With a grungy title and a cover which reminds me a little of
Monty Python’s ‘Another Monty Python Record’, this CD projects
a ‘bad boy’ image which belies some fascinating work.
The Discofication of the Mongols was created for a choreography
by LeeSu-Feh, and the music derives its proportions from choreographic
gestures. The title of the piece “concerns the loss of all indigenous
culture to the monolith of western pop music... The ever –approaching
climax has an accumulative size, density, overlapping submixes
and pop references, until it crushes everything under its own
weight (secretly inspired by the design of Stockhausen’s Gruppen
and Boulez’s Tombeau).” This description gives a
hint as to the content of the piece, but very little other than
hearing it can really describe the actual experience. There
is an underlying carpet of sound which is like a Jackson Pollock
painting: fascinating and enigmatic; filled with recognisable
shapes which collect into patterns of enigmatic or intangible
perspective. Objects advance momentarily like flashes of sparingly
used colour, but the general swathe of tone is an oppressive,
constantly shifting wall of detailed purples. The ‘pop’ elements
are present and also emerge like plastic ducks in bathwater,
but the disco beats and electric guitars are balanced so that
they also are family members of the vast canvas, rather than
taking over as you might expect. The violin solo is a free voice
which sings over the material with disarming expressiveness.
This is not a violin concerto, but neither is it an ungrateful
piece for the soloist, and Benjamin Bowman does a terrific job
of holding his lines over a relatively alien accompaniment without
losing ‘classical’ integrity.
There are some attractive harmonic progressions and finely nuanced
sonic textures in this piece, and I found myself enjoying it
far more than I expected. There’s a sense of wit hidden in the
piece and a warmth of resonance which is quite welcoming, but
I won’t promise it will be to everyone’s taste. If you like
at least bits of Frank Zappa’s Jazz From Hell or something
akin to The Residents in WB:RMX form you will
probably find this right up your street. If I have one or two
criticisms they might be the duration which is arguably eight
or so minutes too long, and the occasional left/right/left/right
panning which has never been any good for anything. This doesn’t
crop up much thank goodness, but there you go, nothing’s perfect.
S’Wonderful (that the man I love watches over me)
is, as the title suggests, based on some Gershwin songs
which the composer associated with his parents, the work being
dedicated to the memory of his mother. Elements mentioned in
the piece’s construction are the quodlibet: the integration
of popular themes into a work in all kinds of ways, and some
multi-tempo dance sequences from MGM musicals. Tap dancing feet
can be heard, as well as some of that fantasy colour of those
cinematic orchestras, with violin textures and harp arpeggios.
Dialogue from 1930s gangster and romantic movies pops up from
time to time, as well as do ‘standard’ singers from a light
jazz idiom. The CPU computer treatment means that this material
melts into itself with a kind organic unity which is both complex
and refined, as well as serving to disguise the obvious. The
solo flute over this kind of territory seems to throw an automatic
switch of sentimentality which may or may not appeal, and the
thematic material thrown its way isn’t particularly decisive
for the piece as a whole.
This again is a fascinating sonic canvas –for a large part softer
edged than Discofication, but still building to a mighty
climax and bringing with it a similar multi-layering of sounds,
textures and rich associations. Both works have a sense of narrative
and cadence which speaks to the ‘learned composer’ in me, and
there’s a lot of hard work and craft has gone into these pieces
which automatically gains my genuine respect. The composer very
kindly sent me the scores for the solo parts for both works,
and the detail and precision in which the music is notated indicates
a seriousness of intent which is reflected in the quality of
the results. This isn’t what you would call ‘everyday’ music,
but for that reason neither is it bland or disposable.
Dominy Clements
Benjamin Bowman (violin) 
