The Oxford University Press series, "Studies in Musical Genesis, Structure, and Intepretation", lists compositions from classical, romantic, and impressionist Beethoven, Strauss, Wagner, Vaughan Williams, Debussy, and -- with a fierce thrust of modernity -- Terry Riley. His "In C", the pioneering milestone of minimalism, is the subject of this analytical history. Every version of "In C" (and there are many) is utterly unique, not because of a conductor's interpretation, as with the other, fully scored classical compositions, but because Riley did not state the instrumentation, exact entry and repetition number of the 53 sequential sectional musical phrases, or tempo. Arrangements of the piece are capricious, subject, as jazz, to the collective of musical director and ensemble. Hence, there can never be an ideal or standard interpretation or performance, not even Riley's own; all are exemplars. This extraordinary powerful piece is certainly worthy of a history, and Robert Carl, a composer himself, proves an able author and guide.
We learn much about the life of Terry Riley and his musical influences. La Monte Young, who already in the late 1950s was listening to Japanese gagaku and Indian ragas and John Coltrane, was colleague and mentor. He introduced Riley to cannabis and peyote, which instilled an openness of time. Together and with others of the San Francisco Tape Music Center, they experimented with looping and time-lag accumulation. Riley set himself the goal of transferring these electronic patterns and sounds to acoustic instrumentation, with his String Trio being an early development of repetition and pulse. "In C" itself was one of those grand creative moments when the composer holistically hears the composition in his mind, immediately sets to score some of the initial lines, and completes the work within a day.
Carl describes in loving detail the organizing and performance of the premiere on November 4, 1964. Remarkably, Steve Reich was a neighbor of Riley and played Wurlitzer organ at the event; the piece set himself on his own path, which led to the other masterpiece of minimalism, his "Music for 18 Musicians." We discover that two years before it became a staple of Fillmore Auditorium rock the music was accompanied by a light show! Also, there was a pre-Moog, pre-Arp device called the Chamberlin organ, with each pitch provided by a tape loop. Another fascinating tidbit was that Riley first envisioned its premiere at the Monterey Jazz Festival, and the reason why the work was not regarded as experimental or free jazz was because it was reviewed in glowing terms in the San Francisco Chronicle by the classical music critic.
I will not give away any more amazing information about this piece and its first recording for Columbia. You must obtain the slim book, a treasure chest, for yourself. While there is a full musicological analysis, the section of technical aspects may be easily skimmed by the general reader, as summaries provide the point. The book can be compared to the recent book on the making of Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" album, a landmark of jazz. This book belongs on the shelf of every lover of music, be it classical, jazz, or world, which the piece and its sensitivity enfold. It is a history of a musical revolution. It is also a history of one part of the Bay Area scene at the dawn of the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s.
