Flutist and composer Nicole Mitchell says she isn’t used to listening to a whole program of her work, however quite, “one piece right here, one piece there.” However on March 30, Miller Theatre’s Composer Portraits collection at Columbia College introduced a night dedicated to her music, with performances by the Worldwide Modern Ensemble and vocalist Lisa E. Harris. “It’s like attending to know your self,” Mitchell stated throughout an on-stage dialogue. “Due to this live performance, I’m beginning to actually hear what my language is, the issues that I’m interested in, and the way they present up in numerous areas, in numerous items.”
This shared exploration between viewers and composer made the live performance expertise a multiplicity of residing, respiratory organisms. The stage was a live-in house — as detailed as a completely furnished scene in a play — however as an alternative of being fitted with stale objects, the stage was adorned with tall crops that towered over the musicians within the again and flanked each side within the entrance. Candles had been lit, the backdrop was cerulean blue, and the home lights stayed on; it was a communal efficiency environment, every particular person invited to be cognizant of each other.
Whispering Flame started with a simmering undercurrent of strings, with violinists Gabriela Diaz and Mazz Swift paired with cellist Katinka Kleijn. Jonathan Finlayson layered a muted trumpet over Harris’ vocals, and you could possibly hear gentle strokes on the gong from percussionist Clara Warnaar even earlier than she got here to full view. With Mitchell on flute and electronics, the piece inbuilt instrumentation with out constructing in depth, and the traces stirred and whirred like free sheets of paper scattered by the wind.
Cory Smythe, Katinka Kleijn, Isabel Lepanto Gleicher, and Joshua Rubin carry out Nicole Mitchell’s Procession Time — Picture by Rob Davidson
Procession Time, for bass flute (Isabel Lepanto Gleicher), bass clarinet (Joshua Rubin), cello (Kleijn), and piano (Cory Smythe), largely hovered underground in decrease registers, with the low woodwinds reaching a tensely grating climax. All through, the flute fluttered like butterflies, whereas the cello and piano exchanged off-kilter tonal and rhythmic traces, and totally different mixtures of devices converged in loops.
Microtonal sliding within the flute, clarinet, violin, and cello arrange the vocalist for Transitions Past. Harris belted excessive notes; screams dissolved into weak moans and groans. Lyrics had been obscured — “I don’t want a lot on this life,” and “My creativeness will…” — till the phrases had been befuddled as soon as once more, like a time-lapsed flower wilting. The ensemble’s freneticism and clipped notes evoked the sounds of a damaged breath, with gasps of air shot by way of the wind devices. They ultimately pale into inquisitive traces whereas Harris’ phrases grew to become discernible once more: “That is what we’ve been ready for,” she sang, with the viewers left questioning, What?
Earlier than the following piece, Mitchell picked up a pink stuffed animal that was positioned beside the candles on the entrance of the stage that might have simply gone unnoticed. Addressing the viewers, she stated that Transitions Past was for her late husband, who would have damaged the silence and yelled, Hey y’all that was my music! Did y’all prefer it? “It’s okay to be energetic and calm down,” she continued, and the viewers did, somebody yelling out, We prefer it, Nicole!
The Worldwide Modern Ensemble and vocalist Lisa E. Harris carry out works by Nicole Mitchell — Picture by Rob Davidson
Constructing Stuff was the manifestation of this sense. Including double bass (Brandon Lopez), bassoon (Sara Schoenbeck), and harp (Ashley Jackson) to the ensemble, the piece included mechanical toys wound up and let free. A disco ball blinked and swirled multicolored lights, and a glockenspiel added playful tinkles. Wind devices joined with whimsical traces, the type we hear in psychedelic, journey-based cartoons. The drums interrupting the free-moving traces with a gradual beat, the piano pulsed jazz chords, and improvised traces had been traded among the many instrumentalists, earlier than Smythe provided disorienting and meandering traces on the piano, one hand reaching into the strings.
After an onstage dialogue between Mitchell and Melissa Smey, the chief director of Miller Theatre, the live performance closed with Inescapable Spiral. Digital enhancements spun into totally different realms of sound. Smythe crushed low-register tone clusters on piano; drums had been rubbed (quite than struck), whereas winds and strings splattered paint on an atonal canvas. Finally, every instrument exploded into an untamed frenzy of disconnected improvisation. Harris joined in, asking esoteric questions (“Is life directional? What’s sound?) and spoke in rhymes and riddles (“Our first wishes appear to be comfy, however quickly after we seek for dangers.”)
Nicole Mitchell’s music is filled with dichotomies. It’s whimsical, but dizzying; progressive with mechanical toys, but using acquainted devices that also break aside into impartial improvisation; dazzling with continuously interweaving traces, but in addition overwhelming when the music leaves no room to breathe. Inescapable Spiral encapsulated each piece on this system, however in the identical pressure of opposition, every work was a masterful show of composition and musicality. Ultimately, Mitchell greatest summarized the live performance herself: “You’ve got belongings you do with intent, after which there’s different belongings you do intuitively — after which you must carry these issues collectively.”
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