Chinese Music Festival at Peabody

by Susan Cheng

       Music From China brought the traditional and contemporary sounds of Chinese music to the Peabody conservatory at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore from February 18-21. This four-day festival introduced students, faculty, and the community to some of the treasured pieces of Chinese classical and folk music as well as original works.
       At a noon recital, many heard for the first time the rich timbral colors of such Chinese instruments as the erhu, pipa, dizi, and zheng. The program included some of the most moving pieces of Chinese music, including "A Moonlit River in Spring," "Xing Jie,"
       " The Moon Reflected in the Erquan Pool," and "San Wu Qi."
       With the traditional repertory as a basis for further study, the creation of new Chinese music was introduced in a Composition Department seminar featuring a lecture by three distinguished Chinese composers: Chen Yi, Zhou Long, and Yuanlin Chen. A presentation of Chinese computer music was also given by Yuanlin Chen at Peabody's Computer Music Center.
       The highlight of the festival came when Music From China joined Peabody's Camerata in a program of new music by these composers. Three of the evening's works were scored for mixed Chinese and Western instruments. Zhou Long's “Tales from the Cave” for huqin and percussion was commissioned by Music From China for this residency with a grant from the Mary Flagler Cary Charitable Trust. The composer's “Jin-Shi-Si-Zhu” for dizi and Western ensemble, and Chen Yi's “Song in Winter” for flute, zheng, piano and percussion were both performed for the first time in the Baltimore area. The conductors were Gene Young and Leandro Espinoza.Three other works on the program used only traditional instruments: Chen Yi's “The Points” for solo pipa; and Yuanlin Chen's “Two Prose Poems” and Qu Xiaosong's “Stillness” for small ensembles.
       The collaboration with Camerata and rediscovery of previously performed works was stimulating and artistically rewarding for all the musicians and their listeners. Music From China's visit was supported by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, Meet the Composer Fund, Aaron Copland Fund for Music, and the Peabody Conservatory.
       Music From China's participating musicians were: Wang Guowei (erhu), Chen Tao (dizi), Gao Hong (pipa), Helen Yee (yangqin), Yang Yi (zheng), Yingying Cao (daruan), and Susan Cheng (percussion). The following are descriptions of the works presented.

Jin-Shi-Si-Zhu (Metal, Stone, Silk, Bamboo) ¡ÐZhou Long
For bamboo flute, violin, clarinet, flute, cello, and percussion
Metal, stone, silk, and bamboo were principal elements in the construction of musical instruments in ancient China. Influenced by the Tang daqu (a form of song and dance in the Tang court), this sextet consists of three parts. San xu (prose-prelude) is an exposition in tempo a piacere. In the opening, the dadi (an alto bamboo flute) with string harmonics are introduced sequentially according to how they produce sound. As the piece unfolds, the bamboo wind switches to qudi (the accompanying instrument for the kunqu stage). The dynamics are gradually increased and the rhythm becomes more intense. The instruments are sounded one after another according to the order of sounds made from metal, stone, silk and bamboo. Zhong xu (middle-prelude) is in adagio tempo. The illusory imagination is translated into music by metal percussion with string harmonics. Here, the xun (an ancient clay ocarina), is introduced in a coda cadenza. The third part is po (broaching) in presto. It is introduced by wooden percussion instruments and bangdi (a piccolo bamboo flute). The percussive timbres lead to a confrontational, multitimbral dialogue. This section is constructed on a rhythmic pattern from folk percussion music.

Stillness ¡ÐQu Xiaosong
For yangqin, zheng, and percussion
Drinking at night, I roused myself drunk, returning home in the early hours. The houseboy's snores pealed like thunder. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. Leaning on my staff, I listened to the rushing river....” The composer has always been inspired by Su Shi's poetry and his affinity for nature. Just as Chinese artists traditionally left areas of their paintings white, so has the composer left empty spaces for the performers and listeners so they can more earnestly listen to the sounds of his music.

Song in Winter ¡ÐChen Yi
For flute, zheng, piano and percussion
The idea of "Song in Winter" came from my perceptions of the pine and bamboo. These evergreens stand in the frigid winter, persistent and dauntless. In Chinese paintings, they are the most favored images; in literature, they are praised as symbols against evil influences and unhealthy trends. I admire their beautiful appearance and strong spirit. My sentiments are expressed in my music, which combines Chinese and Western materials. The blowing, plucking, keyboard and percussion instruments interact and come together as a whole. The silence between gestures is like the space in Chinese brush painting and calligraphy. Although I have been living in Western society for seven years now, my thinking is still closely linked with Chinese arts. In this mixed quartet, I have attempted to express these thoughts in musical language.

Two Prose Poems ¡ÐYuanlin Chen
For erhu, dizi, yangqin, and daruan
Poetry is musical prose. Music is poetry without text. The poetry inherent in Chinese instrumental music and the combination of their unique timbral colors are important features of this two-section tone poem.

Tales from the Cave ¡ÐZhou Long
For huqin and percussion quartet
Apart from huaer, a number of other types of folk songs, song and dance performance and chantefable (recitation with sung passages) are current among the inhabitants of this area. Tales from the Cave” was inspired by the art of the Mogaoku grottoes of Dunhuang in western China which depict music and dance scenes. The most popular form of music indigenous to this region is the huaer, a mountain song genre.
The two types of huqin used in this piece¡Ðerhu (tuned in d1-a1) and banhu (d2-a2)¡Ðboth originated in this region. ("Huqin" is a general name for various two-stringed vertical fiddles.) The music begins with an adagio introduction. Percussion instruments create an expanded space to enhance the range and color of the huqin. This is soon followed by a section with the banhu in fast tempo and dance rhythm. In the middle section, the erhu's playing takes on a mountain song quality, with a mystical aura in the background provided by the percussion. The last section starts with dense rhythms and tension is gradually intensified to reach a climax and finale.

The Points ¡ÐChen Yi
For solo pipa
The form and structure of "The Points" is based on the composer's impressions of the movements and gestures of the eight standard brush strokes in the zhengkai style of Chinese calligraphy. Although the title refers to the contact points between the brush and paper that commence and characterize the eight strokes, “points” also aptly captures the nature of plucked string music¡Ðthe melody is created of musical points plucked forth by the fingers. The large repertory of pipa performance techniques is used to translate the flowing energy of the brush, its flourishes and arching strokes, and different touches of the brush creating subtle shadings of light and dark ink, into musical imagery rich with timbral colors, textures, and dynamics.

A Composer's Musings

by Pei Lu

       It seems like a long time since I participated in Music From China's Premiere Works concert last year at Merkin Hall. And yet, it also seems like only yesterday. I've learned that one always feels this way about anything memorable. My composition, “Impressions in Silk and Bamboo” was among the program of new works in the concert.
       On a sunny autumn day as I sat at my desk trying to compose this work, I remember seeing the leaves on the trees outside my window rustled by the wind. I thought about the music I had written for Western instruments during the seven years I'd spent in the U.S. I suddenly realized that the sounds of Chinese music had faded away in my memory. What had happened to me, a musician from China? I seemed to have lost my way...
       I often think about my college years and life after graduation. My passion for field work took me to remote localities of ethnic minorities, to bask in the coarse or delicate, lusty or sentimental folk songs of Guangxi, Sichuan, Tibet and Gansu. In Guangxi, I learned to sing songs of the Zhuang, participate in the lusheng song-dances of the Miao, and perform "grand dances" with young people of the Tong. I even observed young Miao couples rendezvous by the fireside. Although I was not a participant, I was mesmerized by the mountain love songs that drifted through the air on those intoxicating nights. In the remote villages of Yunnan, I gulped down local brews and smoked gigantic water pipes. After fits of vomiting, I would be given sugarcane water, said to relieve these ill effects. Nothing could be more rustic or down-to-earth. My whole being became immersed in their pristine culture. I felt its circulation inside my body. From these experiences, I composed "Mountain Songs and Metal Drums" and "Distant Melodies" for piano; "View from a Miao Mountain Village" for clarinet and piano; and "Wu" for mixed chamber ensemble. The rusticity in this music still seems remarkable to me now.
       Most composers strive for a new sound and artistic style to express their personal views of the world. Some may fail or not fail too miserably, others may even succeed. For myself, it is mostly for the feeling of a pleasurable surprise. In composing "Symphony in Three Movements for Chinese Orchestra" and "Unnamed Tombstone" for dance theater, I had taken great pains to conceive and craft my ideas. I was rather pleased with the results. But, confronted by those whose sensibilities seemed to be offended by my bilious music, I could only express my sympathy and say to them, "Go wash out your ears quickly with some Mozart."
       People often ask why composers write this kind of music. It's incomprehensible and nobody wants to listen to it. I replied, “It's not that awful if you listen with an open mind. The value of art is in its creativity. An artist's creation is like a scientist's discovery¡Ðto realize our ability to upgrade our intelligence. The masters of Classicism and Romanticism are like great mountains that reach into the sky, insurmountable. To go beyond them, one would have to use a different approach, proving in the process that history has not stopped, and that mankind progresses. If we drilled a hole in those mountains, we would have a mound of dug out earth. Looking at it from a distance, doesn't it take the shape of a mountain as well?"
       Nevertheless, the lure of Romanticism continues to run in my blood. From time to time, I keep it under control, as if treating high blood pressure or cholesterol with medicine. This is not always easily accomplished.
       One year I decided it was time to write something that was "leasing to the ear." First, I wanted to see if I was still capable of it. It was also in response to a challenge from someone who had said, "None of you contemporary composers can write melodies." Rather than argue, I decided to write something that was different from my previous works. Thus, "Symphonic Overture No. 1" came into being. It was very well received by audiences and was awarded accolades at the Shanghai Spring Music Festival. After its premiere, I was asked by a composer, "How long did it take you to write that?" "Three to four weeks," I replied. "I should think three days would have been enough!" To make matters worse, my music was considered "impotent" by a senior faculty member and good friend at the conservatory. Overcome by embarrassment, I haven't dared to let anyone hear it again. Nevetheless, I'm rather pleased with some aspects of my "condemned" work, such as its eloquent melody and polished instrumentation. (My partner in crime, Xu Jixing, herself a composer, said to me after hearing it for the first time, "I didn't know you could be so sentimental.")
       Sometimes I feel it would be wonderful to write whatever one wanted. Why not write about what's real? It does not matter what others think. Gradually, I learned that reality is also conditional. I was invited by a conductor at an American university to write my "Symphony No. 2." This work has fluency of expression and a distinct melodic line and climax. Its premiere was quite successful.
I sent the recording to some friends but received no replies nor comments. Lu Xun [20th century Chinese writer and thinker] said, “The greatest slight is not to turn even an eyeball.” I discovered that not even an eyeball turned my way. Once more, I learned that in today's world full of abject realities, what people need sometimes are perceptions of ugliness, not of beauty. They prefer the shocking and outrageous to madrigal singing and dancing sparrows. People dislike pastoral songs--at least it's not necessary when they are awake. People also don't need bright sunshine and gentle spring breezes so that once they step out of the concert hall, they will better appreciate its reality. I understood everything then. My friends' eyeballs turned toward me once more.
       I am reminded of Berg's overwhelming success in Europe for his opera “Wozzeck” which filled him with misgiving. And Stravinsky had believed that people came to his concerts to find out what kind of music he had written to please their ears. Why should he serve their purpose, he wondered.
       I also heard this story. Someone at a John Cage concert sat next to an elderly woman who applauded enthusiastically for every piece. This person thought it extraordinary that not only did she attend this concert, but could appreciate Cage's music as well. At the end of the concert when the audience gave a standing ovation, the listener turned to the woman and said, "Wonderful, isn't it?" She turned to her neighbor, took two cotton balls out of her ears, and asked, "What did you say?"
       I wrote "Impressions in Silk and Bamboo" with no distinct themes or objects for depicture in mind. It is, rather, a collection of reminiscences, impressions, and feelings expressed through an array of instrumental colors.
[Translation by Susan Cheng]

Premiere Works VII:

Wind¡DChime ¡ÐChristopher Adler
This piece for sheng draws on the music of mouth-organs from two other parts of Asia. From Northeast Thai and Lao khaen music comes the use of drones, regular rhythmic accents and ornamentation; and from Japanese sho music comes slowly changing harmonic clusters. Polyphony is also introduced into this blend: the simultaneous playing of multiple, independent voices, which is fundamental in Western music but foreign to most mouth-organ music. This piece was composed for David Badagnani, an ethnomusicology student and multi-instrumentalist at Kent State University. [An article by the composer appears on page 8]
Christopher Adler is a Ph.D. candidate at Duke University with a fellowship in composition.

Contemplating the Hua Mountain Frescoes ¡ÐXu Jixing
The ancient frescoes found on Hua Mountain in Guangxi are the inspiration for this work composed for gaohu , piano, and percussion. These brightly colored frescoes depict human activities and natural surroundings of the Zhuang ethnic group of this region. The various sections evoke scenes from a mystical past, a dance of ancient warriors, and a mountain love song. This composition was an award winner at the Third National Chinese Musical Works Exhibition in 1986.
Xu Jixing is a graduate of the Shanghai Conservatory in composition and joined the faculty in 1984. She curently resides in the United States.

Impressions in Silk and Bamboo ¡ÐPei Lu
This chamber work is orchestrated for erhu, dizi, pipa, liuqin, zheng, zhongruan, yangqin, and percussion. [An article by the composer appears on page 4]
Pei Lu taught composition at the Shanghai Conservatory before settling in the U.S. He holds a Masters degree from the School of Music at the University of Louisville and is in the D.M.A.. program at the University of Michigan's School of Music.

Yearning for Autumn ¡ÐDavid Loeb
This is a trio for dizi, pipa, and erhu composed in 1991. It is a quiet and contemplative piece, with a sense of distance at the end caused by restating the opening slowly and quietly. In this concert, the dizi was replaced by the shinobue, a Japanese flute, played by the composer.
David Loeb has taught composition at Mannes since 1964 and at the Curtis Institute since 1973.

Liam-Hiong (Homesickness) ¡ÐChih Chun Lee
The composer's nostalgic feelings for her home in Taiwan are expressed in this 1996 work for silk and bamboo ensemble consisting of huqin, winds, yangqin, pipa, liuqin, zheng, and percussion. In addition to traditional instruments, performers also double on percussion instruments.
The prelude begins as a dialogue between the xiao and zhonghu that soon draws in other instruments. Eventually, the liuqin and pipa play percussive chords that lead to the entrance of the percussion instruments. A solo melody appears in section one. More instruments are added gradually and a melodic counterpoint is achieved. This counterpoint weaves throughout the texture of the entire section. As the music intensifies, it accelerates and pushes toward the faster tempo of the next section. Section two uses a constant pulsation as a base. Clear rhythmic patterns are then layered over this pulsation to create rhythmic intensity. The contrapuntal ideas of the previous section occasionally resurface in this textural milieu. Eventually, percussive ideas from the prelude are recalled. The composition ends as the energy created by these layers of activity reaches its peak.
Chih Chun Lee holds double Master's degrees from Ohio University, and is currently finishing a doctorate at the University of Michigan.

"Wind¡DChime", a Hybrid Composition for Sheng

by Christopher Adler

       For the last four years I have been studying the music of Thailand, as both performer of traditional music and composer of cross-cultural music. I began by traveling to Northeast Thailand to learn to play the khaen, a bamboo mouth-organ similar to the sheng played by the Lao people of Northeast Thailand and Laos. A year ago my study took me to Kent State University to learn xylophone with a master Thai musician. At Kent I met a graduate student ethnomusicologist, David Badagnani. A self-taught player of the sheng, he was seeking contemporary cross-cultural repertoire for this instrument. Knowing of my experience with the khaen, he asked me to write a sheng composition for him. The result was "Wind¡D Chime," a five-minute piece for solo sheng which drew upon techniques from Lao khaen playing.
       At the time, I knew little about the sheng, except for its construction and placement of the pipes (which, I later learned, are easily and frequently changed by players). David explained to me that in Chinese music, the sheng plays a melodic role, embellishing the melody by adding octaves, fifths, and sometimes full clusters of notes in pentatonic scales. In this way, the music of the sheng is quite similar to that of the khaen. However, the sheng is at least an octave higher than most khaen, and is much louder and brighter in timbre. Furthermore, the finger holes are much larger, which means that the sheng can play many subtle, expressive effects, but cannot be played as rapidly as the khaen.
       The sheng is less common than most other Chinese instruments, and good players are extremely rare, especially in the United States. However, after mailing the score to composer Chen Yi, I was quite fortunate to learn that Music from China had invited sheng virtuoso Wang Zheng Ting from Australia to play his own music, and that he was willing to perform my piece as well. Thus, "Wind¡DChime" was premiered in the Premiere Works concert.
       In its present form, the sheng dates back at least to the Tang dynasty, but earlier versions, some made with gourd windchest, date back to the second century B.C. The bamboo pipes of these earliest sheng were not arranged in a circle, as in the Tang version, but in two parallel rows, like the Lao khaen. The history of the khaen is not known, but this evidence suggests that it predates the sheng. Many of the minority groups in southern China and mainland Southeast Asia have versions of khaen made with gourd windchest which may also be quite ancient. By the eighth century, the Tang sheng had traveled to Japan where it became the sho, used in gagaku music. The sho and khaen have changed little in present times, but the sheng has recently been modified to have an expanded, fully chromatic range. Today the 17-pipe sheng is the most common version, while larger, chromatic sheng are specially made and not yet standardized.
       In my own experimental compositions for khaen, I have sought to incorporate ideas from traditional music and contemporary Western music, while remaining faithful to the techniques and sounds which are most natural for the instrument. Although I use Lao music as a source of structural concepts and as a guide to what is "natural," the music I compose often sounds quite different from both traditional and contemporary music. The pieces are, in the end, hybrids which resist being identified within any single culture or any single musical genre.
       I chose the same strategy for composing "Wind¡DChime" to write a piece of contemporary music, using ideas from both sheng and Lao khaen playing. From Lao khaen music I have borrowed drones (although Lao music usually uses single drones, I use multiple, sometimes dissonant drones), fluttering finger ornamentation, and regular rhythmic accentuation. I have also used polyphony, which is foreign to both sheng music and Lao khaen music, although it has become part of my own contemporary khaen repertoire. Finally, the middle section of the piece consists of a progression of long, slow chords, built up pitch by pitch within one breath. This type of material is idiomatic for any mouth-organ, but recalls for me both an expressive technique of sheng playing as well as gagaku music, in which the sho plays slowly changing harmonic clusters. On top of all of this, the pacing of the work, and the constantly shifting rhythmic patterns were inspired not by any Asian music but by the works of Morton Feldman, one of my favorite American composers.
       As is often the case with contemporary music, a piece is not complete after it has been composed, but continues to evolve once it arrives in the hands of a performer. This growth is even more prominent in the cross-cultural case, where the performers may bring very different backgrounds, ideas and experiences to the music, and knowledge of how best to use an instrument that may be quite unfamiliar to the composer. Such was the case with Wang Zheng Ting, who came with a welcoming open-mindedness to my very unusual sheng music, as well as an interpretive perspective quite different than that which I had imagined. In addition to making many technical adjustments, Ting and I discussed the imagery of the piece. He asked me, "How do you think about this piece?" I proceeded to respond as I would to any Western musician, speaking in rather abstract terms of the music's calmness, motives and gestures and references to khaen music. Ting was unsatisfied, however, speaking of his idea of certain parts of the piece as "hearing wind blowing through the leaves of trees." I think he even had a particular kind of tree in mind, although I cannot recall it. At that moment I realized what I should have recognized from the titles and program notes of so many Chinese pieces that I had heard in the past: that although his priority, like Western musicians, was to capture the ideas of the composer (and ideally to use those as a launching point for his own expression), his means of doing so were quite different from the Western musicians with whom I had worked in the past. They were often concerned with faithfully executing the technical features and adhering to structural designs, while Ting was concerned with the imagistic, metaphorical, or almost poetic content of the music.
       Although I never did formulate a sufficient response to his question, I was happy to leave him to his own interpretation, for his performance brought to the piece a drama and intensity which I could not have imagined. Such negotiations take place in any music making, but I have found them especially exciting, and revealing, when in a cross-cultural context. “Wind¡DChime”, in the end, remained a piece unlike sheng music, unlike khaen music and unlike contemporary Western music. Ting has since told me that there are many techniques in this piece which he had never tried before, but that he is excited to add to his repertoire; likewise, after hearing his performance of my piece, I am attempting to add some of his sheng techniques to my khaen playing.

Meet The Composer's New Residencies Award

Season Highlights

     Two unique Cantonese opera performances helped Music From China raise matching funds for a 1997 New York State Council on the Arts Challenge Grant. "Sun-mon Chan & Friends-Cantonese Arias Recital" at the Chinese Community Center on November 30 represented the first recital by a Cantonese opera singer in New York. The acclaimed singer was joined by his students and guest singer Lau Ying Ding. The singers were accompanied by an eight-member orchestra.
     "Search the Academy," the first full-length opera presented by Music From China, took place on December 7, also at the Chinese Community Center. The three-hour production involved eleven performers, a ten-member orchestra, and specially designed sets and props.

     New York City's first sheng recital was given by Australian-based soloist Wang Zheng Ting and Music From China at Lincoln Center's branch of the New York Public Library on November 29. The sheng is one of the world's earliest free-reeded wind instruments. It plays a harmonic as well as melodic role in traditional Chinese music. Mr. Wang demonstrated his artistry and the instrument's versatility in the performance of different styles of regional music and modern compositions.
     The accompanying ensemble consisted of erhu, yangqin, zhongruan, and daruan.

     Music From China appeared in the Eastman School of Music's World Music Series 1998 presented in association with the ethnomusicology department on March 25, 1998. The group of six musicians performed a program of classical and folk music using the erhu, gaohu, zhonghu, dizi, pipa, qin, yangqin, zheng, and ruan.

Composition Prize: Call for 1998 Entries

     Terms and conditions of the competition are as follows:

1. The competition is open to composers of all nationalities without age limit.
2. Eligible works should be for a chamber ensemble of up to eight performers, and last from six to fifteen minutes. Instrumentation must be based on the following: one dizi, one erhu (doubling gaohu or banhu) or zhonghu, pipa, zheng, sanxian, liuqin, yangqin, ruan, and percussion.
3. All works submitted must not have been the subject of any previous award, nor have been previously published, performed in public, nor have been used commercially in whole or in part or in any other version prior to the announcement of the prize in October 1998.
4. Composers retain the copyrights for their compositions.
5. All applicants must submit the official entry form available from Music From China, which can be duplicated by the applicants.
6. Scores will not be returned; all applicants should keep the original copies of their works and submit duplicates.
7. The decision of the judges will be final. The judges reserve the right to divide the award money or to decline to make an award.

Article Index
Newsletter Vol. 7, No. 1
Spring 1998
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