Nun of the Above

On my way to her first opera, Hildegard, on Friday night, I was thinking again about Sarah Kirkland Snider’s music, and how I might describe an album like Unremembered to somebody who had never heard it. I surprised myself with the absurd phrase psychedelic folk—surprised, since her music has always struck me as grounded and unpretentious, not “hallucinatory” per se—but if you were talking about an album from the 70s that used tape delays the way Snider uses imitation, blurring the edges around the harmonies and orchestration, what else would you call it? Anyway, it was just a passing thought. I shrugged it off.

A couple hours later, I was sitting at the Prototype Festival’s New York premiere of Hildegard, and all of a sudden the word “psychedelic” didn’t seem all that absurd. If you’ve read my profile(s) of Snider and the making of her opera for Parterre Box, you might remember a couple of things about this project: that music director Gabriel Crouch (who expertly led the outstanding NOVUS Ensemble here) raved about Snider’s orchestrations, and that one of the things that got her obsessed with Hildegard von Bingen’s story was Hildegard’s lifelong, debilitating, chronic headaches (Snider suffers from chronic migraine, which some scholars suspect may have caused Hildegard’s visions). But I wasn’t prepared for how acutely Snider would apply the orchestra towards sonifying the throb and shimmer of a headache. It was so intense—it was so vivid—and yet, it was oddly lovely, and not quite like anything I’d heard before.

The projections in Elkhanah Pulitzer’s production, designed by Deborah Johnson, likewise managed to seem persuasively hallucinatory, pretty, and new throughout the piece, evoking Hildegard’s recorded visions while also suggesting that those images were only a simplified rendering of something deeper, stranger, and more complex.

This was my favorite thing about the piece: how weird it was. Pulitzer’s production inserts strange, crow-headed figures without explanation, like the marginalia in illuminated manuscripts from the Middle Ages. (“Weird Medieval guys,” social media would call them.) Snider’s visions don’t depict Jesus or any recognizable Mary, but some other masked, female figure—God isn’t a patriarch here, but instead appears as some mysterious aspect of the Divine.

I only wished it could have been weirder. Snider’s music was so delicious during Hildegard’s visions that I kept yearning for the next one whenever the action returned to the “real world.” The dizzying interplay of high soprano voices weaving in ensemble—incredible! Just beautiful stuff.

But—although keen composer of dramatic scenes—Snider hasn’t written a libretto that lives up to the strangeness of her subject. I’d read the libretto before, and even seen duets and arias previewed in concert, but seeing the action onstage I was struck by how familiar the story beats in Hildegard were. And by “familiar” I mean familiar from Hollywood melodrama, not “familiar” as in the rich archetypal familiarity of the great opera libretti—the way that Hoffmansthal adopts the conventions of bedroom farce or the quest-romance only to warp them into something subtly more dangerous. 

And this should have felt dangerous. This is a blasphemous opera, a story about love between nuns, an oppressive church hierarchy, and acts of cruelty and violence. But the drama comported all too easily with my modern liberal sensibilities: other than a satisfying moment when a villain of the piece, Father Cuno, defends his apparent grasping for ecclesiastical glory (and resources) by pointing out how many more patients the abbey could serve, I never felt that I was in danger of agreeing with him. I never really wondered whether Hildegard’s visions might be ”mere” hallucinations, or whether her love for her fellow nun, Richardis von Stade, might be unhealthy. Instead, I felt comfortable. I wish I could have felt just a little… well… yeah. Weirder about it all.

While Pulitzer and Johnson’s visuals were rich and satisfying, Laurel Jenkins’ movement choreography for the figures in Hildegard’s visions could have hit a little harder, with something closer to the abstract geometry of postures you see in a Medieval illustration (or a Robert Wilson production, RIP), to complete the effect created by Pulitzer’s attractive tableaux by bringing an equal sharpness and unity. 

Other than that, the cast was fully committed—it was easy to believe that Nola Richardson, as Hildegard, was indeed a saint. Her part often sits very high, and it took her light, clear soprano just a moment to ease into it in her first appearance, but other than a few moments in which it seemed that the amplification system was bugging out on her, she gave a lovely and compelling vocal performance. Mikaela Bennett, as Richardis, fairly beamed star power straight out into the audience, giving a brilliantly colored and detailed interpretation, and the intertwining of soprano lines 

Baritone David Adam Moore, as Abbot Cuno, gave an appropriately dark and authoritative performance both dramatically and vocally; Roy Hage, as Volmar, seemed to struggle a little more with Snider’s challenging tenor part, which lingered in his upper registers and sat heavily in the break.

As a Sarah Kirkland Snider fan from way back, Hildegard is a piece I’ve been looking forward to with curiosity and more than a little excitement. She’s definitely shown a new side of her artistry here, composing a thrilling, brilliantly colored, dramatically score. Of course it’s not a perfect piece—but a truly great libretto is hard to find, and I know from my conversations with Snider that if she hadn’t written this text herself, the piece might never have happened. As it is, I’m deeply grateful for the chance to see and hear the arrival of a brilliant new opera composer, and desperate to hear what she does next.

I Dig Her Deeply, and No Wonder

Hey! It's been awhile. But let's catch up, shall we, with that gang of superpowered misfits busily engineering the New York new music scene down in the secret underground bunker of New Amsterdam Records. I talked about the new Victoire release in my print column not too long ago, but there've been a coupla discs released since then that we really need to talk about.

For one thing, even longer than we've been waiting for that Victoire disc, we've all been waiting for David T. Little's noisy Newspeak to drop their first record, so the release of their new sweet light crude means we can finally EXHALE, and so now how is it?

Well, I'm not crazy about it, but that doesn't answer the question, since after all do I not like it because it really isn't good or do I not like it because it's just not my thing? Now THAT'S a puzzler, because there's a lot here that is Not My Thing—the sound here leans often towards the heavier genres of popular music, which are most effective when they've got that Wall Of Sound density, aren't they? Those turgid fuzzed-out textures you have to dig into to make everything out? When everything is articulated clearly, demanding instead of just allowing you to hear everything that's going on, we're falling into the genres I'm not crazy about, where the word "rock" is preceded by "prog" or followed by "opera."

But—no, it's not just that. Harmonically, melodically, these pieces leave me, for the most part, unmoved. And these genres don't always gel—there's always the hazard, when crashing all these musics into each other, of coming up with something that combines not the Best of Both Worlds but instead strays into "Most Unwanted Song" territory—nor do these pieces really hang together; I didn't feel, at the end, as if they'd added up to anything bigger.

Which is too bad, because these players are so great! In the aforelinked Victoire review, remember how I complained about their fiddler? Listen to Caleb Burhans play Missy Mazzoli's In Spite of All This and hear the difference a first-rate violinist can make. In Pat Muchmore's Brennschluß, Mellissa Hughes (of The Little Death) delivers her text like a total pro. How many singers can also Talk that convincingly?

Actually, of all the pieces on this program, it's Burhans's Requiem for a General Motors in Janesville, WI that I find myself returning to the most—it's the least fussy thing on the program, and for that reason the most successful as a rock composition. (Although this is clearly reflective of my listening again, I have to say that Oscar Bettison's B&E (with aggravated assault) also holds up pretty well, as the most progg'd-out piece on the program, so, who knows.) Here, anyway, is David T. Little's title track, in a video directed by NewAm regulars Satan's Pearl Horses, which is so 90s that I think I might love it:

As always with NewAm, you can listen to all of every track before you buy the album, here.

In that same envelope, I also got a copy of the new New Amsterdam disc from janus, a trio—featuring Amanda Baker, Nuiko Wadden, and Beth Meyers on flute, harp, and viola, respectively (although they also pick up a few other instruments and speak and sing along the way)—that I really hadn't heard as much about, which is crazy, because this disc is an Incredibly good listen.

(Can I point out here that the fact that the trio is named after a two-faced god reminds me CONSTANTLY of that SNL sketch about the R&B trio called Gemini's Twin? Okay sorry, continue.)

i am not, it's called, and it was recorded by Lawson White, because Lawson White records everything, apparently. Not only did he produce sweet light crude, he recorded the Isabelle O'Connell [SP?] album (Reservoir) whose sound I was raving about that one time, and he did Katrina Ballads for Ted Hearne, which sounded so clear without seeming naked, and he did Cathedral City for Victoire, which like sweet light crude was a little too clean for my money, i am not is not just clean, it is BONE WHITE, and it's terrific. Maybe it's because the album is strung together with interstitial movements composed by White's co–So Percussionist, Jason Treuting—crunchy, savory bites of music, kind of like those little rice crackers my dad's always eating?—that the album hangs together so well despite the range of different composers' voices; at first, I wanted to credit the harp-trio format, with its limited resources, for unifying the palette, but of course with the extra instruments and electronic accompaniments they employ on this record the actual possibilities are limitless. Those resources just happen to be very, very cannily exploited.

Here's janus playing the track Keymaster by (OF COURSE) Caleb Burhans:



I know what you're thinking and yes, it's super Philip Glassy, but it has its own smarts and its own charm—I love the sound of the viola harmonics–versus–flute unison at the beginning of the piece, and the simple fact is that this kind of writing is totally native to these instruments. Cameron Britt, Anna Clyne, and Ryan Brown each turn in a lovely movement as well, and Angelica Negron of Arturo en el Barco fame contributes the especially fascinating Drawings for Meyoko. Huh? What's that you say? Arturo en el Barco does not enjoy what you'd call "fame" yet? Oh, sorry, I temporarily mistook this for a just universe ruled over by a benevolent deity! Now click here and download some free Arturo en el Barco—okay thanks—and then click here to hear & buy i am not.

And then this OTHER recent New Amsterdam release, Penelope by NewAm co-founder Sarah Kirkland Snider. I'd not only heard a lot about it, but I knew Snider was a solid composer, having heard a particularly well-crafted piece of hers during her Yale days (conducted by her future husband, Real Steven Mackey!) on one of the New Music New Haven concerts; Signal is a great band, of course; and I'd loved Shara Worden's singing with My Brightest Diamond and Clogs. Still, there's no guarantee that all these parts will add up to something awesome. Is there anything more cringe-inducing than hearing an overqualified singer struggle to wring something worthwhile out of a song earnestly overcomposed by another talented musician? All the talent in the world don't count for nothin' if you can't write a ditty.

Well GREAT NEWS, y'all: Snider can, it turns out, apply her classical chops towards the creation of an amazingly solid pop record. It's seamless! Snider's hand is incredibly well-hidden here—this could be a singer-songwriter disc that just happens to have especially savvy harmonies and arrangements. Of course, it also helps that librettist Ellen McLaughlin also knows how to write a subtle refrain. And that the album was warmly, clearly produced by, OH LOOK, Lawson White again.

So I have greatly enjoyed listening to Penelope, but more than that, I have actually turned to it for when I am feeling down. It is a balm! It is tha bomb. Now, as I said, the whole album is surprisingly solid, so I really can't single out one song as being the one that you absolutely have to listen to, but also yes I can, it's this song, "Lotus Eaters," which I've been humming to myself for the past several weeks, in a weak and quavering voice, as the autumn sun descends closer and closer to the southern horizon and the days grow dark and cold:

This video I'm actually not that crazy about, despite the often exceedingly lovely photography—it just seems a bit "on the nose." BUT THAT SONG, right?? Buy it, and/or the rest of the rest of the album, here, and be glad you did.

(And remember! Now that NewAm has Naxos distribution, all of these albums are available not just at their website and iTunes but wherever fine compact discs are sold. Jinkies!)

First Things First, then First Things First

In between your Fleet Week visits to New York's seediest gay bars, you'll want to spend this weekend checking out some of the exciting things the New Amsterdam Records gang is up to. Tonight and tomorrow, let me remind you again that it's time to hear the Corey Dargel's just-completed Thirteen Near Death Experiences, the invention of which you've been reading about at his blog, here. That's Corey Dargel and ICE at PS 122, 8 pm, and if you've been listening to his MIDI demos, and I hope you have, you know it's going to be hot. (Just posted: a clip of the live band rehearsing my new favorite song from the cycle, "Someone Will Take Care of Me.") Also tonight at 8, Sarah Kirkland Snider's Penelope premieres as a part of New Amsterdam's Undiscovered Islands at Galapagos—I think I've heard precisely one (1) piece by Snider but it was solid and well-made. (Bonus trivia: she's married to famous guitarist/composer Steven Mackey, who will be performing at the concert! So you can be reasonably sure that it is not an impostor.) Also Nadia Sirota's CD came out on New Amsterdam this week! First things first it's called. I'm going to post a review in just a bit.