Philip Glass (b. 1937)
Einstein on the Beach (1976), Opera in Four Acts 
Suzanne Vega (narrator)
Collegium Vocale Gent
Ictus/Tom De Cock
rec. live, 27 February 2022, Elbphilharmonie, Hamburg, Germany
Reviewed from a WAV download 48 kHz/24-bit
VLEK 42 [147]

‘Opera in Four Acts’ is the official designation of the first work in Philip Glass’s trilogy of operas about influential historical figures, but arguably even more than in Satyagraha and Akhnaten which followed, it’s difficult to identify traditional operatic elements in Einstein on the Beach. Indeed, every component of the work challenges any expectations its identification as opera might suggest. Allow me to briefly enumerate. There are no characters or vocal roles, no narrative and for the most part the libretto is a fragmented collage of conceptualist writings by Christopher Knowles, an autistic teenager with whom Einstein’s co-creator Robert Wilson was working at the time. Glass’s radical score is predicated on a simple set of chords and chord progressions whose repetitive patterns change slowly, via additive rhythms. The chorus sings note numbers or names emphasising those harmonic and rhythmic sequences. The amplified instrumentation is small-scale, consisting of two electric organs, three saxophones, bass clarinet, flutes and a solo violin associated with Einstein. The work is structured around three key Einsteinian visual themes: the train (relativity theory); the trial/prison (the moral implications of that theory which made the atomic bomb possible); and the spaceship (relativity and near light-speed). In between the ‘scenes’ based on these themes are shorter interludes called ‘Knee Plays’.

The one element that may perhaps be consonant with tradition is length. A staged version of Einstein can take around four and a half hours. Opus Arte released a Blu-ray with that running time of the production from the Théâtre du Châtelet in 2014 (OABD7173D), given there as part of a ‘world tour’ of the work. It provides an excellent way to experience the full ambition of what Glass and Wilson set out to do and is highly authentic into the bargain. As well as Wilson’s direction the production was conducted by Michael Riesman, who also led the premiere in 1976, as well as the two previous audio recordings, and features choreography by Lucinda Childs, who acted and danced in the premiere and provided additional text for the libretto. Without the visual elements I’ve always found those two earlier audio recordings a bit unsatisfactory. Almost necessarily they become an exercise in abstraction in which it’s all too easy to let one’s concentration slip. The first, released by CBS in 1978 (now on Sony, 074643887526) was shortened to fit on to four LPs. I didn’t object to the abridgement but there are quirks in both the performance and recorded sound which become bothering on repeated listening. The later 1993 version on Nonesuch (79323-2) was fuller and had better sound, but one still felt one was being presented with an artifact where little thought or allowance was made as to how a listener might satisfactorily enjoy it as a purely audio experience.

In 2018 another touring production of Einstein was launched, whose aim was to present a ‘sheer musical approach to the full score…and the musical sound of the libretto’. Effectively this was a colourful concert version of the work, a collaboration between the singer-songwriter Suzanne Vega, Ictus Ensemble and Collegium Vocale Gent. Essentially, Vega provides the narration, being the sole reader of the libretto, with the instrumental and vocal elements presented for the most part recognisably. The production was recorded on the penultimate night of its tour in 2022 at the Elbphilharmonie and has been released by the Belgian label VLEK, hitherto mostly known for its specialist experimental electronic releases but now widening its range in a welcome way. Its production team have captured the occasion superbly.

From the very first notes one is struck by how this new version sounds thrillingly different to previous recordings. Indeed, it’s a feeling akin to the freshness and vibrancy one often experiences when a crack period ensemble tackles an established work. It turns out that there has been a similar approach here to that taken by those historically informed performances, in that there is no single definitive version of the score and so the ‘edition’ used for this performance was assembled using painstaking, detailed work. At a basic level, the handwritten score (which recalls at a quick glance the beautiful calligraphy of something from the baroque era) contains no texts. These come in a separate booklet with very little information as to how music and words should align. Einstein’s creation as a highly collaborative theatrical piece has moreover left its traces on the score in an unsatisfactory way. In an interesting interview in the booklet notes, one of the keyboard players of Ictus Ensemble, Jean-Luc Plouvier, describes the original production as ‘a frenzied collective effort, trial and error, meaning and form emerging from assembling and reassembling, last-minute scribbled revisions to match the timings to the staging, etc.’ As a result, Plouvier and his colleagues engaged in what he accurately I think describes as a ‘forensic’ process to try and arrive at a satisfactory performing version, using record sleeves, old concert programmes and the two audio recordings to get the best picture possible. Crucially, having done so—and again like the best period performances—the players felt from that sound base, a colloborative, (re)creative effort could spring. It does so in particularly arresting ways, which I’ll come to, but I want first to pay tribute to the spectacularly accomplished singing and playing.

Music Web readers will associate Collegium Vocale Gent with the highest standards of choral singing in many areas of the classical repertoire, but even so it’s revelatory hearing them here. They have utter mastery of the idiom and the technical skills they possess are jaw-dropping: the sheer velocity they are capable of singing at—my brain simply couldn’t keep up with them in ‘Spaceship’ for example, such is their dizzying pace; their faultless rhythmic discipline; and the shattering tonal precision and razor-sharp diction employed throughout. In short, they so completely eclipse the vocal groups on the earlier recordings of the work to give reason enough to prefer this new version, but there’s more. The instrumental playing of Ictus has an underlying virtuosity and a range of colour which belies the size and scoring of the ensemble. They again contrast favourably with the sometimes one dimensional instrumental contributions on the other recordings and at times introduce a delightful note of individuality in music which on previous hearings can sound impersonal.

Suzanne Vega is a pivotal figure in all this. If she were to strike a ‘wrong note’, tonally, idiomatically or theatrically then all of the brilliant work done by the musicians would be instantly undermined. But she is a perfect fit. It’s not just that her softly intoned New York inflections strike precisely the anti-declamatory sweet spot Wilson and Glass were seeking, but also that the vivid force of her literary imagination is so evident. Her characterisation and the gradations within that she achieves are a marvel of subtly. Best of all perhaps is how she projects her own understanding of the words to engender an authority and coherence from the textual fragments, something the previous recordings have crucially lacked at times.     

Whether you know the work or not, you could dip into the performance at any stage and be mesmerised I think, but its sheer inventive force and hypnotic effect build to thrilling effect, so that its last three numbers have what I can only describe as a minimalistic majesty. In ‘Building’, there’s a wonderful example of the reimagining borne of close study I mentioned earlier: instead of the ‘straight’ arpeggiated organ parts set against a solo saxophone experienced in earlier recordings, we have those same organ parts (pre-recorded) rendered by a synthesizer in what Plouvier calls ‘a dance music spirit’, with solo flute rather than saxophone joining the mix to extraordinary effect. ‘Spaceship’ opens with the live organ providing a striking contrast to the sampled sounds which have just filled our ears before Collegium Vocale Gent enter, singing so quickly as to surely be at the limits of what it’s possible to do vocally. But just as we think we understand the pattern settled into, we’re exposed to the viscerality of synthesised sound again, with dizzying results. When the final ‘Knee’ is reached, it’s introduced as before by decidedly sombre organ chords, but these are seemingly even more solemn and portentous than we’ve heard before. Or is that my imagination? And yet, Collegium Vocale Gent seem jauntier. Or do they? One realises again that the performers have cast a spell, apparently conjuring colour and contrast in what in a superficial hearing would seem to be very similarly constructed music. And do I hear a note of resignation in Vega’s voice this time around, returning to texts that must be going around and around in her head? Is her tone in fact telling us of something closer to the achievement of a spiritual connection? The ambiguity is delicious.

I should note finally that we don’t quite get all of the music here. The booklet notes states that ‘for reasons of format’ three movements or parts thereof have been omitted: ‘Trial’ [except the final part ‘All Men Are Equal’], ‘Dance 1’ and ‘Bed’. I hope it’s not heretical to say that I’m pretty sure the absence of those numbers didn’t affect my enjoyment of or admiration for the achievement the recording represents.

Writers on culture talk a lot about the immersiveness of a particular artistic experience, possibly to the extent of that word becoming cheapened. But this new recording of Einstein on the Beach is the real thing, something that one becomes so wrapped up in that returning to ‘reality’ when the final sounds have faded is a non-trivial experience. To cap it all, VLEK have provided excellent booklet notes: the aforesaid interview with Plouvier and a good contextual guide by Maarten Beirens. I’ll be following with great interest where this label goes next in its exploration of ‘composed’ music.

Dominic Hartley

Availability: Bandcamp