DASHOW First Tangent to the Given Curve.1 A Sheaf of Times, Septet.2 Messages from Ortigia.3 Mnemonics.4 Oro, Argento & Legno.5 Archimedes: Suite from the Planetarium Opera6 • Danielle Roi (1pn, 1, 3–6electronics); 4Mario Buffa (vn); 3David Bursack (va); Manuel Zurria (3, 5fl, 3, 5alt fl, 5pic); 3Paolo Ravaglia (bs cl); 3Lucia Bova (hp); 2HELIX! New Music Ens • NEUMA 144 (2 CDs: 116:40)

This is the second twofer of music by James Dashow on the Ravello label, and it examines the role of solo instruments, chamber ensembles, and electronic music in his output.

The performance of First Tangent to the Given Curve (1995–96) was created in 1995–96 and is presented with a stereo mixdown of the original quadraphonics. It is clearly the same performance that was released on Capstone at the time and reviewed by Robert Kirzinger in Fanfare 21:6. While the piano and electronic elements seem discrete entities, they are related on compositional and pre-compositional levels. There is often the feeling of the one reacting to the other, which in the work’s central panel creates moments of stellar beauty. Taking its title from an essay by Michel Serres, the details of the electronic setup are as follows: “The electronic sounds were generated entirely using the MUSIC30 program for digital sound synthesis running on the Spirit30 accelerator board for PC, by Sonitech Intl (Wellesley MA).” The Serres quote, although mathematical in basis, is actually quite poetic, and describes the dynamics between solo and tutti (and also the way the material itself behaves) well: “Given a flow of atoms, by the declination, the first tangent to the given curve, and afterward by the vortex, a relatively stable thing is constituted. It stays in disequilibrium, ready to break, then to die and disappear but nonetheless resistant by its established conjunctions, between the torrential flow from the upstream currents and the river flowing downstream to the sea.” The result is a “stationary turbulence,” achieved (at least to my ears) by equivalence of pitch-class materials harmonically against an active musical surface. Pianist Daniele Roi plays as to the manner born.

The title A Sheaf of Times, Septet seems to include the instrumentation as part of that title itself. That septet is flute, clarinet, violin, viola, piano, harp, and percussion. We are back on the familiar territory of acoustic instruments, in other words. Again, though, the title is taken from an essay by Michel Serres (from The Origin of Language: Biology, Information Theory and Thermodynamics). Serres is again poetic in his musings: “What is an organism? A sheaf of times. What is a living system? A bouquet of times.” Multiple lines and complex phrasings create “linear dissonances” (my term) which create a momentum, indeed an envelope of direction that can expand or contract (as it does on a structural level in the first and second movements of this piece). The music is complex, and it requires performers who can honor, and disentangle (when disentanglement is merited) such writing. The HELIX! New Music Ensemble is clearly one such group; it can convey the dissonant beauty of the simultaneities of the central panel. The finale seems to catch a ball thrown by the first movement, now turned into a fractured, transmogrified dance in which groups of players seem to dialogue, even argue, with each other. This is a fascinating piece; I am certain continued multiple relistenings will yield much more.

The final piece on the first disc, Messages from Ortiga (2001–02), is based on material from the composer’s 1988 “planetarium opera” Archimedes (the Wergo version of part of Archimedes made Mike Silverton’s Want List back in 1990, Fanfare 14:2, when Silverton welcomed with open arms a performance of the opera’s second scene: “Young Archimedes,” for mime, lasers, computer graphics, and electronic stagecraft. The full review is in Fanfare 13:6). The present adaptation is for instruments and electronic sounds: it seems to hang in time somehow, ancient yet absolutely of the present. The original electronics were “hexaphonic.” Here the stereo images are enhanced and widened, to hint at what might be experienced if full six sound sources were utilized. The music itself is playful in its disjointedness, with the four players in pinpoint form (there are many, many complex interchanges involved). The players also realize that a vital part of the success of the piece is the inherent beauty of the dissonances used by Dashow. This is tremendous. There is more from Archimedes to come, though: the final offering on the second disc is the electronic “Suite from the Planetarium Opera” (2000–08). This uses pre-recorded acoustic sounds. Some of those sounds are associated with characters from the opera (electronically modified recorders for Marcellus’s epilogue, for example). The opera asks questions about the nature of man, and how it can distort knowledge that could and should be used for peace. Set in ancient times, it carries a message that we as a species have surely failed to grasp as yet. Dashow’s sound vocabulary is huge, with electronically altered harpsichord perhaps implying the historically distanced aspect of the story viscerally juxtaposed with electronica very much of our time.

The earliest recording on the release begins the second disc: the 1986 performance of Mnemonics (1982, but heard in its 1984 revision). Originally written for Matthew Raimondi and performed here by Mario Buffa (who gave the premiere), this is a piece for violin and electronics. Dashow carefully sculpts his electronic sounds to mesh with the sound of a traditional violin, with the result of enhancing the violin’s sound. While the online descriptions of the compositional process might sound complex, they are not a million miles away from traditional tension/release models although the accompanying expectation/realization element is achieved through non-tonal means. Buffa is a consummate violinist, engaged at every moment and gripping in the calm of the work’s final section. A fascinating supplementary interview with the composer is included in the electronic booklet for this album, in which he talks at length about his background generative processes using his “dyad” system.

Written in 1987, Oro, Argento & Legno is another piece for solo instrument and electronics, this time flute (plus alto flute and piccolo) in the hands of Manuel Zurria. This 1996 recording is the second, I believe of this piece (Marzio Conti recorded it for Wergo). The title means “Gold, Silver, and Wood,” and the electronic sounds are carefully calibrated to the three flutes. It was Conti who premiered the work, and at the time he used three flutes made of gold, silver, and wood, hence the title. The alto flute dominates the work’s second section, while the fast-moving piccolo takes over for the finale. The electronics, ever beautiful in Dashow’s music, are particularly so here, wind-chimes with a silvery tinge, one might say. The piccolo in the finale seems to have a voice that seems like a narrator’s in an unnamed opera. There are perhaps elements of Stockhausen here (Henze, too, but the music itself ignited the Stockhausen reference), or perhaps even the “Synthetic Folk Music and Artificial Birds” of Salonen’s Piano Concerto—mere musings on my part, of course, but perhaps some clues, too, as to the very individual soundscapes Dashow creates.

This is a spectacularly fascinating release showcasing the music of a composer with a highly individual voice. Colin Clarke