"Anthony Braxton often brings up the idea of scale," he said. "He wants to work solo, he wants to do orchestral work, he wants to do operas, he wants to do string quartets."
Such could be taken as the model for the two nights at as well, which included four works for large ensembles (including the premiere performance of Braxton's 1973 Composition No. 27), an electroacoustic trio led by Steve Lehman
The first night opened with Questions of Transfiguration an expansive work by Bynum played by a 27-piece orchestra with 10 vocalists and led by Bynum and two other conductors. Bynum isn't one to shy away from lush harmonies, whether in the vernacular of big band jazz or 19th Century classicism, and here he staged a full house of it: a string ensemble, another of wind and brass and a vocal choir laid on top of one another as if by chance. There was good bit of jazz in the horns (reasonable, perhaps, since that's Ho Bynum's family), a cinematic sensibility to the strings and an unmistakeable operatic angle in the voices with decelerated passages where the lines would be blurred. There was a strong through logic (if multi-linear) but at the same time the piece felt as if it could have starte or stopped at any point.
The big ensemble (which included among its ranks violinist Jason Kao Hwang
's Vogelfrei had the vocalists hissing and whispering, circling the floor and balcony, and strings descending on the lower level, all cutting a slow to the stage. A bed of ethereal tones supported quick melody lines and isolated notes leaping from the mix. The piece worked as a massive incline, volume, tempo and density building to full throttle with surprising vocal and percussion interjections. It was a fast ride full of hills and swerves but was surprisingly cohesive, ultimately collapsing into a single viola trill.
The second set began with what was surely the most anticipated of the six pieces on the program, Braxton's Composition No. 27, the first time it has been performed in the 40 years since he wrote it. And it was amazing to hear how immediately apparent his syntax was, even against the passage of time. Brisk, staccato lines fluttered over a sustained tones. A brief doubling of phrases was incised into a succession of undulations. It was centered but the center kept shifting, neither particle nor wave. And even with the egalitarian anarchist bent of his music, the phraseology remains strikingly Braxton. Where there may have been murikiness at some other points during the night, every second of the Braxton was imbued with intention. The music broke down frequently and only momentarily, soloists (of a sort) gave no indication as to where the music would go nextand of course it didn't matter because the thread was continuous, culminating in a few succinct group phrases.