Sonic Revelations, Sonic Revolutions

I’m currently taking an astronomy class and all I could think of/envision while listening to “Why Patterns?” was outer space and its seeming infinity. This came to me on different levels; as the song began, I initially saw stars twinkling into existence against the dark vacuum of space, appearing as sparsely and distantly from each other as the notes of the song. However, I later considered the title of the song and it made me think of the astronomers of the ancient past, looking up at the sky and wondering why the stars and planets were arranged the way they were. Why patterns, indeed? But in the modern times, we know that the constellations aren’t really definitive patterns, but only seem so. They’re not truly manifestations of Greek myths or the zodiac–they’re just stars, billions and billions of light-years away from us. Why “patterns”? Because that’s simply the way they are. This brought me back to Feldman’s piece, which retains this same feeling of distance, almost randomness. When you try to focus on any one point, it fades away. You can only truly register them when you view the piece as a whole. And yet, each note has a special resonance of its own, glowing with its own ringing sound/purpose and reaching out with all the other notes to create this broad, textural expanse scattered with “stars.” But then, I’m also studying for an astronomy quiz at the same time, so that might have something to do with it…

First listening to Feldman’s “Why Patterns?”, it really gives me a sense of timelessness, as does a lot of his music.  It’s interesting to notice how the piece is made using such sparse instrumentation.  In the beginning, there are only a few instruments, but the tone is clear and sharp, certain notes really stand out.  Moving along to about halfway through the song, however, things have calmed down a bit, with less standing out, and little rhythmic chimes.  Then a flute or something comes in and breaks the silence.  Feldman’s style makes it seem like hardly anything is changing while all sorts of different musical things are going on.  Maybe that’s what makes us lose sense of time, because he’s really only moving from one note to the next, and is not thinking about what happened or where exactly the piece is going.  It all seems stuck in the present.

I wanted to really get a sense of Feldman after listening to as much of his music as I could, and I did after reading tidbits about his views on music and space.

While Feldman isn’t really considered minimalist by most, I feel like his music has the make-up that I would define as minimalist. After all there’s repetition, linear transitions, and minimal note use.

But the one thing I see as minimalist in Feldman’s work is the use of space as a color on the sonic palette. Pieces of his, most notably “Crippled Symmetry”, seem to slow time down in such a surreal way that allows me to move my mind (in real time) around the entire piece and view it from every angle. Every flute flutter is perfectly positioned in time and space for examination and wonder.

“Piano” had the same sort of effect on me as well, but snuck up on me during the last minutes of abrupt crashes, due to my less-than-genius decision to turn the volume up in my headphones to hear the softer notes. Beyond my own absentmindedness, piano struck me as a true work of art. I couldn’t help but think of modern art while listening, which should be no surprise since Feldman is so much like the sonic equivalent of Rothko or Modrian.

I call him a sly bastard because he had me thinking one thing when I started listening to his pieces (in disbelief usually, at the duration times) and then slowly moving into a different mode where everything starts to make sense. It’s the weave-like patters he creates that really get me. I’m really glad I’ve been introduced to his work.