Complex 'dipus
In a Partched landscape

Wednesday, March 30, 2005
By Paul M. Somers

Montclair State University. Harry Partch: 'dipus. Newband, Dean Drummond (conductor), Bob McGrath (director). Beth Griffith (Jocasta), Daniel Harnett (Creon), Daniel Keeling (Teresias/Herdsman), Robert Osborne ('dipus) Mark Peters (priest), David Ronis (spokesman), Daniel Zippi (Corinthian stranger), Rachel Bell, Joy Harrell, Kristen Mahon, Brittany Palmer, Megan Wyler (chorus), Emily Raban (solo chorus), Colleen Finnegan, Dean Maroulakos, Tiffany Olson, Brad Ziffer (orderlies). Alexander Kasser Theater, Montclair.

The full powers of the new Alexander Kasser Theater at Montclair State University (MSU) were on display as the school showcased not only its newest building but the unique Harry Partch Instrumentarium which is housed therein. This collection of the "maverick" composer's out-of-the-mainstream instruments intended to produce his equally non-traditional music arrived with the appointment of Partch disciple Dean Drummond to the music faculty. That University President Susan A. Cole personally made this happen speaks volumes about her commitment to MSU as a forward-looking school. Partch, an American original if ever there was one, is now not only enshrined on campus as a musical artifact, but his instruments have spawned new works for them and at least one new instrument - the zoomoozophone, a mallet percussion instrument with a name in keeping with the often whimsically named original instruments. Student composers and musicians keep the tradition of the 43-tone scale alive with new works and ongoing performance challenges in the music of Partch himself.

Certainly the most ambitious presentation of a Partch work on the MSU campus was the professional performance of 'dipus, the Sophocles play as reworked by the composer. It is spoken drama with musical commentary and occasional sung passages. On this occasion it was not a student ensemble playing the Instrumentarium but the professional Partch ensemble Newband, though some
standard orchestral instruments were played by students, doubtless with some very different fingerings in order to produce the extra pitches for which Partch wrote.

For all that the truly unique element of the performance was the music, it was a comfort of sorts that it did not dominate by placing Sophocles in the background. Modern in production and music though it was, this was still the ancient drama with its self-deceptions unfolding until at the core lies the unvarnished fact and whatever truth the protagonists draw from it.

If the drama survived intact, it was not due to some "standard" staging. >From the moment the musicians invaded the pit and extreme sides of the apron dressed in scrubs the setting was clearly going to be a hospital. And it took very little time before we knew that under Bob McGrath's direction this was to be a drama played out in Sigmund Freud's decaying Vienna. While there were stage characters who played the chorus, a visual "chorus" of crowds and events was projected on a scrim hung all the way downstage. Nearly century-old grainy black and white movies kept the current events of the waning years of the Hapsburgs flashing without interpretation before our eyes: political parades with banners, the massive funeral of Chancellor Dollfuss, then more crowds pushing hither and thither in an atmosphere of turmoil. At one point near the conclusion a castle on a hill looking for all the world like the non-Austrian Wartburg became visible, suddenly giving a tighter focus on the long scope of Germanic history: it was here that Luther translated the Vulgate Bible into the German vernacular Heilige Schrift, here that singing competitions took place (memorialized by Wagner in Tannhäuser), and here in its shadow that Bach was born. To what end this was included, if indeed it was what I thought it to be, was not made clear.

Those sitting close to the stage reported being overwhelmed by the constantly moving scrim projections. Those sitting near the rear, as I was, found them provocative without being distracting. The action took place in several areas behind the scrim so well-lit that the projections did not interfere.

Robert Osborne's 'dipus was the dominant figure with a bass voice which both spoken and sung resonated with the strength one imagines of a figure who puts his wits successfully to the test against the sphinx. But here he was in a psychiatrist's office as the patient. As his various ruminations emerged with the Partch score playing under the scene, he would suddenly be singing right on pitch, raising words to ritual expression.

Mark Peters as the Priest (psychiatrist, of course) was excellent at keeping up the pressure on his patient. Daniel Keeling's Tiresius and Herdsman required the most characterful singing, though it seemed gratuitous to have an African-American actor/singer do a jazz-gospel take on Partch. That aside, he was a riveting character even as he took on the stereotype.

The Spokesman, who appeared in several locations including the balcony box area, was strongly played by David Ronis. It was good to see him in such a role, since for years he was known to New Jersey audiences only as a fey, comic character in light opera productions. This was real acting!

Beth Griffith's Jocasta had the power needed to be twice victimized and still stand up. Daniel Harnett's Creon was also a force with his back up and the hard edge the character must wear.

The film was put together by Bill Morrison and the projections designed by Laurie Olinder. The versatility of the Kasser Theater was shown by having projections take place at different locations on the stage: one on an upstage cyclorama, one mid-stage as a set decoration, and then the constant downstage scrim.

The musicians, led by Dean Drummond, were in fine fettle, all completely immersed in the Partchian techniques and sound world. The composer's understanding of the drama's arc is reflected in his constant upping of the ante in the orchestra. Big sounds are reserved for big developments on stage. The eerie use of five female singers as the chorus increases as the dènouement approaches. There is pace and artistic care throughout the score, here realized by Drummond, who as a 19-year-old began working with Partch himself and is now the major custodian of his music.

There was the inevitable post-opening night chat during the reception about the relative effectiveness of the Stravinsky/Cocteau cantata and the Partch piece we had all just witnessed.

Actually Partch and Stravinsky make one of those "apples and oranges" cases. Partch essentially composed very integral and effective incidental music to a spoken drama (in English) with some very telling sung portions. Stravinsky/Cocteau is, of course, fully sung and in Latin of all things.

Partch stays closer to Sophocles and is, of course, quite understandable by an English-speaking audience. And Partch's use of tunings derived from ancient physics seems quite appropriate for an ancient tale.

Stravinsky's Oedipus Rex always seems to me to demand a degree of cubism on stage and a high level of 18th-century restraint (silence in the pit when Oedipus puts out his eyes, rather than the anguished cry one would expect from, say, Berg). Though I do like Stravinsky's for what it is, Drummond can certainly make a non-self-serving case for Partch being more moving, an iconoclastic statement of his which has raised a few eyebrows amongst musical "traditionalists."

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