The Fredösphere

This morning's listening was devoted to John Adams' On the Transmigration of Souls.  The CD has one single track, 25 minutes long.  ITunes wanted me to spend 10 bucks to download the file; I bought the physical artifact instead for $14.  This post is not really about the disappointment that is iTunes' delivery of classical music; instead I will simply note others have complained as well.

I was surprised by Adams' dependence on taped sounds in Transmigration.  Since I generally dislike mixing of tape and live performance, I'm surprised by how moving I found the piece.  It moved me; it almost transmigrated me.  The tape includes voices repeating words and phrases taken from missing-persons notices and memorials posted around New York.  "Eye color:  hazel.  Hair color:  brown.  Date of birth:  July ninth, 1963.  Please call...."  Hopeless hope.

Adams chose a solo trumpet to sail above the sea of murmuring sounds.  The trumpet recalls Ives' asker of the Unanswered Question, but this trumpet is surrounded by noisier "silence."  We say a trumpet "calls," and for that reason, this sad trumpet well expresses the futile summoning of these notices.

Meanwhile, on the lighter side:  the jpeg image compression algorithm is a powerful tool.  In the wrong hands, it can devastate.