The opening three works in the Nine Rivers cycle alternate between homogeneous and variegated timbral groupings; the fourth piece, La femme invisible, continues this using a mixed ensemble comprising the three percussionists from L’ECRAN joined by a piano and wind octet (two each of flutes, oboes, clarinets and saxophones, with assorted doublings). Dillon completed the work in 1989, and it was first performed in June of that year by Music Projects/London under Richard Bernas’ direction, and they subsequently recorded the piece for inclusion on the same CD as East 11th St; to date, they’re the only works from Nine Rivers to have been commercially recorded.
While not wishing to get too analytical, one unavoidable aspect is the audibly clear way that Dillon has constructed La femme invisible. There are 10 sections, each of which is initiated in the same way, with a loud strike on a suspended C# bell. The sections are organised with equal clarity, from a small number of basic structural components, which i would characterise as follows:
- cadenzas – which always follow the bell strike, a highly florid, rhythmically diverse tutti occupying a single bar of around 10-13 quavers (♩=66)
- tuttis – of varying length, usually relatively short and always rapid, in which rhythmic similarities are commonplace (♩=168)
- trios – slow, lengthy episodes involving smaller chamber groupings, containing some of the work’s most lyrical material; percussion is always involved (♩=40)
- ‘stases‘ – brief moments when the music slows almost to a stop, during which sustained notes (sometimes ornamented) are played (♩=26)
Not all the sections in La femme invisible make use of all these components—the sixth section consists of just the cadenzas—but most use at least two. Such overt construction as this is interesting in light of the first line of the relevant stanza from Rimbaud’s Le Bateau ivre:
At times a martyr weary of poles and zones,
The sea, whose sob created my gentle roll,
Brought up to me her dark flowers with yellow suckers
And I remained like a woman on her knees…
(translation by Wallace Fowlie)
“Poles and zones” would be a rather fitting description of La femme invisible, and i wonder whether the eponymous boat’s weariness is reflected in the somewhat repetitive manner with which the piece unfolds. The unrelenting bell notes, always C#, certainly become wearying—or, at least, feel increasingly oppressive—although the content of the work’s modules continues to change and vary throughout. But it would be difficult to describe this as ‘progress’ or ‘development’; perhaps the strongest analogy would be variations, not so much on a theme as on a variety of behaviours, which are subsequently revisited, reimagined and reordered (one thinks of Birtwistle’s Endless Parade, examining a common idea from a number of discrete vantage points). In its own way, this too could be heard to contribute to the aforementioned ‘weariness’, but if that sounds slightly defeatist, it’s simply due to the fact that La femme invisible is a decidedly difficult work to get a grip on; despite the clarity of its structure, and indeed its familiarity (the CD has been available for almost 20 years), the work still seems as impenetrable as ever—fascinating but enigmatic, allusive yet elusive.
La femme invisible brings the first part of Nine Rivers, ‘Leukosis’, to an end. In last year’s world première it was performed by members of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra (supplemented by a number of ‘guest’ players), conducted by Jessica Cottis.