Simone Dinnerstein & A Far Cry: Circles
Orange Mountain Music

Salt Lake Electric Ensemble: Music With Changing Parts
Orange Mountain Music

Issued on Philip Glass's own record label, these two Orange Mountain Music releases offer a fascinating study in contrast, given that the one presents a new treatment of his 1970 opus Music With Changing Parts (MWCP) and the other a work representative of his current style, the Piano Concerto No. 3, in its world premiere recording. Almost fifty years separates the two works, and as one would expect there are radical differences in style and tone between them, even if a subtle through-line can be identified also.

Music With Changing Parts is a fitting follow-up to The Salt Lake Electric Ensemble's (SLEE) 2010 recording of Terry Riley's 1964 work In C, SLEE's version of the latter notable for being the first iteration to primarily use electronic instruments. Ostensibly led by Matt Starling, SLEE was conceived as a performance vehicle through which essential contemporary works would be re-imagined using electronic means. In the case of MWCP, for example, eight laptop computers and Ableton Live software were involved, with the computer element in the ten-member group augmented by individual members playing guitar, tenor saxophone, flugelhorn, trumpet, bass guitar, keyboards, and cello (a guest guitarist and vocalist also contribute long tones to the project).

Similar to In C, MWCP allows room for the performers to shape the material in particular ways. In Glass's case, the score consists of a progression of seventy-six harmonic patterns executed by performers who are free to repeat them however many times they wish and to play the patterns using any combination of instruments. In amongst these patterns, players are instructed to improvise a series of extended tones, their placement determined by the performers' attentive listening to the overall group sound.

In the release's liner notes, much of the text centers on the challenges involved in recording the work then versus now. In the pre-computer era, a physical detail such as fatigue had to be considered, given how demanding Glass's charts were for even the most capable musician to execute. The challenge is different for SLEE, with fatigue no longer a factor when the Ableton-enabled laptop can generate patterns with mathematical precision for any conceivable amount of time. Instead, the focus shifts to sound design and the refinement thereof and the need to mitigate the potential stiffness and sterility that could emerge when machines are capable of realizing a score free of the normal kinds of imperfections that occur when acoustic instruments are involved. It's an interesting conundrum: whereas Glass and company aspired to realize a largely error-free performance that couldn't help but include them when the work was performed using pre-computer means, SLEE sought to find a way to humanize its performance by allowing human cracks in the digital facade, so to speak, to enter into the process.

In truth, there was little need for Starling and company to fret over the issue: no matter how automated-sounding Glass's score is, his immediately identifiable artistic sensibility comes through, and it's this that constitutes the primary through-line present within his entire body of work. Never a moment arises during the forty-six minutes of the SLEE performance when one isn't aware it's Glass music being played. That being said, an early work such as MWCP accentuates the motorik pulsation of his music to a greater degree than the melodic contours that gradually assumed more prominence over time, and in its relentless, wave-like flow, the work invites comparison to other long-form Glass settings such as Music in Twelve Parts, Einstein On the Beach's “Train” and “Spaceship” sections, or the early Dance pieces. Those trademark arpeggios and repetitions are in plentiful supply, making MWCP as excellent a representation of his early style as any other.

On the companion recording, the Piano Concerto No. 3 is paired with Bach's Keyboard Concerto no. 7 in G minor, the seed for the idea planted when pianist Simone Dinnerstein and Glass discovered a shared interest in Bach's music over breakfast in 2014. When Glass offered to write a piece for her, she suggested that it be a concerto for piano and strings that could be paired with one of Bach's own, a move that in turn would reveal connections between the compositions and collapse the temporal divide between them. In the release's liner notes, Glass clarifies the way in which Bach's piece connects to his: “My basic musical formation was influenced by the study of Bach for years during my studies with Nadia Boulanger. Inasmuch, while this piece itself is not directly influenced by Bach, his music is by definition a part of mine.” The final critical part of the equation is the Boston-based, self-conducted string orchestra A Far Cry, which co-commissioned the Glass work and performs alongside Dinnerstein on this world premiere recording.

All involved execute Bach's concerto with grace, the rendering by Dinnerstein and A Far Cry distinguished by fluidity and charm. The opening “Allegro” receives a lively performance from the engaged partners, the movement's dance-like figures standing in marked contrast to the stately sway of the central “Andante.” The fourteen-minute presentation concludes with a framing “Allegro” that's as spirited as the first, with the pianist in particular demonstrating a remarkable technical command in her playing.

Of the two pieces, however, it's Glass's that is the release's primary selling-point. While it shares with Bach's a three-movement structure, Glass's parts company from his in opting for an air of wistful delicacy throughout, with the third movement, which carries with it a dedication to Arvo Part, the gentlest of the three. As they do with the opening concerto, Dinnerstein and A Far Cry execute Glass's thirty-three-minute setting with care and warmth of feeling, their sensibilities clearly attuned to the composer's. The pianist invests her playing with immense sensitivity of touch, and her handling of tempo modulations significantly enhances the impact the material has. For its part, the silken strings of the chamber orchestra provide a luscious and unerring counterpoint to her playing.

It's hardly a secret that Glass has critics, those dismissive of his music for its repetitive character and the degree to which one piece seems to recycle elements of another. In that regard the Piano Concerto No. 3 provides such detractors with fresh ammunition, given how similar it sounds to many another late-period Glass work. Yet while that might be true, there's also no denying the beauty of the result, the concerto being an inordinately arresting example of Glass's lyrical style. There's a grace and tenderness to the music that's so affecting one could imagine even the most fervent Glass critic having second thoughts. When unison lines by the piano and strings emerge two minutes into the final movement, it's hard to resist the music's seductive pull, and the moments that appear thereafter prove as affecting. For fourteen minutes, the listener is held spellbound by the music's plaintive, haunting allure as the tempo slows and the volume reduces to an exquisite hush.

April 2018