CDOTD 07/06/2025

 Iannis Xenakis: Alpha and Omega (disc three) (Accord)

Purchased through mail order

I have a lot of Xenakis around here. I've previously recounted how I first heard Xenakis' music as a college student; it was really the first I'd heard any so-called avant-garde new music. More labels. With Xenakis' first mature works dating to 1953-4, you can't really call this new music.

Why do I even listen to things like this? There's a part of me that likes Xenakis' music, particularly the orchestral works, because they're kind of ridiculous. How can someone make a symphony orchestra sound so strident? He eschewed serialism, a style of composition that seems mathematical, to rely on math processes of a far more complex nature for generating compositions, or at least material for compositions. The pieces certainly don't sound like serialism, especially his frequent reliance on string glissandi. (I read that Boulez disliked string glissandi. It may or may not be true, I'm starting to question the accuracy of many of my half-remembered "facts" that I write here.)

So as I wrote, I have a lot of Xenakis around here. I doubt I have everything he composed, but it surely must be most of it. This particular collection is four discs, more-or-less divided into early, middle, and later era works. There's enough on here that I didn't have otherwise that I thought it was worth ordering. 

Disc three features only two works from 1971: Antikhthon for "86 or 60" players, for the purpose of ballet. It has the hallmarks of Xenakis orchestral music without seeming to focus on a particular direction for the work: glissandi, harsh high string clusters, tossing around a single pitch among players, "clouds" of sounds among various instrumental families. Maybe the point of it is the collage-liked feeling of the work? I would have loved to have seen whatever ballet was choreographed for this. 

Then there's Persepolis, a work for tape. It hits pretty hard from the start, a sort of indescribable mass of sound that barely lets up for several minutes. At the time, Xenakis was disinterested in purely electronic sounds in favor of his own brand of musique concrète, the collection and manipulation of sound samples. There surely must be some gong/tam tam in there, perhaps bowed; it was a source for an earlier tape work of his. Persepolis ebbs and flows in its first half, then suddenly stops. Part two begins far more low-key, less dense, but no less continuous. Sitting on top of the mix is something bow: string? Maybe. It's nasty, probably intentionally confrontational. 

The was commissioned for and presented in Persepolis in Iran, well before the revolution. It was outside with people carrying torches. It must have an intense experience; it's pretty intense on just my modest home stereo system. My understanding is that retired composition teacher from Carnegie Mellon, Reza Vali, was in attendance. 

Could this be Xenakis' most famous work? There's an issue of it with a second disc of remixes, including those by Merzbow, Zbigniew Karkowski, and Otomo Yishihide. There's little question that it's a precedent to more recent college/noise works, Merzbow definitely coming to mind.

When I was teaching electronic music, I'd have occasional listening assignments. Only one (Stockhausen) clocked in at over ten minutes. For one particular section I made an open-ended assignment: find something in the library collection and listen to it, right about it to the class blog. One student told me he had listened to this. "The entire piece?" I asked. Oh yes he insisted, he wanted to know about it. That's the sort of patience and intellectual curiosity I'd been missing in the past several years, but then this was an exceptional student. But I can't complain too much, I think this is the first time I've made a point of sitting and listening to it in its entirety too.