PARTITIONS GRATUITES : VIOLON
- The Lumineers

SKU: HL.233289

12.0x9.25x0.43 inches.

Score and separate parts with spiral-bound keyboard/organ part. Number 5, 1950 was Mark Rothko's last painting before the breakthrough into his mature format. In it the luminous color fields of a classic Rothko are inscribed across the middle with three delicate lines. Describing this painting and its pivotal position in Rothko's work, Brian O'Doherty observes: 'After this, the lines disappear completely.' In recent years gesture and figuration have disappeared from my music. What used to be background has emerged to become a musical world composed entirely of floating color fields. In this new world I've changed media, moving from the orchestra to smaller combinations of acoustical instruments and electronically-processed sounds. I still think in orchestral terms, but this hybrid medium allows me to create orchestral textures for more practical and readily available ensembles. Initially I imagined this as a kind of monolithic music -an entire piece as one rich and complex sound. Then I came to hear it as homophonic or heterophonic. And now - in this musical world that I thought was completely free of lines - I've come to hear a polyphony of harmonic clouds. Maybe the lines never disappear completely. Maybe Christian Wolff was right when he quipped: 'No matter what we do, sooner or later it all sounds melodic.' - John Luther Adams.

SKU: HL.49018856

ISBN 9790220133244. UPC: 884088675028. 9.0x12.0x0.204 inches.

Although this is technically Cowie's seventh string quartet, it replaces his earlier fourth quartet, which he came to feel no longer fit with his compositional voice. The quartet fluctuates between a slow, luminous sound and fast, agitated music. Unlike much of Cowie's work, this music is abstracted from his usual preoccupation with the natural world, turning instead to look at an inner landscape. The composer describes the emotional force behind his quartet: The year 2009 was a terrible year in which I lost three close friends to cancer and an elder brother to Alzheimer's disease. It was also a year in which my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer; something from which she has thankfully made a great recovery. At times like these, emotions are sorely tested and highlighted. Four people I loved have gone, so this music must remain as testament not to death, but to the magnificent fragility and loveliness of life. It closes with a gentle and almost vaporising 'benediction' a kind of 'amen' if you like.