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Choreosonics was the name of the music for the choreography of Alwin Nikolais - a unique theatre exposition that was described in the late 50s as “the new theatre of shape, motion, light and sound.” In 1953 Nikolais attracted people interested in new art to his dance concerts at the Henry Street Playhouse in New York City. In these concerts dancers became colourful motivating sources for sculptural shapes; moving in changing atmospheres of light and sound their relationship carefully integrated into a new kind of audiovisual abstract theatre art. The sounds created for this were not conceived from traditional music points of view but were designed to share and support the total visual dynamics.
Such a creation was possible because of Nikolais’ background as a musician as well as choreographer. At sixteen he was playing piano and organ for the then disappearing silent films, improvising and coordinating music four to six hours daily to the dramatic content of the movie. With this profession obsolete, he turned his skill into accompaniment for dance. Through this his interests led to his study of percussion accompaniment and exploration of new sounds. These ideas were stimulated by the kind of dance accompaniment introduced by the famous German dancer, Mary Wigman. This, in turn, induced Nikolais to study dance and ultimately to switch his career from musician to dancer and choreographer. Nikolais was soon heralded as one of the leading figures in modern concert dance, he is credited with bringing about revolutionary ideas opening up new vistas for dance and
theatre. Nikolais' activities were centered at the Henry Street Playhouse in New York. His work was created there with his assistant Murray Louis; sound engineer David S. Berlin; artist George Constant and members of his Playhouse Dance Company. All of whom had a hand in the final productions. Performances with names like Prism, Cantos and Totem were met with positive critical view for their multidisciplinary achievements. While his collaboration with Harry Partch on The Bewitched established his name alongside another true maverick of American sound design and forward-thinking composition. Some of Nikolais' dancers were also trained as percussionists who improvised on a curious assortment of sound producing instruments and objects while other dancers worked through the choreography. David Berlin, who assembled and constructed the sound recording equipment, would operate from the sound booth from a window overlooking the stage. Nikolais would direct the experiments and improvising. Within any performance there would be numerous tests of the original sound and their possible electronic conditioning, including many playbacks of short phrases tested to the dancers’ motion. When the sound phrase proved satisfactory the next cut was started. Sounds were cut down, enlarged, replaced and then the whole piece would be linked together and given final editing much the same as a filming process. Nikolais generally tried to avoid any identification of the sound sources, thus inviting the ear to perceive the sound itself divorced from its initial derivation. This, however, was by no means a final criterion, the ultimate one being the value of the sound to the theatre idea at hand whatever its source or manner of conditioning was. The objects used to produce these sounds were without limit except for practical material size. Within the collection many percussion instruments were used: drums of all kinds, rattles, bells, gongs, cymbals, wooden blocks, etc. Also whistles, tubes, pipes, pieces of wood, aluminum, steel and tin containers were utilised alongside glasses, elastic bands, coils of wire, etc. The back of an upright piano in addition to a grand piano were also often at hand. The human voice would be used freely, hand clapping, foot stomping and any sound producing device whatsoever that might served a purpose.
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This is the sound of Earth, a chaotic undercurrent off all that was, all that is and all that will be.
The intertwined confluence of uncanny dissonance and twisted realities, but also the unbearable revelation of the hidden strings of the very fabric of existence contorting in a disgusting, yet fascinating way before our dumbfounded eyes.
Light has a taste of sand, sound has a feeling of glass. We wanted to witness this, but were not prepared to withstand such truths.
Ambitious and visionary. Dotflac
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Though it can be emotionally scary in places, in a dreamy, yet mind-expanding way, I'm finding Laurie Spiegel's Unseen Worlds calming and meditative. It is only my third album of electronic music, after The Expanding Universe, (which I've yet to get on vinyl) and one by Delia Derbyshire, whose music I also find very meditative.
I did have a collection of Gary Newman records back in the early eighties (or last Century, if you really want to make me feel old!) when a lot of us, briefly, felt electric. Those records were long ago sold on, probably for a couple of packets of fags, and I've little ventured into this genre since.
My very first introduction to electronic music, like many of my generation, was through the sounds of Delia Derbyshire. I remember asking my dad, after first watching Doctor Who in nineteen-sixty-something,
what was making the strange
noises of Ron Grainer's mindblowing theme tune? In a rare, "child centred" and accommodating moment, he told me..."Well. It's a kind of electronic box. One with wires and lots of dials and buttons." I remember, I thought about that for days. An electronic box! Making music! An incredible idea!
That was in the days you must remember before even the first pocket calculator was launched, never mind something so fantasical as the Internet!Kids got their fun back then through flesh and bone things like apple scromping, camping, footy in the street.Electronic Social Media was Sci-Fi.
When I thought of electronic music as a teenager, I thought of Mr Spock: "I feel a strange sensation, Jim! Indeed my efferent nerves are signaling my muscles to an odd kind of movement; I do believe my action potentials wish to actualize to this sound!"
These thoughts, and thoughts of first seeing Kubrick's "2001 A Space Odyssey," were what hit me, as I first let Laurie Spiegel weave her mechanical magic on me.Kubrick's "Space Odyssey" had mesmerised me at the time, especially the "event horizon" sequence, set to so memorably to György Ligeti's music, "Atmosphères." I didn't understand the film then, as I don't fully understand it now. But that is how SpaceTime is.Potentially limitless and probably, unlimately, unknowable (certainly for this mere spec of Astral Dust of the race which considers itself the beating heart of eternity).
Laurie Spiegel's music, like Kubrick's film, gives you a great sense of the vastness of Space, both outer and inner. But it also gives you space to think about Space.It gives you the room, and the stillness, to breath the air of the places she has set up for you to explore. Something many Hollwood movies and a lot of TV drama fails to do these days and should.It's an odd thing to say about a work so full of sound, I know, but good art, of any kind, is like that: chocka, yet endlessly roomy.
Sci-Fi-wise, the dumb, cowboys and indians pantomime that is Star Wars is still in the ascendancy. An anthropocentric Space, reduced, unsurprisingly, to God (the Manichaean "Force") and a gun fight.Even Doctor Who is almost completely obsessed with sexual politics in the Tardis and traversing the dimensions of the human identity navel of the here and now than it is about exploring alien cultures and those eternal SpaceTime mysteries of its original programmes.
Though, in fairness, that is only fullfilling another important role of good drama, that of reflecting ourselves and our own human concerns, if only from a singular point of view.
Laurie Spiegel, on the other hand, stimulates a more expansive, ego-free, type of thinking.This is, as she called it herself "The music of conscious existence" which is not simply, I'd argue, about our own identity constructs, but also about the scientific matter of our Cosmic context.
My mind can be quite creative at times, but unfortunately, depression can sometimes lead it to paint the bleakest pictures. I find this music helps with that. Laurie Spiegel, for me, can be better than an hour with a therapist. (If a shrink ever tells you to tap yourself and repeat "I love myself! I love myself!" as a mantra - seek help elsewhere.If a doctor holds his hands aloft and declares he is a Christian and that the treatment you need "is to believe in God!" tell him he is a disgrace to Hippocrates and the entire medical profession and that he should be struck off for, as Aristotle said not observing his propper rational function. Finally, if anyone tells you to "Man up!" tell the imbecile to f**k off! - such folk suffer from a phenotypic plasticity abnormality: their heritage and upbringing having turned off their empathy genes as well as their brains).
Perhaps only an avant garde dance troop would be moved to shake their bodies to Laurie Spiegel, but for the rest of us, her music could make a splendid alternative to the chiming of Bonshō bells or the spiritual strings of the sitar during a good massage.This is pink noise, for those who like the sweet spot between order and chaos.The great jazz example of that being Miles Davis's Bitches Brew.The perfect piece for a broken pysche!Though, as Unseen Worlds is darker and more emotionally challenging than The Expanding Universe, the latter may be a better choice when seeking the transendent, for most.
When I need someone else's thoughts to ponder with my music, it would still have to be the songs of Townes Van Zandt that I put on. But when I next want to relax, in a contemplative way, and just to let my own thoughts wander outwards. I'll think about putting on Laurie Spiegel. You may think about something else entirely than the Space related thoughts I had here, or you may not be moved to think about much at all. But you should definately think about buying Unseen Worlds and The Expanding Universe. nicholas hamnett
The Chicago group, led by trumpeter Will Miller, channel their collective experiences in the city’s storied hip-hop and jazz scenes. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jul 8, 2019