Aron Kallay and his computer-interfaced electric piano put on a stellar display of microtonal music's intellectual and emotional effects.
Each of the 10 selections by 10 composers required an introduction and a switch of programmed scales, which the allergically afflicted Kallay handled so deftly that his sneezing seemed like rhythmic punctuations of the introductions, never intruding on the music itself.
Just as difficult was the change in moods, which ranged from pastoral beauty with a high degree of familiar melodic content (John Schneider's "Lament") to a densely modernized take-off on the rhythms of Chopin ("Alien Warp Etude"). With its immediately accessible classical references, microtonal forefather Ben Johnston's stirring "Toccata From Suite for Microtonal Piano" displayed the kind of bridge building that was necessary in 1978 -- and still is, even if this small hall was sold out.
The biggest heart tug came from the evening's title composition, "The Blur of Time and Memory." As Alexander Elliot Miller's ghostly harmonies gathered, separated and gathered again, it was hard to imagine standard tunings conveying this kind of complex sadness, and harder still to imagine that the author was able at 28 to express such loss.
Kallay breezed through everything -- delicate trills, tripping arpeggios, firm chords. Yes, the instrument had to be touch-sensitive, and it even handled those block chords on the low end pretty well.
The program concluded with Bill Alves' four-member Gamelan Light Streams fronted by Kallay and cellist Maggie Parkins, performing the world premiere of Akshaya Avril Tucker's "My Soul, Soul of All." The metallophones dinged calmly, a gong occasionally poured a hush over the floor, Parkins carved the space into equal parts with long, raw threads. The audience synchronized breath. A man in a pointed Prussian helmet ran outside, weeping and claiming he had lost the will to live.
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A presentation of Piano Spheres and Microfest.
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PHOTO BY FUZZY BAROQUE.