What all four composers shared in New York at mid century was a fascination with the abstract and sensuous qualities of sound liberated from conventional notions of melody, rhythm, and harmony. All invented new notational systems to permit a broad range of interpretative freedom to performers. All flirted with creating compositions utilizing "chance" elements (random ink drops, coin tosses determining note values).
Cage, more than his three co-conspirators in the avant-garde, attached his music to a declared spoken and written agenda: that of Zen Buddhism. Zen Buddhists greatly value spontaneity, the irrational and "chancy" and non-ego-driven in everyday life. So Cage composed music highlighting these elements. Expect musical ideas to be developed in a logical fashion? Cage offers ideas punctuated by wide stretches of noise or silence. The two versions of his Variations III, performed by the duo of flutist Eberhard Blum and percussionist Jan Williams, are tough listening. You can hear sparse textures (shrill sharp flute, clamorous percussion) in stark juxtaposition. But there's no narrative line to follow, no sense of the music having "a point" or a touch of emotional expressivity or intellectual content -- characteristics Cage carefully eliminated. You're left with interesting sound textures unanchored to any predictable rhythmic foundation.
Oddly, the same surface characteristics can be found on the musical selections by Feldman, Brown, and Wolff. So what distinguishes them from Cage? The artful arrangement of a broad palette of musical colors. Although Morton Feldman is represented on this disc only by an essay read by critic Art Lange, "Give My Regards to Eighth Street," that 20-minute spoken-word piece offers enlightening keys to his music. The piece bulges with references to abstract painters of the 1950s: Guston, de Kooning, Robert Rauschenberg. Feldman's most successful compositions, The King of Denmark (included on The New York School 2), The Rothko Chapel (New Albion) and For Philip Guston (hatART), are musical translations of paintings by revolutionary New York abstractionists. Great coloristic washes of sound float in a seemingly atemporal world. They're musical mobiles, toys really -- great fun to listen to when approached as playthings, tedious if approached as academic exercises in style.
Earl Brown's Folio on The New York School 3 glows with flashy cymbal lines that sound like the musical equivalent of Jackson Pollock's oil-paint streaks. Christian Wolff's Edges pits low-pitched flute sounds against various percussive clusters, suggesting vague hints of a story never wholly revealed. I fantasized about a tugboat cracking through ice while I listened. Your imagination will work with these provocative sound shards in its own fashion. These are open-ended puzzles, not "finished" pieces, since the scores allow the performers broad interpretative flexibility.
This is "difficult" music, yet it can appeal to anyone open to "ambient" or electronic music of any style, even though the instrumentation on the hatART discs is acoustic. If you want a taste of these composers with minimal financial risk, try the two-disc set American String Quartets 1950-1970 performed by the Concord String Quartet, on the cheapy VoxBox label. These four composers are joined by George Crumb, Stefan Wolpe, Leon Kirchner, and Jacob Druckman. If Earl Brown's music catches you, don't miss his Music for Piano(s) 1951-1995 (New Albion), performed dashingly by David Arden. Take a chance on music embracing chance.