Fall of the Empire, Frederic Rzewski

The texts in The Fall of the Empire are about the fall of a great empire as it disintegrates from within. From Rzewski’s point of view, they clearly allude to the breakdown of the current American democratic, capitalistic, political, and foreign relations systems (e.g., the war in Iraq). Music that addresses socio-political content can be a powerful tool for raising awareness about current, yet long-term and recurring, societal issues. The Fall of the Empire was written for and premiered by Allen Otte on June 14, 2007, at the Music 07 festival at the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music. The piece consists of a prologue and seven short acts. Each segment is for percussion and spoken text by the performer. (John Lane)

Text for the movements performed:

           

         Prolog (Thomas Jefferson):

“I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just, and that his justice cannot sleep forever.”

         Global Warming (Rzewski)

“Global warming. I don’t give a shit about global warming. I only care about my care. Am I getting what I paid for, or am I getting shit. You can’t trust anybody. I’ll take that back. You can trust some people sometimes. But, you don’t know who or when. It happens sometimes. Maybe even most of the time. But you can’t count on it.”

         The Ground (Rzewski)

“In the beginning there was nothing. Then, there was something. Why something and not nothing. Something is work. Nothing is easy. We think we are something. We’re nothing. Everything is like that when you start something. You never know what’s going to happen. Where it’s going to end. In whose backyard. The Emperor does not care what you think. His sights are set lower. He cares about oil and the ground that you are standing on.

 

 

Stephon Clark from Lynchedman’s Songbook, Darien Thomas

Stephon Clark was shot and killed March 18, 2018 by the Sacramento Police Department. The two cops were looking for someone reportedly smashing windows and found Clark in his grandmother's yard. He resisted confrontation and ran, and the police swore he was pointing a gun at them. So, they shot at him twenty times. Once closer to the dead body, they found that there was no gun - only a white iPhone. Eight bullets had made contact - six in his back. Stephon was a father of two, in his grandmother's yard. At the end of the cops' body cam video, a cop suggests "Hey, mute?" just before the audio recording stops.

 

Stevonte Clark (brother): “Say his name. You’re going to know him. You’re going to remember this.

 

Sequita Thompson (grandmother): “C’mon now, they didn’t have to do that.”

 

Darrell Steinberg (Sacramento Mayor): The questions raised by the community and council members are appropriate and must be answered during the investigation. Based on the videos alone, I cannot second-guess the split-second decisions of our officers, and I’m not going to do that.”

 

Police: “Hey, show me your hands. Stop. Stop. Hey – show me your hands. Gun, gun, gun. We need to know if you’re ok. We need to get you to medics, so we can’t go over and get you help until we know you don’t have a weapon. …Hey, mute?”

 

Thomas includes this note; “For four player on tom toms. Become gunshots.”

 

 

Coming Together & Attica, Frederic Rzewski

Coming Together was written in November and December of 1971 in response to a historical event. In September of that year inmates of the state prison at Attica, New York revolted and took control of a part of the institution. Foremost among their demands was the recognition of their right "to be treated as human beings." After several days of fruitless negotiations, Governor Nelson Rockefeller ordered state police to retake the prison by force, on the grounds that the lives of the guards whom the prisoners had taken as hostages were in danger. In the ensuing violence forty-three persons, including several of the hostages, were killed and many more wounded.

 

One of the dead was Sam Melville, a prisoner who had played a significant role in organizing the rebellion. In the spring of 1971, Melville had written a letter to a friend describing his experience of the passage of time in prison. After his death the letter was published in the magazine, Ramparts. As I read it, I was impressed both by the poetic quality of the text and by its cryptic irony. I read it over and over again. It seemed that I was trying both to capture a sense of the physical presence of the writer, and at the same time to unlock a hidden meaning from the simple but ambiguous language. The act of reading and rereading finally led me to the idea of a musical treatment. The text is as follows:

 

"I think the combination of age and a greater coming together is responsible for the speed of the passing time. It's six months now, and I can tell you truthfully few periods in my life have passed so quickly. I am in excellent physical and emotional health. There are doubtless subtle surprises ahead, but I feel secure and ready. As lovers will contrast their emotions in times of crisis, so am I dealing with my environment. In the indifferent brutality, the incessant noise, the experimental chemistry of food, the ravings of lost hysterical men, I can act with clarity and meaning. I am deliberate, sometimes even calculating, seldom employing histrionics except as a test of the reactions of others. I read much, exercise, talk to guards and inmates, feeling for the inevitable direction of my life."

 

Attica was originally intended to follow Coming Together after a short silence, so that the two pieces together would form a pair of dark and light images of the same subject. In this case it is a survivor of the event who speaks; Richard X. Clark, who was freed on parole some weeks after the massacre. As the car taking him to Buffalo passed the Attica town line, the reporter sitting next to him asked him how it felt to leave Attica behind him. His answer, "Attica is in front of me," became the text for this piece. (Rzewski)