SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Hartke, Crumb, Golijov: Members of eighth blackbird; Orquestra Los Pelegrinos; Dawn Upshaw, soprano. Presented by Cal Performances, Zellberbach Hall, Berkeley, California, 1.3.2008 (HS)

American soprano Dawn Upshaw's fierce intelligence and supple voice bring extra layers of depth and excitement to contemporary music. That was in abundant evidence Saturday night as she energized Ayre, a song cycle by the Argentinian composer Osvaldo Golijov, into exuberant existence. With help from the eclectic Orquestra Los Pelegrinos, the 40-minute performance capped off a program of highly listenable, ear-bending contemporary music that included a new piece by Stephen Hartke and George Crumb's still-haunting 27-year-old evocation of whale song.

Ayre, which premiered in 2004, somehow melds the folk music of Jews, Christians and Arabs of late 15th-century southern Spain into contemporary orchestrations without losing their sense of authenticity. If anything, Golijov's touch adds extra depth to their power, using electronics to bend the sound without breaking it.

The son of European Jews who migrated to Argentina, Golijov's music makes a simple statement about how much these cultures overlap even while the actual cultures still can't seem to find a way to live together in peace. The music all has an Oriental feel, and it fits smoothly whether the melodic source is old or Golijov's own invention.

Some of the texts are simple folk songs or lullabies, but the centerpiece is a powerful lamentation, "Be a String, Water, to My Guitar," which repeats the line, "Conquerors come, conquerors, go." In that one, Upshaw speaks softly, lets her voice rise into extended melismas on Oriental scales, sometimes singing against her own recorded voice. It's mesmerizing.

The 11 musicians sit in a horseshoe shape on a dramatically lit stage, with Upshaw prowling the middle area like a rock musician, often demonstrating close attention to  instrumental soloists. The freedom of movement seemed to open up a freedom in her voice. She showed no fear of pinching it nasally for effect one moment, reducing it to a growl at another, opening it into gloriously pure, clear soprano sound for climactic moments. At no time did she sound like an opera singer slumming. Her amplified voice was in the music, and she was clearly loving it.

The contemporary music sextet eighth blackbird formed the core of the "orquestra," supplemented by a bass player who uses electronics to modify the sound, a hyper-accordion that can make swooping sounds and a musician identified as a laptop player (Jeremy Flower, identified in the program as Golijov's collaborator on this piece). The rich palette of sound added to the theatricality, but the defining element of this piece for me was rhythm.

It starts at the top, when Upshaw uses finger cymbals to punctuate the first song, "Dawn of St. John's Day." But it springs to manic life in the introduction and interludes to the sixth song, "Wa Habibi" ("My Love"), which erupts like belly-dance musicians on steroids. The contrast between these interludes and Upshaw's sweet, heartfelt singing of the sinuous melody couldn't have been more bracing.

To open the concert, the six members of eighth blackbird played Hartke's "Meanwhile," a piece they commissioned and debuted last year. Subtitled "incidental music to imaginary puppet plays," it evokes Japanese, Vietnamese and Turkish music for the puppet theater without actually quoting anything familiar. It's percussive music but surprisingly delicate. One unusual percussion instrument bends the sound of tiny chimes. It's pleasant stuff, but pales in the company of the other music on this program.

Crumb's "Vox Balaenae" dates from 1971 and coaxes unfamiliar sonorities from flute, cello and prepared piano to imitate whale song. The opening "vocalise" finds flutist Timothy Munro casting out skeins of notes punctuating by long silences that have the effect of stopping time. Nicholas Photinos picks up the thread with sliding harmonics that take a listener under the sea. Having heard whale song while diving in Hawaii, I found the effect amazingly accurate.

The stage remains dark, suffused only in deep blue lighting, and for some reason the musicians wear black eye masks. Theatricality aside, the piece has a magical quality that, in the hands of these musicians, transports a listener to another world of sound. Lesser musicians I've heard in other performances can't quite bring us there.

Harvey Steiman

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