The Angel of Death: Timelessness of the pianistic gesture

To be able to follow a work all the way from the early sketches to its public performance is the dream of many music lovers, music critics, and musicologists. From this standpoint, The Angel of Death by Roger Reynolds has gone beyond one's greatest hopes: the composition process was minutely documented by the composer in a diary, and the various stages in the career of the composition were the subject of detailed exchanges between the composer and the researchers involved in the project. Thus, we have at our disposal abundant documentation revealing the keen regard that a composer brings to bear on his composition, firstly in the course of composition and then later, in a retrospective fashion once the piece has been finished. This is undoubtedly a rich source of information concerning the poietics¹ of the work. The object of the present article is not to carry out a dry analysis of the score. Such an analysis would anyway be made easy by the fact that the composer himself has given us the keys. [Cf. Composition part]. Without such keys, certain of the procedures used by Roger Reynolds would remain impenetrable.

However, independently of the analytical considerations arising out of a reading of the score, The Angel of Death affords the listener elements that are sufficiently powerful to make another listening worthwhile. The way the elements return, are transformed and combined, even if they are only partly recognized, demand activity from the listener's memory and contribute to musical pleasure by enabling the listener to construct a mental representation. Such a representation may be extremely rudimentary when compared to the complexity of the work, but it nevertheless remains sufficiently gratifying to maintain interest. And if a work is sufficiently interesting to listeners, they will want to listen to the work again, whether in part or in whole. Reynolds' work possesses particular qualities, thanks to the composer's awareness of the problems of perception. It is these qualities that lent legitimacy to the experiments carried out in the concert situation upon listeners who were present when the work was premiered at IRCAM in France. Additional experiments in the domain of music psychology were carried out in the laboratory and rounded out the exceptional scientific environment that surrounded the premiere, which is after all an artistic event.

The Angel of Death uses a piano and an instrumental ensemble. The instrumental ensemble can be considered as a modern version of the chamber orchestra, but with additional suppleness, quickness and technical skill required from each of the musicians. The instrumental ensemble is more maneuverable than the large orchestra and is a direct result of the changes that swept over musical writing and aesthetic orientation in the course of the 20th century. It makes all manner of internal combinations possible. The composer can rely on the high degree of skill of each of the players, and can thus jump back and forth between heterogeneity and homogeneity of the timbres. He can find elegant solutions to the difficult problem of distributing the musical material between the instrumentalists of the ensemble and the piano.

The ensemble is comprised of 16 musicians: 2 flutes (including piccolo), clarinet, bass clarinet, horn, 2 trumpets, trombone, 3 percussionists, 2 violins, viola, cello and double bass. It is interesting to note that double reed instruments such as the oboe and the bassoon, which carry strong connotations, are not used by the composer: the oboe for example, very quickly takes on an evocative or nostalgic character, when playing a melodic line, bringing with it undesirable reminiscences. The same applies to the bassoon, and even to the double bassoon, in the past frequently associated with picturesque situations. There is another reason why these instruments were not used, even though they had been envisaged:² double reeds are not easy to play in very fast tempi. Long runs at particularly high speeds tend to cause considerable fingering problems, whereas the clarinet is much more surefooted in fast tempi.

The choice of the piano, and the major part that it plays in The Angel of Death raises a set of basic questions: the eminence of the role of the piano in Western music over the last two and a half centuries has generated what can only be described as a rather uncomfortable situation for composers today. Nevertheless the piano continues to hold great fascination for creators as well as for listeners, making nonsense of predictions that it would fall into disuse. The Angel of Death is not the first composition in which Roger Reynolds faces off with the piano, but it is the theater of a major personal commitment.

In addition to difficulties arising out of a scientific experimental situation, in The Angel of Death Roger Reynolds faced a double problem:

• Firstly, confronting the grand concerto tradition in the case of the piano, a tradition to which The Angel of Death undoubtedly belongs. More exactly, it is a chamber Concerto. No composer can remain indifferent to the masterworks that the genre has provided, in a situation where the piano has been chosen as a solo instrument, and no matter what the orchestral layout - it could be large orchestra or chamber orchestra. The difficulty lies in taking advantage of successful experiments by prestigious forerunners, while at the same time remaining resolutely free of their hold. This requires a strong musical personality and a clear vision of what one wants to do and the tools with which to do it.
• Secondly, the intimidating confrontation with the piano itself. Composing for an instrument like the piano, which already possesses an overwhelmingly vast literature, taxes the skills and resources of a composer to their limit. The old masters gave so many magnificent works to the harpsichord. Phantoms spring up from the distant or the not so distant past with names like J. S. Bach, Domenico Scarlatti, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, Scriabin, Rachmaninov, Debussy, Ravel, Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Schoenberg, Bartók to name but a few. Other voices, more recent but just as impressive can be added to the long list of those who have enriched the repertoire, such as Messiaen, Boulez, Stockhausen, Xenakis, and Ligeti. In addition, the composer cannot afford to ignore the fact that cultivated listeners possess the same landmarks and references and that nothing can stop them from making comparisons, relevant or otherwise.

Therefore we will take the second approach to The Angel of Death — even though that may appear rather unexpected in the light of the highly technological environment in which the piece finds itself. [Cf. Drama and temporality of the electroacoustics in Roger Reynolds' The Angel of Death]

The highly scientific context surrounding the composition and the performance of the piece did not in any way alter the composer's inspiration on a deep level, but it did create a very general framework within which Reynolds made choices. The most binding of all the constraints arose from the fact that the piece had to be conceived in such a way that comparisons could be made in two dimensions:

• A comparison between the part entitled "Sectional" (henceforward designated by S) in which the thematic material is played explicitly, and a part entitled "Domain" (designated by D) in which the material has been transformed and diluted, and is less easily identifiable. The overall organization of the piece allows for the two parts to be switched (S/D or D/S);
• A comparison between the piano and the instrumental ensemble layers, since the material is at times given to the piano at others to the ensemble. This means that right at the moment of conception, the material had to be thought out in terms of both types of performers.

The composer did not shirk this double challenge. He knew how to avoid the trap of reversibility. The preconstrained material indeed ran the risk of remaining inert, lacking in vitality. The way that the common material passes from the soloist to the ensemble does not detract from the respective qualities of each. Walking the thin line between the analogous and the specific, the composer demonstrates perfect mastery of transformation of the latent energy of the piece in its circulation between the two "actors".

Worth noting is a white square containing an episode entitled Other, played by the piano. Its position may not be changed, and it shows no links to the surrounding thematic material. The composer has defined it as an "oasis", and it can be considered as an isolate³, in the linguistic sense of the word.

The Angel of Death is organized around five "themes". Each of them can be described briefly in a few words:

The term "theme" can lead to confusion. In the present case, these are not simple melodic themes, with a purely linear character, but full-fledged compositions, possessing their own form. They can be divided into subsections each with its own characteristic content, notably in the S part. Each theme is a miniature composition that follows its own trajectory and comprises a beginning or an introduction, a middle or evolutionary phase, and an end, the role of which can be likened to that of the cadence. In other words, the principal functions that contribute to the creation of form remain stable on the local level. This kind of restrained time scale makes it easier for listeners to take their bearings. In contrast to this, however, Reynolds carefully avoids binary relationships, formal stereotypes (ABA', ABAB, etc.), and rejects traditional symmetry as being too ostentatious and incompatible with his idea of form.

Let us take as an example the short Theme 3, in the solo piano part in S, without forgetting that the bar lines are only there as visual markers. First we will count the duration of each subsection in eighth notes in order to make reading easier, and we will carry over the equivalence of the total duration in quarter notes, in order to be able to keep to the metronome marking given by the composer (MM = 60).

Tremulous Uncertai nty comprises an introductory phrase of three bars starting from bar 93, until the first fermata, i.e. 18 eighth notes = 9 quarter notes.

Then follows a very characteristic core element made up of 11 eighth notes = 5.5 quarter notes, separated by a breath mark.

A continuation or middle phase lasting 7 eighth notes = 3.5 quarter notes, with the indication articulate, constitutes the third subsection.

This leads to a final subsection lasting 11 eighth notes = 5.5 quarter notes, whose function is that of a cadence.

Here we find the number series 9, 5.5, 3.5, 5.5 in which 9 is the sum of 3.5 and 5.5. The total duration of Theme 3 is 23.5 seconds. The composer makes free use of the series 1.5, 2, 3.5, 5.5, 9, 14.5, 23.5, 38, 61.5, 99.5, 161, etc. in order to determine the temporal proportions of each section and subsection in the work. This principle is rigorously applied in the S part, but in a much freer and more supple manner in D.

The overall form of the composition is based on three components: the already mentioned thematic elements, as well as transitions and combinations. The transitions serve to go from one state (i.e. from an identified theme) to another state via a continuous and organic process. Transitions presuppose long-term directionality and constitute phases of movement that contrast with the thematic opening statements. As for combinations, they serve to bring about interaction between two or more thematic elements, exploring their relationships and broadening their potential, thus partly fulfilling functions that formerly fell to the traditional process of development. Scrutiny of the larger form reveals the same organizational principles to be found in the small-scale forms made up by the "themes". The proportions given by the composer can be placed end to end by artificially bringing together the principal elements of form, clearly marked out in the S part, and going from the piano to the ensemble. In the very simplified Table 3, certain elements have been deliberately omitted, in order to make reading easier. The Epilog that follows Theme 5 is not shown.

On this time scale, we find numbers belonging to the series 23.5 to 161. It would be a mistake to consider the ongoing concern with numbers as some sort of numerical obsession: the total duration of those sections that are clearly identified as themes, transitions or combinations vary in length from 23.5 seconds, in the case of the shorter ones, such as Themes 3 and 4, and in the case of the longer sections, have a maximum duration of 161 seconds, slightly more than 2 1/2 minutes — as in the case of Other. Although this does not prejudice in any way the identification or memorization of the subsections, the composer's intention is to avoid any risk of boring the listener: events, whether recognized or not, appear within an acceptable timeframe, before reaching the critical threshold at which the listener's concentration might weaken, and generate a sense of boredom.

A second series of numbers was obtained by multiplying the eight numbers of the initial series by two, starting with 0.5. This gives: 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 18, 29, 47. However, other integers are also used, such as 2, already present in the first series. In this set, the composer selects a number that will decide how many items there will be, independently of their type: 2 transitions, 2 combinations, 11 glissandi in Other, or 11 repetitive chords in Theme 2, with as many as 18 notes from the primary series. The apparently arbitrary nature of such a choice might appear surprising. It must be remembered that composers today, no longer having at their disposal a common language, are obliged to seek out conceptual cohesion in other ways. At the same time, the tools that are chosen must remain flexible: rigor does not mean rigidity. A composer may conceive a system and still be within his or her rights if a choice is made to relax somewhat the rules of that system.

The tempi of the five themes are markedly different from each other, and the numerical relationships between them are simple. This makes it possible to apply a subtle and supple interpretation of the relationship between rhythmic notation and tempo. New sets of usable duration values are generated by equivalent note lengths, as well as by the choice of the basic duration and the way in which it is modified. However, within any single subsection, the basic time unit does not change.

he notions of acceleration and deceleration, like those of expansion and contraction, which Reynolds explicitly claims as his own are the governing force behind the writing of the composition. [Cf. Formal conception: Its elements]. They are the composer's personal answer to the burning question of musical time, a question that has never ceased to haunt composers from Beethoven⁴ to Stockhausen.⁵

An architectural conception of form, applied not only to the themes (considered as being "smaller" forms) but also to the medium- and large-scale made it possible for Reynolds to establish an overall map of his musical project. Such a cartography should not be thought of as something that "freezes" the compositional processes with which the composer is concerned; on the contrary, it is a tool for organizing them. The constraint of having two different types of media — the piano and the instrumental ensemble — play the same musical material makes it necessary to conceive their relationship in the most general terms⁶ possible, but that nevertheless allow for spatial sound projection. The carefully marked out representation of the sections and the subsection textures in space is a suitable solution to the problem. In addition Reynolds has enough draftsmanship to give a precise idea of the requirements. By thinking in terms of texture, and by showing his approach in graphic form, the composer does not remain prisoner to the piano, this being the instrument on which the five themes were initially sketched. Reynolds fixes the very "essence" of the material by means of the map with the intention of making the project viable and coherent. In spite of certain passing orchestration problems — and they can be formidable — the substrate is sufficiently strong to survive going from the piano to the instrumental ensemble.

However there is another trap awaiting the composer: the need for the material to be transformable could make the piano part into something devoid of interest both for the soloist and the listener. From a pianistic point of view, The Angel of Death is a success: how did the composer manage to get around the problem? Whereas the documentation provided by the composer contains abundant references to all other aspects of the work, it is intriguingly discreet on the question of Reynolds relationship with the piano, and prompts us to investigate. There is a second clue to be found in the chronology of the stages of the composition of the work. As he often does in his composition, and in the present case also to facilitate the experimentation on the thematic materials by the psychologists, Roger Reynolds fixed the thematic materials before beginning composition of the entire piece. As we have noted previously, this basic material was conceived in pianistic terms.

Any experienced pianist who runs an eye over the score of The Angel of Death will immediately notice familiar pianistic gestures. The complex relationship between these gestures and textures is a crucial point: although the writing principles and the formal organization of the work are original to and were created by Reynolds, the large pianistic gestures, in spite of the fact that they are extremely difficult to play are nevertheless clearly present. It might be objected that this is not an important consideration, that we are dealing with surface characteristics, lacking deep meaning. However the gestures in question show themselves capable of withstanding the originality of the writing while at the same time being strictly controlled by the composer: the material is accessible to the transformations needed to make it playable by the instrumental ensemble, while still setting the solo instrument off to magnificent effect.

Two situations may arise:

• the gesture completely dominates a theme or a section
• several gestures cohabit or confront each other in a section

In both cases, the gesture may either be a prefiguration or on the contrary, returning material, along with associated elements, in the transitional passages.

Theme 3 is completely dominated by the tremolo which occupies three of the four subsections, the temporal proportions of which are given in the table below, in seconds.

On the piano, the tremolo reproduces the dramatic effect of the orchestral strings or evokes the roll of the percussion. This was an effect much used by Liszt. Example 6 is an even earlier example, taken from the Sonata opus 26 by Beethoven.

The great pianist Marguerite Long,⁷ to whom Ravel entrusted the first performance⁸ of his Concerto in G, taught that a good tremolo should always be measured⁹, no matter how fast it was. In Theme 3, the tremolo is played between two notes in each hand, in contrary motion. It is strictly measured. It comes in progressively during the first transition which leads to Theme 3, in 16th notes, bar 81 S. Then, in an intermittent way, it gradually seeps through in 32nd notes, in bars 82 to 90 S. It totally takes over the texture in bar 91 S, just before the entry of Theme 3. As soon as this theme is presented, the slurred notes that indicate the grouping of the initial 32nd notes, drowned out in ghostly fashion by the pedal, make it so that these groupings are not aligned: 2 + 5 + 12 + 4 + 5 + 6 in the right hand, over an arpeggio 4 + 5 + 5 +5 + 6 + 5, and a 16th note rest in the left hand. Several synchronous 32nd notes groups (4 + 2 + 4) do appear at the end of bar 94 and the beginning of bar 95, emphsized by the pedal changes.

The constituent dyads are synchronous in the characteristic core element of the theme (bars 96-97), and are performed legato along two converging lines. However the composer carefully avoids any symmetry in the way the pitch is organized. The intervals played by each of the hands are different, and the mounting double line in the left hand does not coincide with the descending double line in the right hand. Even though this is the same pianistic gesture, the absence of symmetry characteristic of the detailed organization demands considerable independence of the hands, and perfect control from the pianist.

The continuation phase remains synchronous, however the articulation mode (articulate) has greater clarity, is dry (without pedal) and is faster: instead of four 32nd notes per half second, there are six 32nd notes grouped in sextuplets when the speed is at its greatest. The slowdown begins even before the end of the subsection (quintuplets).

The last subsection sees the end of the tremolo, with a marked slowing down, stressing its cadential role and its suspending character.

The use of strictly measured tremolos in tempi with controlled relationships constituted a sine qua non for the success of the following operation: entrusting Theme 3 to the instrumental ensemble. As he was sketching the piano part, the composer took care that the material he chose should be playable by the other instruments. The need to produce a version of each of the themes for the instrumental ensemble turned out to be providential: the experimental needs and those of the production of the computer layer based on the thematic material recordings led the composer to write that version very early on. It can be easily ascertained that the instrumental ensemble parts respect the continuity of the musical gesture, and take into account all the modifications that affect each of the three initial subsections.

In the first subsection, the material is mainly given to the most agile of the instruments: the legato strings, the clarinet and the bass clarinet, and finally the flute. There are also the slurred notes that constitute the irregular groupings and create the de-phasing effects desired by the composer. The brass instruments delicately color the notes that make up the dyads.

The core element is entrusted to the percussion: the vibraphone and the marimba share the synchronous dyads.

The chromatic descending line played by the upper notes of the piano right hand are played by flute 2, and those of the lower line by flute 1. In the same way, the mounting chromatic line played by the lowest notes of the left hand dyads are taken over by the bass clarinet, while the high notes are taken over by the clarinet.

Thus the woodwinds underline the contrary motion of the two double chromatic lines that converge at the end of the core element, while at the same time revealing the very complex organization of the duration values, designed to avoid as far as possible any simultaneity of notes groupings. In Table 6, the chosen unit is the smallest common value, the 32nd note. The values shown between parentheses represent the duration of the silence before the entry of the instrument concerned. The total duration amounts to 44 32nd notes, in other words eleven 8th notes being equal to the 5.5 seconds assigned to that subsection. Two of the 32nd notes are not played by flute 1 (total: 42) because of the G flat 16th note of the last group of the preceding subsection.

The strings provide an accompaniment made up of two double lines of glissandi, the starting and ending notes of which are chosen from among the dyad pitches. At the end, the woodwinds and the strings bring out the synchronous dyads of the percussion in a polyphonic and polyrhythmic emergence that clarifies the melodic leaps and the duration values, as if the composer wanted the virtual nature of the dyads to change and become material. This core element is performed by the instrumental ensemble in exactly the same way as in the D part, bars 96-97.

It was only natural to be curious as to how the material of the third subsection would be played by the ensemble. Amid total silence from the woodwinds and the brass, indispensable for a proper hearing, this subsection is given successively to violin 2 and to the cello using an articulate playing mode analogous to the equivalent piano part, then to the vibraphone and the marimba, and finally to violin 1 and the cello, all in the articulate mode. Simultaneously, the glissandi of the preceding subsection gently die away and the sul ponticello trills appear, in preparation for the cadential subsection.

The version for instrumental ensemble of Theme 3 illustrates the effectiveness of a type of thought that we could call "textural" neologism, allowing the material to make the transition from the piano to the instrumental ensemble, at an early stage of the compositional process: each modification of the same fundamental pianistic gesture coincides with a subsection.

The glissando is a spectacular gesture, difficult to perform, that can be played on the black keys or the white keys of the piano. The pianist and teacher Karl Czerny, who contributed so much to the systematic study of pianistic problems and their solutions, advocated a degree of control that allows the pianist to land on the final note with precision.

Liszt, Czerny's pupil, used this technique very often, as in Etude V of the Grand Paganini Studies (second version,¹⁰ 1851).

When the glissando is played pianissimo, particular care must be taken with the performance of the final notes. In the part entitled Other, Reynolds uses a mounting or descending glissando in both hands, but in a very different way from the spectacular glissando that we associate with the Romantic style. Here, the gesture entirely loses its ostentatious character, even though by its very nature it is characteristically colorful. It does not disturb the general calm. In Other, the music is frozen into a kind of immobile state, making one rapidly lose one's bearings in time. Other forms a monolithic whole, in which events appear in a totally unpredictable fashion and in an unreal atmosphere, like bubbles rising irregularly to the surface of an otherwise calm and smooth pond.

To the moving texture of the seven ostinati that make up Other, the composer added seven long glissandi whose precise occurrence cannot be predicted. [cf. The "Other” Element Considered]. The pianist — both constrained and free — may perform these glissandi on the white keys or in "mixed fashion", on both the black and white keys. The glissando on the black keys only is not allowed: it would generate a pentatonic sound totally out of context here. When the work was premiered in France, the pianist Jean-Marie Cottet chose to play the first glissando, bar 117, on the white keys. He also strove to vary the speed of performance, within the limits allowed by the score: the mixed glissando in bar 119 is slow, and the pianist has all the time needed to sweep the keyboard and arrive in the high register

By contrast, the glissando in bars 125-126 is fast. The pianist must reach the lower register very rapidly and then immediately come back to the medium and high registers in order to play the group of eighth notes that follows the half-beat rest.

What is interesting in Other are not the glissandi in themselves, but the role that is attributed to them: although they are irregular, the added glissandi, in a paradoxical way, end up by being integrated into the background, over which mildly changing figures are thrown into relief. This is the sense in which we should understand the instruction "not a glissando" that has cautiously been placed in the introductory paragraph to Other in the soloist's score (page 7 S). The pianist must choose afresh which figures to bring out, avoiding any repetition. The following table shows the decisions that were taken by Jean-Marie Cottet when the work was premiered at IRCAM. Naturally, other choices would have been possible.

The Other section, with figures over a background, in a stretched-out time context without fixed points, contains tinkling and crystalline little groups of ornamental notes in the high register, while in the lower register velvety bass notes resonate at length, the pedal being held so as to let all the harmonics sound freely.

It is very fortunate that Roger Reynolds decided to slow down the tempo of Other and fix it at MM = 92. [Cf. Influence of tempo]. The contemplative nature of this section is reinforced as a result, and the resonant potential of the piano is brought out remarkably. Had this section been played in a too fast tempo, the performance would have been difficult and dangerous for the pianist, and incompatible with the desired serenity.

The rapid repetition of a single note is a procedure that composers very quickly learned to exploit. Here is a remarkable example in the D minor harpsichord Sonata, Kirkpatrick 141, by Domenico Scarlatti.¹¹

The invention of the double action mechanism in the piano keyboard by Erard in 1822 opened the way to all kinds of pianistic exploits. Liszt used this procedure very fully in the third of the Grand Paganini Etudes, known as La Campanella.

In the course of the 20th century, this became an extremely common practice, the piano being played more and more in percussive fashion. An orchestral equivalent may be found in the bursts of repeated notes played by the brass (trumpets and trombones) that decorate so many contemporary works. Reynolds makes very able use of the dry repeated staccato notes in the seven subsections, bars 300-335, that make up a large part of the extended region of stratified ostinati entitled RepStrat (please consult table above). The texture undergoes a sudden change in the eighth subsection with the arrival of the chords that proceed the entry of Theme 5, Interior Line. A slight acceleration marks the end of each of the first three subsections, but the tempo always comes back to its initial MM eighth note = 90.

There is no doubt that the precise performance of the repeated notes requires a great deal of nervous energy and a very supple wrist. However, the main difficulty lies in mastering the superimposed layers: the speed of repetition, the groupings, the accent patterns all vary. It is clear that the composer wishes to avoid facile symmetries and simultaneous notes. This section is entirely controlled by numbers extracted from the now familiar second series (3, 4, 7, 11, 18) which can be found in Table 8¹², between brackets. From a conceptual point of view, the coherence is complete. On the perceptual level, this is the means by which the composer introduces the required dose of irregularity into the groups, into the way the silences are distributed, and into the accents.

Each layer is formed of 16th notes grouped in quadruplets, quintuplets and sextuplets, giving the sensation of different speeds. The silences and the held notes of equivalent duration are distributed according to the same principles. From a technical point of view, RepStrat is a difficult passage requiring great concentration, especially when the hand crossings are used to maintain continuity of discourse even when the register changes (bars 326-327).

RepStrat is identified exclusively through its repeated notes, subject to a complex organization that allows the soloist no respite. The sketch of this gesture may be found elsewhere in the score, in a totally denuded form, as in bars 74-75 D: the main note is ornamented by its own accelerated and then decelerated repetition

Other situations are more ambiguous. The repeated notes appear on the piano right from the start of Theme 1. This theme is divided into 9 subsections controlled by the series 3.5, 5.5, 9, 14.5.

Played fff in the high register during the three first subsections, the repeated notes are ornamented by short appoggiaturas, embroidered and irregularly accentuated, with a strident sound in a very high register, far above the bass notes, separated from them by a great empty space.

The last subsection uses repeated notes in a more explicit way. Essentially, this symmetric gestural variation is shown very clearly in the extract found in the School of Virtuosos (Third Notebook) by Czerny (Ex. 25).

The end of Theme 1 uses the same principle, but the passage in question is much more difficult to play: in each hand, the repeated notes constitute a horizontal axis above and below which there are irregularly distributed violent sforzandi placed at non-symmetric intervals. Reynolds avoids any simultaneity of events in spite of the gestural analogy of the contrary motion. Note should be taken of the small repeated notes in bar 35, which gives out the motive containing an augmented fourth from the start of Theme 1.

A picture of a clever network of intrathematic relationships¹³ and more distant links¹⁴ now emerges, with remote interwoven gesture and texture links serving as identifiers wherever they occupy an entire section or a clearly marked-out subsection. In all other cases, the unfocused impression of gestural relatedness does reinforce the work's unity, even though the constituent elements cannot be clearly recognized if they are too far away from each other in time, or when they have been too fundamentally modified. Although repeated notes are present in subsections 1, 2, 3, and 9 of Theme 1, the gesture is at its most powerfully expansive at a very great remove in time from its first appearance, in the RepStrat section, where it takes up all the space, leaving room only for the Piano Interlude that precedes Theme 5. As will be seen, Theme 1, which is an illustration of how several gestures coexist, holds a surprise of a different kind.

The fourth subsection of Theme 1 unfolds in successive waves in a long rapid run. The continuity of the gesture, the sinuous curves drawn by the right hand, fleetingly remind us of the more vertiginous moments of great Romantic piano music. The illusion — for it is indeed an illusion — is reinforced by the nature of the left hand: a long held note on what might be heard as a perfect E flat-B flat-G flat minor chord with the added major seventh D, flung onto the upper octave. The sounds played by the left hand are maintained by means of controlled pedaling in a way that allows the right hand to remain flowing and limpid. The chord is held until bar 13, where the legato of the right hand is at last broken up.

And yet, Reynolds in no way compromised his writing principles, in terms of the choices of pitches and durations. The 11 quintuplets in the right hand do indeed correspond to the number 5.5 assigned to that subsection (MM quarter notes at 120). But the composer gives free rein to two essential qualities of the piano: resonance (harmonies in the left hand) and velocity (the fast run in the right hand). It is obvious that such an experienced composer would be conscious of the connotations that this type of pianistic gesture would hold for the listener, and perhaps even for the reader looking at the score. This type of texture is very common in Chopin, as can be seen from the immense curve of the prodigious run played by the right hand in the 16th Prelude op. 28.

This rolling wave can take on a much more directional quality. That is what happens in the case of the falling run that closes the last movement of the Sonata in B minor op. 58.

The gestural analogy is all the more surprising in that the writing principles of Reynolds are completely different from those of Chopin: what presides over the making of the fourth subsection is the idea of a sudden continuity. The gesture imposes itself here in the most natural way, and its translation into the instrumental ensemble is carried off without a hitch. The composer's approach can more easily be understood by looking at the ensemble version of Theme 1. Aside from the core element, this version was not used in the final score, but it nevertheless serves to show the process of transferring the pianistic gesture to the instrumental ensemble.

It is the clarinet that takes over the gallop that was played by the piano's right hand, sharing it with the piccolos. The resonance from the left hand chord is amplified by the percussion (tam-tam and gong), the second gong only coming in when upper D is played near the end. The chord is spread out between the strings and the brass as shown in Table 10.

The event rate of the run in the right hand remains constant during the transition between the 4th and 5th subsections, a characteristic core element of the theme, stated in the solo piano. All the 16th notes of the quintuplets that went before were equivalent to 0.1 seconds at the initial tempo (MM 8th note at 120). They maintain that same time duration in the groups containing four 16th notes at the new tempo (MM quarter note equals 150). Nevertheless, the acceleration is perceptible, thanks to the first two chords in the left hand played on the first and second beats. The right hand must play the upper note of the chords simultaneous to the 16th notes of the following chords. The way the roles are distributed between the two hands, and the increasing interaction between the two lines foreshadows the overlapping of registers¹⁵ in the sixth subsection, where the music returns to the initial tempo.

The core element bears a strange similarity to the gesture, contour, and texture of this brief extract from Chopin's Concerto no. 1 op. 11: music from another time, but the gesture remains.

To whom were the 16th notes of the core theme to be entrusted? In the version for ensemble only, the two trumpets take turns, and then the clarinet and flute 1 take over from them. When the core is played in its definitive orchestrated form in D, it is the clarinet that first takes the 16th notes and begins the run. After this modification, the composer returns to the same orchestration in the original thematic version. The chord is played sharply by the strings pizz and arco, reinforced by the percussion. When the clarinet and then the flute take over, they free up the two trumpets which thus become available for a forte rendition of the chord in bar 9, along with the trombone and the horn. The brass provide a decrescendo ending of the sound during the long fermata that allows the piano to give out a contemplative descending arpeggio: without the decrescendo, this fine, suspended moment would go unnoticed.

After successfully managing the transfer of the material from the piano to the ensemble without spoiling the pianistic gesture, the composer must have taken considerable care over the sound balance of the new passages. Having to orchestrate each theme very early on, normally a somewhat uncomfortable situation, appears to have had beneficial consequences: apart from providing a precious insight into an intermediary compositional stage, it demonstrates the sure hand with which the orchestrator operated, after meticulously planning the project and allowing it to mature.

Theme 2, Contradictory Assertion, [Cf. composition part] is par excellence the place where modes of play confront each other. It is presented in its orchestrated form in the S part in which it is divided into 7 subsections (a total of 38 seconds) in bars 36-65.

Reading through Theme 2, in its original pianistic version, reveals its profound nature. Here, two gestures violently play out a veritable psychodrama: aggressive chords, irregularly played, provoke a sharp reaction expressed by rapid 16th note runs.

Technically, the first gesture rests on the extremely rapid lateral movement between distant registers. In spite of the silences that cut into the discourse, performing the chords with precise attacks at the acquired tempo (MM quarter note at 150) is highly problematical. Taking into account the span of the movements, and the irreducible time needed to perform them, the composer worked out a subtle distribution of the notes between the two hands, subtly measuring out the intensity of the attacks.

In addition to some deep thinking concerning the limits of piano technique, Reynolds also had to solve the problem of the transfer of Theme 2 to the instrumental ensemble in the S part. How to obtain perfect attack synchronization when chords are played by several instruments? Slowing down the tempo would have robbed Theme 4 of its ill-tempered character. A satisfactory solution was found through the use of precise writing, clarifying time subdivisions in such a way that each of the musicians would be able to know exactly where they stood from one instant to another. The most explicit illustration of this strategy is provided by the blocks in the first subsection where woodwinds and strings come together with three percussion instruments (vibraphone, xylophone, marimba). In the second subsection, the angry interventions in 16th notes from the xylophone, the marimba and the articulate violin are added. The brass massively reinforce the woodwinds during the broken interventions by the strings.

The thinning out of the material in the third subsection prepares the entry of the core, to which we will subsequently return. The way the theme unfolds illustrates a freer circulation of the 16th notes between the various parts: in subsection 6, the run are simultaneously played by the clarinet and the bass clarinet, and then move to the strings, finishing up on the xylophone and the marimba. When the theme is over, brass, woodwinds and strings have all carried out a precise and coordinated performance of the chords. What at first sight appeared impossible finally turned out to be possible, thanks no doubt to Reynolds' considerable experience in the domain of orchestration.

The Theme 2 region contains a marked extension of pianistic elements in the D part, in which superimposed layers in the final two subsections of Theme 1 played by the ensemble overlap with Theme 3. The six subsections together make up a total of 151.5 s: when compared the 38 s total for the S part, this gives an idea of the extent of the time stretching.

In the D part, the two energetic runs made up of 16th notes in a context of violent chords is characteristic of the core theme, and the kind of writing for the piano that does indeed, convey the "spirit of contradiction" desired by the composer. The increases in the duration values between the runs pairs generate the sensation of a sudden slowing down disrupted by the aggressive character of the chords. The apparent parallel motion of the two hands only affects the directionality, which here is very marked: looked at in detail, the chromaticism in one hand is held back by the sinewy contours in the other hand. The succession of the three "run-chord-run" gestures, at such a rapid tempo, is rather demanding.¹⁶

There are two attributes that must be preserved when this episode is transferred to the ensemble: speed and aggressiveness. The voluble descending 16th-note runs are given to the xylophone and the marimba in the S part. The violins and violas take charge of the 16th notes that close the core element. In the middle, the brass punctuate with the violent sforzandi.

The subsections that follow the core element in the D part are employed in a large number of playing modes recognizable as gestures adopted from the solo pianist: arpeggio and trill figures that are present in bars 24-25, and return forcefully in subsection 4 (D), in which four heterogeneous gestures follow each other in lively fashion: arpeggio figure, trill, chord, repeated notes. Is this a mere catalogue of superficial effects? Not at all. The purpose is to create a composite texture in which gestures of an opposing nature confront one another, all the while being secretly linked by the underlying material (pitch series and time proportions).

Subsection 5 (D) has two opposing gestures: bursts of 32nd-note groups in fives or tens, interrupted by silences and trills, until the appearance of repeated grace notes in bar 74, already shown above. Finally, the trill is no longer an artificial way of prolonging sound. It has become part of a repertoire of pianistic gestures recognized as belonging to a heterogeneous texture in which opposing forces confront each other with vibrant directness.

By bravura in a pianist is meant that form of fearlessness mixed with technical mastery that allows him or her to play the most difficult passages. It is not simply a matter of supple fingers. Special mental qualities are required — a cool head, the ability to make quick decisions — without which the gesture, although technically possible for any highly-trained pianist, would remain nevertheless inaccessible for psychological reasons. Theme 4, with the evocative title of Jagged Rips [Cf. "Core” Elements Examined] undeniably requires this type of virtuosity: the tempo (MM quarter note = 180), the indication attacca and the merest glance at the fine line drawing of its texture map made by the composer leave no doubt.

The version for solo piano is a perfect illustration of the emergence of the concept of bravura, so dear to the Romantic virtuosos, when it is capably implemented by a modern composer. Faced with Theme 4, the pianist may develop several strategic approaches according to his or her own personal experience:

• If their preferred repertoire is drawn mainly from the great works of tonal/metrical music, the pianist will strive to apply the grand pianistic gestures that they know well: rapid lateral movements, multi-register fly-overs, marked directionality of runs, parallel and contrary motion between the hands, and simultaneous or nonsimultaneous accents. All of these elements or criteria, overwhelmingly present in the piano repertoire of the 19th Century, remain relevant to Theme 4, but they cannot cover all aspects of its the problems.
• If pianists are familiar with the great integrated serialism compositions — in addition to works by first-generation serial composers — as well as contemporary works that stand apart from serialism, and which have contributed to the evolution of pianistic technique, then they will have other tools at their disposal. Extensive familiarity with the contemporary repertoire develops a capacity for statistic evaluation in the performer. They will assess runs in terms of event rate (the number of notes in relationship to a reference time duration), of density (the number of events and their layout in the texture) and of interval structure (the latter organizational criterion replaces the neighboring-note-run and arpeggio structures that are so essentially part of the tonal context).

The Angel of Death requires both approaches, neither by itself being sufficient to overcome the obstacles. Let us briefly look at Theme 4. It is segmented into seven subsections, in the proportions listed in Table 13.

The version for solo piano, in its initial form, makes it easy to pick out the two fermatas that surround the fourth subsection, which can be seen as a final drawing of breath, or hesitation before the vertiginous fifth subsection.

Only subsection 3, which is ascending, can be said to be resolutely unidirectional. In all other cases, opposite-direction events contradict the main orientation. The first subsection, which descends, is nevertheless augmented by four groups of grace notes in the other direction, the second is curved up-and-down, the sixth is ascending. The fourth, very short, moves downwards, but its ornamental notes are all upward-moving. The final subsection moves upwards in two stages, with a closing rush that is contradicted by a brief contrary motion in the left hand. All of these clearly drawn profiles are brought together in the very dense subsection 5, a core element that is characteristic of Theme 4 and amounts to a veritable summing up of all its components. With its parallel and contrary motions, its variations in intensity, its superimposition of different speeds, it constitutes a formidable accumulation of technical difficulties. In the D part, it is entirely realized by the piano.

The tempo chosen by the composer, MM quarter note = 180, results in an approximate duration of 0.33" per time unit. The composer chose three figures that engender three speeds: 8th note triplets, regular 16th notes grouped in fours, and 16th notes in quintuplets. The transition from the triplets to the 16th notes as well as the reverse, brings about sudden accelerations or decelerations, which, linked to the current direction, enhance the character of subsections 2 and 4. Whereas the event rate of the 16th notes in the first subsection is constant, that of the ornamental note groups is variable.

The perturbing role of the ornamental groups, sometimes performed more quickly (subsection 4) sometimes less quickly (subsection 6), the voluntary independence between the groupings, indicated by articulation signs, the subtle irregularities of the melodic contours from one hand to the other, all add up to the same inescapable fact, applicable to the entire work: the grand pianistic gestures, easily identifiable, are constantly assailed or contradicted by infinitesmal disruptions. The very principles adopted by Reynolds for The Angel of Death make it impossible that these gestures become mere finger routines, and any virtuoso approaching the work will be aware of that.

The equivalency tables, set up by the composer,¹⁷ show that the shortest duration common to the five themes is 0.0833". In the case of Theme 4, a more exact calculation shows that the time values are even shorter: with the quarter note equaling 0.33", the regular 16th note lasts 0.0825" and a quintuplet 16th note lasts 0.066". These theoretical duration values are considerably less than the shortest common duration determined by the composer based on tempo relationships. This gives an extremely high absolute event rate.¹⁸ However, the human ear cannot easily distinguish between such short duration values, and so Reynolds' working hypothesis [with its slightly longer common duration] is perfectly feasible. The performer is not a machine, but a living breathing human being, and the event rate will fluctuate naturally.

Finally, if the core of Theme 4 is an extremely perilous exercise for the pianist, the tempo is not the only culprit. The internal asymmetry, which we have mentioned several times, constitutes a more serious difficulty. In addition, another limit confronted the composer, that of the possibilities when transferring a pianistic gesture of this sort to the instrumental ensemble in the S part. The solutions that were chosen by Reynolds are ingenious. They prove yet again the effectiveness of that lateral mode of representation, the texture diagram, for the purposes of the transition from piano to ensemble. The lines that slope the most are emphasized from the first subsection onward by the string glissandi, playing sul ponticello from subsection 2, only returning to sul tasto play at the sixth subsection. The initial subsections are punctuated by the percussion (triangle, low gong, tam-tam, crotales, Tibetan cymbal).

The most crucial problem nevertheless is that of articulating notes precisely in voluble runs. Reynolds again uses the technique of relaying ¹⁹ the more agile instruments, in such a way that the entire register of the piano is covered, taking into account instrument range limits: piccolo, flute, clarinet, bass clarinet (subsection 1) followed by violins and violas (subsections 2 and 3), with subsection 4 (with its "suspend” function) bringing back the flute. The brass instruments are obviously limited to a few held notes or note fragments at the end of runs. The use of the word "relay” here is relative, and should be taken to mean short overlappings, the end of a passage coinciding with the beginning of the following passage, making the "passing of the baton” safer and surer.

In the core element, event density requires a more complex setup: the rapid fly-overs are given to the woodwinds, to which are added three determinate-pitch percussion instruments, favored protagonists when it comes to rapid movement (vibraphone, xylophone, marimba). The strings have a double function: in an episodic way they maintain their role of slope enhancement, using glissandi, and they take part in the relays (during "standard” play). This has the effect of multiplying the lines, at the same time strengthening parallel, converging and diverging motion.

The final subsections close with a general slowing down: this section finishes with a large-scale suspension: a 9-second silence.

The successful transfer of the Theme 4 material from the piano to the ensemble is not only the fruit of long experience in orchestration. It is also the result of human experience on the part of a composer who understands that what a single performer can do is not to be compared with what an instrumental ensemble can do. The coordination that can be achieved by a single brain, that of the soloist controlling his own actions, has nothing in common with that of a 16-musician ensemble being guided by a conductor, however excellent. Conversely, the range of timbres that can be played by the ensemble is richer and more diversified than that which the solo piano can provide.²⁰ This is a problem analogous to the one already dealt with in Theme 2, Contradictory Assertion.

The Angel of Death is not a work that can be viewed in simple terms of as musical problem. The piece contains many other riches that would be impossible to cover in this short presentation. We will deal with the more secret and poetic aspects, in which the pianistic gesture has an ambiguous relationship with the writing. The Piano Interlude that follows RepStrat and leads to Theme 5, as well as Theme 5 itself, the Epilog and, to a certain extent, Other, can all be said to have a more intimate relationship with the piano.

Theme 5 has a curious destiny. In its initial conception, it possessed an affirmative character, with the suggestive title Flamboyant Line, but subsequently sunk into a more reserved, more introspective mode as Reynolds actually composed it. We could speculate as to the deeper reasons behind this change: the relationship with the computer part and its metaphysical meaning, the search for a balance between the five themes on the scale of the entire work, or simple large-scale energy management. The sharp, peremptory character of Themes 2 and 4 needed balancing out, and the calm atmosphere that rules over the end of the piece made this a necessary perspective change.

Theme 5 has seven subsections. Its character is essentially a linear one. This linearity is maintained from start to finish, in spite of texture changes. The transitions between subsections flow easily.

In its initial pianistic form, the linearity is rather more flagrant, in spite of the events that enrich the texture. Also noteworthy is the almost total absence of the pedal: it is only indicated in bars 4-6 in Interior Line.

When the characteristic core element is played by the soloist in the D part, the pedal, constantly present, is very precisely indicated, in order to exercise rigorous control over the resonance of each of the 11 chords, but without any cuts, in such a way that continuity is maintained. The pedal constitutes a very typical pianistic gesture, giving expression to the instrument's rich harmonic palette. It is omnipresent in Other, and contributes powerfully to the identity of Interior Line.

The writing in this passage can be compared to the Piano Interlude at the end of RepStrat, which, in the S part, precedes the entry of Theme 5. There are the same wide chords on the keyboard, controlled by the pedal, the same pianistic gesture, and the same texture.

The superb, contemplative Epilog brings back, for the last time, the same pianistic writing. There is an obvious family resemblance between the material in Theme 5, the Piano Interlude and the Epilog, whether on the level of gesture, of texture or of the resulting sound. The resemblance is so clear that it requires no analytic discussion.

The harmonic texture that links these three extracts appears to contradict the idea that Theme 5 is linear in nature. However, this would be a false impression. Looking at the theme as a whole, it will be noticed that it begins ostensibly with a bare melodic line whose first notes we instantly recognize: C sharp-G-F sharp-A-B flat-D-B natural. [Cf. Pitch Resource: (Disjunct and Conjunct) for The Angel of Death]. At the other end of the theme, the line returns, clearly identifiable. Between the two points, it never actually disappears, in spite of being assailed by various disrupting agencies. A comparison with distant subsections reveals certain analogies. For example, subsections 1 and 7 undergo the same type of acceleration and deceleration caused by sudden shortening or prolonging of the duration values, even though the tempo remains constant (MM quarter note at 90). We have seen that the composer has a marked preference for this type of speed variation. The lengthy subsection 4 displays a highly legible linear texture, identical to that of the short subsection 6. By contrast, the line vacillates in subsection 2, hesitating between 3 notes flung out in bunches from the obstinately repeated B flat one or two octaves away in the keyboard's medium register. The linear phrase comes back clearly in the third subsection, undaunted by the rapid figures that come pushing in during longer duration values.

The sensation of familiarity that links these subsections is the result of the use of common material, taken from the initial 18-pitch series and its derived forms that can be deployed horizontally, vertically or slantingly. It can also be thickened out into chords as in subsection 5, without the linear motion being in any way interrupted.²¹ The composer has provided some explanation concerning the particularly difficult and delicate orchestration of the core of Theme 5. The solutions arrived at by Reynolds show that orchestration is not merely a matter of placing instruments on lines, but of reading (imagining, hearing) between the lines. The succession of small upbeat notes creates a sequence broken up by incessant changes in register, each note played being immediately included in one of the 11 subsequent chords. The broken line D-E-B flat-E-C-F-(A flat)-E flat²²-A-G flat-B flat) emerges from the harmonic texture, enhanced by the mf attack and the very subtle pedal technique. It will be noticed that the A flat in bar 377, shown in brackets, in fact reduced to two pitches added to the two high-register held notes (B flat-E fl at) from the preceding chord. The line is distributed among several instruments according to the layout in Table 15, showing brief moments of fusion.

The variable density of the chords goes through seven distinct degrees in the piano solo part (378 D). In order to bring out the progressive thickening of the line, the composer meticulously distributed the woodwind and string passages in such a way as to accentuate the effect of resonance, by a clever dosage of the percussion instruments (high and low gongs, high, medium and low Tibetan cymbals, tam-tam and crotales). Comparative listening between bars 374-380 in the D and S parts reveals a perfect example of the way in which the texture was rethought.

The grace upbeat notes are only one example of the many ornaments that dot the score: in garlands and in bunches, some extremely fast, others delicately distinct. They are everywhere, and in surprising quantities. In essence, they are typically pianistic. In the 19th century, Frederic Chopin used them to such an extent that they became a determining factor in his style. His work explores the multiple relationships that can exist between the principal note and what, in his writing, becomes much more than simple ornament, as can be seen in the astonishing Prelude 8 op. 28.

This provides a view from another angle of something we have already mentioned: the relationship between figure and ground. Reynolds experiments with all the sound sculpting possibilities afforded by the keyboard. Strictly listed and mapped out, the various ornamental figures are like so many pianistic micro-gestures integrated into the large gestures controlled by the composer's "textural" thought.

Roger Reynolds has extensive experience in writing for the piano. Epigram and Evolution (1960), Fantasy for Pianist (1964), Less than Two, Traces (1988). Variation (1988) all add up to a mature body of work, of a virtuoso character, and thoroughly thought out. The listener familiar with The Angel of Death will recognize a number of elements of the composer's style. The approach that we have adopted to The Angel of Death — i.e. the pianistic gesture, has led us to make a number of indirect references to composers from the past. These references are justified by the long history of the piano and the importance of its role in Western art music. Reynolds however, is completely a composer of his time, steeped in scientific knowledge, as much at ease with information technology and sound processing as with the other artistic forms of expression of today. He is an American composer, heir to a very open artistic tradition open to many different types of experimentation, from Charles Ives to John Cage, and that has welcomed such audacious creators as Varèse. Reynolds is by no means ignorant of the achievements, nor the struggles of the European avant-garde composers, but he is in no way restricted by the rigid aspects that go with that heritage.

Certainly, The Angel of Death could have been approached in a very different way, by seeking out that which links Reynolds to contemporary European composers, such as Boulez, Ligeti, Boucourechliev, Xenakis — as well as that which separates them. Or we might have shown how Reynolds was inspired by the Second Viennese School, and how he transcended that heritage, now so far behind us: his work contains sufficient traces, both in the writing and the orchestration. The orchestration would also provide interesting material for making comparisons with a great French composer whose historical weight remains enormous: Olivier Messiaen. And if one takes into account Messiaen's contribution to modern piano technique,²⁴ yet other possible paths of exploration open up. Messiaen's characteristic pianistic gestures, his treatment of birdsong, and the way he wrote it for the orchestra could not have left Reynolds indifferent.

But rather than pointing out the various influences, we prefer to devote ourselves to the recognition of a strong musical personality, who boldly follows his own path — and self affirmation is the first quality of any creator. If the constraints that were accepted by Roger Reynolds, in the framework of scientific collaboration, influenced in minor ways the process of composition, we do not believe they altered The Angel of Death in any fundamental way. The technical problems of the transitions from the piano to the instrumental ensemble, the necessity to retranslate a certain formal functionality into the language of today, were part of a scientific context that could have had a negative effect on the artistic result. And as we stated before beginning the present summary exploration, such is not the case. Far from it: the challenge accepted by the composer stimulated him to dig all the more deeply within the given limits to find relevant answers to a complex problem. And when we listen to The Angel of Death, what stirs us is not solutions to problems, but a creation that speaks to our musical intelligence and touches our musical sensitivity. The composer's imagination was no more hindered by experimental constraints than a mighty river on its way to the sea. From the most brilliant virtuoso passages, all the way to the calm and enigmatic ending, the work keeps its artistic promises.

Several centuries of complicity between the human hand and the keyboard cannot simply be rubbed out: The Angel of Death proves the power of the grand pianistic gestures that survive by adapting themselves to composition techniques very different from those that existed in the far off times in which they were born. They have traveled through the layers of history, transcending aesthetic modes, to re-emerge here, and be colored anew by the composer's language. The composition reconciles poetic expression with a thorough reflection upon the piano's possibilities in terms of timbres, registers, sound sculpting, and speed.

The timelessness and sometimes the prevalence of the pianistic gesture is not the only attraction: there is also a conception of form that is both architectural and organic. This conception is what gave rise to the "textural" thinking by Reynolds, acting as an effective intermediary between the piano and the instrumental ensemble. The writing for the piano and the writing for the ensemble come together without there being any confusion between them, in a coherent project.

This face-to-face with the piano reveals one of the profoundest aspects of Roger Reynolds' musical personality. It is a confrontation that takes place on an intimate level, and the composer brings to it impeccable craftsmanship as well as complete mastery of the writing and of the technological tools. The strange beauty emanating from the work will undoubtedly fascinate pianists and public alike: the technical difficulties that it holds, the sheer dimensions of the underlying musical thought, as well as the solutions dreamt up by the composer, make The Angel of Death an important contribution to the larger piano repertoire.