Phil Treloar's High 5

Historical article recovered from a Wayback capture dated 2018-02-24.

In an extensive career devoted to creative pursuit the composer, percussionist, Phil Treloar, has addressed himself to problems of relationship as these are found at the intersection of notated music-composition and improvisation. In 1987 Treloar coined the term, Collective Autonomy, to signify his endeavor in this field of work. Fundamental in this has been composition- and performance-development projects, with these at times involving electronic media. Collaborations have, and continue to be, crucial.

Under the guidance of Dr.Graham Hair Phil received the B.Mus. degree, composition major, from New South Wales State Conservatorium of Music, 1988. He has also studied in New York, USA, with renowned jazz drummer, Billy Hart, 1980; in Delhi, India, at Gandharva Mahavidyalaya with the Khayal vocalist, Madhup Mudgalaya, 1984; and in Colombo Sri Lanka, at the Institute of Aesthetic Studies, with Piasara Silpadipathi, 1984. Phil held a lecturer’s position at La Trobe University teaching composition, performance, and music theory, 1989 ~ ‘90. He has fulfilled composer residencies and guest lectureships at NSW State Conservatory of Music, Victoria College of the Arts (VCA), Perth Conservatory, Conservatorium of Tasmania, and Hobart College of the Arts.

Among composer commissions and premiere performances are: the late Gabor Reaves, Ron Reaves, Steve Reaves, Ros Dunlop, David Miller, Julia Ryder, Simone DeHaan, Christian Wojtowicz, Michael Kieran Harvey, Geoff Dodd, Mardi McSullea, Mike Nock, Hamish Stuart, Graeme Leak, Daryl Pratt, Tom O’Kelly, Pipeline Contempory Music Project, The Astra Choir, Synergy Percussion, Victoria College of the Arts, Australian Broadcasting Corporation, the Conservatorium of Tasmania, Miki KIDO, Shunsuke OMURA, Takashi YAMANE, Hisae KIDO, Junko KAMISHIMA, Sotoko HIRAMATSU, Eri YOSHIMURA, Kimiko SUNAKAWA, et al.

In the areas of jazz and improvised music Treloar has shared in creative partnerships with, notably: Roger Frampton, Mark Simmonds, Steve Elphick, Jack Thorncraft, David Ades, Bruce Cale, Carl Dewhurst, Bernie McGann, Simone De Haan, Daryl Pratt, Hamish Stuart, Peter Boothman, Chuck Yates, Bobby Gebert, Mike Nock, Dale Barlow, Michele Morgan, Scott Tinkler, Errol Buddle, Judy Bailey, John Clare, et al. International artists include Barry Guy, David Baker, Chico Freeman, Howie Smith, David Friesen, Ricky Ford, Chip Jackson, and The World Drum Ensemble.

In the 1988 Australian Bicentennial New Directions concert series a complete program was devoted to Treloar’s work. Many of his compositions have been recorded and broadcast, particularly by the ABC. In addition to vinyl records and CD’s his work has been featured in radio and film documentaries, the 4 x 1hr. Intersections (ABC radio) and Beyond El Rocco (film) are representative. In more recent years Treloar’s work has been performed in the Sydney Opera House and at the international Wangaratta Festival of Jazz. Throughout his career Treloar’s thoughts and concepts regarding creative musical expression have been accounted for in various publications: The Nation Review, The Sydney Morning Herald, East West Arts, Jazz, Sounds Australian, The Mercury, 24 Hours, etc.

Since 1992 Treloar has lived in Japan where his two-hour “Work”, Zen’s Way: Through the Eye of Gogo-an - homage to Ryokan, received its world premiere performance in Kanazawa, 2004. Phil also presents solo percussion recitals and to date two of these have been published as CDs. A third is planned for 2009. On occasions he has been invited by the Japan Poets’ Association to perform improvised music together with poetry readings. A major event inspired by the poetry of Matsuo Basho, October 2005, and for which Treloar provided the music, is indicative of the creative interaction he shares with the Japanese tradition. Facing East, a performance initiative inaugurated by Phil in 2005 and based in Kanazawa, presents occasional concerts. These have premiered several new “Works” written by Treloar and for which Australian, together with Japanese artists, have been invited to participate. Stemming from this initiative, Converging Paths, a collaboration with the Australian percussionist, Hamish Stuart, has, to date, generated a three-CD series. Phil’s life-long project, Collective Autonomy, continues to engage him with research that concerns relationships between composed and improvised musics.

1. JOHN POCHEE – Griff House, Lower Pitt Street Sydney mid 1960’s

My First POCHÉE

The first time I heard John Pochée playing music on the drums I was absolutely astounded. Until that moment I thought that kind of feeling only came on imported vinyl recordings. I was so enthralled by being so wrong, my life and its direction changed, irrevocably. I was to hear John play many times subsequently and to this day my feeling for him has not altered. Given Australia/NZ’s relatively small population it’s amazing really that so many fine musicians have emerged. Back in those days of course, drummers were, in the ears, hearts, and minds of most (musicians and others), just that. Drummers! Happily, things have changed somewhat. John is, at least in part, responsible for that change: a view towards drumming as being something musical, and distinct from beating and hitting.

I’m pretty sure John was music-making on this occasion with the Dave Levy trio. It was late, 1:00 am, the regular Saturday night after-gig concert at the muzo’s. Many many years ago of course, that building fell under the developer’s hammer. But while the topography may change, that kind of spirit, that John Pochée feeling, can’t be destroyed by anything. And it is nurtured in many more than just this one heart. Dave Levy is a marvelous musician who no doubt enjoyed to the fullest, John’s adventurous risk-taking and wonder-filled groove. John was young. I was younger (though not by much!). But to be transported like I was by him to a different perspective on life as I knew it to be is something that has nothing whatsoever to do with age and everything to do with commitment to the moment. That moment is everlasting.

2. SERGE ERMOLL’S FREE KATA – The Basement Sydney mid-1970s

The utterance, kata, as either a prefix or a stem in Japanese has several meanings. It might signify one’s shoulder, a shape, a style, a type, a pattern, or, it might mean excess or superabundance. This is not insignificant where Serge is concerned because he was, for many years, devoted to the practice of Karate,literally, ‘empty hand’. Free Kata’s lineup varied a little but its stable members included Eddie Bronson, tenor sax; Lou Burdett, drums; Graham Ruckley or Richard Ochalski, acoustic bass; and occasionally, John Clare, voiced words. The remarkable saxophonist, Barry Duggan, also had a share in this creative space. In the liner-notes to Free Kata’s recordings, John Clare uses words like, “empathy” and phrases like, “shaped by nothing but the interactions of the moment” and “outpouring, unchecked”. In putting these descriptions together with concepts like ‘empty’, ‘form’ or ‘shape’, and the notion of ‘superabundance’, we begin to get a good idea regarding the music of Serge Ermoll’s Free Kata. It was all of this, and more! I heard them play often. Their performances were riveting. The energy, the focus, the intensity, and the sheer emotive power was astonishing. Their unbridled expositions gave one cause to think again, and again, music’s purpose and cultural significance. Poetry, crucial! Each of these musicians played with utter brilliance as they made unique personal statements that, in their reception, in listening, in feeling, were impossible to ignore. As a collective they would ride these waves of energy and emotion to their natural conclusion, often in long arcs of time, over the most treacherous terrain. And as a live experience they managed, somehow, to redefine their own genre every time they played. This spells openness to creative motivation in the extreme. Any sense of ‘product’ was about as far removed from their ken as would be humanly possible. If their hands were ‘empty’ of preconceived ideas, they were certainly replete with invention. If their performances were without ‘shape’ prior to the event, in the event, shape and form emerged solid. If, as a recipient, you were deplete of emotion beforehand, Free Kata would provide superabundance. Their live, was … LIVE.

3. ROBERT DOUGLAS – Homage to Bessemer, 1984

Composition for Fairlight CMI computer generated sound.

I first heard this “Work” in a concert presented by Watt (established by Martin Wesley-Smith and the late Ian Fredricks) at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, Verbruggen Hall, though I don’t remember exactly when. My guess would be ‘84 when it was written, or perhaps the following year. Bessemer, as Bob Douglas lovingly refers to it, is a truly mighty piece of music composition, one that turned my head upside down and my heart inside out. As the title implies, it is written with Sir Henry Bessemer in mind. Bessemer clangs, crashes, hits, bangs, beats, crunches, raunches rips and rings its way through the sonic production of iron and steel, pouring its molten, white-hot, extracts into exquisitely shaped compositional moulds to reveal the passionate, intense heart of its composer. Ironically perhaps, the sonic shapes never solidify. In my view, Robert Douglas’s Homage to Bessemer is a benchmark in its field. In this regard it’s a little like Stockhausen’s Microphonie I in that it pushes the available materials to their absolute limit and in so doing, opens up sonic textural vistas that contradict their origins. Electronic music is still dangerous territory. Those who envisage it as a form of purity seem to generate just that. Those who use it as a tool generate little more than utility and a journeyman’s ethos. The big trap these days is the ‘user friendly’ highly developed devices (note well the word ‘program’ and all implied by it) that lead one to think music made easily can, nonetheless, present depth, quality, and human passion. Somehow, Bob Douglas got inside the Fairlight CMI and coaxed it into going places it wasn’t designed to go. You’ll find no ostinati or sequenced patterns among the paraphernalia of Douglas’s Bessemer foundry. To find those you’ll have to go as far inside the machine as did Bob, only to discover something else in their stead. Heart! Homage to Bessemer is more like a liberationist’s manifesto than an attempt to make a pristine piece of computer music.

4. CHRISTIAN WOJTOWICZ SOLO CELLO – 333 Collins Street Melbourne 28th June 1992

Journey Without Goal, composed by Phil Treloar.

I run the risk here of appearing self-indulgent because I’d like to commit this wonderful memory I have of Christian Wojtowicz to some form of historical documentation; in doing so I ask for the reader’s pardon. During the 1980s I’d often go to Flederman concerts at the SOH Studio to listen to new contemporary compositions - dots on paper - performed by several of Australia’s more prominent musicians in that field. Flederman, initiated by the abundantly talented Simone De Haan and Carl Vine, presented an extraordinary range of newly composed pieces, with a large proportion of these written by Australian composers, some of whom were members of the ensemble. It was an exciting, inspiring, and instructive time in the development of an Australian musical identity. Among the ensemble’s members was the cellist, Christian Wojtowicz. Every time I’d hear him play I’d imagined a time (just a dream really) when Christian might choose to play a piece from my very modest pen. Round ‘88, a young and very talented cello player, Julia Ryder, commissioned me to write her an extended solo work. This I did, though in handing it over to her I felt it to be incomplete yet couldn’t understand why. Julia went off to Europe and at about the same time I began to work with a Melbourne based contemporary music group, again initiated by Simone, Pipeline Contemporary Music Project. In ‘89 I moved to Melbourne and became a core member of this group. Simone’s creative predilections were the foundation of some very exciting programming and in ‘92 he came up with the idea for a concert in a city building. 333 Collins St. was chosen for its magnificent acoustic. The event was lovingly dedicated to Keith Humble, a very fine Australian composer who has contributed enormously to the establishment of a contemporary frame of mind in Australian music. It was decided that, among the pieces on the program, Christian would play Journey Without Goal. By this time I was dividing my time between Melbourne and Kanazawa, Japan where I was soon to make my permanent home. Throughout the revision process I came to realize just how insanely difficult the piece is. Completing the revision in Kanazawa, I sent it to Christian by mail. The night prior to the Collins St. concert, we had a performance in Hobart and for which I’d flown to Australia. I’d not heard the piece played, ever! The day before the Hobart concert Christian asked me if I’d like to hear the piece. Yes!!! He played it for me in a rehearsal room at the Hobart Con. The Journey’s duration runs just under twenty minutes. By the end of this private rendering I was absolutely speechless and, virtually, in tears. All I could do was hug him. Without a single word ever having passed between us regarding the piece and its interpretation, Christian played it as if he’d read my heart and mind rather than the score. This went so far as, after playing it, him pointing to a passage saying, “I like this allusion to Miles.” And, “Yes, it’s the journey that counts.” This, coming from a person deeply versed in Mozart String Quartets through to Schoenberg and Boulez, left me reeling. The Hobart performance took place the next night and was wonderful … then some!! The following day we went to Melbourne for the Collins St. performance. To be honest, I really don’t know what happened. But when Christian played Journey Without Goal in that magnificent acoustic space it was as if he’d rewritten it overnight. So deeply had he penetrated the feeling of the Journey’s journey, it remains underway to this day. John Clare once christened Bernie McGann, ‘the angel of the alto’. I hope he doesn’t mind me stealing his feeling and christening Christian, The Angel of the Cello.

5. DRUB – Wangaratta Festival of Jazz, Nov 3rd 2003

Scott Tinkler, Simon Barker, Brett Hurst, Carl Dewhurst

Any person who has shared musical space with the redoubtable Mark Simmonds will learn something about music-making. If they happen to have exceptional talent, ears aplenty, are sensitivity to precision and finesse, and have a cast iron will, they’ll leave that space with a key to their own expression. Scott Tinkler is of the latter group. If one verbal phrase were able to sum up his musical character it would be a treatise without sentence end or paragraph. Scott, more or less, defies category. Hearing him in this particular context was, for me, an exceptional experience. I’ve never been much interested, and even less, impressed, by displays of technical prowess. Yet this band has precisely that. Almost awesome in fact, but without the display factor. I’ve never much been drawn to music that fills in all the holes either. This band not only fills the holes but builds mountains above them. In fact, in hind sight, this band does just about everything in the act of music-making that I find unbearable. Yet I loved it! Every note and every nuance. The key to their maverick outrageousness is, I think, hand-in-glove compatibility; a musical match made in Apollo’s Grove (read groove). Brett’s solid, down home rootedness, alongside Carl’s quirky, noise oriented, precision-murkiness; and Simon’s tight yet tensionless complexity streaming from his musical instruments in a flow of frequency covering the entire audible spectrum, alongside Scott’s seemingly endless river of weaving lines that impress an internal counterpoint onto the music’s profile thus revealing a topos replete with multiple movements. Continuum! In no sense of the term do these four characteristic constituent-beings fall into a construal of the tetra-lemma, nor into conflict, or something reducible to rational causes, but rather, they function as contrasting colours on a high-energy canvas where the image maker piles on, layer after layer, texture, so as to create a malleable, three-dimensional space. If one must make a written gesture towards this emergent madness, better it be expressed simply as music. And the lower case ‘m’ will suffice. Copyright Phil TRELOAR, March 2009