Morton Feldman's latest composition, For Philip Guston, defies conventional notions of length, clocking in at a whopping four hours without a break. While it may seem daunting to sit through such an extended piece, what truly strikes is the work's remarkable economy. A seemingly innocuous opening sequence of four pitches played by three musicians serves as the foundation for the entire work, with notes and motifs expertly woven together, creating an ever-sparse yet hypnotic texture.
The performers' approach is characteristically minimalist, eschewing dramatic flourishes in favor of a focus on delicate timbres. Taylor MacLennan's flutes seem to materialize from nowhere, their sound ranging from disembodied synthesised tones to the rich warmth of the alto flute's lowest register. Meanwhile, George Barton and Siwan Rhys navigate their respective instruments – piano, celeste, vibraphone, glockenspiel, marimba, and tubular bells – with a precision that belies the complexity of the score.
The only instance where Feldman appears to indulge in excess is when he stretches his musical material to its limits. Repetitive passages can feel airless at times, but even these moments hold a strange allure, like watching a mesmerizing dance unfold before one's eyes. As the work progresses, the performers' focus grows, and so too does the audience's absorption in the music.
One might be tempted to say that Feldman is playing a cruel joke on his listeners by subjecting them to such an extended performance. And yet, it is precisely this marathon duration – combined with the performer's intense concentration and the delicately immersive sound world they create – that renders For Philip Guston an unforgettable experience. The abstract expressionist artist he dedicated the work to would likely have approved of Feldman's refusal to compromise, even in the face of logistical challenges.
Ultimately, it is Feldman himself who says it best: "it's a short four hours!" This modest statement belies the profound impact of his music, which continues to challenge and reward listeners with its very length.
The performers' approach is characteristically minimalist, eschewing dramatic flourishes in favor of a focus on delicate timbres. Taylor MacLennan's flutes seem to materialize from nowhere, their sound ranging from disembodied synthesised tones to the rich warmth of the alto flute's lowest register. Meanwhile, George Barton and Siwan Rhys navigate their respective instruments – piano, celeste, vibraphone, glockenspiel, marimba, and tubular bells – with a precision that belies the complexity of the score.
The only instance where Feldman appears to indulge in excess is when he stretches his musical material to its limits. Repetitive passages can feel airless at times, but even these moments hold a strange allure, like watching a mesmerizing dance unfold before one's eyes. As the work progresses, the performers' focus grows, and so too does the audience's absorption in the music.
One might be tempted to say that Feldman is playing a cruel joke on his listeners by subjecting them to such an extended performance. And yet, it is precisely this marathon duration – combined with the performer's intense concentration and the delicately immersive sound world they create – that renders For Philip Guston an unforgettable experience. The abstract expressionist artist he dedicated the work to would likely have approved of Feldman's refusal to compromise, even in the face of logistical challenges.
Ultimately, it is Feldman himself who says it best: "it's a short four hours!" This modest statement belies the profound impact of his music, which continues to challenge and reward listeners with its very length.