Present Music Loves that ‘Cello’

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Photo by Samer Ghani via Present Music - Facebook

Present Music ‘Cello Cello’

Present Music's ‘Cello Cello’ at Jan Serr Studio

Attending a Present Music concert is like watching a Christopher Nolan film. Something is going to blow your mind. The latest offering, “Cello Cello,” was chock-full of those new-music brain tickles that have given the series such an enthusiastic audience. In a bold choice, the program was devoted entirely (with one exception) to composer/cellist Paul Wiancko and composer/vocalist/media artist Pamela Z.

Jan Serr Studio was this time bedecked with string lights that reflected through the window out to the city. The roster promised top talent, listing several musicians recruited from the Milwaukee Symphony and new-music specialists like cellist Nick Photinos, formerly of Eighth Blackbird.

Our first introduction to Paul Wiancko’s music came in a cello quartet called When the Night. Though based on the opening phrase from the song “Stand by Me,” it was so arresting in its own material that I eventually forgot the reference. Wiancko’s writing was full of strong, earthy expression that showed a love for cello resonance.

Then Pamela Z came to the stage and performed a four-piece set for vocals and electronics. In addition to a laptop and microphone, her setup included a little box which she could manipulate with contactless hand movements like a theremin. In Quatre Couches, she created a storm of voices counting in different languages, combined with various sound effects and field recordings. Toward the end she was triggering elements of previous recordings out of thin air with rapidly moving hands, like a witch casting spells. It created an amazing visual performance, as if the sounds were coming straight from her imagination. 

Rhythmic Loops

The high-water mark continued with the rest of her set. Badagada featured rhythmic loops, breathing and an austerity that reminded me of some music from the TV show Squid Game. In Syrinx, she melded her voice with recordings of bird calls, a bit of Messiaen for the 21st century. Other Roomswas more speech-focused, with a voice sample from playwright Paul David Young talking about memory and Pamela Z offering musical and spoken complements and interjections. Overall, her work showed a remarkable, singular artistic vision.

Paul Wiancko and violist Ayane Kosaza have performed together frequently, both as duo Ayane & Paul and in the string ensemble Owls. Wiancko’s next piece American Haiku showcased how wonderfully they play together. This was a lovely duet that ranged from noble resonances and graceful melodies to more folksy, bluegrass-tinged elements. They played from memory, always sure and on point with the music’s give and take. 

Closed Universe was a piano quintet with an extra cello instead of a second violin, and with a sneaky sixth member: a glockenspiel that the composer played himself. The piece was inspired by a bout of news addiction in 2016, and the hypnotic, insistent textures did indeed evoke a session of doom-scrolling the news. The glockenspiel intended to signify some moments of joy in the chaos. It wasn’t always convincing as part of the ensemble, but it led to some moments of humor and lightness.

World Premieres

Pamela Z’s Raise, commissioned for cellist Nick Photinos, was the first of two world premieres after intermission. Scored for cello quartet and tape, this piece formed a poignant reflection on the parents who raise us and how we see them later in life. Both the pre-recorded voice samples and the cello quartet material were focused, repetitive, letting the words wash over the audience. 

Pamela Z put a lot of thought into the development of this piece, including personal moments like a woman telling an anecdote about calling for “Mommy” even as an adult, in a particularly scary moment. Later voices mused on nature vs. nurture, and how traditions like classical music performance are passed down through generations. The last movement, “Honor”, examined the balance between honoring and questioning parents. Pamela Z really succeeded in what she set out to do here. She made the right choice in not overly mimicking the speech patterns in the musical component, as in Steve Reich’s Different Trains. Instead, the music let the text breathe and allowed the composer to construct a tapestry of meaning.

Distant Maneuvers for Present Music (yes, Wiancko confirmed that “for Present Music” is a crucial part of the title) was scored for the popular ensemble of flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano and percussion, made most famous by Eighth Blackbird, itself a modification of the Pierrot ensemble. Wiancko commented that he composed the piece in short bursts during periods of frequent moving, and it became an exploration of reacting to his past creative decisions as if they were made by a stranger. Conductor Yaniv Dinur led the proceedings. After a “slap in the face” opening and a little cell that reminded me of Shostakovich’s DSCH motive, a series of episodes unfolded, not always with a clear connecting line. Wiancko produced some fine textures and moments of ensemble excitement, and it was well-received by the audience. But I felt that his ideas got a bit diluted in the larger ensemble. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I had not already been treated to his work in smaller, tighter string groups. It’s worth hearing again, and I hope Present Music gets a good recording for posterity. Quite honestly, the whole concert would be a fantastic album to spin.

In typical Present Music tradition, we ended with a real wild card involving audience participation. For John White’s Drinking and Hooting Machine, 10 volunteers were called up, given a bottle of beer and a paper with performance instructions, and spread around the space. This transition took a while but was helped by Dinur’s humor and charm as he offered color commentary on the microphone. The piece had the volunteers and all the night’s performers alternately drinking and blowing across the tops of the bottles. In some ways it was a fantasy come true; who hasn’t imagined an orchestra of bottle-blowing? The varied pitches of all the bottles resulted in a melancholy timbre not unlike the glass harmonica of old. It was a silly and interesting experiment that could mean anything to any number of people, including a meditation on Milwaukee’s drinking problem.

It was a lot of music to absorb in one night, but all of it was engaging in its own way. Paul Wiancko and Pamela Z, both hitherto unknown to me, made very strong impressions. Another win for Present Music.