“What is this?” asked Daniel Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket, as he stood onstage at Zellerbach Hall in Berkeley in celebration of 40 years of the Kronos Quartet. “Are you listening to this to be cool?” He described his first encounter with the quartet, their 1986 self-titled record, and how it changed his relationship with music forever. It was, as he put it, his “Kronos Quartet moment.”
In the world of contemporary classical music, there are few household names. With more than 800 commissions behind them, Kronos Quartet (David Harrington, John Sherba, Hank Dutt, and Sunny Yang) is one of the few, and the group has arguably had a greater impact on the course of new music than any other ensemble.
It is fitting, then, that the concert celebrating four decades of musical innovation began with Terry Riley’s Another Secret eQuation. Riley, a long time Kronos collaborator and towering musical figure in his own right, is unique among composers in his ability to intermingle playfulness with profundity. Another Secret eQuation oscillates between unearthly wails from a children’s chorus and writing that is almost jarring in its comparative simplicity.
The sung text, written by the composer, is lonely yet whimsical, expressing the inherent frustration of a younger generation inheriting the world from their flawed elders. And purposefully or not, Another Secret eQuation contains allusions to the music of George Crumb, both in its message and some if its sonic palette. Crumb, another important Kronos collaborator, composed the piece that inspired the quartet’s formation in the first place: Black Angels.
This coupling of magic with solemnity is a common feature of Riley’s recent work, but it also describes Kronos Quartet’s creative efforts in general as well as the tone of the evening. Not surprising for a birthday party, the works on the first half of the concert all possessed a joyous quality.
But there was also some serious music-making. The second half of the concert was dedicated to Black Angels, Crumb’s elegy on the Vietnam War era. While the postmodern dissonance of Crumb’s music has lost its sharp edge over time, the eerie discomfort it instills brings cause for reflection, meaning Black Angels will remain relevant as long as society has ills to overcome.
In 1970, those ills were perhaps better defined than they are today. But as the piece ends, with its anticlimactic yet powerful fade into silence, the pensive dissatisfaction we are left with is undoubtedly the same as what audiences originally.