The ensemble known as eighth blackbird, named after the eighth stanza of Wallace Steven’s poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, performs progressive music. In their selection of material and in the quirkiness of their performances, they are slightly to the left of the Kronos Quartet. This CD is arch, humorous, sometimes daring, and what was called “trippy” in the sixties. David M. Gordon’s Friction Systems opens with a cacophonous clang of piano and percussion, then segues into a bewitching exploration of timbre. A cryptic concrete poem in the program notes explains it all. What sort of imaginary animal is it? Listen patiently a few dozen times and maybe you’ll find out.
Gordon Fitzell’s two pieces, violence and evanescence, are stark enough to fit the overall bizarre tone; however, they run out of ideas early. Evanescence is an extended piece of electronica with hissings and poppings; violence is more breathy and crepuscular than nasty and suffers from a mood disorder. Dennis DeSantis’ strange imaginary remix has an infectious rhythm that swings in an atonal sort of way. You can actually dance to it. It’s one of the stars on this CD. Another is the first cut, Jennifer Higdon’s Zaka. A jolting opening with low piano notes will topple you and tie you to the listening post. The acrobatic melodies leap past with abandon and their speed is dazzling.
The most ambitious piece is Steven Mackey’s 3-movement Indigenous Instruments, which begins with puckish figures on woodwinds and wanders about like a beast that’s still hungry after having just feasted. In the first movement an ostinato theme meanders through, as if turning up a series of rocks to discover what lies underneath. A second movement is slow and seductive in its sly pianissimos. The third movement is filled with curious string figures: sprightly pizzacatos, deeply moaning glissandos, and sneaky tempo increases. There’s also a tasty helping of minimalist tidbits. If the 21st-century avantgarde tickles you, try on this CD.
— Peter Bates
