Elevator Music of the Spheres
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
The minimalist, multimedia spectaculars at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Next Wave Festivals are beginning to seem like the new items on a Taco Bell menu – some ingredients changed, but they’re still based on the same elements as the old dishes.
“Sun Rings” – which brings together Terry Riley, composer of the 1964 minimalist landmark, “In C,” with his long-time collaborators in the Kronos Quartet – at least seemed intriguing. One of the work’s commissioners, the NASA Art Program, had lent to Mr. Riley samples of extraterrestrial sounds picked up in plasma waves and recorded by an enterprising physicist in Iowa by the name of Don Gurnett. But at Wednesday night’s premiere much of the music simply came off as pallid and outdated.
(It’s worth mentioning that space exploration and minimalism haven’t had a noteworthy recent history here. Two years ago, to launch the Next Wave Festival’s 20th anniversary, the academy presented Philip Glass’s opera, “Galileo Galilei,” which was truly terrible.)
The collaborators, along with visual designer Willie Williams, have created an evening that contains some magical, yes, even ethereal, moments. By their very existence, the sounds Mr. Gurnett captured fascinate: They are reminiscent at times of gargling mouthwash, or overhearing an elderly man coughing; not what you would normally label celestial. The less cynical might see the work as a minimalist attempt to address the spiritual.
Mr. Riley divides the evening into 10 movements with provocative titles such as “Beebopterismo” or “Prayer Central.” (Though it was impossible to follow these titles in the program, given that the house lights were turned all the way off.) The most effecting movements were “Hero Danger,” in which Mr. Riley created a haunting counterpoint between cellist Jennifer Culp and violist Hank Dutt before the addition of the violins, and “Earth/Jupiter Kiss.” Here Mr. Riley produced some of his sparsest, slowest music, with close-ups of the eye of Jupiter as a backdrop.
Certain movements, such as the “Sun Rings Overture,” featured a quasi-hip-hop beat (added either by Mr. Riley or sound designer Mark Grey). But more than the music, it was the video and lighting design that made the evening compelling. Mr. Williams created unpredictable visions on the screen; in “Venus Upstream” he focused in on a silver top being spun on a thread of yarn. Larry Neff’s lighting design was deftly handled, especially at the ends of movements, when the quartet players became complete silhouettes against a pastel background.
The Kronos played with its usual intensity, though first violinist David Harrington at first struggled a bit with his part. The standout was cellist Jennifer Culp, who often played with an uncommon lyrical understanding. The Dessoff Choirs contributed shimmering, translucent timbres to the vocal movements.
Let’s not forget the text in the work. Mr. Riley writes in the program: “Do [the stars] wish us to come in peace? I am sure of it. “To this end, he sets the last movement to Alice Walker reciting the phrase “One Earth, One People, One Love.” The message is noble, but the effect, in this context, was platitudinous.
In the hours prior to the concert, one could observe the vanilla glow of the sun on the refurbished outside of the opera house – as beautiful and ethereal an effect as any created during the performance.