| ORCHESTRA
Cantiga Variations (Fractal In
One Movement On An Ancient Spanish Song)
Commissioned
and premiered by the Minneapolis Guitar Quartet with the UCLA Philharmonia
Orchestra, Jon Robertson, Director, Schoenberg Auditorium, UCLA, Los Angeles,
California, May 7, 1997.
Program note
Cantiga Variations was
commissioned and premiered by the Minneapolis Guitar Quartet with the
UCLA Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Jon Robertson, in Schoenberg
Auditorium, UCLA, May 7, 1997. A concerto for four guitars and orchestra,
it is preceded by concertos for bass clarinet, violin, and flute.
Like its predecessors, Cantiga Variations is a single long movement
with hints of internal movements, and is as much symphony as concerto.
Although the notion of composing a concerto for guitar quartet might seem
rather unusual, even unlikely, it was, perhaps, inevitable for me personally,
as I have focused so much of my creative energies over the past twenty
years on multiple guitar music. Prior to the completion of Cantiga
Variations, I composed eight guitar quartets (two with voice), two
trios, and a duo. Many of these works have been recorded and performed
hundreds of times around the world. In a sense, composing Cantiga
Variations was like writing a ninth guitar quartet, only with the
orchestra as an additional, vital participant. I found that this
opened up dramatic possibilities not available within the intimate confines
of the unaccompanied guitar quartet.
In the Cantiga Variations the soloists enter in a particularly
unusual way. Only after the orchestra builds a stormy opening argument,
developed at some length, do the soloists enter. And they do so
quietly, without the traditional flourishes so typical of the concerto
repertoire. In fact, by design, ones sees the players begin to stir
before their sonic presence is established. This scenario is reversed
at the end, where the orchestra cadences long before the soloists make
their final fade to silence. The impression I hope to leave is that
we have experienced two overlapping pieces, one given by the orchestra,
the other by the quartet; one beginning slightly ahead of the other and
concluding earlier as well. The "plot line" which the
orchestra develops is dynamic and, at times, quite harsh, whereas its
counterpart, developed by the guitarists, tends toward quietude.
It is the inevitable conflict between these two "musics" that
generates the form of the work. I deliberately courted opportunities
to juxtapose the two styles nakedly with little transition. It is
my earnest hope that, as the piece unfolds, I "earn" the right
to do this with greater and greater abandon.
In
fact, this is merely the "external" or apparent form of the
work. The internal, "hidden" form is a bit more complicated.
Everything that you will hear, melodies, figurations, ornaments, flourishes,
bass lines, internal counterpoint, even the harmonic progressions, are
actually expressions of a single melody, a beautiful cantiga from Medieval
Spain entitled "Rosa das rosas." (This is true
despite the impression of great surface variety.) Most of the time
statements of this melody are moving too fast or too slow to recognize,
or are part of a dense textural skein. Sometimes it is heard inverted
or reversed. Naturally these manipulations would only be discernible
by the studied ear, and it hardly necessary to apprehend them to comprehend
and enjoy the piece! But there are several places where I expose
it in its "natural" form: notably near the center of the slow,
meditative middle section, and again, at the very end. As I brought
the piece to a close, I found myself wondering aloud what this ancient
and timeless melody might sound like if it were performed in a more contemporary,
folk-like idiom. The four guitars lent themselves particularly well
to this musing so I allowed the improvisation to stand as the coda of
the work, making for an ending as peaceful as the opening was violent.
The orchestra had the first word the soloists have the last.
Concerto for Bass Clarinet
Commissioned for Ron
Wakefield, bass clarinetist, and premiered by the USC Symphony
Orchestra, Daniel Lewis, Music Director, Bovard Auditorium,
USC, Los Angeles, California, October 6, 1988. Professional premiere
by bass clarinetist J. Lawrie Bloom and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra
conducted by James DePriest, Orchestra Hall, Chicago, Illinois, January
12 - 17, 1995.
Reviews:
Bass clarinet is a hard working
orchestra member, but few music lovers have its powerful, dusky tone and
supple expressive range firmly in their ears. Krouse’s well-crafted
concerto was a welcome chance to fill in that blank. …the 20 minute work
is truly a concerto in the sense that it sent soloist and orchestra into
sharp dialogue. CHICAGO
SUN-TIMES, January 13, 1995
The solo part, which the
Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s J. Lawrie Bloom dispatched with staggering
virtuosity, has some compelling effects, florid runs and cadenza-like
flourishes that knowingly exploit the instrument’s carnal lower register.
CHICAGO
TRIBUNE, January 13, 1995
Program
note
Although
many of my works from the same period were preoccupied with various aspects
of Spanish art and culture – both ancient and modern the Bass Clarinet
Concerto is an exception to this. The virtuosity and prominence
of the soloist would seem to place the work squarely within the concerto
genre, but it is at least as closely related to the symphony. The
form of the work may be described as an extended cadenza followed without
pause by a large continuous movement based on the former. If one
listens carefully, however, it is possible to hear "flirtations"
with a traditional four-movement structure. For example, the "bluesy"
section heard at about six minutes, or the pulsing, slow section heard
towards the end are reminiscent of the sorts of internal contrasting movements
with which concertos (or symphonies) abound.
The
work is un-programatic, abstract music, but does contain a musical scenario
that plays its way out over twenty-some minutes. This might be explicated
as follows: the odd four-note chord first played by muted horns at the
outset (E-flat, F-flat, G-flat, B-flat) has a central role in this scenario.
On this, its first appearance, it is easily "silenced" by a
hammer blow chord from the tutti. But on each of its subsequent,
and increasingly more intrusive reappearances, the orchestra must expend
more energy to expunge the chord from its midst. The increasingly
futile efforts to accomplish this "exorcism" results, naturally,
in an overall increase in the tension level and aggravates a growing schism
between the soloist and the orchestra. Towards the end, things have
degenerated to a point that, at times, it seems as if the soloist and
the orchestra are engaged in a struggle for supremacy in which neither
emerges as clear victor. It is not until the final pages that a
sense of uneasy reconciliation is achieved.
Prelude-weaver
Commissioned
and premiered by the American Youth Symphony Orchestra, Alexander
Treger, Music Director, Royce Hall, UCLA, Los Angeles, California, October
25, 1998.
Reviews
…vividly
scored and powerfully pulsed…with distinctive world-beat tinges
of its own.
John Henken, LOS ANGELES TIMES,
October 27, 1998
Program notes
Prelude-weaver, as its name would suggest, is a ‘weave’
of four distinctly different orchestral miniatures, and exists in two
forms, a short weave of only two preludes, and a longer one, using four.
As of this writing, the long version has not yet been premiered.
Note
for the short version:
Prelude-Weaver,
as its name would suggest, is a weave of two distinctly different orchestral
miniatures. Although each ‘prelude’ shares the same tempo, the first
is bold and virtuosic, with sweeping string lines punctuated by stabbing
chords and brass fanfares, while the second is simpler and sometimes melancholic.
(A longer version of the piece weaves together four such preludes.)
The first prelude is essentially in four sharps, while the second shifts
abruptly between the modes of a-minor, c#-minor and f-minor. The
basic musical materials of the preludes are often extremely simple, sometimes
only one or two notes, or a basic scale figure. But the way in which
these parts combine to produce composite textures is often quite complex,
and because many of the parts are rather difficult to play, there is much
virtuosity, especially in the strings and trumpets. It is my hope
that the listener will be delighted (and not confused!) to hear the two
preludes play off each other to produce a continuous single movement structure.
Note for the
long version:
Prelude-Weaver,
as its name would suggest, is a weave of four distinctly different orchestral
miniatures. Prelude One, in four sharps, is bold and virtuosic,
with sweeping string lines punctuated by stabbing chords and brass fanfares.
Prelude Two, which shifts abruptly between the modes of a-minor,
c#-minor and f-minor, is simpler and, at times, times melancholic.
The abrupt juxtapositions of Preludes One and Two creates
a composite allegro section that is interrupted just when it is about
to bubble over, by a dramatic shift to a considerably slower tempo.
This invokes the beginning of Prelude Three, considerably darker,
and proceeding in dialogue fashion with chorale-like wind chords trading
off with intense declamatory passages by a small ensemble of string and
double reed soloists. Prelude Four, the only one to ‘modulate’
away from its basic tempo, plays off Prelude Three as a kind of
interrupted passacaglia, until it explodes in a burst of energy leading
to a resumption of Prelude One, and the high spirits of the first
part of the piece. The ending section of the work is dominated by
a return to the ‘weave’ of Preludes One and Two, but the
careful listener may detect the presence of Prelude Four
(now in a major key) as a grand counterpoint to the wild, upward-thrusting
lines of the high winds and strings. It is my hope that the listener
will be delighted (and not confused!) to hear the four preludes play off
each other to produce a continuous single movement structure.
Rhapsody for Violin and Orchestra
Requested and premiered
by Sheryl Staples, with members of the USC Symphony, Mark Barville, conductor,
University Church, USC, Los Angeles, California, February 14, 1992. Professional
premiere by Madeline Mitchell, violin, with the Ukraine Radio and Television
Orchestra, conducted by Joel Sachs, Great Hall, Tchaikovsky Conservatory,
Kiev, Ukraine, October 3, 1994.
First
recording by Maria Bachmann, violin, New Zealand Symphony Orchestra
conducted by James Sedares, ‘Ian Krouse’, Koch International Classics,
Koch 3-7482-2 HI, released February 22, 2000.
Reviews
The Rhapsody for Violin and
Orchestra was another surprise shocker, fully orchestrated in floods of
endlessly varied sound. Its texture isneither European nor oriental.
It deserves to be recorded.
AL-ARAHM, CAIRO, EGYPT, May
28, 1995
Here’s
a daring pick for the month, but I hope you’ll be swept away in these
resplendent works and performances. Krouse’s "Rhapsody"
thrills with its inflamed ecstasy for 21 minutes.
Bill Stibor, NEBRASKA PUBLIC
RADIO, May, 2000
… The work’s dramatic outbursts are built up with generous help from keyboard
percussion, to great effect. The lyrical, profusely ornamental solo
part floats over the orchestral fabric with grace and poignant intensity.
All performers show a clear affinity for Krouse’s violent but seductive
sound world, with a special mention to the violinist Maria Bachmann in
the Rhapsody.
Luca
Sabbatini, CLASSICS TODAY, April, 2000
Program note
The
Rhapsody is in the form of an extended fantasy – or wordless motet
– on a four-note motive derived from the letters of the name of a friend.
Although this was not the first time I had used the soggetto cavato technique,
it was certainly the most involved. This is ironic, perhaps, given
the simplicity of the motive itself, which contains only two pitches (a
– a – b-flat – a). The majority of the materials in this piece are
expansions upon this simple idea, including most of the themes, much of
the harmonic syntax (largely based upon root movement by step), the harmonic
language (which is dominated by the intervals of the second and ninth),
and even the form of the work itself. There are three other themes,
including another soggeto cavato based upon my own name (b-flat – g –
e), and two ‘found objects’: De los alamos vengo madre, a 16th
century Spanish song, and Manuel de Falla’s setting of Asturiana,
from 'Siete Canciones Populares', the text of which follows:
Asturiana
Por ver si me consolaba,
To see if it could console me,
arrime à un pino verde,
I came close to the green pine,
por ver si me consolaba,
to see if it could console me.
Por verme llorar, lloraba.
Upon seeing me weep, it wept.
Y el pino como era verde,
Since the pine was green,
por verme llorar, lloraba.
upon seeing me weep, it wept.
The piece begins with a lengthy and fully developed orchestral exposition
[a], betraying the Rhapsody’s origin as an orchestral piece, not
a violin concerto! The solo voice emerges naturally as the orchestral
swells die away, initiating a second exposition [a’], much more introspective
and finely textured than the first. An explosive outburst from the
tutti strings leads to an extended presto [b], periodically interrupted
by lyrical episodes, and culminated by an extended solo passage for the
violin. The work concludes with a coda based upon the original adagio
[a’’], and fades away inconclusively, alternately attempting to rest on
‘e’ and ‘f’ in turn.
The
work was written for New York Philharmonic principal associate concertmaster
Sheryl Staples -- then a student at USC -- who gave its premiere performance
on February 14, 1992, with the USC Symphony Orchestra under the direction
of Mark Barville. Since that time it has been performed byviolinists
Hassan Sharara with the Cairo Philharmonic Orchestra, American Searmi
Park with the Armenian Philharmonic in Yerevan, Armenia, both conducted
by Jon Robertson; and British violinist Madeline Mitchell and the Ukraine
Radio and Television Orchestra conducted by Joel Sachs at the Tchaikovsky
Conservatory in Kiev, Ukraine, among others. It is scheduled to
be played by Mark Kaplan with the UCLA Philharmonia orchestra under the
direction of Jon Robertson, in spring, 2001.
Tientos (flute and string orchestra)
Version for flute and string
trio commissioned and premiered by Pacific Serenades with flutist Mark
Carlson, violinist Connie Kupka, violist Michael Nowak, and cellist David
Speltz, Biltmore Hotel, Los Angeles, California, April 14, 1991.
Orchestral version requested by flutist David Janello and premiered by
members of the USC, Glendale and Los Angeles Philharmonic orchestras,
Jonathan Stockhammer conducting, University Church, USC, Los Angeles,
California, October 12, 1991. Professionally premiered by flutist
Marisa Canales, Mexico City Chamber Orchestra, Benjamín Juárez, Music
Director, XV Foro de Musica Nueva, Pinacoteca Virreinal, Mexico City,
May 25, 1993.
Reviews:
In Ian Krouse’s passionately
melancholy "Tientos," flamenco music becomes the focal point
of an attractive five-part fantasy for string trio and flute. From
its relentless opening rhythmic ostinatos, to more sustained and contrapuntal
sections, through an extended flute cadenza and then a recapitulation
of the first part, the 22-minute work explores flamenco riffs and the
melismatic improvisations of a flamenco singer. The score also favors
the darker, mystical mood of the folk style. Krouse, a guitarist
as well as composer, carefully blends the tonal Spanish idioms with Stravinskyan
dissonances and harmonies. The neoclassical, quasi minimalist result
is pleasantly unpredictable as well as inventive, fresh and tightly organized.
Gregg Wager,
LOS ANGELES TIMES, April 17, 1991
…Tientos
explores the same improvisatory paths and energetic moods of the three
previous pieces, even though somewhat softened by the mixing of flute
and string trio. All performers show a clear affinity for Krouse’s
violent but seductive sound world…
Luca Sabbatini,
CLASSICS TODAY, April 2000
Program
note:
Since its premiere in 1991, by California based Pacific Serenades, Tientos
has been played numerous times by such groups as the 20th Century Consort,
of Washington, D.C., Dinosaur Annex of Boston, the USC New Music Ensemble,
and the Mexico City Chamber Orchestra. It is part of a series of
works that reflect my continuing preoccupation with the traditional music
of Spain.
Although
the tiento is one of Spain’s earliest surviving forms, its meaning and
social function have changed radically throughout the five hundred years
of its existence. The fifteenth century Spanish vihuelists used
the term tento for pieces that, by virtue of their unspecified form and
improvisatory nature, were like informal cousins to the more highly involved
and more contrapuntally rigorous fantasia. The form survives today
not only as a medium for serious composers – often of works for the guitar
– but, perhaps surprisingly, as a flamenco guitar form. Tientos
reflects all of these influences, and many of the formal dynamics are
derived from the inherent tensions resulting from the juxtaposition of
such disparate languages. I chose the unusual plural form of the
word precisely for this reason: my piece is not a tiento so much
as it is about the tiento.
In my earlier work Bulerías,
a guitar quartet also highly influenced by flamenco music, my principle
concern was rhythm. In Tientos, I chose to focus on the supercharged
melismatic style of flamenco singing. The instrumentation of flute
and string trio may seem a far cry from the world of flamenco, but I hope
something of the profound intensity of that highly complex vernacular
idiom survives here.
Tientos
is essentially through composed but, like many of my works, it contains
a ‘found object,’ in this case a haunting 16th century villançico,
"Con qué la lavaré." Although hinted at in
the opening measures of the work, it makes a late appearance in a recognizable,
if somewhat surrealistic manner, during the wild presto section that culminates
the first large group of the work. In this first incarnation it
is troped by the flute with darting melismas over a quiet, propulsive
drone in the strings. Later it appears in fragmentary fashion as
the main idea of a brooding adagio section. Near the end of the
flute cadenza it is heard, once again in fragments, but otherwise fully
fleshed out in a 15th century setting by Juan del Encina, with the strings
imitating the sound of a consort of viols. At the very end of the
work the song appears in the style of the opening bars of the work.
The text and my translation are as follows:
¿Con qué
la lavaré
With what shall I wash
la flor de la mi cara?
the flower of my face?
¿Con qué la lavaré
With what shall I wash
que vivo mal penada?
away my sorrow?
Lavo
me yo cuitada
I wash myself to take away
con ansias y dolores.
the anguish and sadness.
¿Con qué la lavaré
With what shall I wash
que
vivo mal penada?
away my sorrow?
¿Con
qué la lavaré
With what shall I wash
que vivo mal penada?
away my sorrow?
Lavan le las casadas
Married women wash
con agua de limones.
with lemon water.
WIND
ENSEMBLE
American
Interlude
Commissioned
and premieredby the Michigan State University Wind Symphony, conducted
by John Whitwell, College Band Directors National Association (CBDNA)
North Central Division Regional Conference, Central Michigan University,
Mt. Pleasant, Michigan, February 22, 2000.
American
Interlude was commissioned by the Michigan State University Wind Symphony
and completed in December of 1999. It comes two years after the
first of the composer’s ventures in this medium, Variations On
A Theme of Benjamin Britten, which was given its premiere by the UCLA
Wind Ensemble under the direction of Thomas Lee.
American
Interludeis not a programmatic work, despite its title. In fact,
the title was nearly an afterthought -- or mid-thought, as it turned out
-- chosen at a point in the piece where I found myself hearing a quodlibet
of very famous American songs. Having begun with this confession,
it is perhaps ironic that the quotations are not meant to be apprehended,
despite the fact that each is played rather loudly on brass instruments!
In my earlier work, Variations on aTheme of Benjamin Britten, I
moved across a wide range of expressions, with many contrasting tempos
and moods. In this piece, however, I sought to explore a simpler
sort of expression, often in an understated manner, and exclusively in
slow tempos. Traditional virtuosity is eschewed, although those
who appreciate the difficulties of performing on wind instruments, will
marvel at the seamless playing of the low winds and brasses, who are often
required to hold a single note for a very long time at a soft dynamic
without ruffling the surface, or the exposed six part trumpet ‘chorales,’
perched in dangerously high tessituras, to name but a few passages which
truly test the artistry of the players. Having just finished a large
work for chorus, I found myself writing through the ‘filter’ of choral
textures, and, as you will hear, the middle part of the piece makes extensive
use of wordless singing.
Crónica Del Último Año En La Vida
De Un Mexicano
Commissioned
by the St. Cloud State University Wind Ensemble and premiered with faculty
soloist Terry Vermillion under the direction of Richard K. Hansen, St.
Cloud, Minnesota, February 10, 2001.
The ‘Chronicle
of the last year in the life of a Mexican’ was commissioned and premiered
by the St. Cloud State Wind Ensemble under the direction of Richard K.
Hansen. It was begun in early August and completed by mid November,
2000.
Crónica
was directly inspired by a 16th century narrative found in
Music in Mexico: a historical survey
by Robert Stevenson. The piece falls into two broad sections of approximately
equal length: the first (inner sacrifice), largely in slow tempos and
flat-side minor modes, the second (outward or public sacrifice), in very
fast tempos and sharp-side major keys. My primary intention was
to ‘chronicle’ in abstract, musical terms, the subjective awareness of
the passage of time. The selection of the particular piece I paraphrased,
En un portalejo pobre, a 16th century ‘Romanse a 3’ by a
converted Indian composer named Gaspar Fernandes (as transcribed by Stevenson),
was made for no other reason than its simple beauty and sensual qualities.
As sung by the brass, it resounds above the din in the penultimate section
of the work
Many
of my materials were drawn from the charts of ocarina tunings found in
Robert Stevenson’s Music in the Aztec and Inca Territories. I was
fascinated, among other personal revelations, to learn that the Aztecs
had developed flutes capable of sounding three or four notes at a time.
Having several times played through a series of such chords given in Prof.
Stevensen’s book, I couldn’t help but notice how musical the sequence
was, and decided at a very early point to use these chords (almost literally)
as the basis for several of the brass fanfares featured in the second
part of the piece. The ominous drum solo near the beginning was
my realization of a contemporaneous post-contact description of an Aztec
call. It is the closest I could get to an authentic Aztec ‘found
object’.
CHAMBER
ENSEMBLE
Rio
de llantos
Río de llantos (River
of laments) began as an elaborate fantasy for flute and guitar.
Unfortunately, and despite the greatest sincerity on my part, I produced
a work that, while theoretically possible, is all but unplayable by mortal
musicians! (Not the first time this has happened.) This was
greatly troubling to me as I believed in the work and thought that it
should be heard. So began a search to recast the idea in a more
practical form. Essentially, the new version is a trope of the original
work (in the medieval sense), in that I added new lines, enlarged the
textures, redistributed parts, lengthened some sections, and completely
recomposed the ending. The greatest challenge was to find ways to
translate the highly idiomatic guitar techniques to the related but very
different world of the bowed string instruments. In the main the
guitar material has been spread between the piano and the three strings.
I took full advantage of the additional possibilities provided by the
enlarged color palette! I was highly influenced by the supercharged
melismatic style of flamenco singing called ‘cante jondo’ or deep song
(heard mainly in the flute part), as well as the violent, earthy style
of guitar playing that accompanies it. In this respect, the work
has much in common with my earlier works Tientos, for flute and
string trio, and Bulerías, for f. All of the essential materials
of Río de llantos are derived from Federico García Lorca’s
arrangement of De los cuatro muleros, a traditional Spanish song,
which, in its cameo appearance towards the end, provides, I would think,
a welcome oasis in an otherwise brooding landscape.
Thamar y Amnón for flute, viola, and harp
Premiered by the Debussy Trio, Angela Weigand, flute,
Keith Greene, viola, Marcia Dickstein, harp, Festival of New American
Music, Cal State University, Sacramento, California, November 13, 1991.
First recording by the Debussy Trio, ‘Ian Krouse’, Koch International
Classics, Koch 3-7482-2 HI, released February 22, 2000.
Version for flute, viola, and piano premiered by 20th Century Consort,
Sara Stern, flute, Daniel Foster, viola, Lisa Emenheiser Logan, piano,
directed by Christopher Kendall, Hirshorn Museum, Smithsonian Institution,
Washington, D.C, November 8, 1997.
Reviews:
…the simplicity of arpeggiated figures, viola trills and fluent melodies
by the flute – coupled with Krouse’s sense of timing – produced an attractive
framework for a highly evocative piece.
Charles McCardell, THE WASHINGTON
POST, November 10, 1997
Thamar y Amnón developed striking colors ina single, fast-paced 10-minute
movement – a valuable addition to the repertoire for this seductive instrumental
combination.
Luca Sabbatini, CLASSICS TODAY,
April, 2000.
Program note
Thamar y Amnón (1991),
was commissioned by the Los Angeles based Debussy Trio, which has since
performed it many times throughout the United States. It has also been
performed by Christopher Kendall’s Twentieth Century Consort in a version
with piano. Thamar y Amnón is a chamber tone poem based on one
of García-Lorca’s Three Historical Ballads. The Spanish poet’s
paean to illicit eroticism, a transformation of the biblical story of
the rape and humiliation of Tamar at the hands of her half-brother Amnon,
is soaked with sexual imagery and symbolism, and often relies on richly
evocative musical metaphors. Not only the form and musical content are
derived from the poem, but even the instrumentation itself. Thus, the
nervous athleticism and complexity of the flute melodies embody Amnon’s
tortured struggles with lust, while Tamar’s thinly veiled seductiveness
is given a lyric outlet through the potent vehicle of the viola. The
role of the harp is significantly more complex. On a purely symbolic level,
it represents one of antiquity’s most illustrious harpists, King David,
the distraught father of the troubled protagonists, who, in the final
lines of the poem "took his scissors and cut the strings of his harp,"
but, on a deeper level the harp is much more than this. It is at
once "moon-shaped zithers" and "waterless lands".
It is the singing of the "uncoiled cobra" and the whinnying
of the "hundred horses of the king". As both witness and catalyst
to the tragedy, the harp is not merely the fiber of the work, but its
very soul.
In the biblical version of the story from Samuel II, Chapter 13, Amnon
pretends to fall sick as a pretext for luring Tamar, his half-sister,
to his room. Despite her earnest protestations he takes her by force,
and, overcome with sudden revulsion, expels her from the room, multiplying
her shame. Lorca’s transformation of this story is far more sympathetic
to the "enraged violator", Amnon. In the second stanza of the
poem, the lines "Her nakedness on the eaves, due north of the palm,
begs snowflakes on her belly and hailstones on her shoulders," suggest
that Tamar, perhaps unwittingly, brings about her own fall. In Lorca’s
version, it seems as though Tamar comes to Amnon’s tower entirely of her
own volition. Although she says "Leave me in peace brother",
her admonishments are strangely elliptical and ambiguous: "Your kisses
on my shoulder are wasps and little winds in double swarm of flutes."
In the end, fearful of the inevitable retribution, "Amnon flees upon
his nag", while "All around Tamar virgin gypsies cry and others
gather the drops from her martyred flower."
Tientos (flute, violin, viola,
and cello)
Commissioned
and premiered by Pacific Serenades, Mark Carlson, flute, Connie Kupka,
violin, Michael Nowak, viola, and David Speltz, cello, Biltmore Hotel,
conducted by Jonathan Stockhammer, Los Angeles, California, April 14,
1991. Additional performances by 20th Century Consort, Christopher
Kendall, director; Mexico City Chamber Orchestra, directed by Benjamín
Juárez, others.
Semi-finalist Kennedy Center Friedheim Awards, 1991.
First recording by Dinosaur Annex, Sue-Ellen Hirshman-Tcherepnin,
flute, Cyrus Stevens, violin, Anne Black, viola, Reimar Seidler, cello,
‘Ian Krouse’, Koch International Classics, Koch 3-7482-2 HI, released
February 22, 2000.
Reviews:
In Ian Krouse’s passionately melancholy "Tientos," flamenco
music becomes the focal point of an attractive five-part fantasy for string
trio and flute. From its relentless opening rhythmic ostinatos,
to more sustained and contrapuntal sections, through an extended flute
cadenza and then a recapitulation of the first part, the 22-minute work
explores flamenco riffs and the melismatic improvisations of a flamenco
singer. The score also favors the darker, mystical mood of the folk
style. Krouse, a guitarist as well as composer, carefully blends
the tonal Spanishidioms with Stravinskyan dissonances and harmonies.
The neoclassical, quasi minimalist result is pleasantly unpredictable
as well as inventive, fresh and tightly organized.
Gregg Wager, LOS ANGELES TIMES, April 17, 1991
…Tientos explores the same improvisatory paths and energetic moods of
the three previous pieces, even though somewhat softened by the mixing
of flute and string trio. All performers show a clear affinity for
Krouse’s violent but seductive sound world…
Luca Sabbatini, CLASSICS TODAY, April, 2000
Program note
Since its premiere in 1991, by California based Pacific Serenades, Tientos
has been played numerous times by such groups as the 20th Century Consort
of Washington, D.C., Dinosaur Annex of Boston, the USC New Music Ensemble,
flutist Stephanie Jutt, and Marisa Canales with the Mexico City Chamber
Orchestra. It is part of a series of works that reflect my continuing
preoccupation with the traditional music of Spain.
Although the tiento is one of Spain’s earliest surviving forms, its meaning
and social function have changed radically throughout the five hundred
years of its existence. The fifteenth century Spanish vihuelists
used the term tento for pieces that, by virtue of their unspecified form
and improvisatory nature, were like informal cousins to the more highly
involved and more contrapuntally rigorous fantasia. The form survives
today not only as a medium for serious composers – often of works for
the guitar – but, perhaps surprisingly, as a flamenco guitar form.
My Tientos reflects all of these influences, and any of the formal
dynamics are derived from the inherent tensions resulting from the juxtaposition
of such disparate languages. I chose the unusual plural form of
the word precisely for this reason: my piece is not a tiento so
much as it is about the tiento.
In my earlier work Bulerías, a piece for guitar quartet also highly
influenced by flamenco music, my principle concern was rhythm. In
Tientos, I chose to focus on the supercharged melismatic style
of flamenco singing. The instrumentation of flute and string trio
may seem a far cry from the world of flamenco, but I hope something of
the profound intensity of that highly complex vernacular idiom survives
here.
Tientos is essentially through-composed but, like many of my works,
it contains a ‘found object,’ in this case a haunting 16th century villançico,
"Con qué la lavaré." Although hinted at in the opening
measures of the work, it makes a late appearance in a recognizable, if
somewhat surrealistic manner, during the wild presto section that culminates
the first large group of the work. In this first incarnation it
is troped by the flute with darting melismas over a quiet, propulsive
drone in the strings. Later it appears in fragmentary fashion as
the main idea of a brooding adagio section. Near the end of the
flute cadenza it is heard, once again in fragments, but otherwise
fully fleshed out in a 15th century setting by Juan del Encina, with the
strings imitating the sound of a consort of viols. At the very end
of the work the song appears in the style of the opening bars of the work.
The text and my translation are as follows:
¿Con qué la
lavaré With what
shall I wash
la flor de la mi cara? the flower
of my face
¿Con qué la lavaré
With what shall I was
que vivo mal penada? away my sorrow?
Lavo me yo cuitada
I wash myself to take away
con ansias y dolores. the anguish
and sadness.
¿Con qué la lavaré
With what shall I wash
que vivo mal penada? away my sorrow?
¿Con qué la
lavaré With what
shall I wash
que vivo mal penada? away my sorrow?
Lavan le las casadas Married
women wash
con agua de limones. with lemon water
Da Chara
Commissioned
and premiered by Objet d’art (Valarie King, flute, Anisa Angarola,
flute) 1984.
First
recording by Objet d’art, ‘Pastorale’, James Mars Productions, released
1986. (Cassette only, out of print.) CD release coming soon from
issadell. Second recording by Jim Walker, flute, Scott Tennant,
guitar, ‘Wild Mountain Thyme’, Delos DE 3207, released February, 1998.
Program note
Da Chara, Gaelic for
"two friends," one of a growing series of pieces written in
the traditional Irish style, was commissioned by guitarist Anisa Angarola
and flutist Valarie King. Written in a form largely inspired by
Paddy Maloney of the Chieftains, it begins with a flute air in free style,
followed by another air in 3/4 time, played first by the guitar alone,
then with the flute. Next, the original air returns as a march,
which gradually picks up energy until it bubbles over into a wild reel.
At the end of the reel, the first air returns one last time as a cantus
firmus, as the flute continues to spin wild variations above. Though
all the melodies are "original" in the sense that they were
not lifted from traditional sources, they were intended to be taken for
authentic Irish melodies. Guitarist Juan Carlos Laguna with flutist
Marisa Canales, as well as guitarist Scott Tennant and flutist James Walker,
among others, have also performed the piece.
GUITAR QUARTET
Folías Requested and premiered
by the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, John Dearman, William Kanengiser, Scott
Tennant, Andrew York, St. Louis, Missouri, October 4, 1992.
First recording by the
Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, ‘Evening in Granada’, Delos, DE 3144,
Winter,1994.
Reviews:
Ian Krouse’s "Folías"
is a variation set that quotes Renaissance and Baroque versions of the
"Folías" theme between more adventurously modern expansions.
Allan Kozin, NEW YORK TIMES,
May 28, 1994
What follows is Folías,
a heated contemporary piece by guitarist Ian Krouse that begins where
Boccherini’s flamenco strums end. Boisterous rasgueado jump starts
the 15-minute set of variations which travel back in time as each new
treatment of the theme gets closer in language to the original Spanish
Renaissance dance; by the fade-out finish, the players have exited one
by one, as in Haydn’s Farewell Symphony, giving Folías a ghostly ending
that sweeps away the music like so much desert sand and collective memory.
AMERICAN RECORD GUIDE, September/October,
1994
This remarkable 15 minute
piece is an absolutely compelling work, which only reveals its famous
theme halfway through and moves in a circle of ‘time travel’ as the composer
puts it. Commencing with a sort of minimalistic whispering alternated
with powerful chords, it journeys backwards in style from today to the
Baroque and Renaissance, with guitarists sure to recognize Gaspar Sanz
en route. I loved its prolonged motifs changing by voice, tonal
sounds occasionally becoming dissonant, and then gradually evolving majestically
with strong themes coming and going against a backwash of murmuring arpeggio.
Folías concludes by the disappearance of each player in turn, gradually
becoming nothing. A terrific composition.
CLASSICAL GUITAR, June, 1994
Krouse’s Folías leaps into
the 20th century, only to commence a journey back to the popular Renaissance
dance theme known to students of baroque music through Corelli’s famous
Op. 5, No. 12 variations. Krouse’s intricate development of the
old melody extends the concept of variations well beyond Corelli’s simple
musical geometry, and we are almost relieved to hear the familiar theme
directly stated after 8 ½ minutes of ingenious exploration and extrapolation.
There is anticipation in this piece, and maybe a little frustration, but
the purposeful motion of the music keeps us involved and always waiting
for the next note.
CD REVIEW, February, 1994
Ian Krouse’s "Folías"
takes one of the most famous tunes of all times – there are more than
1,000 settings – and makes a fantastic set of variations on it.
Glenn Giffin, DENVER POST, November
19, 1992
The [L.A. Guitar Quartet] surprised the crowd with the world premiere
of Ian Krouse’s set of variations based on "La Folia," a popular
harmonic pattern used in baroque music. The harmonic pattern is
obscured here, used with prominence only in a reference to Corelli’s famous
version. At the end, a la Haydn’s "Farewell Symphony,"
the musicians leave the stage while playing the closing four guitars.
Sue Taylor, ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH, October 5, 1992
Program note
In ‘Folías’, composed
at the request of the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, I set out to add a work
evocative of Spanish style to a distinguished tradition of "folias"
that includes over 1,000 compositions, including versions by Marais, Bach,
Vivaldi, Corelli, Paganini, Rachmaninoff, Ponce, and Lutoslawski.
The folia was popular in Spain
as a sung dance accompanied by guitar and sonagas – metal disks attached
to a wooden ring. The word folia means "mad" or "empty-headed,"
for the dance was so fast and noisy that the dancers seemed out of their
minds. My version is set in the usual form of the variations, but
with two twists. First, the theme itself is not presented until
almost halfway through the piece – and even then – it is stated in several
forms. Second, the variations start out quite long and gradually
become shorter…they continue to accelerate until they move so fast that
each takes only a few beats to complete. The piece concludes with
a festive series of variations based on a form of the folia which was
popular in the late Renaissance."
The compositional style of Folías
is an eclectic circle, a kind of "time travel," beginning with
improvisatory, neo-minimalistic murmurings reminiscent of flamenco style.
The music develops backward in time, stylistically, to a statement of
the theme in Baroque style, then back further to neo-Renaissance style,
and finally comes back to the present. One hears the theme emerging
gradually until its full statement at the gravitational center of the
piece, designated "Follia after Corelli" [at 8:25].
Shortly thereafter the theme is stated in minor, this time quoting the
"Folías of Sanz." As the variations draw to a close,
the score indicates that the players should, each in turn, leave the stage,
in an elaborate visual, as well as aural, diminuendo.
Bulerías
Requested and premiered by the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, Anisa Angarola,
John Dearman, William Kanengiser, Scott Tennant, Second Guitar Congress,
Wake Forest University, June, 1989.
First recording by the
Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, ‘The Los Angeles Guitar Quartet’, GHA
– 126.016, released Winter, 1992.
Reviews:
Ian Krouse’s "Bulerías"
explores the obsessive side of flamenco in sweaty volleys of iterative
chords, building impressively…It lives on rhythmic interplay, and the
collisions of granitic harmonies and primal motivic fragments, all fiercely
projected here.
John Henken, LOS ANGELES TIMES,
March 23, 1991
Accented with dissonant,
crashing passages, sometimes rhythmically at odds, the work gradually
evolved into beautifully harmonic, layered patterns, performed with great
spirit.
Karen Knutson, ARKANSAS GAZETTE,
February 21, 1990
…Bulerías, a piece with fabulous
textures…is absorbing, brutal, beautiful, and harsh, all at the same time.
GFA SOUNDBOARD, Winter, 1989-90
Bulerías has to be mentioned
in a separate breath, for it was quite literally breath-taking.
Firmly footed in its Spanish origin, this item provided a challenge to
the members of the quartet. The difficulties of this marathon piece
may not have been readily evident, since they were mostly based on rhythmic
intricacies between the four guitarists. Bulerías was tailor-made
for the L.A. Guitar Quartet, or so it seems. Using a number of minimalist
devices and techniques, the piece very quickly transported the listener
beyond the state of ordinary excitement into a realm of hypnotic suspension.
As the piece came to a close, I had a sense of exhausted exhilaration
over having been returned to earth in one piece. I shall not forget
this experience any time soon.
GFA SOUNDBOARD, Fall, 1989
Program note
The idea for Bulerías
came to me while listening with awe and fascination to the multiple guitar
improvisations of the touring show Flamenco Puro. This single movement
virtuoso work is neither "flamenco" nor "pure."
But it is solidly rooted in the characteristic 12-beat rhythmic patterns
of the "soleares" and its festive cousin the "bulerías,"
and is imbued throughout with the spirit and actual techniques of the
flamenco guitar. After an impressionistic and improvisatory opening
section marked Quasi cadenza – senza misura, the work becomes gradually
more rhythmically clarified, leading to an intense Tempo di Soleares
and finally culminating in a riotous final (and longest) section – Tempo
di Bulerías. The piece makes extensive use of antiphonal effects,
all based on the improvised clapping – palmas
– of flamenco.
First recording by
the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, ‘El Amor Brujo’, GHA 126.001, released
Winter, 1987.
Reviews:
Ian Krouse’s ‘Antique Suite
after Neusidler’ is based on pieces by 16th century lutenist Hans Neusidler,
and is a dynamic, often unsettling, fusion of 20th century
and Renaissance musical languages.
GUITAR PLAYER, April,
1990
"…the astonishing and
beautiful ‘Antique Suite’ …was inspired by themes of the German Renaissance.
Although the work is a difficult one the four guitarists rose to the occasion
brilliantly. The first two movements each began with sustained effects
produced by drawing a bow across all six strings.">
CORDOBA LOCAL, July 24, 1987
"[Antique Suite] is
an interesting work where colorful Renaissance harmonic progressions are
given modern resolutions. The use of the bow in the manner of a
viola da gamba and the percussive effects produced by the fingers on the
bridge add richness and variety to the work. The L.A Guitar Quartet
gave us a colorful and seductive version of the work.">
GRENOBLE LOISIRS, July 8, 1987
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