodic figures spanning multiple registers as the material advances. The intensity subsides, however, as the work enters its final half hour with peaceful episodes gradually outnumbering aggressive ones.

Each flows into the other is a long and decidedly meditative piece, certainly, but it's also rich in incident; it's ever-changing and thus always engaging, especially when the listener's attention alternates between the horizontal evolving and the vertical juxtapositions between the piano and electronics. Described by Lentjes as a “two-hour exploration of intervallic and spectral musical relationships,” the work thus demands much from the pianist, which makes Lee, a performer long comfortable with long-form improvisation, the ideal choice for the project.

Which is not to suggest he only ever tackles extended works. The pieces he plays on Moments, the latest collection by New York-based composer Michael Vincent Waller, are bite-size morsels compared to Christian's towering opus. Following Waller's 2015 debut The South Shore (on Phill Niblock's XI Records) and 2017's Trajectories (issued on Recital, the release features performances by pianist Lee and cellist Seth Parker Woods), Moments perpetuates the style of the earlier releases with eleven introspective pieces (three of them multi-movement) marked by concision, melodicism, animation, clarity of expression, and a resistance to superfluous ornamentation.

In drawing on the Western classical tradition and in eschewing dissonance and experimental tendencies, Waller's something of an outlier amongst today's current crop of young American composers. Whereas others of his generation look to Cage, Feldman, Ligeti, and Reich, say, for inspiration, Waller's music has more in common with Satie and even Chopin. Neither is Waller averse to emphasizing an emotional, even sentimental dimension in his miniatures, as intimated by the titles and general content of the material. Similar to Trajectories, Lee's not the only musician appearing on the fifty-seven-minute Moments either (though he is the primary one), with two works performed by vibraphonist William Winant.

It's not uncommon for Waller to structure a piece using a repeating bass pattern in the left hand as a foundation that allows for freer explorations, melodic and otherwise, in the right (see For Papa and Divertimento). A typical setting often chimes with the kind of resonance one associates with folk material; reverberation also plays a part, especially in those instances where notes are sparse in number (e.g., Nocturnes, “No. 1”). Waller's penchant for stripped-down design is evident in the four-part Return from L.A., from the gentle arpeggiated chords that initiate the opening movement's otherwise sparkling trajectory to the solemn fourth. Written in 2016 in memory of Pauline Oliveros, For Pauline deemphasizes melodic and rhythmic variations for chords played six times in alternately upper and lower registers; the stark, enigmatic Stolen Moments also changes things up by presenting a series of chords that are slowly arpeggiated.

The appearance of vibraphone after ten piano-only tracks is initially startling, but the listener quickly adjusts to the change, especially when Winant's instrument lends itself so well to Waller's music with its marriage of percussive bass figures and melodic treble patterns. During the four-part Love, “Baby's Return” strikingly segues from 4/4 to waltz time and back again, whereas the metronomic patterns powering “Sizing” evoke the image of people bustling down a NYC sidewalk at lunch hour. Vibrafono Studio adopts a stricter formal approach than much of what's presented on the recording when patterns are executed at different tempos and multiple combinations result, some interlocking precisely and others less predictably.

September 2019