Posts Tagged Better Know a Sequenza
Better Know a Sequenza (part 3)
In an effort to share the music of Luciano Berio with the world, we here at the Guidonian Hand bring you part two of our fourteen-part series, Better Know a Sequenza.
In this installment: My personal favorite of the cycle, Sequenza VII for oboe, and it’s alternate for soprano saxophone. VII is special for a couple of reasons. First, it is one of the handful of “alternate” sequenzas in the collection. It was originally written for oboe, but do to the nature of oboe literature (and the nature of oboists–ZING!), it’s more frequently performed on soprano saxophone as Sequenza VIIb. Additionally, VII is one of only two sequenzas (along with X for trumpet) that has a second “part.” Berio asks for a drone to sound on any instrument (or voice) throughout the work on the pitch B.
I’ve seen the work performed a few times, and I’ve heard of the drone being produced any number of ways: a digital tuner, a pre-recorded loop of the soloist, a group of other players, and even asking the audience to hum the B. Humming the B sounds cool, but I think I’d get tired of it by the sixth or seventh minute of the piece.
YouTube offers us many complete recordings of some very impressive performances of VIIb, but only a few excerpts of VII. Saxophone friends have told me that they have heard that Berio himself grew to prefer the piece played on soprano saxophone. However, in doing research on the piece, I was not able to corroborate this. Personally, I prefer it on oboe. Here are a few Sequenza VII videos.
First, we bring you the incomparable Alex Klein, principal oboe of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. You can hear the audience humming in this one.
This next video features another excerpt from the beginning section of the work. This time, the drone is being passed around a group of oboists.
Berio’s use of the drone is one of the things that first draws the listener in at the beginning of the piece. The soloist begins with a sharp, short B, and the audience initially hears the drone as an ethereal reverberation. The next half-minute or so is controlled by the soloist playing the same B with different fingerings to get slightly different timbres and tunings, and the drone is thoughtfully provided as a reference point to compare each new sound as it is introduced. Throughout most of the piece (leading up to the climax, near the “golden section”), the range of the oboe is gradually expanding in both directions from that B. The ending of the piece features some instrumental calisthenics and some timbral heroics, thanks to some really cool multiphonics. I like the bright, piercing quality of the oboe multiphonics, but the equally harsh, fuller-sounding multiphonics on the soprano saxophone are nice, too.
In conclusion we bring you a very thoughtful and enthusiastic performance of Sequenza VIIb played by Taimur Sullivan. Also, this one is the whole work, so you get to luxuriate in Berio’s formal design.
Guido, let’s put Sequenza VII up on the Big Board! The fightin’ VIIth!
Better Know a Sequenza (part 2)
In an effort to share the music of Luciano Berio with the world, we here at the Guidonian Hand bring you part two of our fourteen-part series, Better Know a Sequenza.
Sequenza III is for female voice. Singers, more so than instrumentalists, really engage music dramatically. I think this must be because they spend so much time studying opera roles and dramatic song cycles, but it really serves the sequenza well. Like the trombone sequenza, the voice sequenza is best experienced live or by video. The visual element is key. I don’t really know if performing Sequenza III is necessarily physical act, or if the work simply lends itself to physical interpretation, but you’ll never see anyone sing Handel the way they sing Berio. I recently sat down with Sequenza III on YouTube.
First, here’s Johanne Saunier’s performance. Someone has taken a lot of time to make the video really cool. It’s her singing, but a lot of it is slightly out of sync (at least I think it’s on purpose) and at a slightly weird speed.
Next, we bring you a video of a live performance by Marcia Taborda. The theatricality of this performance really sticks out (in a good way). Watch her face when she really gets going. Also, I dig the big chair and table set up from which she performs most of the piece. At the beginning she moves around the stage, and I wish she would do a bit more with this throughout the piece (though perhaps there’s an indication for this in the score).
Guido, let’s put Sequenza III up on the Big Board! The fightin’ IIIrd.
Better Know a Sequenza (introduction)
I recently started a series on this blog called Better Know a Sequenza, which combines three of my favorite things: the music of Luciano Berio, the comedy of Stephen Colbert, and of course, YouTube. Igor suggested to me that perhaps this series needed a bit more explanation, and I think he’s right. You may be thinking, “Dave, you can’t introduce a series after it’s already started.” To you, doubtful reader, I say this: watch me.
There have been several composers who have written large sets of solo works for different instruments. Persichetti had his “parables,” Hindemith had his sonatas. But for me, the most impressive of these groups is Berio’s fourteen sequenzas. Each is for a different solo instrument. Each sequenza stretches the sound vocabulary of its instrument in a way that pieces in analogous sets do not. “Sequenza,” as you probably could have guessed, is Italian for “sequence.” It refers to “Berio’s process of interpreting and reinterpreting sequences of different musical elements (pitches, pitch-classes, rhythms, pitch-class cells) throughout each piece.” (MacDonald, David “Score Versus Music in Berio’s Sequenza VII for Oboe.” Yes, I just cited myself. Get over it.)
Anyway, enough of that scholarly crap. The sequenzas are cool. That’s really all there is to it. If you don’t believe me listen to some. Each one of them really stretches the instrumental technique and the performer’s musicianship. The performer has to take all of the technical craziness and make some kind of musical sense of everything, and the listener is forced to work hard (but not too hard) to keep up. Good active and engaged listening is prerequisite to understanding (and inevitably enjoying the piece). I can’t really tell you what to listen for in the sequenzas, because not only are they each different, each new performance presents the audience with new ideas. (Kind of like a favorite novel that your return to on a regular basis.) They are difficult to analyze because Berio is rarely mathematical. Any time he seems to have developed a pattern, he veers off before it can be firmly established. However, there is still something esoterically and unavoidably intuitive about the music. Despite their pleasantly uncomfortable moments, they give the impression that they could not have been written any other way.
Stay tuned as the series continues…
Better Know a Sequenza (part 1)
In an effort to share the music of Luciano Berio with the world, we here at the Guidonian Hand bring you part one of our fourteen-part series, Better Know a Sequenza.
The Sequenzas are a set of fourteen pieces for solo instrument written over the course of the last 40-50 years by Italian composer Luciano Berio. Many have become staples of the instrumental repertoire. They are as challenging as they are rewarding, both to performers and audiences. I recently sat down with Sequenza V for solo trombone.
[transript]
Dave MacDonald: Good afternoon, Sequenza V, and thank you for meeting with me.
Sequenza V: Ciao.
DM: Mr. Sequenza, some people have accused you of being excessively silly. How do you respond to that?
V: Ciao.
DM: Ok. I’ll let you have the last word.
V: Ciao.
DM: Thank you very much, Mr. Sequenza. It’s been a pleasure.
[end transcript]
Guido, let’s put Sequenza V up on the Big Board! The fightin’ Vth.
