 "Photo: May-Ying Lam; The Daily Texan")
Hypnotic, repeating cello intonations reverberated under melancholic note progressions as the recorded voice of Leonard Cohen filled Bass Concert Hall on Saturday night, introducing his “Book of Longing” amid composer Philip Glass’ musical creation.
As the prologue finished, the performers launched into the next song. The curtain lifted, revealing a gallery-like backdrop of Cohen’s drawings and setting up the composition as an innovative blend of classical performance, cabaret musical and art installation unlike anything seen before.
Combining the work of two artists known for illustrating woe, “Book of Longing” does not seem like the ideal way to spend a weekend evening for one wishing to further his or her happiness. Though it isn’t the best choice for a pick-me-up, it did display romanticism, spiritual growth and a sense of humor on Cohen’s part while unveiling a livelier side to Glass’ music.
Perhaps the most influential composer working today, Glass prolifically contributed the world of classical music with the signature use of repetitive structures defining his orchestral works, piano pieces and film scores. He has also famously obscured the lines separating musical genres, collaborating in the past with popular recording artists, including Paul Simon, David Byrne and Aphex Twin as well as earning loyal fans in Brian Eno and David Bowie.
The new collaboration with Leonard Cohen is such an example of Glass’ genre-crossing, wide-ranging creativity. The product of a conversation a few years ago between the composer and the legendary singer-songwriter, the University of Texas commissioned “Book of Longing.” Named after and based on Cohen’s collection of poems published in 2006, the production is a grand stage work celebrating art in all its forms.
The work showcases the diversity of Glass’ artistic interests, at times playing Cohen’s voice speaking over mournful instrumental melodies, at other times transforming his poems into songs that nearly resemble Broadway show tunes (or even, dare I say, rock operas). It displays the impact of visual art in the form of Cohen’s drawings that compose the set and morph continually on the large screen centerpiece.
Eight musicians, including Glass on keyboard and four singers spread symbolically across the stage before the backdrop of Cohen’s art, performing varied music that cycled from mysterious to lyrical to bafflingly absurd. Glass’ signature haunting rhythms and repetitive progressions also surfaced from time to time with elegant power.
Described most commonly as a minimalist composer, despite his personal objections to the label, Glass did reveal a kind of minimalism during the performance, ironically in the form of his presence on stage. Never did he seem to be the grand director of an orchestrated spectacle. Instead, he played a smaller role, contributing simple chords while the other musicians shone in their respective posts.
At times, Glass lounged casually on an office chair, becoming a mere spectator of his fellow musicians and performers and, most importantly, to the overarching artistry of Cohen’s poetry and images. One could vividly sense Glass’s deep reverence for Cohen’s work and its power as the driving inspiration for his composition.
