A listener's guide to 'Divide by Pi'
Several people upon hearing our disk have asked me, "Where is this
coming from?" They seem perplexed, not knowing where to begin
understanding how to listen to "Divide by Pi."
For some reason, people have less difficulty accepting abstraction in
visual art than in the kind of abstraction Andy and I do in our
improvisations. Consider: when was the last time you heard anyone
complain about Picasso painting two eyes on one side of the face? Music
by nature is abstract and always will be. As Stravinsky once observed,
music is never "about" anything. True, a song or opera or ballet depicts
a specific scene or situation, but only with the help of a text or
libretto or choreography. All other music paints a mood or portrait in
purely abstract terms.
I suspect there are two reasons why our music mystifies some people. One
is the aesthetic baggage they bring with them. Perhaps they expect to be
soothed in a bubblebath of familiar-sounding chords, melodies, and
rhythms. Maybe our use of just intonation and unusual modes disorients
them. Our music plunges the listener into a challenging, exotic brew of
(among other influences) Stravinsky, Messiaen, Xenakis, Takemitsu,
Subotnick, Riley, Reich, medieval chant, African drumming, East Indian
raga, Balinese gamelan, King Crimson, Dead Can Dance. In the last few
decades, prominent composers, including some of the above-named, have
become increasingly intrigued--and inifluenced--by music old and new
that isn't subject to Western conventions. Another possible source of
confusion concerning Divide by Pi is the fact that we employ many of the
same electroacoustic techniques used by DJ's in today's club scene, yet
with a vastly different aesthetic agenda. Their music is an assault on
the viscera that compels you to dance. Our music tends to be a lot more
cerebral, but in a playful kind of way; we want to get your mind dancing.
Look to other media, too, for certain visual and narrative
correspondences with our work. Like Messiaen, we take inspiration from
stained glass and the constantly rotating patterns of kaleidoscopes
(but, unlike that revered French master, not from Roman Catholicism).
Think of the Surrealist paintings and drawings of Max Ernst. Or the
fantastically curving and stalactite-like shapes of Antonio Gaud�s
architecture. Or the organic forms expressed in Henry Moore's sculpture.
Native American totem poles of the Pacific Northwest. Science fiction
(such as the movie 'Forbidden Planet' which has the first all-electronic
film score). The ineffable logic of dreams.
Two things you won't find in our music are the political and the overtly
emotional. We aim for the cosmic, the "music of the spheres." We offer a
blend of the ancient and modern: the oldest family of instruments
(percussion, with occasional vocal embellishments) and the newest
(synthesizer software). Ritual and "space opera." Andy and I are not
religious, but there is a definite spiritual dimension to our music. He
and I try to get in touch with our "ancient hominid within," with those
ancestors who gazed up at the sky in awe and named the constellations.
Now, don't get the idea we take ourselves too seriously about all of
this. We aim high but never delude ourselves into believing we've
reached anywhere near the stratosphere of Beethoven's Opus 111. On rare
occasions, though, we do find ourselves (like Beethoven) caught between
the dichotomy of the sacred and profane. It's just that there's bound to
be more humor in our music than in a typical church service.
We hope these words will bring you closer to our place on the spectrum
next time you visit.
