Archive for the ‘Experimental’ Category

Will Mobile Phone Bandsembles Become The Most Relevant Artistic Medium Of The 2k10s?

Posted by Brian on Friday, March 12th, 2010

celly-orchestra1
In the 19th century the piano occupied a prominent place in the American home and was a means of enabling amateur music making. (N.B. The term ‘amateur’ didn’t carry the same slightly negative connotations back then.) In the 1920s, during the height of the Vaudeville era, there was a full-blown saxophone craze mostly as a result of the dazzling playing of Rudy Weidoeft. Later in the 20th century, Leo Fender changed the course of music history with the electric guitar. Are mobile phones going to be the 21st century’s ‘game changer’?

I read this NY Times article back in December about Ge Wang’s Mobile Phone Orchestra at Stanford, so I knew that people were embracing this technology and its music making potential, but it wasn’t until I saw Steve Layton’s post over at Sequenza21 that I realized how much of a trend this was becoming.

Is the mobile phone the electric guitar of the 21st century?
Have you played in a mobile phone bandsemble?
If you’re not a ‘trained musician’ does a mobile phone bandsemble enable ‘participation’?
Would you be more likely to ‘check out’ a new music ‘show’ if you played in a mobile phone bandsemble?
How smart does your smart phone have to be to audition for a mobile phone orchestra?
Who will be the most important mobile phone artist of his generation?
Do u txt while driving?

Stanford Mobile Phone Orchestra
YouTube Preview Image

Michigan Mobile Phone Ensemble
YouTube Preview Image

RedNoon
YouTube Preview Image

Samson Young’s iPhone Orchestra
YouTube Preview Image

Improvisers Anonymous

Posted by Brian on Monday, March 1st, 2010

jackdaniels2
Sometimes I feel like experimental improvisers can be a lot like alcoholics—they don’t know when to stop. I was going to keep these thoughts to myself but something happened during Mobtown Modern’s performance of Cobra last week that made me want to put it out there: I think I became the person that you’ll read about further down in this post. We’d been playing for close to an hour—not quite by my watch—and the performance could/might have reached a logical conclusion point. But I was so excited about what the group might be able to do if we did just one more cobra, I turned to the audience and asked, “Should we do one more?” And then there was this line from Baltimore Sun critic Tim Smith’s review of the show:

It might have been wiser to quit while they were ahead, though; by the time they played the last round, the diversity of contributions had lessened considerably.

Ugh. Let me explain a little more. I go to a lot of improv shows and there has been a high frequency of times I leave vowing to never speak of what I’d just witnessed and wishing for that 2 hours of my life back. Now that’s not to say that there couldn’t have been some supremely beautiful or bona fide compelling moments within that two hours, but I think that the old adage “you should leave your audience wanting more” should start being heeded. Maybe I’m being a little unfair, but if I’d heard a coherent, cohesive one-hour, or 45-min, or hell, even a 30-min improvisation recently I’d be less inclined to raise my voice.

In most of the long form improvisations I’ve heard in the not so distant past there seemed to have been several moments when the session could have ended to make a cohesive statement. Instead, these cadence points arrive and inevitably someone on stage gets a little too self-indulgent and mistakes the natural end of a piece for a big solo opportunity. What follows is generally a very similar process to what had just unfolded: 1) the players start mimicking the sounds that are already happening, 2) then they gradually begin introducing something contrasting, 3) and commence a really long build-up that may peak up to 10 times, 4) followed by a very slow decrease in activity and volume, and finally 5) the audience sits rigidly during an uncomfortably long silence praying that no one on stage is inspired any more. I love it when the musicians finish one of these long pieces and then look around at each other on stage and then invariably say, “Should we do another one?” That’s the best. Though I believe that nearly every audience member wants to scream, “NO!!!!!!” nobody ever says anything. Then the players decide to do a “short one.” And the band plays on. And on. And on.

But rather than just complain here, I’d like to make a sugggestion: what about a time limit? (David Byrne makes a really great point about time constraints here. Thanks to Bill Mill for that tip.) Rather than basking in the comfort that you can ramble on for over 30 minutes hoping that inspiration may strike if it’s failed to up to that point, why not try and aim to create a solid, focused, complete, and meaningful statement in, let’s say, 10 minutes? Hardcore folks probably won’t like this idea since it imposes an unwelcome parameter in a musical genre that tends to shun any kind of constraint. But I think that would be more challenging for the players. And likely more engaging for the listeners. Parameters like duration (of the shorter variety) might be worthy considerations for free improvisers who haven’t matured enough yet to sustain a long form session.

There are two types of experiences to keep in mind here—the experience of the audience member and the experience of the performer—and I’ve been on both sides. The joy and excitement you feel as a performer during an improvisation might not translate to joy and excitement to an audience member. How do you know when you’ve reached that point? Are audiences just stupid if they don’t “get” what you’re playing and can’t stay focused? Whose fault is it? When does self-indulgence become over-indulgence?

Game Time: A Cheat Sheet for John Zorn’s “Cobra”

Posted by Brian on Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010

Runner
Tomorrow night (Wednesday) at the Metro Gallery, the Contemporary Museum’s Mobtown Modern music series will present a performance of John Zorn’s infamous game piece Cobra. Unlike a lot of the music Mobtown Modern presents, there’s no actual written score for Cobra—the players in the ensemble improvise all the musical material. However, far from being an improvisational free-for-all, the improvisations (or ‘cobras’) are shaped and guided by a strict and elaborate set of rules. Here they are:

cobra-score-border

I’m going to assume that unless you’ve been involved in a performance of the piece before, that the “score” for Cobra you see above makes absolutely no sense. No worries. As a matter of fact, we (the ensemble and yours truly) spent a good amount of time in our early rehearsals just familiarizing ourselves with the rules, clarifying them, and actually creating exercises that would help us translate them into sound. Before getting into the details of each command though, let’s take a quick look at how a performance of Cobra is actually run.

When you really get down to it, the rules of engagement that Zorn lays out for Cobra are basically a set of parameters that allow the musicians to shape their improvisation. Of course, choosing parameters before starting a free improvisation is nothing unique to Cobra; it’s a common improvisational strategy that allows the musicians to focus their performance a bit. What is unique to Cobra, however, is that these parameters, or rules, aren’t chosen by the musicians, but rather dictated to the musicians by a single leader, or “prompter.” The individual chosen as the prompter brandishes different cue cards, each containing one of the commands, and then gives a downbeat, which signifies the beginning of whichever command is on the card. By doing this, the prompter can exert almost complete control over the formal outcome of the improvisation. (N.B. Remember, there is no music written down; it’s all improvised.)

Sounds easy enough, right? Well, it actually gets a little more complicated fun. Though the prompter has the final say in what command is put into play, the musicians in the group have the ability to make suggestions to the prompter about which cue card should be used next. If you look back at the “score,” you’ll notice that each set of cards is identified not only by color, but also by a part of the body as well as a number. Here’s an example:

yellow-one
One finger to the mouth doesn’t mean to keep the noise down, it means that the guy who should probably comb his hair is suggesting that the prompter call the “Pool” card. What’s that? Well, rather than make this a completely epic post by explaining each command in this space, why not take a gander at the annotated photo set over at Mobtown Modern’s Flickr account, where you’ll find pictures of each one of the cards along with explanations about what they mean. And, of course, to see them in action be sure to stop by the Metro Gallery tomorrow night at 8pm!

Update: Click here to listen to yours truly and Contemporary Museum Executive Director Irene Hofmann talking with Tom Hall on Maryland Morning with Sheilah Kast about tomorrow’s performance of Cobra.

The Contemporary Museum’s Mobtown Modern Music Series presents John Zorn’s COBRA this Wednesday (February 24) at 8 p.m. at the Metro Gallery (1700 N. Charles Street). Tickets are $10 general admission and $5 for Contemporary Museum members and students with a valid ID.