Finding Beauty in Loss

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 New York Sun

John Cage once stated, “One way to write music: study Duchamp.”


When Marcel Duchamp submitted his now-famous “Fountain” to the Armory Show in 1917, he met with rejection by the committee in charge. The urinal to which Duchamp had affixed the fictitious signature, “R. Mutt” seemed no more than a silly joke, a pie in the face of art’s power brokers. Yet the sensibility at its core would exert a profound influence on many other artists, including John Cage and Philip Glass.


Duchamp’s enduring idea was simply this: Works should not merely convey an artist’s vision, but trigger in each audience member his or her own personal narrative. In that sense, his collection of “found” objects comprised a psychological catalog of sorts – an “inventory of every human obsession,” in the words of Duchamp’s colleague Gianfranco Baruchello.


But there was an equally fertile dimension to be mined here: Every found object must, at some point, have been lost. And every loss has the potential to evoke a narrative as powerful as any find. In the new musical work “Lost Objects,” composers Michael Gordon, David Lang, and Julia Wolfe (founders of the “Bang on a Can Festival”), along with librettist Deborah Artman, have created a marvelous 70-minute piece that explores precisely this territory.


Written for the esteemed period-instrument group Concerto Koln, the piece was commissioned and premiered by the Dresden Music Festival, and recorded on Teldec. It will be presented tonight at the Brooklyn Academy of Music as part of the gala for its Next Wave Festival, and three more times during the week. The performance will include a new multimedia production directed by filmmaker Francois Girard (“32 Short Films about Glenn Gould” and “The Red Violin”), and featuring Concerto Koln, the New York Virtuoso Singers, and, in one of many surprising twists, DJ Spooky.


Beneath the surface beauty of “Lost Objects” lurks a textual journey of wrenching emotions. Beginning with simple, plaintive phrases like “I lost a sock,” and “I lost an umbrella,” it does not take long for the libretto to turn dark. “I lost my teeth,” croons the same, sweet voice that had lost a sock; “I lost my father”; “I lost my desire.” As the work progresses, it addresses other issues of loss – of extinct species, missing children, the bodies of lost explorers – and of the complications that arise when something is found. Several sections employ Talmudic and biblical passages about obligations to lost objects and to the people who lost them (“I Found My Enemy’s Ox”).


It’s a remarkable achievement, especially attractive in its fusion of old and new – a blend that reflects the work’s origins. “Torsten Mosgraber, artistic director of the Dresden Festival, flew over here to have lunch with us,” explained Mr. Gordon, “and said he wanted to put the most interesting contemporary music together with the most interesting old music. He proposed pairing us with the Concerto Koln. And so we went to meet them.”


As it turned out, the two groups had several things in common. They both operate as collectives, completely democratic in their decision making. The three composers, for instance, share credit for “Lost Objects” as a whole, without disclosing who wrote each particular movement. “It developed from long discussions between us,” said David Lang. “Even the final order was a group decision. And that architecture is what classical music is about.”


Bang on a Can and Concerto Koln also shared a certain passion about music. “I had this impression that we would be working with a quintessential classical situation,” said Julia Wolfe, “but the fact is that both of our groups are a little nuts. They are obsessed with their old instruments, and made the decision not to go into the mainstream, just as we have carved out this odd niche in the music world. So there was a great deal of sympathy between us. Also, they are incredibly fiery. The sound is very earthy, very alive.”


Nevertheless, there were differences to bridge. “They asked, ‘What key is this piece going to be in?'” reported Mr. Gordon. “We told them no particular key, and they found it incomprehensible. ‘Well, I have two cellos,’ stated one musician, ‘one was made in 1715 with these gut strings and bow, and the other was made in 1735 and it has other kinds of strings. Which would be more appropriate for this work?’ It went on and on. We were told, ‘We do these kinds of Baroque trills, and to us E flat and D sharp are not the same notes.'”


“We asked them questions as well. They told us about how they find their instruments – not the string instruments, but the brass instruments – at flea markets after they’ve been in people’s attics for 250 years. And we came home and started thinking about these lost instruments or lost objects, and about how their meaning was brought back into the world. And that was our starting point.”


“It was not only about the lost instruments, but the lost sound,” added Mr. Lang. “We told them that the music that they normally played was not what interested us. What interested us was the instrumental sound they had, the raw, physical sound of horsehair on animal gut, a sound that today is lost, as well as the sound of these fragile old instruments trying to project. We thought, what’s it like to dedicate your life to keeping alive a flame that everyone else has discarded?”


For the orchestra members, the experience was equally interesting, said Concerto Koln’s Artistic Director and Concertmaster, Werner Erhardt. “If you go outside of your normal routine, it has a positive effect on everything you do,” he said. “It was important that we asked not only about specific details, but also about what was behind the music: the atmosphere, the energy. And they were excited that we were interested in this, which is sometimes lost in performing modern music. But one aspect of their music was very familiar: It is filled with rhythmic energy, and in Baroque music you must play with a rhythmic groove.”


The latest collaborator on “Lost Objects,” director Francois Gerard, was a latecomer to the process, but also felt right at home. “We have grouped different layers of music and eras in the staging,” he said. “There are the Baroque orchestra, electrified instruments, singers, and dancers, as well as DJ Spooky.”


The project was unusual for him in that it was devoid of characters. “Normally, my work is narrative,” he said. “But the reason I decided to work with these composers is that their passion is contagious. These are highly talented people who remain true to their art in a way that is irresistible. Their work is so uncompromised, you just want to be a part of it.”


From the beginning, Bang on a Can’s mission has been to spread such enthusiasm. “The message you get as a music student is to be pessimistic about what you do, and about what the value of it will be to the world,” said Mr. Lang. “I honestly believe that the future depends on whether composers will be free to express themselves, and whether audiences will be free to appreciate this music.” His statement reflects one obsession that, thankfully, has not yet been lost.



Tonight at 7 p.m. and December 2, 3, and 4 at 7:30 p.m. at BAM Howard Gilman Opera House (30 Lafayette Avenue, between Ashland Place and St. Felix Street, Brooklyn, 718-636-4100).


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