Take four bowls,
fill them with water, and proceed to use wooden bowls, beaters,
plastic tubes, table tennis paddles and plastic cups to make
musical sounds. A bizarre recipe, but Tan Dun’s Water Concerto
puts all of the above to good use. Slapping the water,
swirling, flicking, pulling hands out of the water slowly
to create the maximum amount of drips – these are all techniques
which create the Water Concerto.
This work makes the audience and the listener
question the very nature of what makes a sound ‘musical’.
Tan Dun answers this in a much more accessible way than some
of John Cage’s similar experiments in the noise-versus-music
argument. The water sounds are introduced in a fantastically
theatrical manner, the stage and audience set in total darkness,
the spotlight on the soloist, David Cossin. He makes his way
to the stage to join his fellow percussionists standing on
either side of the orchestra; Cossin takes his place next
to Tan Dun (conducting), and begins making ‘drips’. The water-based
sounds are juxtaposed with orchestral wails in the upper strings,
and gradually these elements are integrated. One of the percussionists
even makes a drum-roll effect with her hands hitting the bowl
of water. Fragments of folk-song in the strings accompanied
by the brass playing on their mouthpieces alone join the increasingly
loud slaps of water. The woodwind play on their reeds and
mouthpieces. This is a far cry from Tan Dun’s most famous
score, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. The first movement
ends with a water cadenza, featuring gongs beaten and lowered
into water, and Cossin whipping a stick through the air.
This could be interpreted as nonsense by
the close-minded, but the sheer commitment of Cossin and the
orchestra make for a completely convincing performance. The
repertoire of water sounds employed expands with each movement.
The second movement comes from a very similar sound-world
to Ligeti’s Six Bagatelles for Wind Quintet, incorporating
whole-tone folk melodies with Chinese inflections, with falling
slides in the woodwind at the end of phrases. The final movement
takes on a minimalist approach, with fragments of the folk-song
of the previous movement and the wailing of the first movement
returning in cycles. Each repetition brings in a different
gesture from the orchestra to provide a backdrop to the two
percussionists beating hollow plastic tubes with table tennis
beaters whilst pulling the tubes in and out of the water.
The special features enlighten the listener
further, beginning with a mini-documentary called ‘Water:
Tears of Nature’. Tan Dun talks of how water sounds are present
in everyday life, and that he used to listen to the rhythms
of the women washing clothes in the water of the riverside
in his younger years. He talks of the dynamic nature of water,
and that ‘water is the voice of re-birth’. Cossin introduces
the random assortment of objects bought to create the different
sounds in the concerto – flip-flops, strengthened ping-pong
paddles, wooden bowls and even a spaghetti strainer. Tan Dun
also presents a tutorial on how to achieve the best sounds
and theatrical effects with the water instruments, such as
the numerous possible sounds of a spaghetti strainer. The
demonstrations show the amount of thought, care and research
by the composer that has been put into the Water Concerto.
A fantastic performance
of a piece of music that is as much about watching the physical
gestures as absorbing the sounds.
Sabrina Pullen