This morning I stumbled upon this after encountering the phrase “the crowded air” in an Emily Dickinson poem (229 [Franklin], “Musicians wrestle everywhere –”) and googling it. The moment it ended, I wanted to hear it again.
Milton Babbitt (1916-2011), The Crowded Air (1988); Boston Modern Orchestra Project, 2013
A couple years ago I heard the Chicago-based Spektral Quartet play this piece at the Museum of Contemporary Art—one of the most memorable musical experiences of my life.
Morton Feldman (1926-1987, MCOTD Hall of Fame), String Quartet No. 2 (1983); FLUX Quartet, live, London (The Tanks at Tate Modern), 2016
**********
lagniappe
reading table
Who has not found the Heaven – below –
Will fail of it above –
For Angels rent the House next ours,
Wherever we remove –
There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the Windows and the Doors
As from an Emerald Ghost —
The Doom’s electric Moccasin
That very instant passed —
On a strange Mob of panting Trees
And Fences fled away
And Rivers where the Houses ran
Those looked that lived — that Day —
The Bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings told —
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the World!
This I bumped into last night. One-word review: Wow!
Jonathan Harvey (1939-2012), . . . towards a pure land (2005); Orchestre du Conservatoire de Paris, Ensemble Intercontemporain, Matthias Pintscher (direction), live, Paris, 2016
**********
reading table
The Earth has many keys –
—Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), from 895, draft (Franklin)
Clara Iannotta (1983-), The people here go mad. They blame the wind. (2013-14); Uusinta Ensemble and Clara Iannotta (music boxes), live, Helsinki, 2018