So far I’ve had a difficult time deciding whether or not I’m a fan of Morton Feldman. When we listened to “Piano Four Hands” a few classes ago, I was extremely moved. I thought, and still think, that it is an extremely beautiful, emotionally rich piece. I had then jumped to the conclusion that I really liked Feldman’s work. This may have been a little early for such a decision. After a few listens through “Why Patterns,” I’m not sure if I can maintain the same opinion about him. Luckily, we have nearly twenty hours of his music on our iPods. At first I figured that the length of “Why Patterns” was what turned me off a little bit. Since, I’ve listened to more of the CD that includes “Piano Four Hands.” Some of the pieces (”Piano,” and “Piano Three Hands”) are much longer than the short work that I enjoyed. Even still, I manage a listening experience with these longer works more similar to my listening experience with “Piano Four Hands” than with “Why Patterns.” What have been my absolute favorite Feldman works that I’ve heard so far are some of the String Quartets. I haven’t had a chance to listen to many of them all of the way through, but all of the ones I have heard so far, whether in full or just excerpts, have been thrilling. For the most part, I have thoroughly enjoyed his work. I guess that I just listened to “Why Patterns” with the mentality that it was the be-all-end-all representation of Feldman’s work since it was the piece that professor Alegant selected for us to listen to. In many ways the piece is a good representation of Feldman’s compositional style. For some reason that I cannot seem to articulate, I am just not a huge fan of “Why Patterns.” It seems that it is my duty now to abandon the idea that my lack of interest in that one composition should cast a shadow on the rest of his works. I guess I’ve learned a lesson about the dangers of latching on to first impressions.
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…
I found Feldman’s “Why Patterns” to be a really interesting piece, maybe the most interesting one we’ve looked at of his. His compositions feel like dreams to me; I drift off further and further into that delicate state of semi-consciousness as the piece progresses. As mentioned by a few others, there is this sense of weakness as well. The notes and textures are restrained and light. I think this is where Feldman’s music gets its real power – the feeling of resistance. Music should flow in an organic and musical way but resist at the same time. Feldman makes this work so perfectly; his orchestration is understated and sparse (and also very quiet and gentle), but there is this underlying weight to it at the same time. It has a resistance to it that keeps you engaged with each emerging part and with the piece’s overall intensity. Feldman’s compositions feel like blank slates to me, and streaks of texture and color emerge throughout. In “Why Patterns,” the orchestration develops slowly and becomes just a little bit more textured in the middle, taking your whole body deeper into a state of relaxed but focused energy. The perpetual piano notes are about the only consistent part of the piece, and his use of winds gives off the real dreamy feeling. Very cool piece.
When I was younger, around seven or eight years old, I got really sick, and at one point my fever peaked to about 103. I feel really uncomfortable when I listen to Feldman’s “Why Patterns?” because it conjures the memory of that fever, and the hallucinatory state of mind I was in because of it. It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly makes this piece so evocative of that time of illness. It has the feel of being too weak to get out of bed, yet having one’s head hurt and pound: the tempo is slow and creeping, and even though the movement is at the pace of a slowly spinning mind’s, dictated by the whining flute, there are still pangs of piano and tinkles in the background, counteracting the flute’s potential to give a sense of rest with sharp distractions. Even if I didn’t have that experience to draw upon, this song might still embody a sense of insanity…in fact, I think I might go crazy if I listen to it for too long. I played flute for about eight years, and it’s disconcerting to hear flute tones played in this way. Even though I would like to say that the sounds are beautiful in theory, I just don’t like the dawdling and hesitation of it. Then again, perhaps I’m not doing the song justice as I am really tired right now, and maybe a little cranky…
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.
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