The libretto to Sunburst was written by Paul Schick, who then found Dan Plonsey (me) to put some music to it. Paul's initial concept was of an improvised opera, which he called an "Impropera" (I think someone else came up with this term independently as well).
The complete opera has twelve scenes, and is about one hour long. As Paul and I worked on it, we worked as for three related operas: 1) the ideal, full opera with elaborate staging, 2) a recorded radio-opera (that is, audio only), and 3) a shortened version of the first 7 scenes (scene 7 was eventually dropped) for performance on the March 19, 2000 OPUS415 No.5 Bay Area New Music Marathon.
The Tint I cannot take-is best- The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar- A Guinea at a sight-- The fine-impalpable Array- That swaggers on the eye Like Cleopatra's Company- Repeated-in the sky-- The Moments of Dominion That happen on the Soul And leave it with a Discontent Too exquisite-to tell-- The eager look-on Landscapes- As if they just repressed Some secret-that was pushing Like Chariots-in the Vest-- The pleading of the Summer- That other Prank-of Snow- That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, For fear the Squirrels-know, Their Graspless manners-mock us- Until the cheated Eye Shuts arrogantly-in the Grave- Another way-to see--The Chorus concludes: "By such songs as this, Orpheus draws the woods and rocks to follow him!" (from Ovid).
In Sunburst, an unexpected and utterly strange invasion -- inspiration? theophany? -- by the Creator? Creativity? Chaos? -- which conjures forth manifestations of Orpheus, Sun Ra, and brings forth the curiosity of a young child, all three of whom are known for their "life=art" overdriven creativity to which is attributed other-worldly power of unknown limits and conditions. However, one of the characteristics of the energy released is a sort of synesthic explosion of color as sound and sound as color, resulting in a near-frantic multitude of sounds in quick succession and without apparent pattern, and the simultaneus appearance of every color and fashion in the set and costumes. (Ideally, the stage would contain elements from many different settings from within the house, the workplace, and the outdoors; replicated on large and small scale, both functional and Claes Oldenburg-ishly not.)
It was necessary to use improvisation for the instrumental parts to fully match the headlong uncontrolled energy of the events -- which really boil down to one single moment. There is no time to read and respond; there is actually no time at all. There is, however, an impulse: to express all color.
Because we couldn't actually stage the odd effects Paul's libretto called for (in the OPUS415 version or in the recording), we opted to include on-stage a Video Artist who describes what would be happening (e.g., the projections of cast and famous artists of the past onto screens). This machination heightens the other-worldly aspect of the production, at the risk of some confusion.
Another somewhat arcane structural inclusion: the linking of each scene with a heavenly body (Sun, Moon, Earth, Venus, Mercury, Mars, Saturn...). For each scene, a series of Sun Ra-ian equations are recited, linking the action with the body and with Sun Ra. For example:
1. SUN a) SUN = SON/SOUND b) SUN = SOL/SOUL c) SUN = RAThese links will become more relevant in the fully staged version when other aspects of the bodies (e.g., the ascribed colors) determine certain aspects of staging.
The 6th scene (and last, in the OPUS415 version), features an aria by Orpheus (accompanying himself on national steel guitar, with slide), words by Emily Dickinson. These words suggest an overwhelming incursion upon the soul (that is, bypassing the senses), causing a synesthetic experience "Too exquisite to tell" and painful to the point of not being easily welcomed.
Paul Schick: kabalist Susan Volkan: video artist, chorus Mantra Ben-Ya'akova Plonsey: Mother, chorus & Cleveland Plonsey: Stephen (her son) Nancy Clarke: reporter, narrator, chorus John Schott: Orpheus Dan Plonsey: woodwinds, percussion Tom Yoder: trombone, percussion Sarah Willner: viola, rebab, gangsa, Balinese flute, percussionPhoto of Nancy, Mantra, Dan, Cleveland, and Sarah
"Citizen Band (Xopher Davison, Thomas Day, and Gregory Lenczycki -- what kind
of a name is Xopher, anyway?) brought evidence of an affinity for John Cage
and David Tudor. It was almost as if the old guys were there themselves --
sittin' at the table, M-E-S-S-I-N-G around with the electronics. Nice. But
nothing like the messing around in the concluding and disarmingly titled
Sunburst (scenes 1-7) by the mad Dan Plonsey. Napoleon-like, bedomed with a
colander, he played saxes and clarinets to Sarah Wilner's violin and erhu,
and Tom Yoder's yodeling trombone. All played toys. Plonsey frantically
made great efforts to pick up certain instruments, occasionally only to play
single notes before abandoning them for other noisemakers. Nice. Meanwhile
Plonsey's wife Mantra Ben-Ya'akova (what kind of a name is Mantra
Ben-Ya'akova, anyway?), Susan Volkan, Nancy Clarke, and Paul Schick treated
all to quadruple contrapuntal vocal overload. They talked a lot about a lot
of things. One videotaped the event. Plonsey's son Cleveland got in what
was supposed to be a pond and then wandered around the stage. Nice. And
very funny. Finally Orpheus appeared, in the person of guitarist John
Schott. He evoked fake electric raga then intoned an incredible, painful
song with wild multiple octave displacements. Nice. It all meant something,
but it's a secret."
"Dan Plonsey's dramatic scene
for three colander-wearing instrumentalists and a handful of
singer-actors, managed to be oddly entertaining despite being
essentially a string of in-jokes."
-- Mark Alburger, Advance posting from the upcoming May 2000 issue of 21ST-CENTURY MUSIC
(P.O.
Box 2842, San Anselmo, CA 94960, 415-457-3714, mus21stc@aol.com).
-- Josh Kosman, SF Chronicle, Tuesday, March 21