Recently I’ve been working on a series of 3-section text pieces for ensembles of 12 or more performers who may or may not be professional musicians. Each piece is laid out in a 16-page, playing card-sized, booklet.
The pieces are meant to be performed without rehearsals or read-throughs, so each page spread is sealed (with a tiny post-it) in order to ensure that the performers are seeing the score for the first time.
After the performers have gathered, a facilitator gives a short explanation of how to use the booklet. The performers then open the first page spread and begin to read and interpret the instructions. The instructions require each performer to carry out the same physical movements and/or audible actions. The participants are instructed not to speak unless they have to in order to complete each section. The instructions tell them when the piece is over.
The first iteration of Game Time was written as a companion to a performance of James Tenney’sInalarge, reverberant space that I was producing. Out of necessity ,the musicians were gathering only an hour or so before the performance and they didn’t all know one another. I wanted to see if it would be possible to create an instant feeling of community which would enhance the ensemble’s cohesiveness in order to better perform the Tenney. I also didn’t want to take away any rehearsal time from the Tenney. This first iteration of Game Time was a success and I found that observing a large group of people reading and understanding something in the same moment was an experience that I wanted to repeat.
I am interested in the idea of people gathering together and being able to connect with one another quickly through a shared experience. This kind of fast track to an “ensemble” feel would, in the performing arts world, take several rehearsals to achieve. I liken this to the concept of being stuck in an elevator, where, given a circumstance like the elevator stopping for no apparent reason, the people in the elevator quickly connect with one another.
These pieces are experimental in nature in that I am not attached to any particular outcome. Rather, I am interested in how individuals interpret words and translate those into actions. I tend to be very specific with my instructions in these pieces so that I can see the subtle variations in how they are interpreted by the participants. So far, I’ve adapted this piece for other presenters and facilitators in order to fit their specific needs. This includes, western-instrumental performers, untrained harmonica players, a communist social-activist community, a group of children ages 4-10, and an unsuspecting audience attending an experimental music concert. These adaptations are in line with my interest in sharing experiences with communities that are beyond my regular musician crowd.
As an experimental music composer I feel like I am always on the lookout for these fissures in the regular daily score of the world so that I can bring them to the foreground and examine them more closely. I see these opportunities as being like those moments on the street where you meet an oncoming person and you both zig and zag together as you try to pass. In the music world, we create communities through years of rehearsing and performing together. I want to see if it is possible to synthesize or facilitate this kind of connection through short group exercises. When people from disparate groups are able to form a community, they disrupt the status quo in a simple but powerful way.