Let’s talk about abstraction.
At a concert titled ‘Quantum Percussion’, part of Warsaw Autumn’s ‘Hashtag Lab’ series, Oriol Pares‘ Plateaux II received its first performance. Using something akin to pens on flat plates (the titular plateaux, i assume), wielded by Bartłomiej Sutt, its sonic effect was an interplay of pitch, rhythm and texture, heard both as discrete entities in parallel as well as interconnected strata. The piece walked a line between restfulness and more abrasive, mid-register dronal stuff. It began well, interesting from the outset, and while there were times when it became somewhat static – the intensity of the drone obscuring the changing details below and beneath it – there was something strangely restful about it as it continued.
This was even more the case in Helix, also a première, by Australian composer Kirsten Milenko. Its delicate soundworld was maintained by metallic percussion and electronics, embellished with a periodic light display behind the performer comprised of vertical and diagonal beams. The tone was ambient in nature, occupying a steady state in which a vibraphone both moved within, and itself demonstrated, different kinds of energy, melding into and emerging from a hovering atmosphere of shimmer.
While it had contained striking examples of pain-imbued music, the concert given by SWR Vokalensemble also featured two substantial works exploring abstraction. Very directly so in the case of Agata Zubel‘s Abstract Paintings, though her nominally ‘abstract’ music was seriously undermined by the unhelpful decision to project above the stage the Gerhard Richter paintings that had inspired it. It was therefore difficult to separate sound from sight, though it perhaps clarified the unfortunate extent to which Zubel greatly diminished the scope of the images, reducing each one to a brief group behaviour, as if a painting could only do or be or contain one thing, and not for long. The paintings’ mix of spontaneity and organised chaos thus became curt and highly organised, made more clunky by being performed with laboured pauses between each one (if they’d continued fluidly the effect would surely have been better, becoming a large-scale canvas of potentially kaleidoscopic variety). Zubel’s use of the voices seemed rather dated and overfamiliar, but at times the music was mildly entertaining.
Hugely impressive – and far more genuinely abstract – was Iridescence by Justė Janulytė. A chord, gently tilting, somehow simultaneously stable and unstable, like the preparation and resolution of a cadence happening and not happening at the same time. As in all Janulytė’s music, the unique liminality she creates lends the music an impression of being neither static nor moving. It was like looking at an immutable object, while ever-changing light revealed more of its details, colours and facets. At times the ear would be pulled toward specific registral moments – a swell, high; a cluster, low – but these just as quickly receded, reabsorbed into the homogeneous whole. It was an amazing sonic illusion that, in this performance, spoke with real beauty and clarity.
One of the fringe events, featuring Prima Vista String Quartet, was generally focused on much more conservative material. But it included a performance of Aleksander Kościów‘s String Quartet No. 6, a two-movement piece that in found quite hypnotic. The first of its two movements, slowly and softly overlaid fragments of folksong material, creating a mobile but static effect. Over time the music became more embellished and elaborate, the harmony now pivoting, but unexpected ended with a chorale. The second movement had shifting modalities, and sounded solemn, echo-like, as if unable to project too forcefully. This was its tantalising character, ultimately turning ghostly, its closing sounds barely speaking. An enigmatic end to a genuinely fascinating piece.
Two of the most stunning abstract works came on the final day of the festival, at a concert given by Polish ensemble NeoQuartet, devoted to works by Romanian composers. In Vivarta by Doina Rotaru, the members of the quartet echoed each other in somewhat folk-like descending phrases that expressed different perspectives, followed different trajectories, but which were essentially one voice. A high-velocity climax indicated the level of intensity to come, and while the work for a time gravitated to a sequence of grinding bottom Cs on the cello, another frantic climax soon followed, the cello’s ongoing low notes now matched by soaring glissandi like stratospheric bird calls. The ending was superbly enigmatic, viola and cello softening into their middle register, and the whole quartet uniting in a queasy sequence of swells before finding themselves in a brisk yet ghostly stasis. Fantastic.
And then they performed Horațiu Rădulescu‘s String Quartet No. 5 “Before the Universe Was Born”, and i’m sure i can’t have been the only person sitting in the space in Warsaw’s State Ethnographic Museum whose mind repeatedly boggled. Though the opening wasn’t loud it was no less searing for that, four instruments ablaze, exploring ideas in parallel while sounded simultaneously connected. A mix of pure, abrasive, glistening, dirty, cautious and hasty materials, it was mesmerising when they were all united: fast squealing, pressurised bowing, overlapping upper harmonics like a dawn chorus, superfast glistenchatter, non-stop shape-shifting. This deliriously marvellous stream of consciousness suddenly clicked into a pseudo-harmonic connection that quickly smeared, accelerating beyond into a shaky dronal place undermined by tremors, electrified into more quicksilver action. The effect was like light glinting and shining on a myriad moving surfaces, ending up over a new drone with hyperactive notes hurtling above. An astonishing performance of a literally incredible piece.
Let’s talk about pleasure.
It was a bold and effective decision by Warsaw Autumn to juxtapose works exploring pain and pleasure together in the same concerts. This seemed to be less about balance than hope and optimism, a reflection that pain is not the end of the story. The Ensemble Modern concert included two prominent examples. Alex Paxton’s Don’t Leave Me Behind was another demonstration of his gleeful approach to messy, communal singing (both figuratively and, at the end, literally). The way that Paxton has restored melody as a force of real potency in avant-garde music is remarkable, acting to unite, channel and focus group actions and emotions. In some respects, Don’t Leave Me Behind seemed more well-behaved than some of his previous work, though its rhapsodic approach – evoking both Johann Strauss II and Frank Zappa – and ambitious scope (practically symphonic) left one feeling no less breathless at its end. It made for an excellent counterpoint to Katarina Gryvul’s SKVYRK, the two works offering contrasting perspectives on human expression.
The same was true – the contrast even greater – of Sara Glojnarić‘s marvellously-titled DING, DONG, DARLING! for orchestra and electronics, performed in the tempestuous final concert of the festival. This event would in due course dive into different kinds of troublous depths in music by Ewa Trębacz and Idin Samimi Mofakham, but it began with this, which could not have been more different. A moto perpetuo of exuberant joy, its unstoppable momentum was festooned with irregular rhythms and accents. So often, works of this kind amount to little more than froth or fireworks (such all those Proms first and last night travesties), but Glojnarić’s music was constantly reforming at speed. Furthermore, this was no mere overture or concert-raiser, but a lengthy, substantial exploration of shifting, tangentially-related ideas. On its unstoppable way, burbling undercurrents emerged, drawn out notes provided suggestions of line as well as a broader sonic perspective, and later on, there was even a gear change down. But the overwhelming happiness driving this piece could not be held back, and soon enough DING, DONG, DARLING! experienced a turbo boost, ending with absolutely supercharged energy. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful, from its delirious start to its exhilarating end.
