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rhythmaningSitting in the auditorium waiting for the show to start, the ushers suddenly move through the aisles asking everyone to leave quickly. There is a lot of confusion - not least from the number of non-English speakers. Thoughts quickly turn to fire or terrorist bomb – although being asked to wait in the foyer imples something less radical. Either way, everyone leaves as quickly as requested; the foyer gets crowded as those streaming out of the auditorium meet those rushing to get in.
Not a good start to the evening.
It turns out that rather than Mr Sands or al-Quaeda, the Festival Theatre was suffering from a flooded stage, and we had to wait whilst it was mopped up and dried out.
Fifty minutes late – not too bad, considering – the show started. Two men walk on stage and one of them starts swinging two microphones hanging down at the front of the stage by their cables. Suspended over a loudspeaker, as these two mics swing like pendulums, they feedback at the bottom of their swing– a different tone for each mic. As each moves away from the speakers, the tone stops, as they approach, the mic picks ups the sound and starts to feedback again. The mics start off in parallel, but quickly their swings diverge, and the two tones start chasing each other. (Perhaps the mics are different weights – does the weigh of a pendulum affect the length of the swing? - or perhaps they were given a different push; or perhaps it is just chance.) One catches the other, the tones merge, then it overtakes; so the tones swing – literally – pulsing. This goes on until the pendulum swings decay, the last tones being long as the swings slowly move over the speakers. This piece was strangely calming, meditative and hypnotic: so simple – what an idea! - and wonderful.
The mics flying away, the speakers were removed and a pair of marimbas (I think) set up. Two musicians come on, and start playing very simple figures. The tunes phase in and out, reinforcing each other and then separating. It is interesting music – I am not familiar with Reich's pieces, but I have something similar to this played by Evelyn Glennie. It is hard to spot the metre, each beat being equal – the musicians must work hard not to join in lock-step but keep to their own rhythms. Somehow they stop simultaneously. Tremendous.
But no dancing yet. Two pianos are brought on, and two pianists are Joined by two dancers. The pianists again play simple figures in their own time – they come and go and the dancers motions – also simple movements (swinging their right arms, spinning on their feet) – follow the music. I can't tell if one dancer was dancing to one piano or if they were both following their own patterns, but the dancers motions become separated as they repeat. Their dancers follow almost identical action, but they too phase in and out of time. Wearing simple white dresses, they spin and spin; they come into phase, mirroring each other, finger tips almost touching, and then they part. Their timing is exquisite. And they all stop together: perfect.
A recorded piece next – possibly by Ligeti - with several women dancers, most in white, two in black and one in a silver top. Each dancer follows their own steps, but sometimes they come together for a few bars and dance together before diverging. It is beautifully abstract, and there is a lot to look at, watching one dancer or another.
This is followed by some male dancers and another recorded piece. The men, also dressed in black and white, seem more powerful or aggressive, with more interplay between each other. A bit like tag wrestling.
When they leave the stage, the lights illuminate the very edge of the stage, and the structure that had been barely visible is shown to be a long array of metronomes. They are all set in motion, beating strict time; but each is different. More than a hundred rhythms phase in and out with each other, beating time together or apart. Again hypnotic. One by one they stop, until there is just a lone metronome beat; and then it stops. (I was fascinated: were they set to different lengths of beat? Were they wound up differently? How much was it deliberately planned - “we'll set this one to 70 bpm, that one to 80” - and how much was left to chance?)
Then the drumming began. Starting with a single drummer beating out strict, fast time on a pair of drums, the full company of dancers come on stage and dance together and alone. Another drummer joins, following his own, slightly different rhythm, the two sequences once more phasing in and out. The vocabulary of the dance was simple repetitive steps, the dancers sometimes coming together but mostly dancing alone. It was very beautiful. The two drummers are joined by another and then another, and all four play for a long time. I thought this was brilliant music – odd since I have a strong dislike of drum solos – the repetition in their drumming and the repetition of the dancers producing a very beautiful piece. The last dance of the programme, it lasted a long time; although repetitive, it wasn't boring. It was mesmeric.
The company received a standing ovation – although it must be said that the performance seemed to divide the audience: several people had left during the performance (this might be because the delayed start meant they had to leave part way through).
They treated us to an encore: five musicians with woodblocks, each beating out their own rhythm, were joined by the two dancers from the first dance piece repeated it, weaving in and out of the the rhythms, swinging together and apart. It was an excellent finale, and the company received another standing ovation before they left the stage.
http://www.eif.co.uk/event/steve-reich-evening.html
Not a good start to the evening.
It turns out that rather than Mr Sands or al-Quaeda, the Festival Theatre was suffering from a flooded stage, and we had to wait whilst it was mopped up and dried out.
Fifty minutes late – not too bad, considering – the show started. Two men walk on stage and one of them starts swinging two microphones hanging down at the front of the stage by their cables. Suspended over a loudspeaker, as these two mics swing like pendulums, they feedback at the bottom of their swing– a different tone for each mic. As each moves away from the speakers, the tone stops, as they approach, the mic picks ups the sound and starts to feedback again. The mics start off in parallel, but quickly their swings diverge, and the two tones start chasing each other. (Perhaps the mics are different weights – does the weigh of a pendulum affect the length of the swing? - or perhaps they were given a different push; or perhaps it is just chance.) One catches the other, the tones merge, then it overtakes; so the tones swing – literally – pulsing. This goes on until the pendulum swings decay, the last tones being long as the swings slowly move over the speakers. This piece was strangely calming, meditative and hypnotic: so simple – what an idea! - and wonderful.
The mics flying away, the speakers were removed and a pair of marimbas (I think) set up. Two musicians come on, and start playing very simple figures. The tunes phase in and out, reinforcing each other and then separating. It is interesting music – I am not familiar with Reich's pieces, but I have something similar to this played by Evelyn Glennie. It is hard to spot the metre, each beat being equal – the musicians must work hard not to join in lock-step but keep to their own rhythms. Somehow they stop simultaneously. Tremendous.
But no dancing yet. Two pianos are brought on, and two pianists are Joined by two dancers. The pianists again play simple figures in their own time – they come and go and the dancers motions – also simple movements (swinging their right arms, spinning on their feet) – follow the music. I can't tell if one dancer was dancing to one piano or if they were both following their own patterns, but the dancers motions become separated as they repeat. Their dancers follow almost identical action, but they too phase in and out of time. Wearing simple white dresses, they spin and spin; they come into phase, mirroring each other, finger tips almost touching, and then they part. Their timing is exquisite. And they all stop together: perfect.
A recorded piece next – possibly by Ligeti - with several women dancers, most in white, two in black and one in a silver top. Each dancer follows their own steps, but sometimes they come together for a few bars and dance together before diverging. It is beautifully abstract, and there is a lot to look at, watching one dancer or another.
This is followed by some male dancers and another recorded piece. The men, also dressed in black and white, seem more powerful or aggressive, with more interplay between each other. A bit like tag wrestling.
When they leave the stage, the lights illuminate the very edge of the stage, and the structure that had been barely visible is shown to be a long array of metronomes. They are all set in motion, beating strict time; but each is different. More than a hundred rhythms phase in and out with each other, beating time together or apart. Again hypnotic. One by one they stop, until there is just a lone metronome beat; and then it stops. (I was fascinated: were they set to different lengths of beat? Were they wound up differently? How much was it deliberately planned - “we'll set this one to 70 bpm, that one to 80” - and how much was left to chance?)
Then the drumming began. Starting with a single drummer beating out strict, fast time on a pair of drums, the full company of dancers come on stage and dance together and alone. Another drummer joins, following his own, slightly different rhythm, the two sequences once more phasing in and out. The vocabulary of the dance was simple repetitive steps, the dancers sometimes coming together but mostly dancing alone. It was very beautiful. The two drummers are joined by another and then another, and all four play for a long time. I thought this was brilliant music – odd since I have a strong dislike of drum solos – the repetition in their drumming and the repetition of the dancers producing a very beautiful piece. The last dance of the programme, it lasted a long time; although repetitive, it wasn't boring. It was mesmeric.
The company received a standing ovation – although it must be said that the performance seemed to divide the audience: several people had left during the performance (this might be because the delayed start meant they had to leave part way through).
They treated us to an encore: five musicians with woodblocks, each beating out their own rhythm, were joined by the two dancers from the first dance piece repeated it, weaving in and out of the the rhythms, swinging together and apart. It was an excellent finale, and the company received another standing ovation before they left the stage.
http://www.eif.co.uk/event/steve-reich-evening.html