Christophe Bertrand - Vertigo for 2 pianos and orchestra (2006-07)

With great pleasure, also because in a little while I will have to start analyzing the score. First of all, however, I would like to share the presentation of the piece written by Bertrand: it can be found on his website.

http://www.christophebertrand.fr/notices/vertigo.html

Vertigo is a piece for two pianos and large orchestra of 83 musicians. It is a commission from the Festival Musica and the French State.

Vertigo (the title will be explained a little further on) represents my first encounter with what I might call "the large form." In fact, the longest piece I had composed up to that point was my Quartet, which lasts about twenty minutes, but consists of a mosaic of eleven short movements. This time, the stakes were high: writing a twenty-minute piece for two pianos and large orchestra in a single movement (this represented quite a challenge for me, as I am usually fond of relatively short forms). It goes without saying that architectural and especially perceptual concerns played a fundamental role in the composition of this piece.

Evidently, a single movement does not imply a monolithic block in itself; Vertigo is structured into eleven sections proportioned according to the Fibonacci sequence (mirrored): 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 8 - 13 - 8 - 5 - 3 - 2 - 1, which implies sections ranging from 26" to 306" (this central section, too long in relation to the others, is consequently subdivided itself according to the proportions 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 3 - 2 - 1). All these durations are evidently not perceived as such, but they confer a sense of balance to the whole. My work was based on the notion of perception, starting from the following questions: how to guide the listening? How to give unity to the whole? Various solutions were implemented.

Repetition and variation were inevitable. Three examples. At the beginning of the piece, some instruments of the orchestra (a horn, two clarinets in unison, the violas, etc.) enunciate held, raw, brutal, without vibrato, almost "dirty" ff notes. The two pianos have the unusual role of "active resonators" of the orchestra: very rapid double-second motifs follow the harmonic evolution determined by the successive entries of the orchestral layers: here their role is hidden, totally in the background. These double-seconds will reappear ten minutes later, but more prominently, topped by a single layer: the harmonic scales of the horns. There are two layers, two planes. Finally, towards the conclusion of the piece, the double-seconds become soloistic, their role is primary: it is the third cadence of the piece (only a few discrete natural harmonics from the strings and horns discolor the pianos).

Following the same line of thought, the flutes, oboes, and clarinets play a very high arpeggio, consisting of two diminished sevenths separated by a semitone. This is a clear signal. Such non-octave arrangement will be increasingly present throughout the piece, until it completely invades the harmonic and orchestral space during frenetic tutti.

Finally, a strident cluster of quarter tones in the woodwinds, held in the extreme high register with ffff dynamics, intervenes twice, in identical form: it is a very pregnant signal, immediately recognizable.

To ensure unity to the whole, I also used a certain number of harmonies that circulate throughout the piece: for example, the C-Db-F-G matrix (in all possible transpositions); or the overlapping of two dominant sevenths within the space of an octave (with a very diatonic color, so much so as to seem almost modal). And a certain novelty in my language (as a pendant to this relative diatonicism): cluster writing, in all forms (held, rhythmic, clustered scales, sometimes extreme).

But above all, it is the role of the pianos that predominates in the unity of the piece (it is a concerto, after all!) and explains, in part, the title Vertigo. I have tried to use numerous blurring means: the overlapping of speeds in similar registers, the counterpoint of figures that are very similar harmonically and arithmetically (as is possible on the two keyboards of a harpsichord), and the impurity induced by the microtonal environment (to create the illusion of "non-tempered" pianos). This microtonal environment comes from the natural harmonics of the strings and horns. A almost "alcoholic," blurred, hazy sensation results, like a reflection in slightly moving water.

As Mana's orchestration prefigured, I ask the orchestra for great instrumental virtuosity, always with the purpose of achieving a collective frenzy: like a gigantic ensemble of soloists, a very divided orchestra (43 real parts; at one point 24 violin parts), great speed of execution, extreme tempos (up to"}

a 200 alla croma), tutti orgiastici. Non ho mancato di ricordare una lettera che mi ha scritto Helmut Lachenmann, che mi suggeriva un po’ più di “scrittura criminale”. Spero di esserci arrivato, a volte.

Infine, la seconda spiegazione del titolo è un riferimento allo Scottie di Hitchcock… perché anch’io ho paura del vuoto (del silenzio), e i venti minuti del brano non conoscono alcuna tregua, alcun tempo morto. Nessun silenzio, nessuna lentezza.

A piece that I like very much, a composer to look into.

Is the score "available"?

I am just adding a couple of considerations. Also on Bertrand's website, there are two images referring to Vertigo.

One is a score fragment.

http://www.christophebertrand.fr/telechargements/Vertigo3.jpg

The principle – analogous in some ways to that of Ligeti and Reich – is the abnormal multiplication of a rapid scale with a series of out-of-phase attacks: the effect is an aggressive and swarming mass of sound.

The other image is a page of notes.

http://www.christophebertrand.fr/telechargements/Esquisse3.jpg

I believe it refers to the first section of the piece: one can see the formation of clusters in horns and trombones, the half-note pulsations in the pianos, the harmonic structure created by the overlapping of three transpositions of the same chord... It is quite simple to decipher. I find this page very interesting. Perhaps the reason for interest is precisely its transparency: the mechanisms are clear and linear. You see the music as it is being born. And probably it is precisely this simplicity that strikes me. What matters is at another level: not the mechanism itself, but the power necessary to move this gigantic machine.

The other consideration concerns the "criminal writing" that Bertrand speaks of in his presentation of the piece. For many composers of the 70-80 generation (and even 90, by now!), Lachenmann still represents a reference figure, even if one is far from his writing: and indeed Bertrand's writing has little to do with Lachenmann's, yet it seems to me that even for him, the opinion of the German composer was important and authoritative. Bertrand indeed hopes that with Vertigo he has approached the "criminal writing" that Lachenmann advocated. But what is this "criminal writing"? And does Vertigo correspond to this concept? These are two questions I have asked myself lately, and I would not be able to answer either of them with certainty. Perhaps "criminal writing" is that which demands a radical renewal of the categories of listening (Lachenmann's writing, precisely, just like Stockhausen's writing before him, just like Beethoven's writing...). Perhaps, if we understand it in this sense, it is not Bertrand's case. On the other hand, I am certain that one cannot and should not ask Bertrand to be anything other than Bertrand: his music does not radically renew the categories of listening, but the craft of the composer is not exhausted in renewal alone. The point is that regardless of the renewal of writing, we can know Bertrand through characteristics that are his and no one else's (I previously mentioned Ligeti and Reich, but it is obvious they cannot be confused with Bertrand!): one only needs to consult the catalogue, with dozens of pieces within a few years; one only needs to hear the energy that always burns beneath the surface of his music, ready to explode at the right moment.

A doubt remains, which was shared with me by a composer a few years older than him, also a well-known child prodigy: the doubt of a gigantic success that explodes and consumes itself in a few years. But perhaps even this is part of the fascination of Bertrand's music?

I thank Red for the rich contribution he has given to this topic, which I am only reading now. Since you are working on the analysis or would like to work on it, I would be pleased to take a look at it. If you wanted to share it, even privately, it would be very much appreciated.

>The other image is a page of notes.>http://www.christophebertrand.fr/telechargements/Esquisse3.jpg

Since the filename contains the word "Esquisse", it can tell you a lot

>A doubt remains, which was shared with me by a composer a few years older than him,

> who was also a highly recognized child prodigy: the doubt of a gigantic success that explodes

> and consumes itself in a few years. But perhaps even this is part of the charm

> of Bertrand's music?

Could you be less synthetic, more explicit, and less enigmatic?

Among all the authors of the "Contemporary" genre, Bertrand is the one who moved me the most. I don't know if it's a response to RedScharlach

Thanks Red, and if you want to share any other "discoveries" about the piece, I would be very happy to.

I don't have an answer to your questions and in fact I didn't understand the last part of your last post...in terms of meaning. Perhaps you are taking too many things for granted...that I haven't grasped

Is the score "available"?

http://www.esz.it/it/extra/approfondimenti/christophe-bertrand-vertigo

RedScharlach wrote:

One is a fragment of a score.

http://www.christophebertrand.fr/telechargements/Vertigo3.jpg

The principle – analogous in certain respects to that of Ligeti and Reich – is the abnormal multiplication of a rapid scale with a series of phased attacks: the effect is an aggressive and swarming mass of sound.

In fact, it refers to measure numbers (374)-375 and 376 in the section "Poco a poco brulicando"

Forgive the enigmatic nature of what I have written: not only do I have no answers, but I cannot even formulate the questions correctly!

Anyway: I have no doubts about Bertrand's music. I repeat: at this moment, as I see it, I think that his cannot be defined as "criminal writing," i.e., radical renewal of listening categories, etc. etc. To use a little formula, one could say that Bertrand is classical: but as I said, one cannot and should not ask him to be anything else, since evidently it is not a pose. He was what he did: Bertrand corresponds to his music (and this means a lot to me).

Perhaps my doubt (but doubt is too strong a word) is linked to the suspicion that admiration for his music is, for me, fatally tied to the little I know of his life (things read here and there on the internet, often not even verified with those who knew him personally) and to the modesty in dealing with a delicate subject like the suicide of a twenty-nine-year-old who was reaping successes at a rate that most of his colleagues could not hope for in a lifetime.

Listening to his music, however, I cannot help but associate it with the title of one of his last pieces – From Hell – and with his statement (which I cannot retrieve) about the nightmare of facing seven commissions in five months – and on the other side of the scale, I could put that for other composers, seven commissions in five months would be a lifelong dream, as it would be a dream to work with Boulez, to be performed around the world by the most famous musicians... In short, the doubt is about the possibility of separating the fascination that comes from the music and the light cast upon it by biographical aspects.

But precisely: even biography can be a source of fascination – hopefully not morbid.

I add: to understand what Bertrand's disappearance might mean, I recommend reading the presentation of Almost Requiem by Marco Momi, a piece dedicated specifically to him (unfortunately I have not yet had the chance to listen to it). http://brahms.ircam.fr/works/work/35142/

I fear, however, that I have remained enigmatic...

P.S. As far as the analysis is concerned, I will work on it next year!

P.S. 2, to remain enigmatic: perhaps I could say that I admire "criminal writing" more than classicism... Perhaps I admire it more and like it less... But even this is my own problem...

I can't manage to respond to your rich post right now, but regarding this

RedScharlach wrote:

I'll add: to understand what Bertrand's disappearance might mean, I recommend reading the presentation of Almost Requiem by Marco Momi, a piece dedicated specifically to him (unfortunately I haven't had the chance to listen to it yet). http://brahms.ircam.fr/works/work/35142/

Marco confirms to me that there is no audio trace of this piece, but he told me in advance that it will be performed in Rome in 2015. Let's hope he manages to record it.