Framing the Interval

In any discussion of music, words are at best a refraction, incapable of directly expressing musical meaning. However, terms can serve as filters which bring into focus both intellectual and emotional aspects of the musical endeavor. I think, perhaps, the various aspects of the word ‘interval’ have some meaningful light to shed on what I seek to accomplish in my solo music.

To a layman, the word interval has to do with time, the temporal distance between events. For the musician this translates to the sense of space in a piece and ultimately its rhythmic make-up, regardless of whether it is pulse-based. Of course, ‘space’ in music is not only silence, it is also the character of an interval between events of similar trajectory. For instance, a throbbing drone may sustain while high harmonics are sparsely layered on top of it. The drone serves both as a harmonic underpinning and the holder of the ‘interval’ between the higher gestures. Even continuous repetitive sections of cyclic playing can have space by virtue of changing intensity and placement of micro-thematic material. I may create some very busy low cycle on the bass clarinet while a higher overtone occasionally punctuates, giving the sense of a long and short interval simultaneously. Then there is simply the space created by how long a note is held—this has a particular poignancy in single-line solo music. Spaces like these, or (of course) silences can have an emotive resonance, or can be dull and empty depending on musical context. What determines this is utterly subjective and I think comes back to that zone where words simply fail to help. How can one possibly describe what makes the timing of masters like Miles Davis or Kinshi Tsuruta* so deep? Still, when a musical space has power it is readily apparent; you know when you hear it. So I have striven to deepen the emotional resonance of the temporal interval in this work, in all these varied senses of the term.

(In the notes to my previous solo cd "The Crux" (Leo 187) I discussed the influence my study of shakuhachi honkyoku has had on all of my work. Honkyoku, the traditional, meditation-based solo shakuhachi music is full of pregnant silence and various senses of space. In fact, during the recording sessions for these cd’s I think the resonance of ‘honkyoku’ was perhaps more apparent in my saxophone work than in the shakuhachi pieces themselves.)

On the other hand, for musicians ‘interval’ refers most commonly to the distance between two pitches. In the western system we have names for these intervals (major 3rd, minor 9th) determined by their placement in our keyboard based system of temperament. Adding on more intervals we construct the chords and scales which characterize various idiomatic musical forms. Of course, these kind of intervals are also repositories of largely undescribable musical meaning.

My solo music mixes a variety of approaches to this kind of interval — some pieces are largely pitched within the western system, others are very intensively ‘micro-tonal’, searching in the spaces between the keys of the piano. These days, the expressive power of microtonality is often overshadowed by technical discussions which concentrate on the mathematical foundation of various tuning ‘systems’. One can look at keyboard and percussion instruments like those designed by Harry Partch or LaMont Young, or those used in Indonesian Gamelan, and describe a systematic approach quite as precise as the well-tempered keyboard. But microtonality in vocal and wind music is a more fluid affair which is filled with those hard-to-describe interstices - where one singer is just out of tune, another is Billie Holiday, creating soulful magic with intonation; where one saxophonist is just sharp, another is Ornette Coleman, whose sharpness is an integral part of his beautiful sound. One of the ways I try to make my solo pieces distinct from each other is in their approach to tuning. If a piece has idiomatic material derived from jazz or blues, it needs to be ‘in tune’ in a way those styles require. Woodwind multiphonics are by their nature microtonal so I search for relationships between intervals which resonate with my ear and body. In some of the single-line passages here 4 or 5 pitches are used within the western minor 2nd. But they are played for emotive coloristic expression, not to illustrate any didactic point. My goal in this is to create work which feels idiomatic, even if the underlying tuning ‘system’ is unique to my playing.

All this concerns that devil who resides in the details. This work is not about collage, my goal is the inevitable surprise that rewards the listener’s close attention. Finally, its all about striving to embody that indescribable power which separates the magic from the mundane.
—nr

*—for those who aren’t familiar with the Japanese Biwa Master, Kinshi Tsuruta, check her out, a profound experience awaits.