Category 1

Inside, Pre-recorded Soundscape, Live Instrument

The most common category based on my growing survey is that of field recordings with live instrument(s) performed in a concert venue. These works can have a soloistic or blended approach. Some are of purely environmental tracks, or may be human singing or speech, or a combination.

Field recordings of songs sung by the most unexpected people can inspire large-scale works. Gavin Bryars (b.1943) composed Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet (1971), for orchestra and tape of a field recording of a vagrant singing a simple religious song. There are several version existing, and the original version which became cult is available by Schott Music Ltd. (35 minutes). While helping his film colleague Alan Power record footage of homeless individuals in around Elephant and Castle and Waterloo Station of London they captured a spontaneous song of a vagrant (who in fact was not drunk). Since this segment was not used in the film, Bryars received this tape, which turned out was in tune with his piano at home, prompting an immediate improvised accompaniment. Bryars looped the 13-measure song 180 times for the length of an LP with music composed as orchestral accompaniment. The composer describes the background story in this way:

I took the tape loop to Leicester, where I was working in the Fine Art Department, and copied the loop onto a continuous reel of tape, thinking about perhaps adding an orchestrated accompaniment to this. The door of the recording room opened on to one of the large painting studios and I left the tape copying, with the door open, while I went to have a cup of coffee. When I came back I found the normally lively room unnaturally subdued. People were moving about much more slowly than usual and a few were sitting alone, quietly weeping.

I was puzzled until I realised that the tape was still playing and that they had been overcome by the old man's singing. This convinced me of the emotional power of the music and of the possibilities offered by adding a simple, though gradually evolving, orchestral accompaniment that respected the tramp's nobility and simple faith. Although he died before he could hear what I had done with his singing, the piece remains as an eloquent, but understated testimony to his spirit and optimism.1

The length of the different versions was based on the length of technology available: LP (25 min.), tape (60 min.), CD (74 min.) Thus, he clearly wanted to make it as long as possible, a huge orchestration exercise to surround the vagrant's singing.

Also important to mention is the unique CD-version exploiting the special growl of Tom Waits to sing a 'duet' with the old man. For this project Bryars made an exception to the otherwise forbidden vocal obligato. “Just stretching the old version wouldn't have done, so it needed lots of change or things to happen to take it into other territories,” he said.2 In an Italian M Videomusic program the composer and singer had appeared to discuss their collaboration. Waits was especially appreciative of the opportunity.

It was great today to sing with it. I think, you know, the orchestration is very sensitive. 'Cause when you approach something that is really living you have to be very careful about it. ...it's like dusting an archeological dig carefully. I loved your arrangement. The whole thing really blooms without ever taking it away from the seed. Really special song for me.3

The voice of Waits is richer and more resonant than the simple vagrant's voice, and at times I wished to have less of Waits as I listened. (Waits is very clearly in the foreground of this version.) However, with the CD-length 74 minutes, the piece clearly does need this third layer. Unlike previous versions which focused on a rich and varied accompaniment, the version with Waits also includes transcription of the melody/words (straight-forward singing along), as well as the harmonizations and other embellishment. Bryars also composed some smaller climaxes within the piece, such as resounding trumpet and organ moments.

A work that encourages performer-directed imitation of a place is the 1969 (Hartford) Memory Space by Alvin Lucier (b.1931). The provocative difference is that the field recording (or other method of recording the events) is not heard/known by the audience since Lucier instructs performers to wear headphones rather than play the source over loudspeakers; thus the piece fits in Category I with an aberration. For preparation, the piece asks the performers to seek an outdoor space and listen deeply, and to transcribe these events in a way understandable to themselves. Thus they create their own scores based on their “field” experience, be they written, drawn, or recorded. Then in concert, the musicians simultaneously recreate their personal listening experience as closely as possible with their voices or conventional instruments. In the seminal piece (I Am Sitting in a Room) and Memory Space, which came a year later, Lucier clearly shows an interest in simultaneity and accumulation regarding time and memory, which intrigued music philosopher Christoph Cox.

Each performer presents a (remembered) part of the whole city; and the simultaneous performance of these parts offers an approximation of the total urban soundscape, which, however, still remains virtual, out of earshot.4

I experienced such a recreation of an urban soundscape during a performance of (Amsterdam) Memory Space by MAZE Ensemble in Amsterdam's Het Orgelpark in September 2014. I clearly remember the feeling of isolation of each performer listening to their audio recording or following their written notes to improvise the music of the remembered place. Lucier called this separation “little islands”.

I wanted [the performers] to stick as closely as possible to their remembrance of the environment, so I isolated [them] from one another. It was as if each of them were on an island but the audience could see and hear all those islands. The islands could be parts of the town, or places in the streets, and the audience would see and hear a composite of which the individual players were only a part.5

Within these independent “islands” the audience can search for and find relationships, or focus on a single performer, or simply feel lost. Perhaps at times even the original source is recognizable. Whatever the sonic result, the concept is clear and each performance is unique because Memory Space connects performers to their physical surroundings, and each person will discover their own sounds or methods to recreate these memories of place. The piece is firmly in the performers' hands; Lucier essentially provides the framework for them to carefully listen and transcribe sounds of their environment. Since the original is not heard by the audience, this translation, this mimesis, becomes abstracted.

The instructions are clear in asking for any audio recordings (memory aids, as Lucier calls them), to not be shared with the audience. However, several CD recordings do include the field recordings, often processed and layered in different ways to reveal the outside environments used in the performances. In these instances, disobeying the composer's wishes actually leads to interesting results and sonic textures. The length is determined by the performers.

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1 Bryars, Gavin. Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet Story. http://www.gavinbryars.com/Pages/jesus_blood_never_failed_m.html, accessed February 24, 2016. “The piece was originally recorded on Brian Eno's Obscure label in 1975 and a substantially revised and extended version for Point Records in 1993.”