Cage Project brings light & shade to Cedric Tiberghien’s piano at Concert Hall for Musica Viva, Perth Festival

An attenuated, percussive quality permeated Cedric Tiberghien’s piano in a world premiere reworking of John Cage’s Sonatas and Interludes by sound sculptor Matthias Schack-Arnott at the Concert Hall for Musica Viva and Perth Festival on Friday.

The “prepared piano” of Cage’s 1946 original — fitted with 45 mutes on selected strings to transform sound — grew into a behemoth of stacked revolving arms hanging above the artist; as much dramatic gesture as sonic device, with a hint of the harp and tin-pan alley, gamelan and echoes of bell chimes.

Focus and precision were hallmarks of Tiberghien’s performance; pin-drop moments interspersed between the tribal lilt and caper of crazy dance measures, frenzied yet always controlled.

Slower passages gave way to more classical form and technique, though never quite settling in style, as an enthralled hall sat in silence save for one infant who had to be calmed; perhaps unnerved by the otherworldly vibe.

Repetition was a key feature, with a mesmeric quality that commanded attention, both in overall scheme but also detailed phrases, somewhere between monkish chant and folk dance.

Oriental by turns, though mostly Western in tonality, the composition reflected Cage’s fascination with eastern philosophies but also the electronica that Schack-Arnott brought to bear.

Music rolled on, perpetuum mobile-style, as faster figures took on an angular character before diffusing to bell-like clarity.

Lighting by Keith Tucker and robotics by Nick Roux lifted the mood without changing dynamics or tone, starting with downlights above the choir stalls as left hand rippled over right in a dream-like sequence.

Altered states of resonance played out as the piano almost gave up its soul for a constrained sound palette, especially in the upper register, with few bass notes in the rising arc of the early movements.

Cage composed 16 sonatas and four interludes for this 70-minute soliloquy, gradually weaving a tapestry with minimalist quantums of change; a profile spot picking out Tiberghien’s silhouette against the black backdrop to add a ghostlight ambience.

Gradually the superstructure emerged from shadows, illuminated from above and rotating gently like a malevolent alien mobile that Schack-Arnott suggested might resemble the Richard Lippold sculptures which Cage had at home and are referenced in the closing stages of this work.

If ET came down to Earth, drawn like a moth to the flame of creative endeavour, it might look like this; hovering over the artist as if to devour him.

Gamelan tones returned, ringing out in playful phrasing. With 45 interventions, fewer than half the strings would ring true, yet some passages seemed to lean that way before scurrying into shadows; stillness then descending to oceanic depths as the mobile acquired energy in its inexorable whirl.

Stagelights around the piano picked out more detail in the structure: International Space Station meets circus big top, with multiple gantries and suspensions. We might have anticipated co-ordinated sound and light a la Close Encounters, but the mood was way more meditative; retreating time and again to a clockwork, wind-chime timbre.

Another change in resonance and light mimicked a gymnopedie, rambling randomly yet regularly around seemingly simple extended figures, exploring space and time; shadows cast on the ceiling opening new vistas in the imagination — a journey into the light building momentum ever-so-slightly, but always with a default to contemplation.

Sudden attack in the mid-range seemed more Western, as if a kaleidoscope refocused sound to a more familiar pattern, and the gyration overhead morphed again.

Mystery redoubled in denser harmonies before cascading back to gamelan with hints of Romantic concerto; strident phrases ringing out with elements of expressionism, plumbing the depths then returning to the Romantic wellspring that drove development of the original piano.

Indeed, the concept of The Cage Project, suggested by Musica Viva’s artistic director Paul Kildea, uses interventions not technically possible in Cage’s day much as 19th century technology of wire and steel advanced the piano’s modern capability.

A more dissociative transition with percussive effects seemed to stir the coughers in the crowd; perhaps grateful for some top cover. There was more to come — both coughing and cover — as the bass register rapped out brash, metallic tones.

Silence again; a pondering in the upper reaches cooled the mood and shadows began once more to intrude. Another bell peal rang out before a dreamy, walking melody penetrated the stratosphere.

Gamelan returned, softly intoning the same few notes; fading gradually with the light while gathering a lazy rhythmic drive, as whispered echoes played loop-like in the background.

Piano found its voice again in the still air as the carousel subsided and darkness fell; limpid chords replacing the frenzied tolling of the Balinese band.

In conclusion, a note of nostalgia hung in space; as if echoing a childhood favourite as the last lamp died away.