Last week I attended the American premiere of Steve Reich: Phase to Face, a documentary film about the prominent composer. After the screening, Reich discussed his career with WNYC’s John Schaefer and answered questions from the audience. Although legendary within the classical music world, he is not exactly a household name, Pulitzer Prize notwithstanding. And with his ubiquitous khaki baseball hat and corporate casual attire, he looks more primed for duck hunting than expanding musical boundaries.
It is not “ha ha” funny, but funny in the observational sense that in the mid 1960s, as teenager after teenager fell prey to the charms of English guitar slingers, a man like Reich saw fit to swing microphones over loudspeakers and weave the speech of an African-American street preacher with the sound of a pigeon taking flight. I don’t think he had any illusions about taking phone calls from Ed Sullivan’s booking agent.
Reich often utilizes what is known as “phasing”, which involves two musical instruments playing the same idea at slightly different tempos. Patterns emerge and repetition is an integral aspect. Listening to his music is a completely different experience than listening to a traditional piece of Western music that develops a melodic theme. In fact, Reich’s foundations are more African than European.
This post is not meant as a brief summation or critical appreciation of Reich’s work, but more to get at the composer’s idea of hearing music in everyday sounds. He discussed the idea of “speech melody”—the way that in some languages, changing the tone of a word changes its meaning. When you think about it, music is everywhere, and not limited to instruments. It might be cliché to note the rhythms made by a locomotive or street car (Clang clang clang went the trolley, anyone?) but there is truth in the obvious, and whether or not you are a fan of Reich’s work, I think that identifying and appreciating the sonic landscape around us enriches our understanding of music and its infinite possibilities.
