EA Bucket 38.

Grant Chu Covell

[July 2026.]

“100 names.” Edgar GUZMÁN: ∞¿? (2008). Marcelo TOLEDO: Qualia II (2011). Dai FUJIKURA: Calling (2011). Marcos BALTER: …and also a fountain (2012). Nathan DAVIS: On speaking a hundred names (2012). DU YUN: 10pm: Ixtab (2013). Rebekah Heller (bsn). New Focus Recordings Tundra tun001 (1 CD) (www.newfocusrecordings.com).

Heller’s bassoon is a wondrous thing, flirting with grounding hum in Guzmán’s ∞¿?, squawking like a duck in Toledo’s Qualia II, and raspy like analog pinball circuitry in Davis’ visceral On speaking a hundred names. These were perhaps not the associations the composers had in mind, but they should have expected Heller to push the instrument to delightful extremes. Fujikura’s Calling, for solo bassoon, is the release’s nadir with passagework which doesn’t seem to allow as much expressivity as Balter’s …and also a fountain which includes speaking and amplification. Du Yun’s 10pm: Ixtab is an itty piece for bassoon and tape, whose fixed media is at times claustrophobic and disturbing, drowning the wind instrument among wails and assorted noise.

“Interplay: Duet for One and for the Other.” Alessio Santolini RAGGI: Diagram and Projection (2024-25); Spring Scenes (2024-25). Alessio Santolini Raggi (pno). Stradivarius STR 37348 (1 CD) (www.stradivarius.it).

Combining Disklavier, studio edits and live performance portends potential, especially when the results are realized on a hefty Disklavier-driven Bösendorfer. But Raggi’s minimalist arpeggios and predictable harmonic progressions are shopworn and anodyne, wasting technology and effort. Maybe there are interesting moments that ten, twenty or thirty fingers can’t play, but recalling Nancarrow’s rhythmic innovations and the potential of “impossible” music for piano, Raggi offers few advancements. Einaudi meets melting ice cream. The pieces’ titles are descriptive, but unhelpful. “The Sand” seems misaligned among the Spring Scenes collection; likewise other titles engage in pointless lifting. Presumably Raggi (b. 2002) has met his goals, but it’s hard to imagine who else this might please.

“Near Distant.” Michelle LOU: near distant (2021)¹; molt (2019)²; Opal (2018)³; heart/lung (v. 2) (2017)⁴; Telegrams (2017)⁵; Burial (2017)⁶; heart/lung (v. 1) (2016)⁷; crocodiles (2015)⁸; Sections 1–20 (2015)⁹; untitled three part construction (2014)¹⁰. Ensemble Inverspace¹, line upon line percussion², scapegoat³, gnarwhallaby^4,7, Distractfold^5,8, Ensemble 2e2m⁶, Pierre Roullier⁶ (cond.), WasteLAnd⁹, Trio K/D/M¹⁰. Kairos 0022301KAI (3 CDs) (www.kairos-music.com).

With ten substantial pieces for instruments sometimes with electronics, this Kairos production lays bare Lou’s uncompromising aesthetic. Except for a specific instrumental sound here and there (bass clarinet in Telegrams or the accordion in untitled three part construction), this bursting collection is interchangeable. The pieces themselves are interesting but soon grow infuriating, best taken singly rather than as a portrait program. Pitch appears not to be important in Lou’s universe; the results tend to be gruff or inclined to repetitively sputter and thump. In Sections 1–20 I found it hard to distinguish electric guitar from cello – which I mention only because elsewhere I would be embarrassed to admit this, but with Lou it would seem to be par for the course. The invitation to close playing and listening suggests Nono’s perspective towards sculpting sound, except that the noisy, grungy repetitions aspire towards an entirely dissimilar vibe. Perhaps I am old fashioned, but the consistent electronic processing, which often sounds like amplified fishtank or the spokes on a bicycle wheel being strummed, simply tired me out.

“Electroacoustic Works.” Lothar HEINLE: Tholos (2021); far … still (2020); Monotronie VII (2016); attic poem (2014); paysage ouvert (2024); Quia non sunt III (2018); end | no end (2023). Neos 12521 (1 CD) (www.neos-music.com).

Tholos greets us with bold resonance, an awakening in a cavernous space with a sonorous blend of clicks, held pitches and distorted speech chopped into bits. The remaining works offered, despite spanning a decade, bear similar profiles despite varied ingredients: far … still adds women’s voice(s), dripping water and an appealing rattle appear in Monotronie VII, found objects play in attic poem, there’s a processed contrabass (and maybe an idling boat or aircraft) in paysage ouvert, slow washes with reverb are put to good effect in end | no end.

As an occasional electroacoustic practitioner recognizing some techniques and their residue, I appreciate yet am simultaneously frustrated with Heinle’s reliance upon the ambrosia of slow motion blended with cathedral-sized echo (Quia non sunt III). But don’t get me wrong, I like what I hear, just that it’s very comfortable and offers relatively few surprises.

“Ecstatic Visions.” Angélica NEGRÓN: Letras para cantar (2019). Alistair MACDONALD: Ecstatic Visions (2023-25). Wende BARTLEY: Ellipsis (1988). Eric CHASALOW: “The Fury of Beautiful Bones” from The Furies (1984). Robert LAIDLOW: Post-Singularity Songs (2023-24). Stephanie Lamprea (voice), Alistair MacDonald (electronics). Neuma Records 247 (1 CD) (www.neumarecords.org).

Lamprea and MacDonald’s invigorating program begs the question why this isn’t a more common recital type, especially as the pieces span styles and techniques. The oldest work is one of four parts from Chasalow’s The Furies, setting Anne Sexton for voice and tape in what we might characterize as a retro academic computer music style. Next chronologically is Bartley’s powerful Ellipsis, lacking the scholastic whiff as it plunges into a suggestive landscape of transformed natural sounds and asks the singer to ululate and vocalize widely.

Most of the recital aligns with Bartley’s aesthetic: Negrón’s Letras para cantar offers Juana Inés de la Cruz’ texts and Lamprea takes up all three voices over an energetic tape. Laidlow’s Post-Singularity Songs bubbles through a mash up combining Dickinson, Donne and AI-generated poetry. As the force behind the electronics, MacDonald receives second billing; Ecstatic Visions is the calmest in this collection, incorporating Hildegard von Bingen’s texts and Glaswegian bells.

Lamprea is astonishingly agile. Genre classics (Babbitt, Nono) are probably too easy for her, but this suggests there’s potential new works waiting in the wings.

“Vida.” Misha CVIJOVIĆ: Lica Persefone (“The Faces of Persephone”) (2013/14)¹; Tikkun Olam (2016)²; Cirque du Soleil (2017)³; Penumbra (2019)⁴; Carbon (2022-23)⁵; Emotional Logic – Anger (2020/21)⁶; Iktsuarpok (2021/22)⁷; Incandescent (2021)⁸. Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin¹, Enno Poppe¹ (cond.), Ensemble Musikfabrik^2,3,4,5,6, Gregor A. Mayrhofer^2,3,4,5,6 (cond.), Sebastian Berweck⁷ (Minimoog), Trio Splitsignals Berlin⁸: Damir Bačikin (tpt), Misha Cvijović (synth, electronics), Daniel Weingarten (electronics). Wergo WER 6448 2 (1 CD) (www.wergo.de).

Cvijović’s portrait program demonstrates adept modernist strutting despite the opening Messiaen-tinged orchestral score Lica Persefone. The two pieces which complete the release involve electronics, or at least, special synthesizer colors which warrant a mention. Iktsuarpok is effectively for four Minimoogs, here presented by a tape with three Minimoog tracks and a live player on a fourth. The title is a wonderful Inuit word capturing that antsy feeling felt while waiting for someone to arrive. How the piece precisely captures this emotion is secondary to the Minimoog’s crunchy colors. In Incandescent, trumpet and synthesizer/electronics bump around, splashing echoes, reverb and spatial delights.