Sept 2010Aug 2010Jul 2010Jun 2010 Archive

Mercury Soul returns to Mezzanine

The unlikely symbiosis of classical music and club culture, which began as something of a novelty several years ago, seems to evolving into a self-contained organism these days. The question is how resilient this hybrid creature is, and whether it has something substantive to offer the cultural ecosystem.

The topic was on the minds of me and my co-conspirators, Maestro Benjamin Shwartz and installation artist Anne Patterson, when we brought Mercury Soul back to the San Francisco club Mezzanine this spring. Having launched in 2008 to a crowd of 1,400 curious listeners, Mercury Soul did a lot more than simply change the scenery on a classical concert.

Rather than just serving a few classical performances in an alternative venue and call it a night, the project makes a special effort to completely reimagine the concert experience. The event is a DJed party superimposed onto a concert of new music, with the audience roaming freely throughout the large space. Sets of live electronica and DJing are interspersed with performances of Nancarrow, for exaple, or Ligeti or Berio - with specially-composed interludes bridging between the classical/electronica alternations.

Helping guide the audience's focus is the visual touch of Patterson, whose art installations and slowly-morphing lighting reveal different parts of the space where the next performance occurs. Instead of a concert in front of seated crowd, this is more like presenting a many-stringed puppet show to a herd of roving cats. And that's why it's such a rush to pull it off.

Ten years ago, though, such an event would have been highly unlikely. It was rare enough to simply catch a classical performance at, say, the club Gallapagos in Brooklyn. The disconnect was both inspiring and irreverent -after all, the spaces of an acoustically-tuned concerto hall and a club normally populated by hipsters seemed about as far apart as possible. The disconnect was also visceral when, a few years ago, I attended the Weekend club in Berlin. Dropped into the middle of a great techno party was an appearance by Musica Antica Koeln, who performed Couperin. At first, the crowd showed curious amusement at seeing musicians playing period instruments, but that melted into impatience as the performance went past the 20-minute mark. I, too, was impatient: after all, performing 18-Century music on a harpsichord in the middle of a club, with absolutely no effort at integration, seemed a gimmick.

But sometimes the early expressions of a movement are immature but necessary catalysts for what is to come. These days, there are substantive classical/club events both large and small - venues such as NYC's Le Poisson Rouge offering eclectic programs to a devoted audience, orchestras such as the London Sinfonietta touring with Aphex Twin orchestrations, electronica artists such as Matos performing on the LA Philharmonic's Left Coast Festival. The hunger exists out of the major cultural centers too - in addition to DJing imaginative post-parties for the San Francisco Symphony, I am more and more asked by groups such as the Portland Symphony or the Chicago Chamber Musicians to curate hybrid events.

For Mercury Soul, the challenge has always been in the logistical requirements of pulling off such a free-flowing event. With DJed interludes and three open bars, Benjamin and Anne and I knew that the audience would need some gentle guidance when the classical music began. So I composed various Mercury Interludes that incorporate both club elements (electronica beats) and classical elements (the ensemble of the upcoming set), which serves to gradually shift the audience's focus. To synchronize with the conductor Benjamin Shwartz, who was mounted on platform halfway across the room, we worked out a system of colored lights to indicate entrances. Meanwhile, Anne Patterson was working from a minute-by-minute production timeline that involved slowly-morphing lights, beautifully illuminated art installations, and intricate watercolors projected around the space.

The net effect: as one might be enjoying a drink and a conversation during a DJed segment, gradually the lighting would brighten and a sinfonietta would fade into the background. Over the course of five minutes, those in your conversation might think WTF? and turn quizzically towards the stage. The DJ fades, the sinfonietta grows; program notes are projected onto the walls; and, with that, a piece of Steve Reich begins. The musical connections between Reich and electronica are fairly obvious, but we also draw parallels to, say, the ambience of Luther Adams or the pseudo-electronic textures of Ligeti.

Mercury Soul's return this spring allowed the three of us to finely tune the machine. The repertoire integrated beautifully and spanned the gamut, from a beat-driven string quartet by John Adams to an action-packed brass quintet by Luciano Berio. The amplification was more clear and better dispersed. The DJed segments incorporated more techno earlier in the evening. And Anne's web of aluminum wires, illuminated by red LED lights, instantly transformed the space into something of alien beauty.

Classical music and club culture exist perfectly well without each other - I too enjoy a Schubert Mass on its own, or an Autechre show. I don't think a confluence of the two is some kind of hipness quotient that need be present everywhere. But when it does happen - and, in particular, when it happens with substance and purpose - it can shine a new light.


Mercury Soul returns to Mezzanine

The unlikely symbiosis of classical music and club culture, which began as something of a novelty several years ago, seems to evolving into a self-contained organism these days. The question is how resilient this hybrid creature is, and whether it has something substantive to offer the cultural ecosystem. The topic was on the minds of me and my co-conspirators, Maestro Benjamin Shwartz and installation artist Anne Patterson, when we brought Mercury Soul back to the San Francisco club Mezzanine this spring. Having launched in 2008 to a crowd of 1,400 curious listeners, Mercury Soul did a lot more than simply change the scenery on a classical concert. Rather than just serving a few classical performances in an alternative venue and call it a night, the project makes a special effort to completely reimagine the concert experience. The event is a DJed party superimposed onto a concert of new music, with the audience roaming freely throughout the large space. Sets of live electronica and DJing are interspersed with performances of Nancarrow, for exaple, or Ligeti or Berio - with specially-composed interludes bridging between the classical/electronica alternations. Helping guide the audience’s focus is the visual touch of Patterson, whose art installations and slowly-morphing lighting reveal different parts of the space where the next performance occurs. Instead of a concert in front of seated crowd, this is more like presenting a many-stringed puppet show to a herd of roving cats. And that’s why it’s such a rush to pull it off. Ten years ago, though, such an event would have been unheard of. It was rare enough to simply catch a classical performance at, say, the club Gallapagos in Brooklyn. The disconnect was both inspiring and irreverent — after all, the spaces of an acoustically-tuned concerto hall and a club normally populated by hipsters seemed about as far apart as possible. The disconnect was also visceral when, a few years ago, I attended the Weekend club in Berlin. Dropped into the middle of a great techno party was an appearance by Musica Antica Köln, who performed Couperin. At first, the crowd showed curious amusement at seeing musicians playing period instruments, but that melted into impatience as the performance went past the 20-minute mark. I, too, was impatient: after all, performing 18-Century music on a harpsichord in the middle of a club, with absolutely no effort at integration, seemed a gimmick. But sometimes the early expressions of a movement are immature but necessary catalysts for what is to come. These days, there are substantive classical/club events both large and small - venues such as NYC’s Le Poisson Rouge offering eclectic programs to a devoted audience, orchestras such as the London Sinfonietta touring with Aphex Twin orchestrations, electronica artists such as Matos performing on the LA Philharmonic’s Left Coast Festival . The hunger exists out of the major cultural centers too - in addition to DJing imaginative post-parties for the San Francisco Symphony, I am more and more asked by groups such as the Portland Symphony or the Chicago Chamber Musicians to curate hybrid events. For Mercury Soul, the challenge has always been in the logistical requirements of pulling off such a free-flowing event. With DJed interludes and three open bars, Benjamin and Anne and I knew that the audience would need some gentle guidance when the classical music began. So I composed various Mercury Interludes that incorporate both club elements (electronica beats) and classical elements (the ensemble of the upcoming set), which serves to gradually shift the audience’s focus. To synchronize with the conductor Benjamin Shwartz, who was mounted on platform halfway across the room, I worked out a system of colored lights to indicate entrances. Meanwhile, Anne Patterson was working from a minute-by-minute production timeline that involved slowly-morphing lights, beautifully illuminated art installations, and intricate watercolors projected around the space. The net effect: as one might be enjoying a drink and a conversation during a DJed segment, gradually the lighting would brighten and a sinfonietta would fade into the background. Over the course of five minutes, the four people in your conversation might turn quizzically towards the stage and realize that something kinda different’s happening here – let’s check it out. The DJ fades, the sinfonietta grows; program notes are projected onto the walls; and, with that, a piece of Steve Reich begins. The musical connections between Reich and electronica are fairly obvious, but we also draw parallels to, say, the ambience of Luther Adams or the pseudo-electronic textures of Ligeti. Mercury Soul’s premiere in 2008 was phenomenal, but its return this spring showed an even finer-tuned machine. The repertoire integrated beautifully and spanned the gamut, from a beat-driven string quartet by John Adams to an action-packed brass quintet by Luciano Berio. The amplification was more clear and better dispersed. The DJed segments incorporated more techno earlier in the evening. And Anne’s web of aluminum wires, illuminated by red LED lights, instantly transformed the space into something of alien beauty. Classical music and club culture exist perfectly well without each other — I enjoy a Schubert Mass or an Autechre show too — and I do not think a confluence of the two is some kind of hipness quotient that need be present everywhere. But when it does happen — and, in particular, when it happens with substance and purpose — it can shine a new light.