Paul Bowles (1910-1999), once described as “famous for not being famous,” was an allusive artist of elusive categorization: an American permanently residing in Tangiers, a composer who wrote, a writer who composed, and an obscure sensibility (of what William S. Burroughs called “underexposed film”) who was yet known by everyone who was anyone. His reputation as a writer was cemented with his best-selling novel The Sheltering Sky. But on Saturday, Nicole Paiement’s Blue Print project began its ninth season, dubbed “Between the Lines,” with a focus on Bowles’ lesser-known output — his music, which he put pretty much on the back burner in 1948. The exposure was, in part, intriguing.
That Bowles had a way with words was proved in intermittent readings by his attractive look-and-act-alike, white-suited Nikolaus Hohmann. Artistic Director and Conductor Paiement and her ensemble made the best case possible for the music, which was most effective when directly related to the text, as when describing the “gossamer threads” of a spider in The Dancer incidental music of 1946.
Spider in the Fluff
My favorite of the Bowles selections was the Romantic Suite of 1938, a nine-minute soufflé for chamber ensemble in three movements that included a muted trombone and muted trumpet. It began with a light and ludicrous funeral march, punctuated by Hohmann’s sudden “It’s a spider!” three minutes in. A shady middle movement was followed by a jazzy finale with nods to George Antheil and Igor Stravinsky.
Nods to other composers got a bit too specific in the aforementioned Dancer, which began with Ravelian café music, was suffused with light waltz rhythms, and featured a tune a bit too much like “Mack the Knife.”
The first half of the concert included two sets of songs for voice and soprano. Unfortunately, texts were not provided, putting the onus on the performers to articulate. The first, Christina Burroughs, failed to do so well for most of her five numbers, despite a fair tone. The second, Maya Srinivasan, singing the Three Pastoral Songs of 1944, did a much better job of being understood with her elegant voice, and excelled in the facial and bodily expression department. But the material did not impress me any more than the harmless music did for the first set.
Extras to Read All About
True to the “between the lines” theme, the concert included four extras, two of which were better than the Bowles numbers. The first was part of Jennifer Baichwal’s fascinating 1988 Bowles documentary Let It Come Down, which was in medias res on an inadequately reflective wall when the doors opened at 7:20 p.m., and which was cut off abruptly at 7:55. The second was the longest piece of the concert, Moroccan-born Michèle Revery’s 17-minute Which Dreamed It? of 2009, for two percussionists and pianos. Although based on what strikes me as the bogus speculation “Are we free beings or inside someone else’s dream?,” Reverdy’s music, while sectional, proved to be intensely interesting — full of fascinating sounds and inherent drama.
The final “extras” were two short harpsichord numbers by Egyptian-born Maurice Ohana, performed with commitment by Christopher Lewis. The 1991 Wamba, for harpsichord, succeeded in becoming unbearably repetitive despite its length of only 5 minutes. The So Tango of the same year had some humor (Lewis popped on the black hat of a rake to play it), but I couldn’t tell if the many rhythmic infidelities were an interpretive ploy or in the score. Their effect in any case was detrimental.
Paiement’s initiative has left me with a mystery and a desire to pursue more of Bowles. The mystery, unexplained by Paiement, is her statement in the program that “All of these composers have some ties with Algeria.” Pray tell. And the desire will lead me to more of Bowles’ writings, the greater of his talents.