SKU: BR.EB-9387
Composed by Christian
Mason. Edition Breitkopf.
New music (post-2000);
Music post-1945. Set of
parts. Composed 2019.
Duration 20'. Breitkopf
and Haertel #EB 9387.
Published by Breitkopf
and Haertel (BR.EB-9387).
ISBN 9790004188576. 0
x 0
inches.
Commissione
d by the Kolner
Philharmonie (KolnMusik)
for the non bthvn projekt
2020 and the Cite de la
musique / Philharmonie de
Paris Dedicated to
Arditti Quartet Each
movement of this quartet
explores a single state,
its lights and its
shadows. Each movement,
you could say, is a
moment . And these
moments could last for
more or less time without
compromising their
essential nature. The
processes could be
extended or compressed,
repeated or reversed, but
the core ideas - if they
are ideas, but maybe they
are simply experiences? -
are what they are.
Despite this, the precise
sequence of movements
matters a great deal.
Heard together they do
articulate some kind of
linear narrative, maybe
even a metaphorical
journey (albeit a
circular one where the
arrival might, who knows,
prove to be a new
departure). One situation
gives way to another and
instrumental
relationships within the
quartet vary, but
ultimately the
imaginative impulse
behind the piece
preferences states of
unity. Whether or not
this unity is expressed
texturally - sometimes
literal unisons pervade,
but not always - there is
generally a sense that
even seemingly diverse
aspects relate to a
fundamental condition of
concord: a conscious
limitation in the pitch
structure to spectral
emanations of the root
notes E-flat and C. At
the opening this is
unambiguously audible in
the perpetual alternation
of these two notes in the
low cello register. Later
the two spectra are woven
into a micro-tonal
'double-spectral-mode'
(derived from the first
24 partials of the C and
E-flat fundamentals),
which defines the subtle
melodic inflection of the
second movement, and the
never-quite-chromatic
ascending scales of the
third. For now this feels
like a rich source of
melodic possibility, so
far only just glimpsed...
And why the insistence on
E-flat? Probably by way
of historical anecdote.
Apparently Karl Holz (a
member of the
Schuppanzigh Quartet)
said to Beethoven: We
performed your Quartet in
E-flat Op. 127 in his
[Weber's] honour; he
found the Adagio too
long; but I told him:
Beethoven also has a
longer feeling and a
longer imagination than
anyone standing or not
standing today. - Since
then, even Linke (another
member of the quartet)
can no longer stand him:
we cannot forgive him for
this. Listening again to
Op. 127, in light of
these comments, I was
struck by the opening
moment: the unfolding of
an E-flat 7th chord over
the course of a few bars.
Every time I hear it I
find myself wishing that
Beethoven would have
lingered longer there,
without resolution or
progression, just
enjoying that sonority.
And maybe - why not? -
tune the 7th naturally.
And what would it be to
stretch that moment into
an entire piece? What
would Weber think of
that?! In the end I was
not so extreme in my
self-limitation, and
other concerns took over,
but it was from these
thoughts that the
composition process
began... Lastly, about
the title: it comes from
a book called 'The Clock
of the Long Now' by
Stewart Brand, published
at the turn of the
millennium. It's about
the creation of a
thousand-year clock to
embody the aspiration to
thinking in terms of
longer time-spans than
are presently habitual.
If the music of Beethoven
embodied a 'longer'
feeling and imagination
than some of his
contemporaries were able
to appreciate, what is
our relation to time now?
Longer or shorter? Maybe
it depends who you ask...
It's probably more
extreme in both
directions: attention
spans might be
diminishing in the
digital world, but
conversely there is an
awareness of distant
pasts and potential
futures which would have
been inconceivable at the
time of Beethoven. In any
case, the interesting
thing is to ponder how
societal conditions,
assumptions and
expectations might -
whether consciously or
unconsciously - influence
the time of art, for
listeners and creators
alike. And what if time
is running out?
(Christian
Mason)
World
premiere: Paris, Cite de
la musique, January 14,
2020.
Maybe Later
