First performed at Allen Hall,
University of Illinois, 1981, by Paul Musial, Donna
Stowe, Mary Penne, Clyde Walker.
Touchy is a little play to be performed on a new music
concert.
This means that in order to perform Touchy, you need,
first, to listen to new music; second, to meet new music
composers and musicians; and third, to create with them a
new music concert (on which you'll perform Touchy).
Questions:
What am I calling new music?
New music results when a composer attempts to contribute
something to music, which hasn't yet been a part of
music--to add something to what we know of music.
With an allergy to the commercialization of the word
``new'', Herbert Brün uses the term ``contributive music''
rather than ``new music''. ``Contributive music'' has been
locked out by commercial radio stations and recording
companies, so it's not so easy to find. However, there are
some examples of compositions in your public library. We
recommend compositions by the composers Pamela Z,
Iannis Xenakis, Anton Webern, Karlheinz Stockhausen,
Igor Stravinsky, Ruth Crawford Seeger, Arnold Schönberg,
Roger Reynolds, Pauline Oliveros, Charles Ives, Kenneth
Gaburo, John Cage, Anthony Braxton, Pierre Boulez,
Alban Berg--to name a few that most probably will be in
town libraries.
Where do you meet living composers and players of new music?
You find them wherever people have thought about
``contributing something to what music is''--which means
wherever people study what music has been in order to
create what hasn't been there yet. In my happy head, I
imagine that you'd locate a composition-division in the
music department of a local university, walk around, make
friends with student composers, listen to music together. Or
get in contact with the American Composers Forum, which
has been creating social contexts for composers.
Lastly, how do you work with these composers to create a
new music concert?
Composers are used to ``composing pieces''; they can be
asked to ``compose the concert'': make links and relations
between pieces on the program. Performing Touchy after a
piece of music is one such link.
What I'm asking here may seem like a lot. ``What, you're
asking me to undergo a life-style change--make new
friends, hang around new places, learn about new musics,
organize a concert--just in order to perform a short little
theater quartet?'' Yup, that's right. New music has that effect
on people--people who listen to new music have to make a
decision about what is and is not worth their time and
attention. New music requires change.
Besides, don't you want to make new friends? Especially
with a group which threatens to become extinct? In the
present radically commercial environment,
composers suffer from ``failure to thrive''--and they (we)
can use all the friends we can get.
I've added ``experimental music composers'' to the lists of
endangered species. Two dinosaurs, a few years before the
species became extinct:
- DINOSAUR 1:
- Gee, it's Saturday night and I'd love
to play some Schönberg in the company of a
few friends. Why don't we invite over Dotty and
Lou?
- DINOSAUR 2:
- No way. They're dead.
- DINOSAUR 1:
- Oh yeah, that's right. What about
Deb?
- DINOSAUR 2:
- Croaked last month.
- DINOSAUR 1:
- Jeez. Well--Rick and Andy?
- DINOSAUR 2:
- Migrated to the West Coast; same
with Arun and Lori, and Linda Antas.
- DINOSAUR 1:
- How about Luke?--he used to play
experimental ensemble music.
- DINOSAUR 2:
- Switched to library science.
- DINOSAUR 1:
- Abigail and Sofie?
- DINOSAUR 2:
- Power company turned off their heat
'cause they couldn't pay the bills. Froze to
death.
- DINOSAUR 1:
- Jeez. That leaves--
- DINOSAUR 2:
- You and me.
Touchy was
written as a part of the ``investigations'' we were making in
the Performers' Workshop Ensemble. We described
the PWE in this way:
``We are a troupe of musicians and actors who have
been working with each other since 1978. In order
to establish connections between art and society, we
take as a point of departure the desirability but
insufficiency of making concerts. Therefore we create
not only compositions and concerts, but also projects
that question the status quo of art in society.''
--from the Beloved Booklet
In the early 1980s a group of us in Urbana, Illinois (calling
ourselves the Performers' Workshop Ensemble), carefully
constructed and rehearsed experimental music pieces.
Indeed, this group had grown out of weekly ``performers'
workshops'' at the U of I, instigated by Herbert Brün, where
all aspects of performance--from the ``trivial'' to the
``important''--were discussed and played with.
We decided to take our good news (new music) to people
in Paxton, Galesburg, Farmer City, Illinois. From the stage,
with glowing faces, we performed what we had worked on
so gleefully. But the audience didn't share our glee. From
our perspective, they didn't understand that we were giving
them something wonderful; from their perspective, we
didn't understand that we were giving something that was
unpleasurable, demanding, a test, made them feel stupid,
uneducated, put upon.
Listening to what the audience had to say, from their side
of the stage, I couldn't hear anything about what we
actually had done, from our side of the stage. And, indeed,
hearing our concert described in their language, I didn't
want what we had done, either. How dare we drive so far
just to make people feel stupid, uncomfortable, bored, put
upon?
In that year, 1981, of performing in small towns in Illinois,
it was a year to either: (1) Hate the audience, decide they
were stupid, persist in writing experimental music but for
educated audiences; (2) Hate the audience, decide they
were stupid, but no longer write experimental music and
instead present something much simpler, TV-like, familiar;
or (3) Invent another possibility.
We decided on #3, since we both liked our audiences
(indeed, many of them were friends, lovers, relatives,
neighbors, co-workers, students) and liked writing
experimental propositions in sound.
So we decided we needed not only to compose pieces, we
needed also to compose their context--particularly, to
compose language around the music. The language that
audiences have inherited makes the registration of their
musical experiences a hostile one. What had to be changed
was not the audience nor the music, but the language.
This 1981 experience opened a floodgate of ideas and
projects--investigations--in what we called ``Experiments in
Concert Format''. The imperative behind these
experiments: in addition to composing music pieces,
compose contexts in which the pieces will be seen as a
contribution.
Touchy is an early example of such an attempt.
I thought of the four actors as a quartet, and played with
combinations of four: 2 + 2 (duo plus duo), 3 + 1 (trio
versus solo), 4 (ensemble tutti), etc.
It may be fun to rehearse the piece by making use of the
changes in ``ensemble combinations''. Certainly, the history
of ``tutti'' ensemble playing is different from that of ``solo
versus trio''--differences manifested in tempo, dynamics,
timbre, silences, largeness or smallness of gesture.
MARK
MARY
LAURA
BILL
As mentioned in the Preface, Touchy is to be
performed on a new music concert, directly preceded
by a new music piece. MARY's reference to the piece in
Part I can name the actual title and instrumentation.
The performance set-up of Touchy is to give the
impression that the Touchy actors are applauding, and
responding to whatever actual piece was played.
PART 1: DUO VERSUS DUO
Play begins with applause in black; lights up on
applauding actors seated in a row as though attending
a concert. LAURA & BILL applaud in a Perfunctory way,
MARK & MARY loudly. They finish applauding as lights
come up. LAURA & BILL go from looking out (at imaginary
musicians) down to their pages (their imaginary
concert programs). MARK makes conducting movements
and sings quietly ``da dah, da dah, da dah, da dah!''
MARY watches him with affectionate concern. MARK
repeats this, then says:
- MARK:
- (With frustration, quietly) Oh they didn't play the rhythm right!
- MARY:
- Really? Oh well, I didn't notice, it sounded good to me!
- MARK:
- No! (Shakes his head, as though to himself) Da dah, da dah, da
dah (He sings and conducts throughout the following dialog, and MARY nods
sympathetically to the rhythm)
- LAURA:
- Hmmmm. Gee, I'm lost. (Pause 3'' to look carefully at program)
Honey, where are we in the program?
- BILL:
- Ahhhhhh (Pause 3'', to study his page) Good question.
- LAURA:
- Well, what was the piece they just finished playing?
At this, which MARK and MARY have overheard, both MARK and
MARY stop previous activities and turn heads discreetly towards LAURA and
BILL.
- BILL:
- (Humorously, shaking his head) Another question that baffles the
mind. I don't know!
Pause 3''. In this time, MARY waits, then leans somewhat
timidly towards LAURA and BILL, and says:
- MARY:
- It was called Voices for trumpet and trombone. (With slight
laugh) He wrote it! (Indicates MARK)
- LAURA:
- (To MARK) YOU wrote it? ,
- MARK:
- (Nods, with a slight laugh. He's both pleased and embarrassed)
Yes.
- LAURA:
- Gee, Bill, we've got the composer sitting right next to us!
- BILL:
- (He considers himself a person with a good sense of humor; whistles
jokingly) Glad I didn't say anything bad about it!
- LAURA:
- (Quickly, mock disapproval--she thinks he's a card, and likes him)
Bill!
- BILL:
- Just joking. Seriously, it was interesting!
- MARK:
- Thank you very much.
Pause 3''.
PART 2: SOLO VERSUS DUO
- BILL:
- (Male) Well, now that we've got a real live composer sitting right
next to us--what do you call that type of music?
- MARK:
- I'd like to call it new music... and since it's new, there's no
``type'' for it, yet.
- LAURA:
- (Female) Well, but it's classical, sort of, right?
- MARK:
- No, it's new music.
- LAURA:
- Yeah, OK, but what I mean is, it isn't pop or jazz, so--well, what would
you--
- BILL:
- What I think she's getting at, well as I see it, my girlfriend and I are
part of a vast, unschooled audience, who sit in a concert hall (Gesture)
feeling like--caterpillars in the midst of a grape stomping festival
- LAURA:
- Bill!
- BILL:
- --like fish in the middle of cornfield: we float, we drift, we try to swim,
we flash our fins--but we end up drowned, in a puddle of mud. In other words,
what I mean is--the music that we--intuitively--find boring, or noisy, we
later are told was great stuff! And then, the music we find beautiful, that
sends chills down our spine--and what better measure of greatness than chills
down your spine--we're told is ``trite''. Trite! (He appeals to the others
with this word)
- LAURA:
- Bill-
- BILL:
- Our basic sensibilities get so confused that we've gotta wait till the morning's
newspaper in order to find out what it was we heard the night before!
(Confidently) The problem is, I feel, (he gestures to himself)
is that the human race is in danger (simultaneously with LAURA)
of losing its basic categories. In--
- LAURA:
- (simultaneously with BILL) of losing its basic categories. (To
MARK and MARY) I've heard this before
- BILL:
- But that's a terrible thing, honey. In short, all we want to know is, is
it lean meats, bread products, dairy or--
- LAURA:
- (Anticipates BILL) vegetables.
- BILL:
- --vegetables? Not to pussyfoot around, was your piece classical, pop, jazz--or
whatever?
During BILL's speech, MARK leans forward in order to better
observe BILL's performance. He is expressionless. He then puts his left
elbow on his knee, and steadily, expressionlessly watches as BILL finishes
his speech. MARY also watches BILL, but less showily than MARK: she keeps
her face turned towards BILL, with a moderate expression of amazement mixed
with horror.
- MARK:
- (Pause 3'' before replying; short) None of the above. The piece
wants to be heard as new music, and I want it talked about that way. New music.
- MARY:
- (Sotto voce) Mark!
- LAURA:
- (Offended) Well, excuse us, we're not in the arts, that term doesn't
mean much to us, alright?
- MARK:
- Well, try to make it mean something to you.
- MARY:
- (Sotto voce) Mark, c'mon.
- BILL:
- (Still jovial) Well, new can mean just about anything
- MARK:
- You're not trying!
- MARY:
- (Sotto voce) Mark, that's not nice!
- LAURA:
- (Belligerent) Dress styles are called ``new'', lipsticks are called
``new''--
- MARK:
- Still not trying!
- MARY:
- (A little louder) Mark, cut it out!
- LAURA:
- (Belligerent)--so new doesn't mean anything. in particular.
- MARK:
- Well, make it mean something ``in particular''!
- MARY:
- (Heated whisper) Mark, stop it. You could at least explain
what you're talking about!
- MARK:
- I am explaining. I'm trying to--
- MARY:
- But they don't understand what you're talking about, and it doesn't help
to get angry.
- LAURA:
- (Bitterly) Right, we're such ignoramuses, we don't understand anything.
- MARY:
- (Sincerely addressing LAURA and BILL) No, you're not at all. It's
just that he gets so wound up in his jargon, I'm his friend, (Little laugh)
I should know.
PART 3: SOLO VERSUS DUO
- MARY:
- (Sincerely venturing forward) I guess what I would say about his
music is that ... it's in the serious vein.
- LAURA:
- (Complainingly, enters quickly) Well, right, that's what I meant
by classical!
- MARY:
- Right, and well ...
- MARK:
- (Flatly) Mary, what are you doing9
- MARY:
- (To MARK) Just wait a minute, alright? (To LAURA and BILL)
And, well, wait--have you ever heard this weird type of music they sometimes
play on FM?
- MARK:
- Mary, what are you--
- MARY:
- (To MARK) Just wait! (To LAURA and BILL) Well, maybe ``weird''
isn't the right word,--I mean, the kind without a melody or anything?
- BILL:
- (Jokingly) Sounds like ``whatever''.
- MARY:
- (Enthusiastically, now coming to her conclusion) Right, if you
just put it all together, that the music is (Slow down, as in a list)
classical, or in the serious vein, but kind of weird, though that's not very
accurate--
- MARK:
- Mary what--
- MARY:
- (Flustered, to MARK) I'm just trying to explain; maybe I'm not
doing it right, but--
- LAURA:
- (To MARK) Let her finish, alright?
- MARY:
- Yeah, well, and--oh now I've lost my train of thought--(Pause 3'')
Oh yeah--well, if you just put it all together, that it's (Slowly)
classical or in the serious vein--
- MARK:
- (Groaningly) Ohhhh--
- MARY:
- (Ignoring him, but very flustered)--in the serious vein, and kind
of weird (She says this rebelliously), and if you add on to all of
that that it's also avant-garde--
- MARK:
- Mary!
- MARY:
- (Mixture of timidity and rebellion) Let me finish! (Clicks
tongue) Tch. (Back to LAURA and BILL) Well, there you have it.
- MARK:
- (Glumly) Jello.
- MARY:
- (Offended, furious) Oh, Mark! (Turns defiantly to LAURA and
BILL) Well, do you get what I mean, anyway?
- LAURA:
- (Still belligerent) Yeah, well now I understand!
- BILL:
- Me too, thanks!
- MARY:
- (Confidentially to LAURA and BILL) Well, he's just so involved
in it, that he can't explain about it sometimes. (Somewhat pleadingly
to MARK) Well, you know you do get so intense about it, but that's alright,
it's just when you get so rude--
PART 4: SOLO VERSUS CHORUS
- MARK:
- (Whispering) I wasn't rude, and you don't know what you're talking
about at all.
- MARY:
- (Whispering) I do, too.
- MARK:
- No you don't.
- MARY:
- (Louder whisper) Yes I do!
- MARK:
- (Louder whisper) No you don't.
Pause 3''.
- MARY:
- I've listened to you enough--
BILL begins whistling a tune, as though to tactfully cover
up the ``embarrassing'' argument between MARK and MARY. LAURA should look
``tactfully'' at the ceiling, though allowing herself a look at the arguing
pair once in a while. When MARK starts imitating MARY loudly, BILL should
whistle even louder, and stop when MARY says ``Shhh''.
- MARK:
- No.
- MARY:
- --And I said the same thing as you did--
- MARK:
- Uh uh.
- MARY:
- -But just in different words--
- MARK:
- I do not go around saying (loudly, in a sarcastic mock-female voice,
very high) ``Well, it's this kind of weird music they sometimes play
on FM, though it's not rock or jazz but it is in the classified vein, except
that it's avant-garde''!
- MARY:
- Shhh. (Softly) That's not nice.
PART 5: TRIO VERSUS SOLO
- LAURA:
- (Clears throat ``tactfully'') Is it safe? (Giggle) Ahh,
well, I just want to say that I really appreciate that you (indicates
MARY) at least tried to, communicate. I guess we're really stupid or
something but I got the feeling that he was writing us off!
- MARY:
- Oh well, he just gets so uncommunicative and asocial; I guess artists--
- BILL:
- The funny thing is, I always thought that artists are supposed to be the
experts at communicating!
- LAURA:
- Yeah!
- BILL:
- That's their trade! If, as I said before, the audience is just a vast, unschooled--
- MARK:
- (Bursts out) What's the value of communication if it prevents me
from saying anything?
2'' pause.
- LAURA:
- Nobody stopped you from talking fella! But you just said a bunch of things
no one understood!
- BILL:
- It's a funny thing that your girlfriend here is the one who's better at
communicating--
PART 6: SOLO VERSUS SOLO
- MARY:
- Ah, whoa, just a sec. (Laughs) I said I was his friend, I didn't
say I was his girlfriend, OK?
- BILL:
- (Pause to take this in) Oh, ``just friends''. Sorry, no insult
intended!
- MARY:
- No, no, wait: we're not ``just friends''. I'm his friend, OK?
- BILL:
- Oh. (Another pause) Well, big deal, his girlfriend, his friend
...
- MARY:
- It is a big deal. To some people, it is a big deal whether they
say they be-friend a person, or ``girlfriend'' a person ... it is
- BILL:
- Oh, c'mon, you do the same things whether you're his girlfriend or be-friend,
not to get crude or anything, but--
- MARY:
- Ah, I think you're missing the distinction, and it's a point I'm really
sensitive about
- BILL:
- Well, what is the point?
PART 7: DUO VERSUS SOLO
- MARK:
- She just told you: there's a big difference whether you say ``girlfriend''
or ``friend'', it affects the way a person acts, and she's real sensitive
about this--
- BILL:
- Big difference, god! If you and your old lady want to make a big deal--
- MARY:
- I AM NOT HIS OLD LADY! (To MARK) Mark--
- MARK:
- That's not very funny.
- BILL:
- I was just kidding!
- MARY:
- Well, it isn't funny. (Undertone) Macho!
- BILL:
- Don't you have a sense of humor? (Undertone, to LAURA) Jesus!
PART 8: SOLO VERSUS SOLO
- LAURA:
- (To BILL) Wait a minute, honey, let me say something. (To MARY
and MARK) I'm a female, too, and one of the supposedly ``oppressed''
people, or whatever. I think that you're defeating your own purpose. The idea
is to act in a decent human way towards other people. But by splitting hairs,
or getting a chip on your shoulder and refusing to talk except in the very
exact terms you want, you end up turning off the very people you're trying
to talk to! You're defeating your own purpose!
- MARY:
- I'm not defeating my purpose! All I want--
- MARK:
- No, you are! Look, I don't care when Bill calls me his ``chick''.
- MARY:
- Oh, I don't believe this--
- LAURA:
- I don't! 'Cause I know what he feels for me, and it doesn't matter what
terms he uses for it. And it doesn't even bother me when my boss calls me
his ``honey bunny'' in the office--I mean, maybe it's a little insulting,
but he's just trying to communicate affection, and that's what really matters
right?
- MARY:
- (To MARK) Do you believe this?
- LAURA:
- (Earnestly) Don't you understand, can't you see that when everyone
makes such a fuss with language, it just turns people off?
Black out.
END
