A brief survey of some of Douglas Lilburn's pieces
In July 2004 Douglas Lilburn's complete electronic works were released, some pieces for the first time, on three CDs and a DVD (featuring archive footage of the Great Man, as well as his own 4-channel recordings). My good buddy Andy and I went to the launch, and were able to pick up the set for around $70. It's currently retailing for about $120, so it was a bloody good deal!
I'd been waiting for Lilburn's electroacoustic compositions to appear on CD since I really got into him in the mid 1990s. I had been amazed that the Manu releases of New Zealand electroacoustic composers in 1992-1993 hadn't included a volume of Lilburn's work. I learnt afterwards that Lilburn had not been interested in re-releasing his material, and would rather the stage be reserved for younger composers. Thus we had to wait until after his death in 2001 for this very much overdue re-release.
There's a few things I'd like to say about some of Lilburn's pieces. These comments are largely subjective, and shouldn't be taken as serious music criticism, more in the primary school "the thing I liked about this was..." mode.
To me Three Inscapes and Triptych seem linked, although that might just be that they have 'three' in their title.
Three Inscapes is great. The first Inscape evokes the eerie quietness of a beach at dawn or dusk. The second Inscape is a more jerky, rhythmic contrast. It's a bit listless and doesn't really go anywhere, yet despite its stasis it still has enough energy to preserve the forward motion of the piece. The third Inscape is perhaps the best. The high harmonic frequencies of its multiple sawtooth waves suggest to me cicadas in dry grass under a hot summer sun. The harmonies are sparse but very warm, and the cicada warbles pulse very gently, creating a sense of great life but also of serenity. When I first heard Lilburn's electronic compositions I wasn't aware that his aim was to evoke the New Zealand landscape (or soundscape, I guess) very directly. It was satisfying to later learn this because from the first time I heard them Lilburn's pieces had seemed so intrinsically "New Zealand" to me. I think Three Inscapes, along with Soundscape with Lake and River, are the exemplars of the New Zealandness of Lilburn's music.
I don't think Triptych is quite as good as Three Inscapes. The middle section drags somewhat, but I think the opening is the most loving and melodic of Lilburn's electronic music. It feels so much like the sounds of the New Zealand bush, but stylised and whimsical. Lilburn called the piece "zany".
For me Poem in Time of War is the composition where Lilburn rocks hard. Not only is the piece uncompromisingly harsh and heavy in tone, but it is also a protest against the Vietnam War.
The work begins innocently enough with segments of vietnamese female singing accompanied by bamboo percussion and chimes. The singing is about soldiers going to war, and the melody is extremely beautiful, which serves as a great contrast for the mayhem to come. Gradually the singing becomes halting and the background sounds take on a more ominous feel. As the work progresses, tape speed modulations make the singing sound increasingly tremulous. Eventually the voice departs and shrieking feedback and distortion hold the scene for a very long time, providing a seemingly endless tableau of destruction. Eventually the work subsides balefully into silence.
I think Poem in Time of War is a very strong piece, although perhaps lacking in the egghead thematic and technical subtleties that many critics and practitioners of electroacoustic music delight in. Indeed Poem in Time of War is more of a rock piece, echoing Holger Czukay's experimental Boat Woman Song (which also features tapes of Vietnamese singing), and Jimi Hendrix's Vietnam War protest version of The Star-Spangled Banner. (Interestingly, Poem in Time of War predates both works.) Of the two protest pieces I prefer Lilburn's to Hendrix's: Lilburn's is a less showy and more thoughtful evocation of war.
The Return is one of Lilburn's earlier pieces, and elements of it feel quite dated. A good example is the use of an actor reading Alastair Campbell's poem The Return. This fellow declaims the lines like he was Olivier or Richardson. (Though whether this any worse than what you get today - slightly self-conscious poetry readings in a dead-flat New Zulland uccent - is perhaps moot.)
What is good about 'The Return' is the enthusiasm Lilburn brings to the work. His use of tapes of birdsong and wavefall might seem rather obvious, but the intent is sincere. The best aspect of all is Mahi Potiki, who speaks the names of various bird and tree species in Māori. Potiki has a marvellous voice and does a great job of injecting energy into an exercise that must have been to her akin to reading words out of a dictionary. The richness of her voice even survives Lilburn's tape transpositions and rather menacing electrical modulations.
But Lilburn's use of the Māori voice is rather remote - single words rather than a karakea or waiata. This suggests a disjointedness towards New Zealand's indigenous culture, contrasting strongly with Lilburn's contemporaries James K Baxter and Colin McCahon. I don't doubt that Lilburn valued Maori heritage, but I think he did not really relate to or understand that heritage. Lilburn said as much in a radio interview with Jack Body, c. 1972 (contained in the compilation's DVD). Of Māori music Lilburn said "it's something I find rather difficult to understand, although I am fascinated by it." Lilburn felt that Māori musical forms could only be incorporated into Western music if the two cultures grew closer together. Otherwise, any attempts at fusion would be of the schmaltzy Alfred "Pokarekareana" Hill variety. (Indeed Hill's fusions probably do a disservice to both cultures.)
Lilburn's rationale seems sensible enough, indeed quite sage in retrospect, but it also feels a little like an excuse for not doing more. I'm not saying that Lilburn deserves criticism here - if we criticised him for everything he didn't achieve, we'd end up castigating him for not having the gumption to be the first man on the moon. Nonetheless, I think it regrettable that Lilburn did not feel inspired to direct the passion he displayed in 'Poem in Time of War' into a piece involving Māori vocal and musical elements. That would have been quite something.
At first glance 'Winterset' isn't much of a track - just a series of disjointed blips and squiggles. There is more to it than that, but my positive impression of the piece is ultimately derived to my first hearing it on the radio one autumn evening as an impressionable schoolboy in 1992. As the evening outside darkened, the character of the music seemed utterly in keeping with outside world. For all its mad twitterings Winterset feels supremely quiet - but the busy quiet of a bunch of moths fluttering about a porchlight. Lilburn apparently had a quite different programmatic intent for Winterset - he was trying to evoke a film he once saw. All the same, I think this kooky piece is a wonderful evocation of New Zealand's nightworld. Listening to it, I can just see moonlight shining down on frost-covered cabbage tree leaves.
'Winterset' gives me the opportunity to note that Lilburn came up with some wonderful piece titles. Admittedly 'Of Time and Nostalgia' sounds slightly pretentious, but 'Winterset', 'Soundscape with Lake and River', and the immortal 'Cicadas, Oscillators and Treefrogs' are excellent.
Ultimately what I like about Lilburn is how accessible his electronic music is. This is surprising because most of his electronic works lack any kind of recognisable melody or harmony. Nonetheless, his carefully constructed compositions feel fully rounded and indelibly musical. It's great to have them in digital form at last!
Posted by stuart at March 10, 2005 7:26 AM