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| i. - iv. |
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| v. |
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| Nicole Camacho, Flute; Amy Schumacher, Soprano Saxophone; Ulrike Schmitz, Violin; Charles Clements, Contrabass; Linda Wang, Toy Piano; Alex Lipowski, Percussion; Michael Digiacinto, Conductor |
| Recorded in John C. Borden Auditorium at the Manhattan School of Music
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| October 30, 2007 |
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| program notes:
The composition evolution: (hate & love again) in five dimensions is a six-movement cycle that explores the idea that the compositional field that one employs can itself be the material for the composition. In evolution, the sonic possibilities inherent in the material are explored by the arrangement and contextualization of both the material of the composition and the compositional field itself (which is comparable to a visual artist's canvas, for example). Each movement of the work, from movement nullus or zero to movement v, represents a different dimension (x0-5), and therefore each movement has its own context onto which the material of the work is laid - or to say this another way, each movement is a different canvas, with a different shape, number of sides, and color, and painted onto these canvases is a perpetually-increasing amount of material. |
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A few points warrant further explanation. The manipulation of the multi-dimensional compositional field on which the work is to be understood is very much like the manipulation of the size and shape of a tennis court during a game. In tennis, this would lead to a great deal of confusion, since the normal rules of the game would be difficult to observe with the tennis players struggling to merely stay on the court, and likewise, the ball-fetchers off. However, in music, a medium that unlike tennis is capable of functioning both abstractly and in literal practice simultaneously, the changing of the scope of possibilities during the piece (in six separate parts for the six movements) allows a new context inside which all of the material that has previously been heard can be understood; this material is re-understood as it is recontexualized by newer material. In composing evolution, I asked myself whether the material of a composition itself is important at all, or whether the thing that is truly worthwhile is the arrangement of that material and, inevitably, the transformation of that material from one place to another. In an attempt to challenge myself to come up with a solution to this problem, I observed the fact that there is an inverse correlation between the amount of material in a composition and the extent to which that material is varied or developed, all over the actual length of the work; this means that a work can either be thematically economic and it can stretch that single motive into an entire composition, or it can have many, many ideas that are stated, but these ideas can be varied all very little, unless the work is so long that it warrants a tremendous number of motives to begin with, as is the case in a work such as Richard Wagner's Der Ring Des Nibelungen. The answer that I came to, at least for this work, was double-edged: I decided that the variation of the ideas in the piece was inevitable, since one hears similar ideas as variation whether they are intended to be understood that way or not; however, I decided
that evolution was to be a composition that evolved almost helplessly. The material itself changes very little within movements, and even across movements the material remains quite static, with the exception of the fact that it is amassing in greater quantities as the work unfolds. Therefore, in evolution, the material does vary, but it varies in terms of its context, not in terms of the material itself. |
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A compositional field or canvas is in itself just a context, and inside it lays a certain spectrum of possibilities; these can be understood as pitch, rhythm, timbre, et al. This means that for each canvas, as the possibilities shift, sonic ideas may change register, pitch, or any other quality; this is classically understood as variation. However, within the syntax of this work, it is to be understood that the possibilities are shifting - not the material. Each movement encapsulates the previous and provides a new vantage point from which one can see all the previous events and perhaps catch a glimpse of what is yet to come - this is much like a series of fire towers on the pathway up a mountain. As one scales one fire tower, one can see all that is below and some of what is above, and as one climbs higher, up the mountain and reaches the next fire tower, one can see all the previous information in a different light and with a different understanding. In evolution, the six movements are cumulative in terms of their pitch material, emotional basis, and orchestration, amongst other things; this means that, for example, the number of instruments that are being used is increasing from movement to movement, and the number of notes that they can play and sounds that they can make is increasing as well. Contrariwise, the use of electronics in the work is diminishing in lieu of the instruments. For example, the first movement, Echoes, has only a crystal glass for its instrumentation; however, there are three recordings and three live electronic processes playing. The second movement adds the flute, then the third adds the violin, and so forth, until the addition of the contrabass for the last section, where the electronics are all but gone. In a similar pattern, the number of instruments that the percussionist plays increases as well from one instrument at the beginning to twenty-two at the end. |
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In terms of the actual construction of the work, there are six movements in three sections, meaning that aside of the overall six-movement form, there is a superimposed three-section arc that is made up of the first movement, the last, and the middle four, which segue from one to the next. The individual movements' formulations come from concepts such as jitter, the variability of a single point on a one-dimensional line; spectrum, the expansion of that variable into a two-dimensional or square field; environment, the further expansion to a static three-dimensional model; memory, the introduction of time and comparability; and multiple histories, multiplicity of memory into the creation of a fifth dimension. In terms of the three-section arc, this edifice is a further abstraction of the aforementioned form into a programmatic description of the cyclicity (or non-cyclicity) of love and relationships, as they tend to exist over multiple dimensions at multiple times. |
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evolution: (hate & love again) in five dimensions is an electro-acoustic work for six instruments and electronics. It is about seventeen minutes in length.
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