Uploaded April 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Echoi, for four soloists (1960-63)
1. Echoi I
2. Echoi II [3:50]
3. Echoi III [8:10]
4. Echoi IV [16:28]
Charles Wuorinen, piano
Raymond Desroches, percussion
Arthur Bloom, clarinet
Robert Martin, cello
Echoi is not serial in the accepted sense of the word. Series for pitches, durations, entrances, etc., serve to obtain a "raw material," a scaffold which in the process of composition is gradually eliminated, destroyed. In composing in this manner one surrounds oneself with serially derived material, picks and chooses, and composes in a free, willful manner with these materials, these note groups, much in the way one used to compose with single notes. Or—to put it another way—the composer, after having obtained an abundance of serial material, composes not by adding but by deleting, erasing, arranging, choosing.
The title Echoi (echo in plural) has several connotations. Echoi were ancient Arabian modes; but it is obvious that the title is also reflected quite literally in the many echo sounds, imitations, instruments shadowing one another canonically, as in Echoi II, or echoes from the distance, as in Echoi III, where a children’s tune (vibraphone) is heard in the background (the past), then distorted, violated, in the foreground (the present), faintly emerging again in the distance (triangle beaters inside the piano strings à la mandoline), only to be annihilated, canceled out by the menacing activity in the foreground. Finally, echoes result from "hearing double and triple" at the end of Echoi IV. Here the clarinet and cello imitate their own performance as it emerges from two loudspeakers (two pre-recorded tape tracks). It could be argued here that the echoes do not follow, but precede, anticipate.
Throughout Echoi the four musicians play from the score. Where bar lines are absent, the rhythmic notation is proportional. They stay together by following the score and by listening to one another. Considering the high speed of Echoi I and the complex simultaneities of Echoi III and IV, a special skill is demanded here. Another dificult performance task occurs in Echoi IV when the players jump back and forth between different pages in the music (much like a phonograph needle on a defective record). This is done on cue from the percussionist, who strikes an anvil at random moments within a given stretch. This is the signal for the four players to skip from the moment of interruption to an earlier place in the music (idée fixe) and back, invalidating the carefully organized macro-structure. From the start of the obsessional piano monologue to the moment (climax) when the percussion resorts to what is a literal invasion of the piano strings (the only way to bring the piano to a stop), Echoi IV is a commentary on total organization, with the piano acting as protagonist. Though the aleatoric notion and even the "musical happening" are easily detected here, no share of the composition per se is ever relinquished to the performer—or to chance. Even the improvisatory moments toward the end are limited, directed, texturally controlled via footnotes or invented symbols.
Echoi was commissioned by the Fromm Music Foundation. [Monaural / LC3886]
Art by Eglė Ridikaitė
Echoi, for four soloists (1960-63)
1. Echoi I
2. Echoi II [3:50]
3. Echoi III [8:10]
4. Echoi IV [16:28]
Charles Wuorinen, piano
Raymond Desroches, percussion
Arthur Bloom, clarinet
Robert Martin, cello
Echoi is not serial in the accepted sense of the word. Series for pitches, durations, entrances, etc., serve to obtain a "raw material," a scaffold which in the process of composition is gradually eliminated, destroyed. In composing in this manner one surrounds oneself with serially derived material, picks and chooses, and composes in a free, willful manner with these materials, these note groups, much in the way one used to compose with single notes. Or—to put it another way—the composer, after having obtained an abundance of serial material, composes not by adding but by deleting, erasing, arranging, choosing.
The title Echoi (echo in plural) has several connotations. Echoi were ancient Arabian modes; but it is obvious that the title is also reflected quite literally in the many echo sounds, imitations, instruments shadowing one another canonically, as in Echoi II, or echoes from the distance, as in Echoi III, where a children’s tune (vibraphone) is heard in the background (the past), then distorted, violated, in the foreground (the present), faintly emerging again in the distance (triangle beaters inside the piano strings à la mandoline), only to be annihilated, canceled out by the menacing activity in the foreground. Finally, echoes result from "hearing double and triple" at the end of Echoi IV. Here the clarinet and cello imitate their own performance as it emerges from two loudspeakers (two pre-recorded tape tracks). It could be argued here that the echoes do not follow, but precede, anticipate.
Throughout Echoi the four musicians play from the score. Where bar lines are absent, the rhythmic notation is proportional. They stay together by following the score and by listening to one another. Considering the high speed of Echoi I and the complex simultaneities of Echoi III and IV, a special skill is demanded here. Another dificult performance task occurs in Echoi IV when the players jump back and forth between different pages in the music (much like a phonograph needle on a defective record). This is done on cue from the percussionist, who strikes an anvil at random moments within a given stretch. This is the signal for the four players to skip from the moment of interruption to an earlier place in the music (idée fixe) and back, invalidating the carefully organized macro-structure. From the start of the obsessional piano monologue to the moment (climax) when the percussion resorts to what is a literal invasion of the piano strings (the only way to bring the piano to a stop), Echoi IV is a commentary on total organization, with the piano acting as protagonist. Though the aleatoric notion and even the "musical happening" are easily detected here, no share of the composition per se is ever relinquished to the performer—or to chance. Even the improvisatory moments toward the end are limited, directed, texturally controlled via footnotes or invented symbols.
Echoi was commissioned by the Fromm Music Foundation. [Monaural / LC3886]
Art by Eglė Ridikaitė
