The history of modernism in twentieth century 'classical' music is largely about composers leaving the safe shores of tonality, pushing out into the vast unknown lands beyond, and staking claim to some piece of territory. Then, if successful, they make it unmistakably their own. Gyorgy Ligeti was one such individual. Later composers might try to imitate or to to assimilate elements of his language or procedures, but there is no real question of taking his line of exploration any further out. He went to the furthest edge of musical possibilities and peeped over into the nothingness beyond. Probably why Stanley Kubrick chose this man's extraordinary music to represent the impossible alienness that humanity encounters in his classic 2001: A Space Odyssey.
This box-set presents Ligeti's large-scale works, that is large scale in terms of forces. Few of his works extend as far as twenty minutes in duration. With the exception of a handful of early, Eastern European folk inspired works, which even then show where his genius is heading, we are into a world where melody, harmony and even such simple devices as scales have been left behind. Timbre, texture and sonority reign supreme, with intricately detailed polyphony being subjugated into their service on occasions. Where rhythm does occur, it is irregular and stuttering, but most of the time we are floating within vast mutating sound sculptures, in which space is carved and divided, and from which new objects emerge to grow and fragment into features of the sonic landscape.
While 'classical', notated music is my home medium my interests extend to include the more 'out on the edge' regions of electronic music. In many repects Ligeti's music is in the same domain as that part of the electronica world that is called 'dark ambient'. But it has to be said that what he manages to do with real instruments is richer, more organic and downright stranger than anything that might be managed by the mere concatentation of waveforms. The subtle chaotic element provided by real musicians, playing real instruments, never quite prcisely in synchrony, in real acoustics allow the physics of sound generation to do things that only the most sophisticated of acoustic modelling techniques are just getting to grips with.
Much of Ligeti's sound world is generated from tone clusters. That is the blending of two or more notes that are only one two semitones apart, which, for reasons of physics, especially down towards the lower registers, give rise to timbres that are more than just the sum of their parts. Towards the higher end Ligeti might use microtonality, instruments playing not quite in tune with each other to achieve similar effects. Then there is his famous micropolyphony, in which many instruments play slightly differing lines, too rapid for the ear to unpick, and resulting in exotic aural textures, that again sound somewhat akin to those created in electronic studios.
At the larger scale Ligeti's blends these textures into intricate, evolving canvasses. Very often the music is about tone clusters evolving, colliding, merging or fragmenting. The result is often majestic and evocative of deep numinous awe. Sometimes this gives way to downright terror. Very occasionally one even finds oneself asking whether the music might not actually be about the terrors of living in a police state, which was Ligeti's condition until his move to Germany. But no, the man's music is not about trauma. You'd have to question whether it's about anything social at all. The theme throughout, it seems to me, is the individual human spirit reflected in all its manifestations by the void. He reminds us that we ourselves in fact are the unimaginably alien.