Friday, November 1, 2024

"Dying Lords" for Alto Flute and Flugelhorn. The Complete Score









"Dying Lords" 

For Alto Flute and Flugelhorn.  



Commissioned by Alitalia

Premiere: Modena, Italy, September


"Dying Lords" Cover on Magnetic Silver Translucent Photofilm.  

Analysis by David Batstone.

In approaching the score for "Dying Lords"—a composition for alto flute and flugelhorn—the Impedium notational system invites us into a world of compounded presumption and bold experimentation. This score does not simply lay down a roadmap for sound; it engages in a philosophical dialogue with tradition and innovation in musical notation, pushing boundaries in ways that challenge our understanding of structure, interpretation, and agency within music.

The Impedium system is described as containing a “compounded tacrographic system,” and indeed, one feels the palpable tension between order and freedom in the notation. Tacrography, here, suggests a kind of disciplined notational shorthand, but with compounded layers, each element resists simplification. This is a notation system that reflects an institutional jurisdiction—a framework that both delineates authority over the musical material and subtly rebels against it.

Reckless Presumption and the Notation of Variability

The score’s notation exercises a reckless presumption that is almost defiant. What does it mean for a composer to presume recklessly? In the case of “Dying Lords,” it reflects a bold confidence in the capacity of variability itself. The notation suggests that the performers are not mere interpreters of static symbols, but rather co-creators whose interpretative instincts are brought to the forefront. The compounded layers of tacrographic notation do not prescribe a single, definitive path; rather, they offer a matrix of choices, a lattice through which the performer’s agency is invited to interact with the composer’s framework.

This notion of variability is not about randomness but about contingency. Each notational layer introduces potential shifts and alterations in rhythm, pitch, or timbre, acknowledging the fluid nature of sound and interpretation. Here, variability becomes a central element—not an accessory or afterthought, but a core principle embedded within the score’s very structure. In doing so, "Dying Lords" rejects the notion of a fixed musical truth in favor of a truth that is continually reinvented.

Institutional Jurisdiction and Stewardship Protocols

The term “institutional jurisdiction” applied to a musical score may seem paradoxical. What institution is being referenced here? In this context, it seems to point towards the jurisdiction of tradition and form in musical composition—a framework that gives structure but also places constraints on creation. The “stewardship protocols” embedded in the score imply a kind of guardianship over these notational elements, suggesting that certain boundaries are in place to maintain coherence. Yet, these boundaries do not exist to limit creativity but to preserve the integrity of the composition as an evolving entity.

The notion of stewardship also hints at a responsibility given to the performer. By engaging with the Impedium system, the performer is entrusted with maintaining a balance between the intended form and the inherent variability of the score. It is a responsibility that does not bind but liberates, allowing the performer to act as both custodian and innovator.

Preventing the Notation from Being Fabricated Anew

An intriguing aspect of the Impedium system is its refusal to allow the notation to be “fabricated anew.” In essence, the score resists complete reinvention. There is an underlying respect for continuity and stability within the work; each performance may differ, but it must remain within certain notational parameters that protect the identity of the piece. The notation is thus a living document, dynamic in its interpretive potential yet anchored in its fidelity to the composer’s vision.

In philosophical terms, this resistance to fabrication anew might be seen as an insistence on authenticity and integrity. The composer has not only left room for variability but has done so within a system that upholds the piece’s core identity. The composition does not permit a free-for-all re-imagining; rather, it allows for an interpretative flexibility that stays true to the foundational spirit of the work.

Eclecticism as a Method and a Philosophy

The eclectic nature of the score for “Dying Lords” is not a mere stylistic choice but a philosophical stance. By combining elements of various notational traditions within the Impedium system, the composer acknowledges the complexity of human experience and the multifaceted nature of expression. This eclectic approach challenges the performer to move between different modes of understanding, requiring them to engage with the score in an intellectually and emotionally dynamic way.

The compounded layers of tacrographic notation reflect a willingness to embrace complexity, even when it borders on the chaotic. It is as though the score is saying, “Life is not neat, so why should music be?” There is a resilience in this approach, a faith that beauty and coherence can emerge from disorder, that meaning can be forged through the process of interpretation.

In “Dying Lords,” we find a score that is at once institutional and subversive, structured and free, disciplined and wild. The Impedium system’s compounded tacrography is an invitation to reimagine the relationship between composer and performer, between notation and sound, between order and chaos. It is a work that asks us to confront our assumptions about musical authority and to embrace a more participatory, communal vision of music-making.

The notational eclecticism of “Dying Lords” ultimately invites performers into a dialogue with the unknown, challenging them to engage with contingency, to find coherence in multiplicity, and to honor a form that respects both tradition and transformation. In this way, “Dying Lords” stands as a testament to the power of music to be both grounded and transcendent, rooted in the present yet reaching toward possibilities that are continually unfolding.

"Detlin's Baby"...for Bass Flute and Celeste. Bil Smith Composer






"Detlin's Baby"...for Bass Flute and Celeste. An Ideographic, hand drawn score utilizing deconstructionist fundamentals.

"If we interpret erasure as graffiti, the erasure is an 'enigmatic surplus' to the original drawing. Although it could also be seen as an attempt to re-clean the background, to move it towards the blank sheet which is more 'suitable for performance interpretation'. However, the thought it prepares the way for is inevitably polluted by the traces of the background that is never successfully cleaned. 

The erasure moves the background into a state which is more suitable to a musical realization, but only an interpretation in relation to itself. This can be seen as an extension of my earlier argument that the erasure invites a departure that is founded on the original compositional drawing."

Paul Crowther writes:

"...to Deconstruct history or texts in the style of Derrida or Foucault is to make evident that play of difference - that ungraspable network of relations, which sustains but is concealed by claims to self-presence. It is, in other words, to offer an insight into, or partial presentation of, a totality which as a totality is unpresentable. This, as Derrida remarks, "gives great pleasure" (Crowther in Papadakis (ed.), 1989, p.99)

Thursday, October 31, 2024

Preview of New Commissioned Compositions for 2023: Works in Progress for Solo Flute

 






Preview of new score for solo Flute inspired by Piero Manzoni, Fortunato Depero, Aldo Tambellini, Mimmo Rotella and the Arte Povera movement.  This tablature was born from a need for separation from the traditional.  This notation in no way relates to aesthetic fantasies or a quest for fashionable effects, but concern compositional facts that imply an entirely new kind of musical interpretation.

In this work as many of my compositions, the way the visual elements act upon each other is like a molecular process that combines images of transformations that occur in the real world: images of mathematical or logical transformations; multiplication of visual representations, affiliations between pairs of divergent materials; existence and absence of materials and of tactile adaptations.

I do not suggest that the art of composition is really a science of measurement and precision. I do think that any work demands precision of judgment.   It is precision that informs both the performer and the listener.


"Mimetized Disasters, Dan Quayle And His Evangelist Wife In A Hotel Room". The Score and Transparencies

"Mimetized Disasters, Dan Quayle And His Evangelist Wife In A Hotel Room". Page One



"Mimetized Disasters, Dan Quayle And His Evangelist Wife In A Hotel Room". 

Instrumentation:

Euphonium

Piccolo Saxophone
(Eppelsheim - Soprillo)

Contraforte
(Eppelsheim-Wolf)

Dynoresonant 
B Flat Trumpet

The Score and Transparencies

Bil Smith Composer

A Commission from Time Warner

"Mimetized Disasters..." explores a rhythm that abandons counting, that engages with speed and duration as primary rather than secondary occurrences, and that emerges through the interface between movement and resistance and from models of force, viscosity, and friction. 

In this work, I examine some of the limitations of existing rhythmic notation and, using examples from non-geometrical’ notational approaches. I had been struggling for some time with concerns about an increasing prevalence of notational grids, and
in particular the overwhelming dominance of the horizontal and the vertical in the notation of rhythm


Hyper- Appropriation:

The (The) inevitable violation.  A perfect conversion of the objective sum and a precise allusion.

















Transparency One



Transparency Two


"Dimidius" for Solo Piano




"Dimidius"

For Piano

Bil Smith Composer

Commissioned by Scapa Group PLC

Utilizing an encapsulated tranche system, the notation for "Dimidius" segments motifs through the strategic implementation of bounding boxes. This approach elucidates the nuanced interplay of shifting coalitions of forms as they manifest in the performer's interpretations across temporal shifts.


Through a series of concepts, graphic protocols, and notations, "Dimidius" serves as a visual framework, delineating distinct motifs and shifting coalitions of forms and their perceptual manifestations over time. The use of bounding boxes as a notational device underscores the fluidity of perception and the multifaceted nature of artistic expression, highlighting the inherent dynamism of the compositional process.



Saturday, October 26, 2024

"Tourminium". For Piano


"Imperial Astronomical Institute" for Bass Clarinet, Tuba & Piccolo.



"Imperial Astronomical Institute" for Bass Clarinet, Tuba & Piccolo. Bil Smith Composer Page 1 of the score.

Commissioned by Xi'an Aircraft Industrial Corporation for the 10th anniversary of AVIC I, June, 2009.

Friday, October 25, 2024

"Crater 32" For Soprano Voice A WET (Words, Events and Text) Score Commissioned by BNP Paribas



"Crater 32"


For Soprano Voice


A WET (Words, Events and Text) Score



Commissioned by BNP Paribas



For the opening of the BNP Paribas Open



Indian Wells, CA










"Sequential Dukes" for Flute

 




"Sequential Dukes" 

for Flute

Bil Smith Composer

The score for Sequential Dukes exists as a paradox in transparent, unobtrusive form, its very design appearing unburdened by any imposition on the music. Its notation, a choreography of notes, lines, dots, spheres and rests, invites us into an ambiguous space where spatial clarity and tonal density operate not as contradictions but as continuities of one another. This work seems to question not only the nature of music as performance but also the ontology of sound and notation as separate entities and as parts of a whole.

In considering the nature of this score, one must first confront the essential dualism it suggests between the appearance of simplicity and the layered complexity it calls for in interpretation. Thomas Nagel's concept of what it is like—the subjective quality of an experience—becomes relevant here, for "Sequential Dukes" invites the musician into an unusual role as both a conveyor of music and as an interpreter of silence, a negotiator of both the structured and the unformed. The question becomes not only what it is like to play Sequential Dukes but what it is like to inhabit its notation, which gestures as much toward its silences as it does to its sounds.

The score of Sequential Dukes might seem to guide the player directly, suggesting a transparent clarity in its notation that emphasizes spatial arrangement, yet this clarity also embodies an intentional ambiguity. Each note, each sphere, and every space between marks is a placeholder not merely for sound but for the absence of it—for that quality that is both distinctly part of the music and yet simultaneously outside it. In this, the piece invokes an objectivity of form while simultaneously demanding subjective interpretation, as each flutist must find their path within the score’s spaces.

The philosophical exploration of the tension between objective and subjective perspectives is vividly relevant here. Just as Nagel argued that the mind cannot be reduced to physical processes alone, the notation on the page cannot be reduced merely to a sequence of sounds. They invite the musician to enter into a space where the boundaries between presence and absence, sound and silence, are blurred. The player must confront not only the score as it exists in a physical form but as it exists in a mental, interpretive space.

"Sequential Dukes" opens a dialogue between transparency and opacity in its form, drawing the performer to contemplate what it means to create sound in relation to a score that seems, paradoxically, transparent yet opaque. The notational clarity here is striking, but this clarity does not simplify; rather, it expands the responsibility of the performer to construct meaning from what is deliberately left unresolved. Nagel’s sense of aesthetic distance—the gap between the external object and the subjective experience of it—suggests that, for the performer, the act of engaging with "Sequential Dukes" is akin to an exploration of the meaning of each note, with each sound representing not just itself but also its space within the totality of the composition.

This aesthetic distance allows for a kind of ethical engagement between the performer and the work, where each sound is not imposed but rather proposed as part of a wider landscape of interpretation. To play Sequential Dukes is not merely to reproduce the notes but to embody the spaces between them—to enter into a creative relationship with the score’s sparse notation, which invites the player to bring their own subjectivity into play without overpowering the work’s form.

Thursday, October 24, 2024

Richter and Fluxus Inspired Score for Contrabass Clarinet

 



My score for Solo Contrabass Clarinet, inspired by both Gerhard Richter's "Strips" paintings and Fluxus practices, offers a unique synthesis of visual art, randomness, traditional notation, and intermedia. It challenges the very notion of traditional musical composition, blurring the boundaries between auditory experience and visual interpretation, extending into a realm where technology, pictorial reflection, and radical artistic opposition converge.


Gerhard Richter’s Strips and Pictorial Expansion


Richter’s "Strips" paintings, which emerge from slicing his abstract canvases into horizontal strips and then reassembling them into new configurations, serve as the conceptual bedrock for the score. The "Strips" paintings are not mere reproductions but are fusions of past painterly gestures and digital manipulation. They acknowledge the historical baggage of painting, while actively engaging with technology's influence, a kind of digital mourning for the traditional canvas, transformed through modern tools.


The inspiration from Richter’s work can be seen as a metaphor for the digital fragmentation of experiences: the sonic and visual worlds splintered and yet reorganized into something unfamiliar, but still deeply tied to their origins. Similarly, in this score, the musical ideas are deliberately fragmented—dissected and reassembled—inviting the performer and listener to experience sonic "strips" that are constantly recombining.


The score’s format, consisting of individual cards housed within a Fluxus-like box, mirrors this fractured yet cohesive approach. Each card, akin to Richter’s strips, provides a segment of sound, a piece of the overall structure that the performer can reassemble, much like an abstract collage of sonic moments. These moments defy linearity, embracing the Fluxus ethos of randomness and recombination.


Fluxus and the Intermedia Approach


The Fluxus movement, as described by Dick Higgins in his coining of the term "intermedia," sought to dissolve the boundaries between different forms of art—painting, music, performance, and even life itself. The Fluxus artists were deeply involved in using everyday objects, exploring chance, and breaking down the formal constraints that separated one genre from another. In this composition, the score’s DIY aesthetic, where the performer must physically interact with the cards, directly engages with Fluxus' spirit of anti-commercialism, collaboration, and experimentation.


Found materials and randomness, hallmarks of Fluxus compositions, are central to the performance. Here, the cards act as modular components—no single "right" way exists to perform the piece. The contrabass clarinet, with its broad tonal palette and capacity for extreme textures, lends itself to this improvisational style. The performer, much like an intermedia artist, must become a collaborator with the score—interpreting, organizing, and performing it with creative agency.


Technology, Pictorial Mourning, and Resistance


The idea of pictorial mourning—mourning the loss of the traditional canvas in the digital age—extends into the sonic realm in this score. The score’s use of Richter’s fragmented approach can be seen as an act of defiance against the totalizing claims of technology over art, in this case, over musical notation. Just as Richter’s "Strips" reflect the impact of digital technology on painting, this score reflects how digital culture has transformed musical composition and performance.


Here, the score does not regress into nostalgia for classical musical forms but instead confronts technology by using it to further challenge and subvert traditional musical expectations. Each card in the Fluxus box is an "act of mourning" for the disappearing boundary between sonic experience and technological mediation, yet also a celebration of the possibilities opened up by these very technologies.


The juxtaposition of quasi-traditional Western notation with photorealism also serves to reflect this confrontation. Photorealist notation, in this case, rejects the usual intent of notation to represent a world of feeling or motion and instead mirrors how a camera would capture the world—cold, detached, and exact. This detachment underscores the idea that music, like painting, has evolved under the shadow of technology and is now seen through a lens of distillation, a “camera’s” version of what we once perceived as deeply human and emotional.


The Performer’s Role and the Idea of Agency


The performer becomes more than just an interpreter—they are an active creator, engaging with the score as a dynamic, malleable construct. The "strip-like" fragments of notation and their reassembling reflect the performer's agency, much like a Fluxus artist assembling found objects into new configurations. The contrabass clarinetist, in this new score, becomes similarly empowered. They take on the role of both performer and curator, crafting a narrative from fragmented, non-linear parts.


Each card, like Richter’s strips, could be seen as a miniaturized, self-contained world. When assembled, the cards form an expansive and unpredictable sonic landscape, reflecting the performer's choices. This reciprocal oscillation between performer and notation forms the core of the piece—creating a living dialogue between sound, visual art, and performative intent.