John Luther Adams

Spending time in the aural company of John Luther Adams’s The Mathematics of Resonant Bodies could seem an intimidating proposition. The 70-minute piece for percussion soloist and derivative processed sounds opens with a relentless pounding, an introduction to a sound world that will be followed in due course with eight minutes of crashing cymbals and an entire movement for an air-raid siren. At its core, however, Mathematics might more revealingly be considered a soliloquy of sorts—one musician with sticks beating out a private dialogue on a range of objects. What quickly becomes evident is that the aggression inherent in this scenario actually avoids stoic posturing and instead projects an unexpected intimacy.

Adams has long made his home in Alaska and has never been shy about acknowledging the influence of the natural world he finds outside his studio door. Mathematics clearly carries that imprint but pushes well past conjuring any sort of literal geography. Positioned as a follow-up to his percussion quartet, Strange and Sacred Noise (1997), Mathematics is post-minimalist in character without feeling blankly atmospheric. Soloist Steven Schick is left exposed to work his way through eight movements bearing one-word titles like “Rumble,” “Shimmer,” “Stutter” and “Burst.” His reading offers a compelling depth of perspective at each turn in texture and coloration.—Molly Sheridan