Sunday, August 30, 2026
"Silver Stockholm" The Score. Commentary and Analysis by Cormac McCarthy, American Novelist
Vertical Orientation
"Silver Stockholm"
For Bass Clarinet, Cello and Harpsichord
Bil Smith Composer
104" X 10"
A Commission From Sage Group
Commentary by Cormac McCarthy, American Novelist
In the relentless pursuit of dismantling the traditional, of flinging wide the doors to rooms within rooms of musical architecture heretofore unexplored, comes this score, "Silver Stockholm" by composer Bil Smith. Yes, sprawling across a sheet of unprecedented proportions. 104 inches by a mere 10, imagine, as though one were trying to read the horizon itself, and yet within this expanse lies not the familiar, not the comfort of the staves and clefs and black dots neatly arrayed like soldiers, no. Here lies chaos, or so it seems at first blush, a chaos meticulously planned and plotted along axes not of our making but of the composer's, a realm where the Moire, hyperplexic in its complexity, invites, no, demands a recusal from the linear, the sequential, the narrative of music as we know it.
Consider, if you will, the audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall of pushing notation from edge to edge, as though the very boundary of the page itself were but a mere suggestion, an inconvenience to be acknowledged and then promptly ignored. Within this frame, this canvas, the notes do not march; they cavort, they tangle in dense, wriggling fields, competing striations that defy the eye to follow without succumbing to vertigo. And yet, within this apparent anarchy, there is order, a discipline that speaks to a choreography of the mind so intricate, so private, that one might find oneself whispering of Cunningham, of Cage, those luminaries who too sought to break free from the shackles of the expected, the conventional.
And what of the performers, those brave souls called upon to navigate this maelic maelstrom? For them, the color, the hue of a note, a line, a smudge becomes a signifier, a beacon through the fog of complexity. These ridged, sinuous marks, they are not mere decoration but a language unto themselves, a notation that speaks of timbre and attack and decay as much as of pitch and rhythm. The performers, then, must become not just musicians but translators, interpreters of a script that acknowledges no master, that adheres to no orthodoxy.
Yet, for all its defiance, its reveling in the joyous liberation from form, there remains the grid. Ah, the grid, that imposition of order upon the chaotic, the unruly. It does not rationalize; no, that would be too simple, too pedestrian. It serves rather as a reminder, a concession to the necessity of form, of structure, however tenuous, however fluid. It is both a cage and a key, a means of navigating the vast, uncharted territories that "Silver Stockholm" lays bare before us.
Thus, we stand on the threshold, peering into the abyss that "Silver Stockholm" represents, an abyss not of nihilism but of possibility, of potentiality. For in its refusal to conform, in its daring to dream of a music not yet heard, it offers not just a new way of seeing, but a new way of hearing, a new way of understanding the very fabric of sound itself. It is a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down at the feet of tradition, a declaration that music, like all art, must evolve, must shatter its own boundaries if it is to capture, even fleetingly, the ineffable, the sublime, the truly divine.
In the depths of the score, past the initial shock of the dimensions, this elongated strip of potentiality stretched out like the very horizon line where sky meets earth, lies the heart of the revolution, the Moire notational system. A system, if one dares call it that, where the term itself seems a mockery of the organized, the structured systems of old, where chaos and order dance in such close quarters that to distinguish one from the other becomes an exercise in futility, or perhaps, in enlightenment.
The Moire, with its hyperplexic tendencies, does not simply invite interpretation; it demands an unlearning of the learned, a forgetting of the familiar so that the eyes, and through them, the mind and soul, might see anew. These patterns, these interferences of line against line, shape against shape, create not just visual artifacts but a new language of music. It’s as if the composer, in their wisdom or their madness (often two sides of the same coin) decided that the traditional staves and bars were cages too small, too limiting for the beast they wished to unleash.
To engage with the Moire is to engage with a living thing. It pulses, it breathes, it moves in ways that defy the static nature of ink on paper. The performers, then, are not merely musicians but conjurers, tasked with the Herculean feat of translating this writhing, shifting mass of visual cues into sound. The notes, if one can still call them that, are not fixed points but suggestions, possibilities that exist in multiple states until the moment of performance, where they collapse into a single reality, only to become multitudinous once more in the memory of the event.
What, then, is the performer to make of this? How does one navigate a system where the rules are not broken, for breaking implies that they were ever adhered to, but rather ignored from the outset? It requires a redefinition of the role of the performer, from interpreter to collaborator, an equal partner in the creation of the piece with every performance. The Moire notational system, with its dense, competing striations and arcs that turn in on themselves, offers a multiplicity of paths through the piece, each valid, each unique.
This is not music as we have known it. This is a challenge to the very concept of what music can be, a testament to the composer's vision of a world unbound by the traditional constraints of notation, rhythm, and melody. The Moire notational system is a liberation, yes, but a daunting one, for with unlimited choice comes the weight of those choices, the responsibility for each note played or not played, for the music that is created or the silence that is allowed to speak.
And yet, despite, or perhaps because of, its complexities, its demands on both performer and audience, the Moire notational system represents a pivotal moment in the evolution of musical expression. It is a declaration that music is not merely sound organized in time but a living, breathing entity, capable of infinite change and growth. In "Silver Stockholm," and the Moire system at its heart, we find not the end of music as we know it, but the beginning of something new, something unexplored. A frontier not just to be seen and heard but to be ventured into, with all the peril and promise that such journeys entail.
The very essence, you see, in the hands of Bil Smith transforms... transmutes, if you will, these Moire patterns from mere visual phenomena into a notational ontology, an entire beingness of music notation. It's not just about seeing; no, that's too simple. It's about re-seeing, re-understanding what we perceive as music, as notation. These patterns, these moiré fringes, they're not just interference; they're a language, a complex, ever-shifting language that Smith, in his audacity, has dared to employ as the very foundation of his musical expression.
And what is this if not a challenge? A challenge to the performers, to the audience, to the very fabric of musical academia itself to reevaluate our preconceptions of what music notation is, what it can be. These patterns, born of the overlaying of one partially opaque, ruled pattern upon another, they create something new, something unanticipated. In mathematics, in physics, they represent a phenomenon, an effect. But in the hands of Smith, they become tools, instruments of a sort, for a new kind of musical composition and performance.
This is not merely about notes on a page. Anyone can write notes on a page. No, this is about creating a space where those notes can live, can breathe, can interact in ways previously unimagined. The moiré pattern, with its large-scale interference, becomes a metaphor for the music itself. It is omplex, ever-changing, dependent on the perspective of the observer, or in this case, the performer. Each performance, then, becomes a unique event, a singular interpretation of the patterns before them, shaped as much by the performer's interaction with the notation as by Smith's compositional intentions.
It's here, in this space between intention and interpretation, that Smith's notational ontology truly comes to life. The score, such as it is, becomes a living document, not fixed in its meaning but fluid, open to the influences of time, of place, of the individual peculiarities of each performer. To engage with it, to perform it, requires not just technical skill, but a willingness to enter into a dialogue with the score itself, to negotiate the spaces between the patterns, to find the music hidden within the interference.
This is the genius of Smith's approach. By embracing the moiré pattern, by elevating it from a simple visual artifact to a complex notational system, he challenges us to reconsider our relationship with music, with performance, with the very act of creative expression. It's a daunting task, no doubt. It asks much of those who would engage with it, performers and audience alike. But in that asking, in that challenge, lies the possibility of discovering new realms of musical experience, of exploring the uncharted territories that lie just beyond the edge of our understanding.
In the end, what Smith offers us with his moiré notational ontology is not just a new way of composing or performing music, but a new way of thinking about music itself. It's an invitation to explore, to experiment, to engage with the unknown. And in that engagement, perhaps, we might find something truly new, something genuinely transformative. Not just for ourselves, but for the future of musical expression itself.
- Cormac McCarthy, American Novelist
'Compositional Bounding Theory'
Recording on SoundCloud
Commission from Pemex (Petróleos Mexicanos)
For Chamber Orchestra, a work predicated on 'Compositional Bounding Theory', a theory about the locality of movement.
The main principle of Bounding Theory is the Subjacency condition, which forbids movement across more than one bounding node (i.e. tablature).
For Chamber Orchestra; Coloratura Soprano (Obstruent Phonology); Soubrette (Siblancy: Fricative speech sounds with high frequency); Spinto Soprano (Strict Cyclicity); IGT Wild Cherry Spinning Wheel Slot
IGT 2x3x4x5x Red Hot 7s™ Spinning Reel Slot; IGT Hot Roll® Ca$h Ca$h Ca$h™ Video Slots; IGT Megabucks® Crystal Sevens® Slot; WMS Dashing Dolphins Slot; Wicks Century 5 Pipe Organ; Paiste 24' Venus Gong;
Waldorf Blofeld Synthesizer
Formanta Polivoks Synthesizer
Hellfire Modulator, an analog, tube-based distortion rack-module
ESP jeune fille X Gips -Cross Rey- Moi dix Mois MANA Signature Model Electric Guitar
Instrumental reasoning can be explained — either in terms of it being constitutive of the very notion of having an end, or solely in terms of instrumental considerations.
Improvisation, perspectivisation and elementary birthing…
While projective values need not be intrinsically true, hey need not actually motivate us, they would determine what we ought to pursue(o) and protect (o).
They would provide reasons for actions. Objective values would come in Szen degrees, and more objective value would provide stronger reasons.
It follows that, if objective value exists, we ought to maximize it in the world.
But virtually no one acts with that goal in mind.
Furthermore, objective value would exist independently of our subjective valuing.
But we have no way of measuring amounts of such values independently of the ways we value objects.
While a subjectivist can account for mistaken values, a fully impersonal viewpoint, from which objective values would appear, seems instead to cause all values to disappear.
Nor does the moral point of view, which requires more impartiality than agents usually exhibit, reveal fully objective values.
"The trajectory of music should be avoided in the philosophy of science, with special reference to the way that van Fraassen sets up the difference between compositional realism and constructive empiricism. What counts as success in music as such is emblematic/unsatisfactory."
----Efrem Zimbalist, Jr.
"Pietro Leopoldo" for Coptic Chorus. The Recording
"Pietro Leopoldo"
for Coptic Chorus
Bil Smith Composer
This is a commission from Gazprom and was premiered on June 20, 2013 in St. Petersburg, Russia at The Mariinsky Theatre.
Listen On SoundCloud
Hypermetric Notation
Hypermetric Notation: The Interstitial Logic of Complexity
In the rarefied domain of contemporary new music, the advent of Hypermetric Notation marks a moment of rupture and recalibration in the relationship between composer, performer, and score. Hypothetical as its origins may be, its conceptual terrain is a labyrinth of overlapping densities, topological disjunctions, and interpretative infinities. Functioning both as a tool of precision and an apparatus for obfuscation, Hypermetric Notation embraces a methodology that privileges the interaction of multiple graphic systems, each imbued with its own semiotic weight and systemic intricacies. The result is a notational paradigm that eschews linearity in favor of dynamic polyreferentiality.
At the Edge of Representation
At its core, Hypermetric Notation operates on the premise that traditional staff-based systems are insufficient to articulate the multifaceted demands of contemporary compositional thought. What emerges is a system of representation where metric structures become spatialized, embodying a hyper-functional simultaneity that renders each notational layer autonomous yet interdependent. Metric frameworks, rather than being confined to the grid of temporal units, now expand into hypermetric planes presenting spatial matrices that exist within and between conventional durational hierarchies.
For example, a single hypermetric "unit" might encode not only rhythmic subdivision but also performative gestures, pitch constellations, and dynamic modulations, all mapped onto a single, multi-dimensional glyph. These glyphs, consisting of dense conglomerates of micrographic symbols eschew simplicity in favor of exhaustive specificity, serving as hermeneutic keys to the compositional fabric. The notation itself, then, becomes a performative object, demanding not just realization but intellectual excavation.
The Performer as Decoder
Hypermetric Notation shifts the locus of interpretative agency decisively toward the performer. The performer is no longer merely a translator of composerly intent but an active participant in reconstructing the work’s latent structure. The graphic systems within Hypermetric Notation, while ostensibly prescriptive, often yield layers of ambiguity and moments of indeterminacy that resist immediate rationalization. Thus, the performer must oscillate between deciphering its algorithmic exactitude and responding intuitively to its aesthetic provocations.
Take, for instance, the inclusion of nested graphic systems: a grid overlay that maps rhythmic polyphony against a secondary system of kinetic vector lines indicating directional movement within pitch space. These overlapping systems demand a hyper-awareness of micro-temporalities and macro-gestural arcs, producing a performance that operates in simultaneous realms of technical rigor and imaginative interpretation.
Functional Density as Expressive Terrain
The density of Hypermetric Notation is not an end unto itself but a mechanism for creating expressive tension. The juxtaposition of layered notational systems, each competing for primacy, engenders a productive dissonance that mirrors the music’s inherent contradictions. The graphic surface becomes a site of conflict, where clarity and opacity vie for dominance, compelling the performer to navigate its labyrinthine architecture with both analytical precision and aesthetic intuition.
For example, the notation might juxtapose proportional rhythms encoded in fractal grids with graphic shapes whose curvature suggests interpretative phrasing. The hypermetric framework thus transcends its function as a mere representational device, becoming a medium through which the work's conceptual underpinning are materially enacted.
The Syntax of the Impossible
One of the defining features of Hypermetric Notation is its deliberate courting of impossibility. Brian Ferneyhough has often spoken of notation as an "exhortation to the impossible," and Hypermetric Notation amplifies this ethos to an extreme. By encoding overlapping layers of temporality, gesture, and spatiality, it constructs a system whose full realization perpetually eludes the performer. Yet it is precisely in this elusiveness that its aesthetic potency lies. The score becomes less a set of instructions and more a speculative architectur. It becomes a framework for reimagining the act of performance as a site of negotiation, failure, and transcendence.
Hypermetric Notation as Aesthetic Object
While its primary function is to facilitate musical performance, Hypermetric Notation also asserts itself as an aesthetic object in its own right. Its graphic systems, reminiscent of architectural blueprints or data visualizations, invoke an uncanny sense of order and disorder. The hypermetric plane, with its intricate layering of grids, glyphs, and spatial trajectories, invites prolonged visual engagement, blurring the line between musical score and visual artwork. This dual identity underscores its conceptual ambition: to challenge not only how music is performed but also how it is seen and understood.
Toward a Hypermetric Aesthetic
Hypermetric Notation represents a radical rethinking of the score as a site of interaction between composer, performer, and listener. Its functional density, far from being a mere technical exercise, reflects a deeper philosophical inquiry into the nature of musical time, space, and perception. In embracing the complexities of hypermetric systems, contemporary composers assert the necessity of pushing the limits of notation, not as an exercise in virtuosity but as an exploration of music's potential to articulate the ineffable.
As the boundaries between visual and sonic art forms continue to dissolve, Hypermetric Notation stands as both a testament to and a catalyst for this convergence. Its challenges are as immense as its possibilities, demanding of its practitioners not only technical mastery but also a willingness to inhabit the interstitial spaces it creates. In doing so, it opens new pathways for musical thought...pathways that are as rigorous as they are revelatory.
The Metabolic Score: Music as Prescribed Intervention
The intersection of music notation and the pharmacopoeia represents a radical shift in the ontology of the score, moving away from the representation of gesture toward the representation of metabolic intervention.
By centering functional notation on pharmaceutical imagery and typography, this system posits that the act of performance is no longer an externalized acoustic event, but an internalized chemical transformation. The score becomes a prescription, and the performer becomes a biological vessel for the realization of a pre-determined state of being.
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At the heart of this system is the tension between the clinical rigidity of the pharmaceutical image and the esoteric precision of the accidental. The accidental symbols, sourced from a staggering breadth of historical and microtonal traditions ranging from the Just Intonation markings of Ben Johnston to the archaic flourishes of Medieval and Renaissance manuscripts, and into the hyper-specialized Spartan-Sagittal and Wyschnegradsky systems. They serve as the vital connective tissue. These symbols do not merely alter pitch; they modify the "dosage" of the performance. They represent the fine-tuning of the human mechanism as it interacts with the rigid, synthesized structure of the "pill" at the center of the staff.
The reasoning behind such a system lies in the recognition of music as a psychoactive substance. If sound can alter neurochemistry, then the notation of sound should logically mirror the delivery systems of modern medicine. The use of pharmaceutical forms, be it capsules, tablets, and granular suspensions as the primary note-heads suggests a discrete, quantifiable unit of time and affect. Unlike the traditional note-head, which implies a beginning and an ending, the pharmaceutical note-head implies a half-life and a rate of absorption. The music is not played; it is administered.
Functionally, the system operates through a dialectic of authority. The typography and pill imagery carry the weight of regulatory approval and scientific certainty. They provide the "active ingredient" of the composition. However, the accidentals, sourced from systems like Kahnotation or Klein-Zimmermann,
introduce a layer of profound subjectivity and historical depth. These symbols act as catalysts or inhibitors, dictating how the performer’s body must resist or succumb to the primary musical directive. The inclusion of Sagittal notation, in particular, points toward a desire for a resolution so fine it borders on the molecular, demanding that the performer navigate intervals that exist in the gaps between traditional western perceptions.
The philosophy of this notation suggests a post-humanist view of art. By utilizing the pharmacopoeia as a foundation, the score acknowledges that the contemporary subject is a curated collection of biological responses. The score does not ask for "expression" in the Romantic sense; it demands "compliance" in the clinical sense. The symbolism of the pill is the symbolism of the fixed, the unyielding, and the curated. Yet, by surrounding these icons of modern synthesis with the vast, sprawling history of the accidental, the system preserves a space for the ghost in the machine. It is a notation for an age where the boundary between the synthetic and the organic has entirely dissolved, leaving only the data of the dose and the ancient geometry of the pitch.
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