Thursday, July 31, 2008

Heavenly Voices from Knieper and Ligeti

It's easy enough to imagine how a composer might aim for the sublime within a cultural and music framework that allows for a full, lush exploitation of familiar melodic devices. But what do you do when you're a composer writing in the latter half of the twentieth century and those same devices--indeed, familiar notions of tonality--have become problematized (to use an ungainly word from literary theory)? How does one evoke from the human voice something approximating a (postmodern) sublime?

Heaven knows I'm no connoisseur of contemporary works for vocal ensembles. But a couple of tracks have been figuring prominently in my music rotation these last few days and they certainly seem germane to such questions. Oddly enough, they are both from movie soundtracks. The first is from Jürgen Kneiper's soundtrack to Der Himmel über Berlin [Wings of Desire, directed by Wim Wenders in 1989] and the second is a piece by György Ligeti's featured in 2001: A Space Odyssey [Stanley Kubrick, 1968].

Here's a 30-second clip from the piece by Knieper:

04 - Die Kathedrale der Buecher (The Cathedral of Books).mp3 -

And here's Ligeti's "Lux Aeterna":

Ligeti: Lux aeterna (2001: A Space Odyssey) - Various

What I find appealing about these pieces is the way they find a place for the human voice while nevertheless setting it against a complex backdrop which at first blush seems inimical to it. In Wings of Desire, the hushed speaking voices in "Die Kathedrale" are meant to represent the thoughts of library patrons as they are silently observed by invisible angels. Our vantage point--as listeners and viewers of the film--approximates, but does not presume to occupy, a kind of god-like vantage point on the scene. We see the library patrons' activities in the film--and we hear their thoughts in Knieper's composition--against a backdrop of otherworldly, cascading voices: but there is no synthesis, no final harmonization or reconciliation of those voices into a single, unified chorus. Or, more accurately: the angelic voices towards the end do coalesce in a melody, but not by eliminating the whispered individual voices that continue to percolate just beneath the surface.

As for Ligeti's "Lux Aeterna," it is a relatively uniform tonal background that sets off the individual voices that fade in and out. These distinctive voices assume jagged tones that are never quite reconciled with the long choral lines beneath them. But there is something undeniably transcendent to which the music somehow gestures, as if that something held it in orbit, as it were, but were not itself directly perceptible. Okay, I'm up in the clouds now. But when it comes to angels and space ships, what else do you expect?

At any rate, I highly recommend purchasing these albums here and here.

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