Light In An Empty Space

Surprise

2009-11-08T12:13:00.002+11:00

Hi there,

It's me again, after a heck of a time. I'm still here and thought I'd better sign on once again.

It's been a pretty hectic year creatively, with lots of projects finally realizing fruition. A quick outline:

* An Infinity Room (A.I.R.)
I finally introduced my own ensemble, An Infinity Room. Named after a series of paintings by Rachael Freeman and of course the famous dot works of Kusama. This is, of all things, an electric organ/synthesizer ensemble. I spent a month trawling the countryside for odd, misshapen keyboards. I then exhibited them for a week at Canberra Contemporary Art Space and have performed with them as a group a couple of times hence. Big plans to tour the UK at some point next year.

* Super Critical Mass
The BIG project, for 100 performers all playing the same type of instrument. We of course launched this at CarriageWorks last year and have now presented it in a new way at the Brisbane Festival as part of the Under The Radar series. A week of flutes appearing in all sorts of nooks and crannies such as shopping centre escalators, open air malls and train stations. A new work of mine for around 20 flutes. Plans again to take this project to the UK, as well as other cities in Australia like Melbourne and Canberra.

* Loud And Soft
Finally, a label! Formed with my oldest working colleague Luke Jaaniste. We've yet to release anything but be patient .. it's designed to focus on works with simple architectural premises yet lush sound results. Stay tuned.

* Stammer
More from this long-standing project, again with Luke. In this instance, subjecting a number of turntables to the same LPs with blocking factors such as piles of coins, creating unusual loop-based works.

More to come ...

J

Review

2008-12-25T07:45:00.008+11:00

It's been a good year for my music - and, by Dog, it's about time.

Ten years ago, by contrast, I was a mess. I spent my entire undergrad degree in a perpetual state of fright and ennui. A seven-year writer's block. I was far too rigid, paranoid - and, dare I say, lazy - to write even the simplest of pieces. In fact, I failed my third year because in place of the required hour of music I submitted two 5-minute sketches.

This year, however, I've felt much more revived and courageous. It's as if I've finally had it with wondering "what if?" and "when will I?" and "why didn't I?" and just fucking got off my arse to write stuff. And, happily, opportunities to write have come thick and fast.

Things began promisingly, with my first ever New York premiere: three electronic pieces set to dance by Alice Lee Holland and performed by a new group in Brooklyn. Later I had my first Los Angeles premiere: "Hundreds Of Exploding Suns" for bass flute and electronics, performed by my great friend Antares Boyle.

Between June and October I wrote my first album-length work, an electronic score for Alice Holland's "Preparing To Be Beautiful". We enjoyed five sold-out shows at the Artrage festival in Perth and we're aiming to present the work at future festivals. Working alone at the computer offered me the liberty to explore a number of elements I've been keen on for years: assymetrical rhythms, tautly driven dance music, spacious and reflective electronica.

In late September the Sydney Children's Festival picked up "Critical Mass", a show I'd been developing for the past couple of years with Janet McKay. It was a great success, both artistically and audience-wise, and likewise I was able to explore elements I've long held dear: large-scale bodily choreography, installation, structured improvisation. At the risk of sounding immodest I think my own contribution, "Ascending Children", finally captured my interest in simple, closed forms elegantly and beautifully.

I also managed a few smaller commissions: "Night Nurse (This Thing Deep Inside You It Will Kill You)" for amplified rock quintet, written for Chronology Arts and premiered at the Sound Lounge in Sydney, and "Conception" for 4-part choir and chamber ensemble written for the Stations Of Creation project. Plus, through my Bundanon residency I managed to chip away at a few ongoing pieces including an orchestral chaconne and some piano studies. I also also finally finished a work that, although minor, had preoccupied me for about 6 years: "B Is For Body (In 3 Parts: Feet, Heart, Head)" for celesta/harpsichord/fortepiano.

The main breakthroughs, I think, have been internal. A renewed energy, urgency and aggression towards success. A new bravery. A new industry and confidence. I'm not sure that I've had a Eureka moment, a sudden grand insight into how my music should sound like from now (although I do recall lying in a depressed, feverish haze earlier in the year thinking it was time to be really, seriously courageous with my music - so perhaps that counts). Rather, it's been a slowly building sense of momentum, I guess, and a sense of anger at my previous squandering of time and energy. So I predict bigger and better things to come.

But damn it, why couldn't I have done this well when I was being marked for it?

Now

2008-11-11T13:04:00.003+11:00

In the Sydney Festival's long-awaited program I notice that Fourtet will be "improvising in real-time". Er, right - like there's an alternative?

Taylor

2008-11-08T21:25:00.001+11:00

I am listening to the album Landing by Taylor Duepree. From what I have read he is an American sound artist who runs his own label and is also a graphic designer. I have never seen a photograph of him but in my mind he is handsome and dreamy, with only a very light beard and an ash-brown fringe that occasionally falls over his eyes. He has a quiet confidence, a charisma, that draws to him both men and women. His parents either work or worked in quietly confident industries, like sociology studies or architecture. They gave him such an exotic name because they knew he would grow up to be a much-loved kind of person. He knows how to handle money and has a clean, minimal and well-designed wardrobe with a nod towards the street. He has a very expensive Apple computer but deliberately makeshift furniture. Compared to this imaginary Taylor Duepree I feel failed and timid.

Bald

2008-10-01T15:18:00.028+10:00

It's always bugged me ... just why were Arnold Schoenberg (A) and Mstislav Rostropovich (B) so bald?

I mean, so much more bald-looking than anyone else?

Other people with receding hairlines (C & D) seem to get away with it.

Well, except this guy (E).

And there's no guaranteeing that having hair will make any difference (F).

But with the two maestros, you just can't avoid it. It's serious 'elephant-in-the-room' stuff.

Maybe they just had more forgettable faces. Kind of pudgy and loose. Or weren't especially attractive in the first place. Or because they sometimes dressed like The Beatles but looked so much more professorly. Or maybe that they grew the side bits just a little too long in a way that emphasized their cue-ball domes more than usual. Or maybe because back in the 60s when the world was actually in black and white the lack of hair was all the more shocking (G). And standing next to hairy people didn't help (H).

I used to feel really sick looking at photos Schoenberg; he was so drab and stern and proper and empty (I & J). Like he had an inflamed pancreas and hadn't yet informed anyone. It used to turn me off modern music.

Perhaps he could have compensated: gone all open-shirt and hot chick like Leonard Bernstein (K) or simply worn a hat like Francis Poulenc (L).

Or at least just tried to smile more (H).

Damn it, man, your material was hard enough to sell as it was - next time, get a combover or a makeover, or simply write a damn good tune.

Fear

2008-09-10T22:10:00.002+10:00

10 things that I'm afraid of.

1. Lakes.
2. Vomiting.
3. Being bashed.
4. Cancer.
5. Boredom.
6. Not achieving my goals. Failing.
7. Being left behind.
8. Being secretly hated.
9. Sunrise.
10. Camping.

Glitch

2008-07-23T12:32:00.003+10:00

It happens so often yet I thought this place was immune.

I was in my local death metal/emo/hardcore CD store, only barely fitting in in my standard blacks (considering my lack of piercings, tatts, hairdye or youth). The sales assistant terrifically cool, robotic, bloodless. On the stereo, a typically grinding track with obligatory Cookie Monster vocals.

Suddenly the growl be-be-be-beca-came a-a-a gl-gl-glitching stu-stu-stu-u-u-u-u-tt-tter, as the CD began to stuff up. And suddenly the previously bloodless assistant st-st-stuttered into gear to change the disc as quickly as possible. Just like at your local Starbucks. God knows we don't want to be offended.

Cookie Monster lost his 'tude.

Duet

2008-07-06T13:28:00.002+10:00

It was getting dark and I was hurrying home along Glebe Point Road. It was peak hour and the footpath was kinda crowded. I was struggling to get past two young women walking shoulder-by-shoulder. When I finally passed them they both broke into song. It was beautiful 2-part harmony which receded into the distance as I left them behind. I don't know why they were singing. And I wished they could walk faster.

Bells

2008-07-01T19:52:00.002+10:00

On my way here to this late nite internet cafe I heard and saw bell ringing for the first time. I passed a nearby church and looked up to see 6 youths pulling the giant cords that ring the bells. Each ringer was fit and impassive; they looked a bit like the kind of people who might otherwise play Taiko drums or throw javelins or something. Their activity was noisy, out of tune and pretty cryptic - why ring bells in a closed church in the middle of the city at 7.49pm? I stuck around for a while to see what bell ringers do when they stop ringing - hang about for a chat? a smoke? share a joke? - but they took too long and the smell of nearby petrol depressed me too much so I left.

Hockey

2008-06-23T08:57:00.003+10:00

Although I'm no hockey fan I was fascinated by this story:

www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/GAM.20080617.TRUGH17/TPStory/TPComment

It seems that the 40-year-old theme song to one of CBC's most popular programs, Hockey Tonight In Canada (also the world's longest running sports show on television), was dropped by the network because they considered the rights to be too expensive - only for it to be promptly picked up by a rival network for their hockey show! I suppose it's not too different from the defection a couple of years back of our own David and Margaret from SBS to their new movie show on ABC.

Besides a hint of schaudenfreude towards the network this genuinely intrigued me - the idea of ripping such an identifiable sonic element from one failsafe icon to another. It seems so wrong and therefore so delicious!

Leonard

2008-06-16T07:47:00.003+10:00

Twice in the last few days I have happened upon a very famous singer by chance. I mean actually happened upon actually by chance and actually very famous.

I was walking down a Dublin lane when I heard the unmistakable voice of legendary Canadian poet and songsmith Leonard Cohen. Over the fence was - unbelievably - the good man himself, singing in the middle of a field under a gloomy afternoon sky. He was warming up for his first concert in 15 years (so I've subsequently been told) and was in fine form.

As The Guardian recently put it he's always seemed like an old man, even when he lived in a younger man's body. And now at the age of 73 he finally fits into himself. A crumpled, greying old man clasping a microphone, hunched in a baggy grey suit beneath a fedora hat. His voice low and decayed but coarsely beautiful, matching perfectly his matured, melancholic phrases.

I watched him for some time as he practised his moves: bending dramatically near the ground, making fists at noone and hiding sullenly beneath his hat. He was very good - but the backing band? Fake strings, rimshot drums and compulsory blues wail. For a moment he brought to mind a delusional hobo, wandering confused into a maudlin karaoke bar. I guess I'm alone in these sentiments as all the reviews were glowing, especially towards the band.

It made me wonder what I'd do in the situation. Strip back for a start. Bring in Mogwai or the Brodsky Quartet second. Definitely keep the hat.

Instruments

2008-06-13T01:36:00.004+10:00

In the interests of polemics, ostracizing people and therefore narrowing my future options I thought I'd ocassionally list the things in music that I hate. Today: instruments, sounds and ensembles.

1. Children's choirs

OK, maybe not the kids themselves - they're great - but more the kind of cloying, psuedo-patriotic, simplistic kind of claptrap I so often hear them sing. It seems to me that groups of singing children bring out the worst sentiments in otherwise vigorous composers, just like that.

2. Synthesized strings

Why why why why why? They don't sound anything like real strings so they're not fooling anybody. If you can't afford real strings try rewriting your piece.

3. Harmonica

Again, like children's choirs, it's probably more the repertoire: anything paired with Bob Dylan simply has to go. Likewise, dreary concertos for Larry Adler.

4. Timpani

Fake drums. Tuxedo drums. Drums with ambitions beyond being thumped. If you want melody get a piano.

5. Castanets, wood blocks, in fact most chintzy percussion objects

I repeat: 'chintzy'.

6. Marimba

Oh dear, I shall never get a percussion commission again. OK, it's not so much the instrument but one specific technique. Like the mandolin it's just not a sustaining instrument so why the interminable tremelo? If you want sustain, use a vibraphone.

Of course if you play one of these instruments and are looking for a new piece, help me prove myself wrong.

In all fairness, there are also quite a few instruments that once drew my ire but have now clawed their way into my heart. They include:

1. Bassoon

A very sweet, underrated instrument. Thanks to Clogs I now love its plaintive, hollow whine.

2. Accordion

Ok, so I've jumped the bandwagon - years of strange, avant-garde pieces have endeared it to me irreversibly.

3. Banjo

Once I stopped thinking bluegrass and started thinking The Books I fell in love.

Phew. Rant over. For now.

Low

2008-05-02T17:48:00.001+10:00

Still obsessed by Low. I'm curious as to how so much can come out of so little. There are literally so few elements - 3-note bass lines, sparse 2-part harmony, barely-there guitar and druns - yet it's so haunting. When I try to write such sparse music it just sounds banal. There is something magical and alchemical that I must discover from them.

Songs

2008-04-30T00:02:00.000+10:00

I recently hired a car and headed out of Sydney for a few days. I stocked up on goodies for the car and bought a bunch of new CDs; Battles, Bjork and Low. The Low album is beautiful; I aspire to their perfection. Their approach is so low-key and sparse, yet through this it allows you to fill the spaces with your own emotions - it empowers and engulfs you.

This album has a haunting title - Songs For A Dead Pilot. I'm adding it to album or song cycle titles I wish I'd thought of first:

* Songs For A Dead Pilot
* Songs Of A Dead Dreamer
* Songs On The Death Of Children
* Dead Songs

Can you pick the pattern?

I think Dead Songs by Andrew Schultz has the coolest conceit. He went around to all these graveyards throughout the coastal areas south of Sydney and picked all these haunting phrases from headstones. For me it now imbues the south coast with sadness. I like how art can do that.

I'm thinking of writing my own song cycle but I don't know where to start. I've been browsing the poetry shelves of bookstores but everything looks so lame. I'm a strong believer in being self-sufficient as an artist - if a million singer-songwriters out there can make up their own stuff then the task can't be impossible - but I just can't seem to put two decent lines together.

I need a good theme. I'd like a dark theme, something gloomy and despondent. I want to use low instruments, like piano and double bass. And I want to model my work on Low. Let me know if you have any ideas and I'll update you as I go.

Grammies

2008-02-11T22:28:00.000+11:00

Congrats to my old flautist mate Tim Munro from Brisbane, whose group Eighth Blackbird has just picked up a Grammy Award for 'Best Chamber Music Performance'. Tim appeared on my show New Music Up Late last year and enlightened us all on this very proactive new music group from Chicago. Go team!

Speaking of Grammies, I was very surprised to read that during his lifetime Pierre Boulez has won a total of 26 Grammies. That's twice as many as Michael Jackson! And 3 more than U2. Somehow I just don't associate this one-time radical with glitzy US record awards, but I guess you can't judge Boulez by his cover.

Screens

2008-01-22T22:44:00.001+11:00

My green credentials are sound.

I read yesterday that black computer screens are, apparently, much more environmentally friendly than white screens as they use less power to fill the screen. So thanks to my existing love of black both you and I can feel at ease spending as much time as we like on this blog.

Verdict

2007-12-11T14:55:00.005+11:00

Well, I went to the The Now Now launch last night and it was a lot more enjoyable than I'd hoped.

The setting: The Abercrombie, a gloomy but very cool pub in the grand shadow of the condemned CUB Brewery on Broadway. An impressive crowd - full of confident, alternative types with fawny beards and crooked haircuts, giving their absolute attention to what is, essentially, pretty difficult music (I'm always astonished by this - after enduring the Conservatorium, where everyone was supposedly devoting themselves to studying advanced sound yet shuddered at having to listen to actual new music, where the hell do all these young, beer-drinking arty types who actually bother to listen COME from?).

Three sets: first up Gail Priest whose work I really like. It's kind of 'smart ambient', not too easy but not busy either. Gail uses complex washes of sound but is content to simply play within their space; it’s not especially cerebral, which I think is good. Again, the crowd was remarkably focused on her performance considering all we could see was just a face and a laptop.

Then a curious duo between percussionists Robbie Avenaieum and Dale Gorfinkel. At first I couldn't see what they were up to but later discovered that they'd hooked up various little machines - a rotating CD, a jerking suspended drumstick - to automatically play an assortment of percussion: a bass drum, a tom, a vibraphone. It was a really satisfying listen, even though I didn't know how it was being made - a kind of deadbeat, soothing minimalism that sat perfectly with the traffic noise outside.

Lastly a trio - bass, keys, voice - featuring one of my favourite keyboardists at the moment Adrian Klumpes. This group: not so satisfying. I liked Adrian's old-school keyboard noises, the obnoxious electronic swells and occasional weird groove but all up this was too much like the kind of self-conscious instrumental jams that you get at the end of 'special edition' CD reissues of classic albums; you know, after the intensity of creating a solid body of work everyone winds down, lets off steam and noodles off for a good half hour. OK, perhaps I'm being unkind - but this was the one set that vindicated my earlier comments about improv ...

Anyway, all up the gig was pretty good with an excellent vibe and I'm definitely up for skiving off work to get to The Blue Mountains gigs in January.

Spontaneity

2007-12-10T17:05:00.001+11:00

Off tonight to the launch of this year's The Now Now festival of 'spontaneous' music at the Abercrombie Hotel in Sydney (8pm, free - if you want to go).

I have to say I am always a little cautious about improvised music; perhaps its the Conservatorium training in me, but I tend to think that one needs certain strong strategies in place to create compelling music and I'm not convinced that making it up on the spot is one such strategy. I know it's more complex than that - and I'm all for open-ended means of making music - so perhaps it's just that I've never been that amazed by the resulting structures of most improvisations I've heard, and structure is always of key importance to a classically trained composer.

I suppose that the key element for many improvisers IS the open-ended quality, however I just don't know if it translates so well for listeners. Anyway, I'll shut up now and report later on the results ...

Occasionally

2007-12-09T16:53:00.001+11:00

I didn't think it looked right. I just realized I've been mispelling 'occasional'. Repeatedly. I'm not dumb, really. I'm not.

Imaging

2007-12-09T14:51:00.000+11:00

One of my favourite writers is Kyle Gann. He's an American composer and writer who specializes in 'downtown', 'postminimal' and 'totalist' musics. I don't always agree with his views - and we've had the occassional verbal stoush on his blog - but I'm always drawn to his down-to-earth and insightful comments.

I was reading his book Downtown Music the other day when I came across a concept he calls 'imaging'. The basic gist is that whereas many pieces of music are impressive because of the way they 'develop' their material, others capture us through 'images' - highly memorable clusters of information that strike us as fully self-contained moments. Think of the opening high bassoon solo in Stravinsky's The Rite Of Spring. The shimmering opening chords of Mendelssohn's Overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream. The giant orchestral swell in A Day In The Life by The Beatles.

Sure, we need to connect these images somehow - that's what Gann calls the 'language' of music - but what makes a piece powerful is when an image is so intense that it continues ringing in our ears long after the piece has ended.

I had a 'eureka!' moment when I read this. I felt like I had finally discovered a way to describe what I've always loved about music. To descibe why most classical music leaves me cold and why I always feel inadequate when comparing my music to the academic standard.

I love images. I love statements. I love titles, one-line poems, phrases, non sequiturs - anything where the intent is present in a single gesture. I find most novels, films and classical pieces pretty tedious because of all the 'back-up' information - the development, the plot, the connecting bits. I'd rather read a book of short stories or essays than a novel. I'd rather watch a series of animations than a film. I'd rather an album full of beautiful short songs than a symphony.

Occassionally I find that the two line up perfectly - Matthew Barney's film "Cremaster 3", for instance. It's been described as a kind of 'moving sculpture' - a whole bunch of seemingly static scenes - however, the way they build incrementally throughout the first part of the film was absolutely sublime. Perhaps that's what I might aspire to in my own work.

Anyway, it gave me courage to continue pursuing 'images' in my work and not to feel so pressured to hide them through the connecting 'language'. In any case I totally suck at musical language, so I guess its all for the best.

By the way, if you want to read Kyle's excellent blog just follow this link:

www.artsjournal.com/postclassic

Just don't forget to come back again!

G'day

2007-12-09T13:07:00.000+11:00

Hey,

Welcome to my new blog - Light In An Empty Space. The title? It's from a quote by composer John Cage - I can't remember what he meant by it, I just thought it sounded kinda cool.

This is a blog to capture occassional thoughts I have about music and art. Feel free to contribute your own ideas.

A quick snapshot about me - I studied composition and am fascinated by new sound and visual art. I also host a radio show about new music and write the occassional article.

I love art that challenges, that looks at life a little differently, that rejoices in the senses. Favourite arty folk - Matthew Barney, Andy Warhol, Michael Gordon, Gyorgy Ligeti, Erin Gee, Luke Jaaniste, early Philip Glass, Boards of Canada, The Books.

Anyhoo - let's blog on ...
Jx