Dan Albertson has written for La Folia since 2004. His pursuits involve languages, lexicography, music, musicology, poetry, and translation, and tend to veer away from mainstream artists. He has worked on the Living Composers Project since 2000, has written articles for MusikTexte, has contributed entries to the encyclopedia Komponisten der Gegenwart, and has edited multiple volumes of the British journal Contemporary Music Review, on the composers Helmut Lachenmann, Earle Brown and Aldo Clementi, plus two volumes on modernism and the string quartet and a co-edited volume on Spanish music beyond Spanish borders. He has been a member of its editorial board since 2014. He translates notes for Cybele Records in Düsseldorf and has contributed his own notes to a variety of international labels. His poems are generally short and static in nature. American by birth, he is now based abroad.
This essay is my reply to the various people over the years who have asked me to write about American composers and American music.
Music as a balm, laced with much more than the weight of its usual essence, is a lethal weapon.
I had tuned into this concert to hear the Seventh Symphony of Mahler… but of course sat through the opener.
What better way to greet a new year, or indeed any year, month, week, or day, than to obsess over works of melancholy?
Clementi and Silvestrov represent the late 20th century in its Janus-visaged splendor, two chiselers making the most of a ravaged and desolate toolkit – disparate fellow travelers.
As forewarned on his 75th birthday, here is a brief glimpse into the recorded output of Emmanuel Nunes (1941-2012), an exile from Portugal whose mature career was spent between France and Germany.
Nunes would have turned 75 on 31 August; Dusapin had a rare outing in the orchestral season of an American orchestra in May; Nemescu writes music at once conceptual and visceral, one defying words.
The Jesuit polymath Athanasius Kircher, his varied books and adventures, make solid fodder for a spectacle.