Lengthy Opera Tests Crowd

While six basketball hoops, a quasi-parquet floor, and a gigantic American flag do not usually adorn a concert hall, they proved to create quite a suitable atmosphere for Conservatory senior Vincent Calianno¹s newest ambient opera entitled [escala.].

At 7pm, with the Saturday sun setting on Hales gym floor serving as the only accompaniment, a violist in the corner humbly began playing a pianississimo sustained tone. Three minutes later a cello meekly began a two note ostinato. As if infused with the slow and calm energy of the cello line, the viola added a note. Four minutes later, an alto saxophone joined. What followed was a five hour exploration of subtlety, color and pattern, challenging the audience to question their conceptions of musical conventionality.

The piece was scored for an "unspecified number of winds, strings, keyboards and voices." The score consisted of simple whole note patterns represented on broken staves, each with a time designating the beginning. It was conducted by a wall clock perched on a music stand. To commence the opera, Calianno set the clock to 12. Patterns generally changed every three or four minutes, though not all pattern changes occurred simultaneously. This staggering of the changes, coupled with Calianno's choice to allow the performers to individually choose the value of a whole note, contributed to an overall fluidity and timelessness.

The sheer magnitude of the opera coupled with the informality of a gymnasium allowed for a degree of flexibility among listeners. Audience members walked about the performance space, sprawled out on the floor, drifted off to sleep and took breaks to get some air. It was somewhat reminiscent of the dijeridu and trombone concert in Warner Gymnasium two years ago, minus the spontaneous yoga and contact improv dancing. Ambient music is so called because it contributes to the ambience rather than being the necessary focal point. In the words of the composer, "The music becomes part of the room."

One might very well question Calianno's choice of the term Œopera¹ for a five hour long chamber piece lacking a libretto and using vocals relatively sparsely. The answer may lie in the etymology of the word Œopera.¹ It is the plural of Œopus,¹ which is derived from the Latin word for Œwork.¹

"This is what it is," responded Calianno, when questioned on the nature or genre of his piece.

[escala.] is the fourth of Calianno¹s marathon operas to be premiered at Oberlin: Jacob's Ladder, She Stood There Sliding into the Night, and Advent Days all took place in 1999.

Calianno has earned the respect of many of the Conservatory¹s finest performers who regularly play his works. Senior Dave Reminick related an astonishing anecdote of playing for 17 hours straight and falling asleep while holding a note, only to wake up finding himself still holding the note. The endurance issues associated with the performance of a Calianno opera are formidable and not to be underestimated. "Nobody believes me when I say this, but Vin writes really hard music," Reminick said.

Calianno consistently offers unique experiences to both audience and performers, from 24-hour operas to dropping Steinway piano lids from enormous heights, to enormously obscene and obscenely enormous concert posters in the Conservatory lounge. His work is truly not to be missed. But feel free to take a na