The gold I do not want

There is no getting around the fact that, for a while, my posting will be more than somewhat personal. Loss affects things, and while there is much to do, I frequently stumble. There is a prevailing sentiment - maybe primarily in the West? - for marking the anniversaries of those we have lost, when we have lost them. I never, ever felt compelled to observe in that manner. In a public space, however, I must do what I must. I stumble forward…

Like Harry in the above pose, I was sitting on a couch in the apartment I shared with fellow ensemble member Randy Hoffman when the phone rang. On September 3, 1974, Danlee Mitchell called to let us know that Harry had died. I had last seen Partch a couple of weeks before, knowing he was frail but never figuring this was coming. Then again, I was only 22 (by one day, meaning I never forget this date) and had not the cavalcade of loss I have now accrued. The news struck me like a Louisville Slugger, and then I had to wait to tell Randy.

You do the math: it has been FIFTY YEARS today. What I am left with, currently, are a lot of lines converging and elements coalescing. I lost my prime connection to all this with Danlee Mitchell’s recent passing; one thing I’ll have to do is drop the editorial we from now on. It is time to re-order the juggernaut of chaos, the legacy that Harry left us. Since this is a personal post, I am referring to Harry, as I knew him, worked with him, and aided him. I realize others who never met him speak as personally of him in this regard. Sad.

So this is it: the saddest anniversary one can have is that of the leaving. Only one marking option that would allow me peace came to mind: to tie it into sharing a bit of Partch’s music, some of his most personal work. To honor Harry Partch on a golden day of absence, I have added to the Audio/Visual section a live recording from 1976 of U.S. Highball, performed by the Harry Partch Ensemble of San Diego… many of whom knew or at least had met Partch. You’ll find more typing and information over there, but I hope you can thank Harry, in your way, for having the balls to get through a life of art and strife and loneliness and commitment to his cause. Art drawn from life, art affirming life. Death can take a walk.

~ Jon Szanto

Danlee Mitchell (1936 - 2024): the “sine qua non”

On the morning of Wednesday, July 31, 2024, Danlee Mitchell passed away peacefully at his home, among family. In an instant, one of the last and most critical links to Harry Partch was gone. There will be more news in the weeks and months ahead, and I will endeavor to post regularly. I have dropped the editorial “we” stance because I am now without his partnership and because of the sincerely personal nature of sharing the news. In nearly thirty intermittent years of curating Corporeal Meadows, this is my most challenging assignment.

Danlee was born in Tacoma, Washington, to parents who were accomplished musicians. He began musical studies early, excelled in high school, and then spent a brief time at the University of Puget Sound. His life took a wonderfully strange turn when he went to the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, in 1956. At this time, Partch came to Illinois for a production of his newest work, The Bewitched, to be premiered in the spring of 1957.

Danlee had chosen UI because — at the time — it was one of the few universities to institute a comprehensive percussion program, begun by Paul Price and Jack McKenzie. While he had not previously known of Partch, Danlee recalled:

"The people there said 'Well, would you like to be in this ensemble that we're going to play his music?' so I said sure, I'll go over there and see his studio where they had his instruments and check it out. And so I did, and I met him and I saw all these instruments and they looked very interesting to me. I saw that this was going to be a pretty interesting and fulfilling experience, so I latched onto one of the instruments and started learning it, and then rehearsals started for this piece that theywere going to perform in Illinois in the spring. It was then I realized, artistically and intuitively, that here percussion was an integral part of the musical structure and not just color in the background of a concert band or an orchestra."

Danlee Mitchell playing Boo I, University of Illinois, 1957.

The die was cast. When Partch moved to Northwestern University in 1958, Danlee followed him there, helping to arrange an ensemble to record and film U.S. Highball and other works and generally assisting Harry. The following year, Partch and Mitchell returned to the University of Illinois, with Danlee becoming a graduate assistant to both Partch and Jack McKenzie. In the following three years, he assisted Partch in two more premieres and graduated in 1962 with a master's. In 1964, he traveled to Petaluma, CA, to assist Partch again. Along with percussionist Michael Ranta, they recorded all of the duets that formed And on the Seventh Day Petals Fell in Petaluma in an abandoned chick hatchery.

Danlee Mitchell, Harry Partch, Michael Ranta - Petaluma, CA, 1964

Later that fall, Danlee moved to San Diego, having taken a position as Professor of Music at San Diego State University, and began a new percussion program there. Soon, Partch would relocate to various residences in Los Angeles and San Diego, and Danlee assumed more significant duties as music director and ensemble manager. Under his guidance, the influential Whitney Museum concert transpired in 1968, followed by the iconic Columbia recording The World of Harry Partch. Soon after, he and Partch began rehearsals for Partch's last extensive staged work, Delusion of the Fury, which premiered at the University of California, Los Angeles, in 1969 and was subsequently recorded by Columbia.

Danlee Mitchell, UCLA with the Partch instruments, 1968

Harry was slowing, and after his final move to the San Diego area, he once again relied on Danlee for the last production of his life and career, The Dreamer That Remains. Danlee formed a new ensemble of local musicians, one that would perform Partch's music for nearly 20 more years. In June of 1974, Harry finally received copies of his newly republished Genesis of a Music; in Mitchell's copy, he inscribed: "To Danlee -- the sine qua non." When Harry Partch passed just a couple of months later, he left his life's work in the hands of Mr. Danlee Mitchell.

Danlee Mitchell, Berlin, 1980 - Preparing for “The Bewitched” at the Berlin Festival. Photo: Anita Mitchell

From 1974 through 1990, Danlee continued to promote and showcase Partch's work, producing concerts and staged productions, organizing tours, and introducing Partch's work in Europe (The Bewitched, 1980). While the instruments were housed at San Diego State and given a certain degree of logistical support, it was not in an official capacity, so students received no credit for their work in the ensemble, and there was no financial support. Frankly, it was all on Danlee's shoulders, on top of his duties as a faculty member. (Much of this period is covered in The Corporeal Group, and I risk being sidetracked.) In addition to his work with the Partch world, Danlee developed a deep love and interest in music and art of other regions and cultures and was instrumental in bringing noted ethnomusicologist Robert E. Brown to the campus, where they developed a new ethnomusicology program. Danlee traveled to Africa (Ghana and Togo) and Asia (Indonesia and Turkey) to study and absorb the artistic contributions that had grown elsewhere; locally, he was active with the Center for World Music. A supremely dedicated teacher, he guided decades of students who benefited from these travels and studies.

Danlee Mitchell with Gamelan, San Diego. Photo: Anita Mitchell

Additionally, Danlee was a great member of the percussion community. With his own genesis at the beginning of the modern era of percussion pedagogy, he tutored percussion students with sound technical skills and engaged and open artistic viewpoints. He performed with the San Diego Symphony, San Diego Opera, San Diego Chamber Orchestra, La Jolla Symphony, and many other local organizations. He was always willing to share from his extensive instrumental collection and reveled in contributing a new color or texture with one of his instruments, always gladly loaned. In short, as collaborative a colleague as one could want.

Danlee Mitchell at San Diego Opera. Photo: Jon Szanto

And now, he is gone.

For fully half of Harry's productive life, he was there. As Partch noted, from their time in Evanston: "Danlee rented a garage, paid for it himself, and virtually single-handedly moved my instruments into it. He really saved my life." This behavior occurred repeatedly during their 20-year relationship, and Partch admired Danlee’s "perception beyond his years." After Harry's passing Danlee brought that same perception, deepened with his long artistic partnership with Partch, to many more years of bringing Harry's world to audiences near and far.

It is that gained wisdom and a deep understanding of what Harry was trying to communicate that I will miss beyond words. In the last ten years, he and I had conversed many times about where all of this was going. I made it a point to be present in these moments and absorb and witness what he knew. We remembered a line of thought that Harry would express, especially in later years, and which he encapsulated at one point:

"What I am saying is that physical possession of scores and instruments is meaningless unless the knowledge, the usages, the traditions, the ethos, the daimon, that underlie and permeate them are somehow present. I speak to the intuitive and understanding human element."

If he was anything, Danlee was that intuitive human element above anyone else in Harry's universe. His intuition in the flow of the music, in the preparation of the performers, in the motives and emotions that lay not on the page but in between the notes, was unparalleled. In the last 30 years — after the instruments had moved to other locales, as new facsimile groups started to appear — when he and I would be listening to a recording or watching a performance, I knew what he was thinking. And I, too, knew what was missing. Now it will be exponentially more difficult to instill what was — is — missing.

Danlee Mitchell listening to playback, Pioneer Chicken Hatchery, Petaluma, CA. Photo: Bruce Harlow

One day, I'll be able to put a complete, compelling biography of Danlee Mitchell here on the site. At some point, I'll have the calm and clarity for a deeper and more nuanced assessment. The time is now, though, and it is my profound duty to put at least this small remembrance here, cobbled together from bits and pieces of my 50 years of knowing the man. I will lean on him in the coming years, as he is still a part of me. To the world and anyone who has experienced Harry Partch's extraordinary life and work, the debt we all owe to a quiet man from the Pacific Northwest is inestimable. Harry was so damned right: Danlee Mitchell was indispensable, the sine qua non.

Danlee Mitchell: 1936 - 2024

121 Years Ago, In Oakland, California

Today marks Partch’s 121st birthday.

I confess that I just don’t have anything remarkable to add to this, especially while mixed in with the news of the day at large. Let us just pause for a moment and think about how strong an individual came amongst us back then, who worked virtually his entire adult life to bring a personal vision into being.

Well, maybe that is remarkable enough. I’ll be back soon with more news.

Harry Partch and the Binaural Bewitching

It has taken 41 years, but you can finally put a Witch between your ears.

In January of 1980, a large portion of Harry Partch’s unique instruments landed in Berlin to open the eyes and ears of Europe to his vision. The vehicle for this was a new production of “The Bewitched”, under the musical direction of long-time Partch associate Danlee Mitchell and stage direction by Kenneth Gaburo. The San Diego ensemble that had been performing since 1972’s “The Dreamer That Remains” had been preparing the production for six months and had previewed it a month before… and then crated up the instruments for the long trip.

I’ll leave more of the story (below) to Philip Blackburn, who has now released - in his new position at Neuma Records - a recording that was done in Berlin but only recently unearthed. As Philip notes, this is a binaural recording: to do it justice, you really want to listen with headphones to capture the ambience of the moment and the room. As such, it is a unique document of the production; I don’t for a moment suggest it competes with the live recording done a few days later in Koln, but an undeniably interesting perspective! Info on ordering is to be found after Mr. Blackburn’s notes on the release. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for a surprise element, as well!

Here’s one that I never thought would see the light of day, and one of the most corporeal outings for HP in the decades. Consider it.

Scene from Harry Partch’s The Bewitched - Berlin New Music Festival, 1980

“Dramatic moments of enlightenment – when the mask is dropped and truth revealed – are found in tales from the Buddha and Euripides to Scooby Doo and Star Wars. And few artists have been as fascinated by niggling the clueless or deflating the stuck-up as Harry Partch (1901-1974). As a lifelong outsider, the conformist society he experienced and the narrow-minded attitudes (not to mention musical delusions) that permeated it, are themes to which he often returned. In the 1950s, seeing a world that could use a good dose of reality, he hit upon the idea of a witch who would go around scenes of everyday American life, and, wielding her ancient magical powers, deliver a much-needed smiting of self-awareness. Harry would write the ‘background music’ for them.”

“With a real-life chorus of lost musicians at his disposal (renegade players from the Bay Area, disillusioned by their regular gigs, who would show up at his Gate 5 studio in Sausalito to hang loose and play his instruments), he had the basis of The Bewitched (A Ballet Satire). The set ups for the denouements occur in ten scenes covering a soap opera’s range of episodes: students out for an exotic club night, a dreary music class, a smarmy seducer, a new-music fan, a losing basketball team taking a hot shower, first kissers in a stairwell, slapstick detectives, a judge in his court, a politician in paradise with the scandalous houris, and a cocktail party of the fashionable elite. You get the idea. It’s a good dose of fun with a serious intent. The musicians themselves also participate in the psychological stripteases, united by the common bond of music, conjuring their collective energy before disappearing again.”

“Only produced a few times since its premiere in Illinois in 1957, this 1980 production on his original set of instruments, directed by Danlee Mitchell, was the first Partch work to be taken abroad (in a radical production conceived by Kenneth Gaburo). It was the centerpiece of the huge Für Augen und Öhren, Berlin Festival, in West Germany, and took place in the Academy of Arts, a few feet from the Berlin Wall (repression, anyone?). An outfit from the RIAS (Radio in the American Sector) came to record the performance with a binaural head microphone setup. This recording (best heard on headphones) therefore most closely represents the experience of an audience member at a live Partch event, featuring the natural acoustic balance of the instruments, occasionally punctuated by coughs of the packed audience, dancers’ footsteps, and flying basketballs. All generating the rare Corporeal magic that fuels the power of much-needed perception.”

~ Philip Blackburn

---

The new release of “The Bewitched” is available through Neuma Records and at Amazon, currently in CD format, with a digital edition on April 16. Note that the Neuma page has additional information, including a video/film that has also been discovered by Philip. He edited and titled a portion of the existing footage, but for another extra bit, take a look here to see the footage as originally discovered. Note that it should be cued up to the 8:00 mark, and what you’ll see are a few moments of solo shots of the instrumentalists, followed by Scene 3 of The Bewitched. I can tell you, honestly, that it is surreal to see yourself playing, 41 years after the fact. Enjoy.

~ Jon Szanto

In the Midst of Chaos, a Date Lands

Until time stops, we mark the days, dividing up our awareness with these discrete blocks of moments passing. No matter the crazed winds blowing through our collective existences, this particular day has arrived.

On June 24, 1901, Harry Partch was born in Oakland, CA. Today he would be 119 years old.

Some years it has been easier to tie this into a small portion of information. At the best of times there are important happenings to report, ongoing activities, or major announcements. None of that is transpiring, and I’m left to just wonder what Harry would think of all the madness of the moment. Like many of us, he would be stunned that so many of these discordant events are occurring synchronously, allowing no respite from the crazy. There is no doubt he would be upset and angered by many of the injuries and injustices being inflicted on so many, especially here in the United States.

But he isn’t here, and this is all wondering and projection, so we’ll just pause for a moment and wish him well on his birthday.

Actually, there is something to tell you about. I had somewhat hoped to have a new piece online today, but things got in the way and rather than rush it and not do it properly, I’ll have it up by the weekend. For now, I’ll leave you with an audio teaser and, as a bonus, we’ll hear a little of Partch himself. Check back in a few days for a journey.

A Thought From An Earlier Time of Test

“During the Depression, one was put upon his own resources so constantly... Nobody was writing “War and Peace” and nobody was doing an “Unfinished Symphony”, but in little ways, there was a tremendous amount of creativity. Now, when I say creative, I don’t mean poetry or literature or music or any of the things that we think of as the fine arts. I’m just talking about everyday living.”

~ Harry Partch, in “The Dreamer That Remains”

It is not possible to know, precisely, what Harry Partch would think of what we are going through at the moment, as a country, as a world. I have my ideas, based on things that he said over the years, knowing he was always on the side of the underserved and overlooked in our society. I hope that all of you are staying healthy and wise, and in your own way, bringing a spirit of creative resource to your daily lives. As I am finding a personal equilibrium, or at least convincing myself I have, I’m going to attempt to use some of this time to expand the Meadows. As HP suggested, putting creativity into my everyday life.

Stay well,
Jon Szanto
San Diego, CA

NW Forecast: Partch in Puget Sound

Yes, you have another opportunity to view the instruments and hear some of the works of Harry Partch in the NW region. Chuck Corey and the Harry Partch Ensemble will present and perform on Partch’s original instruments in a week-long residency at the University of Puget Sound Department of Music. Brief scenario:

• Tuesday, Feb. 4 6:30-8 p.m.: Open House and Instrument Tour

• Wednesday, Feb. 5, noon: Informal Recital and Conversation

• Saturday, Feb. 8, 7:30 p.m.: The Harry Partch Ensemble in Concert

All events are free. More details on the University site here.

2/6/20: IMPORTANT UPDATE - I’ve just received word today that the concert will be live-streamed at 7:30 PST on Saturday, Feb. 8, 2020. It also appears that the stream will stay archived for at least a small number of days in case you can’t get to it as it happens. Link below…

https://www.pugetsound.edu/academics/departments-and-programs/undergraduate/music/schneebeck-live/

Partch's Petals Populates Petaluma Paper!

A couple of weeks ago, I received an email from Chris Samson regarding an article he was preparing on Harry Partch’s time in Petaluma. A former reporter and managing editor for the Petaluma Argus-Courier, now retired, Chris noted:

Shortly after I moved to Petaluma in September 1974, I read about Partch in Rolling Stone magazine. He had died recently and the article said that he had once lived and worked in an old hatchery in Petaluma and composed “And on the Seventh Day Petals Fell in Petaluma” here. I became intrigued about Partch and always wondered why he had lived in Petaluma. Finally, 45 years later, I had the opportunity to research and write this story about this fascinating man for the current issue of the Argus-Courier. My article was limited to 1,200 words. Because the Argus-Courier is a hyper-local newspaper, my article had to focus primarily on Partch’s time in Petaluma. But there is so much more about him that I could have included if I had been allowed a longer word count.

Image from front page of the paper - click to go to the article…

I gave Chris some information and resources, he spoke with Danlee, and yesterday the paper hit the streets, as well as the net. It’s a good look at Partch’s time in the early ’60s in a chicken hatchery, and Chris does a fine job of rounding out the picture with current events. We think you’ll enjoy the read - don’t miss the 12 photos in a slideshow at the top of the piece..

In the article, Chris includes links to other Partch materials, one of which is the project we did in 2017 in partnership with New World Records:

The New World Records limited-edition reissue of Petals, with bonus material.

I am lax in adding both this album and our earlier “Harry Partch: A Portrait” to our resources page, but I will correct that this weekend. Just note that these vinyl LPs are limited editions, there are still a few left, and you should go purchase them at New World Records right now. As time moves on, and the world starts to get comfortable with pseudo-Partchian product, it seems all the more important to take a good look at the real thing. Nothing is better than the real thing.

Goodbye, Emil.

Yesterday we lost a great one, a singular one. Emil Richards passed away and left the world with an unparalleled legacy in music and percussion. Having started playing the xylophone at age six, Emil ended up making music for over 80 years, and in so many styles and every corner of the globe that no one will likely duplicate his accomplishments. Above and beyond his playing, Emil also managed to amass what most people consider to be the largest one-person collection of percussion (and other) instruments ever assembled.

Emil’s career started taking off as a jazz vibraphonist, including stints with George Shearing and later, a world tour in 1962 with Frank Sinatra. After having been cajoled into picking up a few auxiliary percussion items when doing studio calls, he used the opportunity Sinatra’s plane afforded him to bring back the first of many loads of instruments collected from countries near and far. Thus began his love affair with unique and unusual sound sources and an unleashing of his musical imagination.

Having gained further interest in music of other cultures, at some point he became aware of Harry Partch. Emil began writing to Partch in Petaluma in the early 60s and when Partch moved to Van Nuys in 1964, Richards began a friendship that assisted Partch in various ways, notably by finding players from the pool of Los Angeles musicians to help perform his music. There were a number of one-off concerts in the ensuing years, along with the final recordings of “And on the Seventh Day Petals Fell in Petaluma”, and the well-known Whitney Museum Concerts in New York in 1968 (which lead to the recording of “The World of Harry Partch“). Lastly, Emil’s help in both playing and garnering other musicians was instrumental in the realization of Partch’s largest work, “Delusion of the Fury“ in 1969 at UCLA. Without the aid of noted philanthropist Betty Freeman, as well as Richards’ help, this magnum opus might never have been realized.

Emil at the Quad again, circa 1968, rocking the Madras shorts.
Photo: Harry Partch Estate Archive

Few people manage to have this wide of an impact, and if you are unfamiliar with Emil’s long career, it will be easy to find examples all over the net at the moment. From the iconic bongos on the “Mission: Impossible“ theme, touring and recording with artists such as George Harrison and Frank Zappa, to his own explorations of microtonality and complex metric structures, Emil never, ever stopped being delighted with the always-expanding world of music. Above and beyond these gifts and accomplishments, he was one of the most convivial people you could ever want to meet, a man for whom the term raconteur could have been invented. I was graced to meet him during the recording and filming of “The Dreamer That Remains“ and he always remained in touch after. When we performed “U.S. Highball“ at the Monday Evening Concerts in 1976, he wasn’t just in attendance, but insisted we come to his house and hang out. We did, until very wee hours, time filled with laughter and endless stories from Emil’s already colorful time on the planet. His remarkable zeal for life, music, and people carried all the way to the end.

We’ll leave with zesty notes from the man, at age 82, still laying down blistering blues lines with abandon. We give thanks to Emil for all he did for Harry, and for all that he has done for the world of music. We bid him Peace in his new digs.

Partch @ Opus One

Many of Partch’s most significant personal and creative moments came during his times spent in the California bay area. While born in Oakland, the family soon moved to Arizona. He lived in San Francisco for five years starting in 1925, soon after discovering just intonation and the beginning of his new direction in music. After a brief stay in New Orleans, he returns and begins performances of some of his first songs; before leaving again in 1932, he presents a recital for Henry Cowell’s New Music Society.

It rolls like this for the rest of his life. There is a particularly fertile period that starts when he moves out to the North Coast in 1947, living in an old smithy in Gualala. He was already starting into the building of his instrumental resources, including the new Bass Marimba, and would soon embark on his first major staged work, King Oedipus.

This short history I present is preamble to an intriguing article posted today by author Michael Flanagan, in the Bay Area Reporter, entitled Harry Partch at Opus: How the Iconoclastic Composer Performed at a 1950s San Francisco Gay Bar. Mr. Flanagan chronicles events of a period in the later 1950’s when Partch had become somewhat better known in the area. The article also sheds light on Partch’s engagement, if only on occasion, with the gay community of the time. He may not have often sought this audience regarding his artistic endeavors, but his uniqueness and charisma drew people to him and, in any event, he needed and wanted people to be aware of his work. One aspect of the draw, naturally, was the original nature of the sounds - and instruments - of his music. The photograph above shows Harry in a very common scenario: demonstrating his instruments for a fascinated gathering of people, taken in his studio within roughly the same time as the events in the article. I was glad to assist Michael and enjoy seeing another small episode in the continually intriguing life of Harry Partch, as well as a window into that era and locale.

Ben Johnston: March 15, 1926 - July 21, 2019

We note today, sadly, of the passing of composer Ben Johnston. A unique voice in the American composition landscape, Mr. Johnston created a singular body of work that was primarily involved with a focus on intonation, and specifically just intonation. Much of the inspiration from this came from an early period in his life, which he describes thus (from “A Conversation with Ben Johnston”):

In 1949 and ‘50 I went out to California and worked for six months with Harry Partch. It was going to be a whole year, but he got ill and closed up his studio. So I went to Mills and studied with Milhaud for the balance of the year. Then I got a job at the University of Illinois, and within a few years we brought Partch there and did some of his large works. I was involved very heavily in the business end of the production of The Bewitched, but not in subsequent productions. That was atypical of me, and they were sponsored not by music but by theater, and later by the student groups. He was around in this area, including Chicago. He was living in Evanston for a while and did a film with Madeline Tourtelot during the late fifties or early sixties, but he went back to California where he stayed the rest of his life. This was a fruitful period for him, being in this part of the country. I don’t think he liked it terribly well; he likes the west, but it was fascinating to have him around. So all during that period I was exposed to something. The reason I went to study with him was because a musicologist told me — after we had a discussion about how music theory wasn’t based on acoustics, and I was objecting that it ought to be and that it wasn’t — he said, “I have a book you should read,” and gave me Genesis of a Music. So I read it, and then I wrote to the publisher and they forwarded the letter — which they won’t always do, but it was a friend of his. So she forwarded the letter to him and we corresponded for a while. I realized rather quickly that I couldn’t get very far without really being there and hearing what was going on; that if I tried to do it myself, I would probably come to grief, and I think I would have. It’s just too difficult and too expensive, and too a lot of things. So I went out there, and that was the beginning of my active interest in that kind of thing.

His relationship with Partch was complicated and not always smooth. There were difficult issues almost from the beginning. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, Mr. Johnston took those early influences and went on to create a body of music that has no real parallel. In the sense that he carved his very own path over a long and dedicated musical journey, there could be no better tribute to his work with Partch than striking out on his own. We hope he rests in amazing grace.

On Partch Reaching 118

Today, Harry Partch would be 118 years old. I try to remember this day (with the help of friends) and try to think of something to go along with it. This year, nearly 45 years since his death, is showing up in darker hues.

It has been a growing concern of mine that we are losing Partch. With each passing year since his exit, less and less of the creator of this body of work is evident. This is not to say that there are fewer activities that have the words "Harry Partch" connected with them, but that those activities are bearing less resemblance to what he wanted than before. I'm reminded of the resurgence in period performance in the 1970s, when artists such as Gustav Leonhardt and Trevor Pinnock attempted to harken back to resources and aesthetics of performance as they imagined them to be, a couple of centuries before. Certainly this was done with scholarship and good intentions, but one does face the question: when, and why, did the original performance style go away? Why did they have to be rediscovered and (with potential for miscarriage) reimagined?

I fear that this is what we face, in mere decades, in the works of Partch. Few originators have tried as hard to document how they want their work experienced, yet it seems to be lost on any but those who knew him. Lip service is paid to his notions of dramatic involvement of the performers, willful ignorance is given to his abhorrence of "a concert of music". As the years roll on, techniques are guessed at, the many elements that shaped his sound that aren't written into the scores drop away, all yielding performances that refuse to stand on their own two legs and grab you by the scruff of your neck.

So, we think of Harry Partch today, and think of what he was and what he did:

• the man who took the pitches and hammered and bent them to be in tune and small-of-size, to take the exquisite poetry of Li Po and turn out something between song and oration, unequaled lyricism;

• the chronicler of a life on the road, giving us a window into the lives of his fellow travelers through "U.S. Highball", all in service of acknowledging the occasional joys and far more frequent lows of being on the lam, bringing a chaotic dignity to these people without ever wanting to be tagged, unimaginatively, as a "hobo composer";

• the visionary who, as he struggled in the coastal woods of a California retreat, began dreaming up a new way of presenting music and dance and theater, all melded into a whole and backed by an extraordinary ensemble of instruments the likes of which had not been seen;

• the constant wanderer, who seemingly never stopped moving even while the amount of baggage he himself built was growing beyond all common sense, who in his sixties managed to bring to life a magnum opus in "Delusion of the Fury", unleashing all the elements he had built up to bring to the stage a work unlike any other, unparalleled to this day;

• the man, once again, old before his time, finishing life as a dreamer who remembered the simpler times of his youth, witnessing the inception of his last ensemble, not knowing what the future would bring to this unlikely and extraordinary artistic life.

There is more to say on some of these subjects, but we'll leave that for another time. Let us once again simply sit back and marvel at what one man, of limited resources, was able to accomplish. That is a remarkable story all by itself. Happy Birthday, Harry.

In Search of a Witch in Seattle

In a little more than a week I will head north to Seattle for a concert on Saturday, April 13th by the UW Partch Ensemble. Taking place in the Meany Studio Theater, Dr. Charles Corey and his assembled musicians will survey a number of Partch’s works, large and small. I may have to amend/alter this, but I believe the pieces on this evening are:

• And On The Seventh Day Petals Fell In Petaluma (excerpts)

• Even Wild Horses - Act II, Scene 1

• Two Studies on Ancient Greek Scales

• The Letter

• The Mock Turtle Song

• The Bewitched

Title page of the score from the early, unperformed version of The Bewitched.

I’ve highlighted the last piece because Charles has decided to do a 1st performance of an earlier version of The Bewitched. This consists of ten scenes that appeared in the final version, slightly smaller in ensemble size and length, and without the opening Prologue and closing Epilogue. Also (as I understand), no dancers. A different serving of tapioca, so to speak.

Partch originally wrote The Bewitched in 1955 with a small-ish ensemble in mind, the better to consider touring. In very short order - less than a year - he had revised those thoughts and started on a larger score and production, realizing that even minimal staging would still require more resources than he could muster, and the piece would be better suited for a residency situation. He expanded the work and it was premiered in March of 1957 at the University of Illinois. This concert in Seattle will be the first fully realized (concert) performance of the initial version.

I’m looking forward to experiencing Sarah Kolat in the titular role of The Witch, as well as being transported back in time to my own numerous performances of Bewitched from the 1970s and 80s. Fascinating and colorful music - I do hope there is a full house for this rare opportunity to hear a bit of the unheard.

Never Forget the Man at the Center

That Harry Partch is no ordinary person is obvious. If his accomplishments in music had been slight, perhaps it could all end here -- but on the contrary, his accomplishments have been considerable. Anyone who has sat in a room, surrounded by Partch's many instruments, and listened to his music -- this complete and, to many, alien world of sound and drama -- knows what an intimidating experience this can be. The very thought of adopting a philosophical position diametrically opposed to a well-entrenched existing tradition, building a theory of tonal relationships and the instruments to realize this theory, composing the music, staging the drama, rehearsing and bringing it all to performance, recording the result -- all in the face of an uncomprehending public -- and then having the perseverance (perhaps obstinacy would be a better word) to continue all this for the better part of a lifetime, is a staggering thing to contemplate. Perhaps it is not so staggering if you consider Harry Partch's ideas about music. Partch and his music are very close to being one and the same thing.

~ Arthur Woodbury: "Harry Partch: Corporeality and Monophony” Source, Vol. 1, No. 2 (1968)

The quote above was one of the first items I included in the inaugural Corporeal Meadows, all the way back in 1996. Those words have never left my mind. I have no idea the number of people who read this post who have known the feeling: to be surrounded by Partch’s many instruments. It is an extraordinary feeling, a realization of the enormity of imagination he had, the sheer will to move forward, no matter what. As I’ve become more familiar with Partch’s life prior to when I knew him, I am painfully aware that his determination - his fate, if you will - came at a great cost and often made life almost unbearable.

I remind myself of this regularly. I am writing this post, letting it flow out into the *verse, so that other people might think about it. I do it because I am aware that there are others who do not think about the path this man took, who do not realize that it is more than funny pitches and otherworldly instruments. No, as Mr. Woodbury so aptly puts it: Partch and his creative output are virtually one and the same thing. Which means, of course, that you Do Not Fuck Around With It. You take the man, the person, as he is and as his music was struck to page. You heed his enjoinders on performance, you take him straight with no chaser, you play your part in the drama of this world in real time and with full commitment. Being involved with Partch and his music is a bona fide example of “all in” - if you don’t represent fully physically, you’ve blown the part just as if you’ve missed notes. What does that mean to the observer, the listener, the watcher?

Accept no substitutes. Be satisfied with only performances that go beyond, where musicians escape from “tight coats and tight shoes”. Know that Harry Partch, the man at the center, knew his instruments like no one else. Look for ancient magic.

It is a staggering thing to contemplate.

The Annual Observance: On this day...

I try to remember to catch this date, even when at times I haven't done much else. It was on June 24, 1901 that Harry Partch came into this world and in ways small and large, left an indelible mark. I posit nothing absolutely about what he would think of how things have played out since his death in 1974, though knowing him just a bit, I certainly have a good clue. If nothing else, he would range somewhere in the continuum between bemusement and extreme aggravation. It is even possible that he would chuckle at how much notice his work has gotten in the academic world, a world that he was at odds with most of his life. It's a shame that more of that attention couldn't have been there during his lifetime.

In any event, he's not here and can't join in any celebrations. A decade+ ago I threw together a little something for a one-day flinging of microtones, an online showcase of small-interval sounds. Just for the hell of it, I've dragged it out, because Harry inspired it. The vigor with which he showed his distaste for hands-off summations of art comes through in just a few words. His guest appearance is an urgent poking to actually do something!

Oh, to be 115!

Harry Partch: June 24, 1901 - Sept. 3, 1974

Today, we think of Harry Partch, born on this day in 1901. It is a shame that he died relatively young, but that chassis had many hard miles on it, and he left us with a remarkable and non-duplicatable legacy. It is impossible to know where he would have gone, artistically, in the next years, and would have been highly interesting to see how he reacted to his concepts of performing eventually finding a little traction.

I am aware that momentous changes are occurring in the world today. Harry would have been aghast at many of the events in recent months and the trends that are playing out. I don't know if his music gives positive comfort or hope to anyone, but it would be nice to think it does. For me, it is the fact that Harry kept up his fight, sticking to long-held principles all the way out, which serves as my inspiration. He will always be the Dreamer that remains.

In light of today, I will use that inspiration to work on new content for the site. Check back in a couple of days (or subscribe to the RSS feed, since I'll announce here, as well). I'm behind, but I'm not dead yet.

Upcoming Partch Concert, University of Washington, Seattle

Some of the Partch instruments, now in residence at the University of Washington, Seattle

In just under a week, on April 26, you have the opportunity to hear the original instruments of Harry Partch in concert, under the direction of Dr. Charles Corey. Find more information and ticket link here, and there is a Facebook event page, as well.

In addition, the Seattle Times just published a nice feature on Corey and the instrument's current residency at the university. It's worth a read also for comments from Dr. Richard Karpen, chairman of the Music Department, who was integral in getting them to the campus (and the West coast, for that matter). UPDATE: We've just received notice of another good preview article, this one in the guise of a look at the Partch instruments, from radio station KING. Concert details as follow:

April 26, 2016
Meany Theater, University of Washington, Seattle, WA
Music of Today: The Music of Harry Partch
7:30PM

This program will include Barstow, San Francisco, The Letter, and Daphne of the Dunes, as well as selections from Eleven Intrusions, Seventeen Lyrics by Li Po, and And on the Seventh Day Petals Fell in Petaluma.

Don't miss an opportunity to experience this music, these performers, and these instruments live!

Jon Szanto