Implied Airs over a Imaginary Drone [2022]
For solo cello
Duration: ca. 6:30
Commissioned and recorded by Erica Wise for the aglae MÚSICA label
For solo cello
Duration: ca. 6:30
Commissioned and recorded by Erica Wise for the aglae MÚSICA label
I was honored to be asked by cellist Erica Wise to contribute to her “Bach Inspired” recording series, and it didn’t take me long to settle on Bach’s sixth cello suite as my choice for a companion piece. The bright and joyful quality of that suite, particularly the prelude, to me feel uniquely special.
The first recording of the suite that I ever listened to, and the one that has stayed with me the longest, is by the cellist Peter Wispelwey. The intimacy and closeness of that performance even during the most extroverted passages is striking: as the work becomes increasingly virtuosic, behind the notes lurk sounds of breathing, bow hair, and fingers clamping down on strings.
In my mind, these extraneous noises accumulate into a separate, ethereal presence running in tandem to the Bach, floating alongside it like a spirit. I am fascinated by this and by what one might call “incidental” music – that is, one music that is created accidentally or unintentionally in the playing of another, creating a shared identity and energy between each. When composing this piece, I thought of trying to reverse or extend this idea: taking almost insubstantial sounds – “imagined airs” and “implied drones” – that had at some point escaped a Bach performance (including a ghostly rendition of the triplet figure that opens the suite) and letting them evolve into something more solid. I feel that I have given the performer a near-impossible task (one that Erica has miraculously yet unsurprisingly accomplished): to convey, through a variety of tones, whispers, shrieks, and taps, the feelings of joy that I hoped to express in this piece.
The first recording of the suite that I ever listened to, and the one that has stayed with me the longest, is by the cellist Peter Wispelwey. The intimacy and closeness of that performance even during the most extroverted passages is striking: as the work becomes increasingly virtuosic, behind the notes lurk sounds of breathing, bow hair, and fingers clamping down on strings.
In my mind, these extraneous noises accumulate into a separate, ethereal presence running in tandem to the Bach, floating alongside it like a spirit. I am fascinated by this and by what one might call “incidental” music – that is, one music that is created accidentally or unintentionally in the playing of another, creating a shared identity and energy between each. When composing this piece, I thought of trying to reverse or extend this idea: taking almost insubstantial sounds – “imagined airs” and “implied drones” – that had at some point escaped a Bach performance (including a ghostly rendition of the triplet figure that opens the suite) and letting them evolve into something more solid. I feel that I have given the performer a near-impossible task (one that Erica has miraculously yet unsurprisingly accomplished): to convey, through a variety of tones, whispers, shrieks, and taps, the feelings of joy that I hoped to express in this piece.