[Dixielandjazz] A reinterpretation of an old John Cage work

[Steve Barbone]

Slightly off topic, but involving John Cage, who has been discussed a few
times on this forum. Plus, a thought that music, when presented live,
involves sight as well as sound.

Would it be appropriate to present OKOM with such sight lines? Think of the
possibilities. :-) VBG.

When Barbone Street performs at Sydney's, we are on closed circuit TV that
is visible in the back room where extra tables have been set up. Perhaps we
could show something else on the TV? Like Jackie Gleason zooming around
while we play "That's A Plenty"? Or scenes from "Jungle Book" when we play
"Tiger Rag"? 

Or perhaps some slinky, sexy scene, like Duke had at the Cotton Club, JRM
when he was a whorehouse pianist, or Bechet with Josephine Baker? :-) VBG.

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

John Cage Wrote an Earful, and It¹s Served With an Eyeful

NY TIMES - By STEVE SMITH - August 1, 2006

Practically any concert of John Cage¹s music involves some degree of chance:
indeterminacy was at the heart of the composer¹s philosophy. Still, some
performances are more unpredictable than others. In the recital presented
Sunday by the pianist Emily Manzo at the Stone, a tiny performing arts space
on the Lower East Side, the uncertainty had less to do with the music than
with the two video screens that surrounded her.

The ³Sonatas and Interludes² for prepared piano, composed in 1948, is one of
Cage¹s signature creations: a set of 16 brief pieces punctuated by four
slightly longer ones, performed on a piano with metal bolts, rubber erasers
and other implements wedged into its strings. Ms. Manzo¹s attention to
detail was exceptional; clearly, she had the composer¹s notes under her
fingers and his particular timbres committed to memory. She found a natural
shape and flow for each movement, digging beneath its clangorous surface to
reveal a playful dance or tender lullaby.

Flanking Ms. Manzo, the video artists David Phillips and Paul Rowley used
tiny two-octave keyboards to manipulate digital images on laptop computers,
projecting the results on two screens facing the pianist and audience. Both
artists independently wielded a shared visual vocabulary; on one screen, a
particular image might hold steady, while on the other the same pattern
might be shifting, dancing or shattering into dozens of fragments.

Apart from the liquid blobs that splashed in time with Ms. Manzo¹s opening
notes, Mr. Phillips and Mr. Rowley rarely tried to illustrate Cage¹s notes
literally. Instead, they projected images of clocks and carousels,
electronic schematics and the occasional grainy home-movie snippet to
suggest qualities of restlessness, energy, impermanence and tranquillity
found in Cage¹s music. Occasionally, the video was a colorful distraction;
at its best moments, it functioned as a sort of Kirlian photography,
rendering visible the music¹s characteristic aura.

The intersection of sound and vision became especially effective in the
program¹s final stretch. In the Sonata XIV, balls of light flitted about
like insects skimming the surface of a pond, just as untreated notes
similarly rang out over a steady ripple of prepared tones. Midway through
the movement, Mr. Rowley¹s system failed. Mr. Phillips continued to the end
of the next section, then dimmed his projector as well. Whether by design or
sheer chance, Ms. Manzo ended the performance alone, her gentle notes
ringing at length in the dark.