Chromatocellular Ataxia for Trumpet
2025
Bil Smith Composer
"Injectables" for Euphonium.
Bil Smith Composer
2019
Published by LNM Editions
Observations and Analysis by Joan Didion
Bil Smith's "Injectables" for Euphonium has carved out an audacious niche. It's a piece that doesn't just challenge the performer with its complexity; it seeks to upend our understanding of the relationship between mathematical abstraction and visceral experience. Smith, in his tacit, almost belligerent refusal to simplify, instead amplifies the abstract into the experiential, wielding exponential growth not as a concept to be merely understood but as a physical force to be felt, endured, and ultimately, interpreted through the medium of sound.
The score is a battleground of ideas, where the notational signs are not merely instructions but provocations. They dare the performer to engage with the piece not just intellectually but physically, to confront the strange, alien symbols on the page and translate them into something that resonates in the gut as much as it does in the mind. These signs, these indicators of Smith's compositional intent, perform a delicate balancing act, embodying both the spontaneity of physical matter and energy and the rigid predictability of mathematical equations. The exponential function becomes a signifier of this duality, a symbol that straddles the physical and the abstract, demanding a response that is at once emotional and analytical.
Bil Smith's approach to composition, and to "Injectables" in particular, mirrors the inextricable from the broader cultural or philosophical context. The score itself, with its reliance on indices and indexicality, underscores this connection. The index, in Smith's hands, becomes a tool for bridging the gap between the immateriality of abstraction and the undeniable materiality of musical performance. It is both a trace of the composer's own physical engagement with the score and a philosophical statement about the nature of representation and meaning in music.
Smith's exploration of rheology and viscosity in the creation of his notational content further deepens this engagement with the material. These are not the esoteric concerns of a composer detached from the physical world; rather, they are the preoccupations of an artist deeply invested in the physicality of sound and the tactile aspects of musical performance. The frictional gestures of the composer, captured in the score, range from the confident to the tremulous, each mark a testament to the physical act of creation.
This work stands as a monolith—a totem not just of musical complexity but of a deep conspiracy between the abstract and the visceral, the mathematical and the musical. Here, in Smith’s world, the exponential is not just a function to be plotted on the cold, indifferent grid of Cartesian coordinates but a wild, bucking bronco of growth and decay, its path charted across the score in a frenzy of notational innovation that dares the performer to ride or be thrown.
Smith, acting as the mastermind in this intricate dance of digits and diaphragms, wields viscosity and surface tension not as mere physical properties but as the very medium of musical expression. The score for “Injectables” becomes a battleground where ratios and relationships aren’t just calculated—they’re felt, in the gut and in the pulsing blood of the performer. Each note, each rest, each dynamic marking is a node in a vast, sprawling network of meaning, a point of convergence for myriad trajectories of thought, theory, and sheer sonic force.
This is music that refuses to be merely played. It demands to be inhabited, explored, as one might navigate a labyrinthine archive stuffed with arcane texts, each page a portal to another dimension of understanding. Smith’s approach to composition here is less about dictating terms than about setting parameters for a kind of controlled chaos, a sandbox of sonic possibilities where the performers are both agents and subjects, enactors and witnesses of the piece’s unfolding drama.
The conceptual rigor of “Injectables” belies a deeper, more delirious level of theorizing, one that extends tendrils into the very essence of what it means to create, to perform, to listen. Smith’s score is a nexus of alignments and nested codes, a system so densely packed with information that to engage with it is to find oneself reflecting on the nature of consciousness itself. What does it mean to understand music? To feel it? To be moved by it? These are the questions that “Injectables” poses, not just to the performer but to the audience, to the composer, to the very air through which its sounds will travel.
And yet, for all its perfectionism, all its meticulous control, “Injectables” is also an exercise in surrender. Smith must relinquish the illusion of absolute command, must acknowledge the fuzzy logic that underpins the relationship between creator, creation, and interpreter. This score is a living system, its rhythms and timbres a kind of biofeedback mechanism that connects composer, performer, and audience in a dynamic cognitive loop. The music that emerges from this process is unpredictable, uncontainable, a manifestation of precise practices that nonetheless open us to the uncharted territories of our own minds.
Smith's approach, deeply rooted in what might be termed "detailed expulsion theory," challenges not only how music is composed but also how it's perceived, experienced, and ultimately, how it reverberates within the human soul.
At he core of Smith's theory lies the concept of expulsion—not in the sense of mere removal or exclusion, but as a dynamic, generative process. Expulsion, in this context, refers to the deliberate distancing of elements within a composition from their conventional roles, expectations, or expressions. This is not a random scattering but a meticulous orchestration of dislocation, where every note, every timbre, and every rhythm is both a departure and a discovery.
Smith employs this theory to push the boundaries of musical notation, transforming it from a mere set of instructions into a map of potentialities. In his scores, traditional symbols coexist with innovative notational experiments, inviting performers to navigate a space where certainty is less important than exploration. The act of performing Smith's music becomes an act of creation in itself, a collaborative venture between composer and musician where the outcome is uncertain and the process is everything.
This expulsion from the traditional not only liberates the elements of music but also redefines the relationship between performer and score. Smith's compositions demand a level of engagement that transcends technical mastery, requiring performers to inhabit a space of heightened sensitivity and awareness. The performer, thus, becomes a medium through which the expelled elements of the composition find new form, new meaning, and new life.
- Joan Didion
Joan Didion was an American author best known for her novels, screenplays, and her literary journalism. In 2009, Didion was awarded an honorary Doctor of Letters degree by Harvard University, and another from Yale University in 2011. She also wrote two memoirs of loss, The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights
Scant exists as a manifesto of complexity—an embodied treatise on the ontological relationship between notation and performance, between sight and sound, and between the abstract precision of geometry and the corporeal imperfection of interpretation.
Central to the composition is a custom-designed notational font, whose cylindrical coordinate system and radial symmetry propose not just a novel method of organizing musical material but an entirely reimagined definition of musical space and gesture.
The score for Scant situates itself within a conceptual framework where the traditional linear temporality of Western musical notation is replaced with a circular architecture. The circle in Scant does not merely represent a recurring cycle or a return to a point of origin. Rather, it operates as a multidimensional representation of simultaneous forces—gesture, articulation, and timbral evolution—emanating outward like ripples from an epicenter.
In this system, the circle becomes a locus for interaction between spatial and sonic dimensions. Each radial segment corresponds to a specific sonic parameter: articulation, pitch cluster density, dynamic contour, and timbral fluctuation. Unlike a Cartesian grid, which rigidly dichotomizes pitch and time, the cylindrical coordinate system accommodates a fluid interrelation of parameters, encouraging performers to think of musical gestures as rotational vectors rather than linear sequences.
In Scant, the circle is more than a geometric figure; it becomes a sonic topology, a living architecture of sound. Its symbolic definition might be imagined as follows:
The circle in Scant represents a multidimensional musical environment wherein sound, space, and time are unified as intersecting planes of motion. Each radius functions as a vector defining the trajectory of an interpretative decision, while the circumference traces the boundaries of performative potentiality.
Radius as Vectorial Gesture: Each radius in the circle marks a pathway for the performer’s interpretative action. The length of the radius encodes the intensity or dynamic weight of a given gesture, while its angle signifies a shift in timbral focus. For instance, a radius angled toward the upper-right quadrant might indicate a transition from multiphonic textures to pure tones, while a radius angled downward suggests harmonic distortion or air resonance.
Circumferential Motion as Temporal Flux: The circle’s circumference does not delineate a single unidirectional timeline; rather, it invites the performer to navigate through overlapping layers of temporal density. Each segment of the circumference is an elastic temporal framework, within which the performer can expand, compress, or even suspend time altogether.
Radial Nodes as Intersections of Density: Specific nodes along the radii mark points of heightened activity, where articulation, pitch density, and dynamic instability converge. These nodes serve as interpretative landmarks, guiding the performer through moments of calculated tension or release.
Timbral Modulation Across Circular Arcs: Timbral transformations in Scant are encoded along concentric arcs within the circle. The closer an arc lies to the center, the more “raw” or “unrefined” the timbre; outer arcs correspond to more stabilized, harmonically resonant tones. This layering of timbral arcs allows the performer to navigate textural extremes while maintaining cohesion within the radial structure.
The cylindrical coordinate system underlying Scant adds yet another dimension to its notational framework by incorporating the depth of sound—literally and figuratively. Where traditional musical notation restricts itself to two-dimensional space, the cylindrical model introduces the idea of vertical depth as a metaphor for the tuba’s rich harmonic overtone series and spatial resonance.
Circular Motion and Breath: The tuba, as a wind instrument, naturally lends itself to circularity through the physical act of breath. The performer’s airflow becomes analogous to the rotational motion of the circle, creating a physical resonance between the player and the notational system.
Dynamic Elevation through Depth: Depth within the cylindrical system represents not only volume and dynamic range but also the metaphorical “weight” of sound. A deeper point within the cylinder corresponds to the tuba’s lower register and its capacity for sustained, resonant tones. Conversely, shallower depths highlight quick, fleeting articulations in the higher registers.
Rotational Interpretation as Fluid Form: The performer must engage with the score’s radial symmetry by adopting a mindset of fluidity. Rather than approaching the music as a fixed series of instructions, the cylindrical coordinate system demands interpretative flexibility, encouraging the player to think in terms of dynamic, rotational motion rather than static execution.
The tuba, with its expansive range and textural possibilities, is uniquely suited to this radial architecture. Its capability to oscillate between piercing clarity and dense harmonic undertones finds a natural parallel in the rotational layers of the score. Moreover, the instrument’s sheer physicality—its circular tubing and resonant bell—seems to echo the circular logic of Scant itself.
The tuba becomes a vessel through which the performer channels the score’s multidimensional energy, translating visual symbols into physical gestures, and ultimately, into sound. The decision to create a new notational font for Scant reflects an inherent understanding of this symbiosis between instrument, notation, and performer. The cylindrical system is not merely a tool for organizing musical data; it is an invitation to explore the boundaries of what an instrument can express.
With Scant, I have crafted not merely a composition but a cartography of sonic exploration. The cylindrical coordinate system and radial symmetry redefine the relationship between notation and performance, challenging traditional notions of time, space, and gesture. The circle, as a living symbol, embodies the fluid interplay of sound and motion, inviting performers to inhabit the music as a multidimensional landscape.
"Topped Out" for Guitar, Accordion, Viola, and Violin was created as a testament to the innovative use of combinatorial scores. This piece integrates traditional notational elements with a contrastive lexical system.
The foundational premise of this combinatorial score is its employment of a lexical system that operates in an essentially relational manner. Unlike traditional scores, where notation might serve as a direct instruction for performance, the lexical units in "Topped Out" are defined primarily by their interconnected relationships. These relationships are both paradigmatic, concerning the selection of alternatives based on similarity or dissimilarity, and syntagmatic, pertaining to the combination of units in linear sequences. It is through these networks of relationships that the piece articulates the performers' musical and expressive content.
Drawing from the principles of Meaning-Text theory, the score's lexical system can be likened to a graph or a "social network of lexical units," akin to the structures observed within small world networks. This analogy highlights the non-hierarchical, interconnected nature of the system. Each lexical unit coupled with notational devices, gains significance not in isolation but through its connections to other units within the network. This model is radically distinct from taxonomic approaches to lexicon organization, which traditionally classify lexical units into hierarchical structures.
Performers are required to navigate a score that functions more as a map of relationships and possibilities than a set of prescriptive instructions.
Preamble
In an age of collapsing coordinates—of data gluts, ghost geographies, and fractured listening—Geoplasium emerges not as a style, but as a terrain. It is not a movement in the conventional sense. It is a topography: speculative, unstable, interpretive. It is the dream of a score that charts not merely sound, but place. A place imagined, encoded, and inscribed—not to be located, but navigated.
Geoplasium reconfigures musical notation as cartography in crisis—a space of symbolic mapping where the score becomes a sovereign zone. Sound is no longer scripted linearly, but traced across imagined landscapes. These are maps not of territories, but of potentialities: resonant plains, tonal ridgelines, rhythmic sinkholes, and harmonic weather systems.
The page is not a page—it is a geoscore, layered with vectorial trajectories and spatial sediment.
Each notation is a latitude, each symbol a sonic landmark awaiting interpretation by the performer-cartographer.
Geoplasium embraces spatial fiction—the act of constructing invented environments through notation. These fictions are not lies; they are alternative realities encoded through visual syntax, open to exploratory engagement.
The performer does not play the piece; they traverse it.
There is no correct tempo—only directionality, scale, and proximity.
Time is replaced by distance. Timbre by terrain.
Performance becomes locative ritual—an exercise in moving through imaginary acoustic topographies.
Geoplasium is founded upon a theory of semiogeotics: the study of meaning-making at the intersection of sonic, geographic, and symbolic signifiers.
Traditional clefs, staves, and rests are decentered—replaced or interlaced with glyphs, field-marks, and spectral artifacts.
Each sign is a resonant cipher, drawn from visual, scientific, and linguistic sources.
Interpretation is not fixed but relational—built through the dynamic between symbol and performer, much like a traveler decoding a dialect from limited cues.
Rather than vertical harmony or horizontal melody, Geoplasium operates through topographical syntax—the spatial arrangement of sonic forms and interpretive logic.
Elevation lines may signal density or dynamic range.
Fragmented grids can encode tactile rhythm or phasing architectures.
Iconic clusters act as gesture summits, accumulations of sonic pressure or instability.
This syntax is not formalized but adaptive, bending to each work's internal terrain. It is a grammar of edges, contours, and displacements.
Geoplasium is deliberately resistant to standardization. It embraces the productive instability of partial legibility, misreading, and interpretive misfire.
Every execution of a Geoplasium score is an act of translation—flawed, generative, and necessary.
Obfuscation is not a failure, but a topological feature. It demands not precision, but presence.
Error is redefined as geographical slippage, a reminder that all maps are approximations.
The performer within Geoplasium is not an executor of fixed gestures, but a sonic navigator—interpreter, mapper, improviser.
Sight-reading becomes sight-roaming.
Memory becomes cartographic familiarity.
Skill becomes interpretive fluency within an unstable terrain.
Each performance is an expedition—part ritual, part cartographic revision.
Geoplasium is not a repudiation of notation, but its radical expansion. It does not erase the past; it draws over it, like an ancient city rewritten by generations of mapmakers. It is an act of sonic geography, a speculative inscription of elsewhere—where sound is not prescribed, but located, imagined, and traversed anew.