Why Morton Feldman?

Some readers may wonder why I just decided that amateur pianists (such as those that will be performing at the Cadillac Hotel in about a month’s time) deserve to be better informed about composer Morton Feldman. One reason is that, at the beginning of next month, harmonia mundi will release an album of the four compositions that Feldman collected under the title The Viola in My Life. As most readers will expect, Amazon.com has already created a Web page for processing pre-orders.

Sadly, the last time I wrote about this music was when it was performed by the San Francisco Contemporary Music Players in October of 2009. That was back when I was writing for Examiner.com, and it was one of those articles that I had not yet backed up before that site was shut down! This is unfortunate since, by that time, I had accumulated two recordings of The Viola in My Life, one in the CRI American Masters series and the other released by ECM Records.

Violist Antoine Tamestit on the cover of his Morton Feldman album (courtesy of [Integral])

In the context of that background, readers may wonder why I wanted to add another recording to my list. The answer is simple enough: While Feldman provided the notes, he was not strict about how those notes should be interpreted. As a result, each recording provides its own unique listening experience. Furthermore, the CRI release only accounts for the first three of the four “parts” in the composition, each requiring different resources as follows:

1. viola, violin, cello, flute, piano, and percussion
2. viola, violin, cello, flute, clarinet, celesta, and percussion
3. viola and piano

Like the ECM release, the new album includes the fourth movement for viola and orchestra. The orchestra is the Gürzenich-Orchester Köln conducted by François-Xavier Roth, and the violist for the entire album is Antoine Tamestit.

In preparing to write about this new release, I made it a point to visit the booklet and see where it stands alongside the booklets of the two previous albums. I have to say that the essay accompanying Tamestit’s performance was more satisfying than the text sources I had previously encountered. The author was Jean-Yves Bosseur, translated into English by Charles Johnson. What is important is that Bosseur begins by establishing context, goes on to a rich description for each of the four parts, and concludes with the “punch line” that “Feldman’s language goes far beyond any unilateral psychological meaning.”

Mind you, I am not sure that “meaning” serves as an “issue” when one is listening to this music. I would just as soon follow the lead of T. S. Eliot, whose “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” includes the following couplet near the beginning:

   Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
   Let us go and make our visit.

In that vein, Bosseur seems to be saying: “Don’t waste time thinking, just shut up and listen!” (I had only a few opportunities to converse with Feldman, and he basically said the same thing while trying to be polite about it.) If we are to take that advice, then there is much to be gained from just listening to Tamestit’s music for what it is.