by Jeffrey Rossman
February 7, 2009, Durham, NC:The concept of the musical
homage has long been the practice of composers and performers. Respect
and admiration for a style or even a specific composition
has served as both a vehicle for composers' skills at musical synthesis
as well as ways to honor those who preceded them. On this occasion we heard
a most distinctive
and unusual attempt in this tradition: Akoka: After Messiaen’s Quartet
For the End of Time. Presented by Duke
Performances at Duke University’s
acoustically challenged Page Auditorium, this intermission-less concert was structured
with Messiaen’s masterpiece as the center around which two new works seamlessly
pivoted almost as extensions of the original quartet. Even with the best of intentions – as
was undoubtedly the case here – as well as musicians of the highest
caliber and an obvious love and respect of the featured work, the concept just
didn’t
work well.
The story of The Quartet for the End of Time is one of the great musical
legends and a testament to the artistic spirit of man and his ability to endure
in the face of unimaginable evil and suffering. In 1941, while a prisoner
in a German POW camp, Messiaen wrote this work for piano, violin, cello, and
clarinet that somehow evokes a sense of tranquility and peace in addition to
a modern
rhythmic drive that belies the dreadful circumstances of its creation. “Akoka” refers
to Henri Akoka, the original clarinetist of the work, who was Jewish, and who,
unlike Messaien, did not survive the camp. The idea for this concert was developed
by
cellist Matt Haimovitz and clarinetist David
Krakauer, and the idea was to “re-imagine” the
Quartet from the perspective of Akoka.
Appropriately, the first piece was written just last year by clarinetist David
Krakauer and is called Akoka. It begins with a series of extended
glissandi on the cello and soon turns to mournful wailing of the clarinet
somewhere
between Klezmer and free jazz. All the instruments were slightly amplified,
which
better enabled some of the effects and also allowed the extreme quiet passages
to permeate the dead spots of the hall. There was no break of any kind as the
"Liturgie de cristal," the first of the eight movements of the Quartet,
immediately
cast its spell. Joining Haimovitz and Krakauer was pianist Geoff
Burleson and
Todd Reynolds, violinist with the
string quartet Ethel. Also joining in, in a sense, was the lighting, which played
an integral part and was for the most part
tastefully done.
The four elements of the quartet take part in various permutations
including a movement for unaccompanied clarinet. Being a cellist, I am partial
to the fifth movement (“Praise to the eternity of Jesus”) which,
in
addition to its sublime beauty and sense of timelessness, is a model for developing
the “unending bow” of continuous, uninterrupted sound. A similar
movement ends the work, only this time for violin and piano. As profound as any
prayer or theological text, this is as good a description of eternity as ever
expressed. Imagining the horrible proximity of the monstrosity of acts taking
place within feet of the serenity of this closing nearly stilled the breathing
of the audience... — and then it began. Like a huge Hummer with
blackened windows and with a throbbing bass that vibrates your windows,
the start
of Meanwhile(A
Messiaen
Remix) intruded on us like an unannounced visit from bad relatives....
All the publicity for this concert touted the appearance of so-called DJ
SoCalled as the special guest for this “staggeringly ambitious meditiation
on Olivier
Messiaen’s 1941 Masterpiece.” This composition showed itself to be
a staggeringly derivative and uninspiring collection of electronic effects, used
up musical/spoken collages, and even a dash of rap. Mr. SoCalled (Josh Dolgin
to those of us over 30), perched at a podium behind clarinetist Krakauer, played
some sort of electronic box that featured tape loops, snippets of the Messaien
Quartet and a collage of spoken voices from World War II that
had already been done before in a much more effective manner in Steve Reich’s
Different
Trains. The four musicians noodled around in a seemingly aleatoric
manner that had a lot of energy but ultimately not much substance.
Am I just
not understanding all of this? Does the relative newness of this type of composition
pre-prejudice me? Have I become my parents, yelling at me to shut off that “noise” that
all sounds the same? No. This is an audacious attempt to kidnap one of the most
significant compositions of the 20th century and to associate it with a hodgepodge
of barren and worn-out hip clichés. Mr. SoCalled, if you truly respect
Messiaen’s work and legacy, please put this to rest!
