The Chicago-based Ensemble Dal Niente bills itself as “the industry leader in commissioning and performing cutting-edge contemporary music from around the globe.” So my expectations were quite high on Oct. 13 at Constellation when I went to hear them in concert for the first time. Constellation is disarmingly nondescript: it’s essentially a black box theater in a converted warehouse on Western Ave. The seats are worn, the foil and insulation is exposed, and everyone in the lobby greets each other like old friends. It’s a setting where you feel relaxed enough to open your mind to anything.
The concert opened with beyond the accident of time by Kanaka Maoli composer and 2022 Pulitzer Prize finalist Leilehua Lanzilotti. Waiting in the wings next to my aisle seat was a singer holding a small brass object in her hands, and three other singers hovered like wraiths in opposite corners. On stage, percussionist Kyle Flens appeared like a meditating monk, sitting on the floor with his legs criss-crossed. He was facing away from the audience, gazing slightly upward at a hanging bell plate. Flens began to strike the bell plate, alternating between gentle and intense articulations as he explored every inch of the gong.
Ensemble Dal Niente members Juan Horie, Kyle Flens, and Zachary Good — Photo by Ricardo Adame
The room was awash with echoing, resonant overtones in what felt like the beginning of some ancient ritual. This feeling only grew as the singers positioned in the aisles began to chant while also literally muffling themselves, hands over mouths, before creating layers of hummed, modal harmony. As they walked toward the stage, they rotated the brass objects in their hands, which I later learned were called elephant bells. These instruments filled the space with jewel-like tinkling as they gyrated faster and faster. At the pinnacle of sound, Flens suddenly stood, turned, and faced the audience. He, too, held an elephant bell. The five musicians stood in a line with their eyes downcast, like keepers of an ancient flame. Only after Flens looked up did I realize silence had descended, and the piece was over. I had been released from the spell.
beyond the accident of time was the clear highlight of the evening, but the transition to the next piece was neither disappointing nor jarring. Melodies for Miles by the esteemed scholar George E. Lewis was written in honor of Miles Hoffman, the college roommate who changed his life. It was commissioned during the final years of Miles’ illness; given this context, I expected to find myself reflecting on grief during the performance.
Instead, I found myself gripped by the solo violin’s vitality. Theo Ramsey began the piece with a furious attack, and the intensity never once let up. The various bowings and pizzicati were taken to the extreme, so much so that the sound sometimes felt too aggressive for the small venue. While the level of dynamic variation in this work might be more appreciated in a larger concert hall, I still experienced the piece as sharp, clever, and engaging; a celebration of life from Lewis for his friend.
Carolyn Chen’s how to assemble took me – and perhaps the entire audience – by surprise. I’m not used to belly laughing in a concert hall. The piece is part new music, part spoken word, part modern dance, and part comedy. Six performers read overlapping pieces of instructions on how to assemble everything ranging from a terrorist attack safety kit to the perfectly frosted cake. They opened their performance by whirling in each other’s arms, do-si-doing their way to absurdism.
Ensemble Dal Niente members perform Carolyn Chen’s “how to assemble” — Photo by Ricardo Adame
The first lines spoken after “Title” And “Introduction” were, “You may feel anywhere from uncomfortable to truly afraid.” But I never felt discomfort; only delight. From a dead-pan delivery of cake instructions to occasional solitary lines like “Anti-diarrheal” and “moistened towelettes,” the performers themselves kept breaking out into laughter, and we as the audience couldn’t help but join in. The choreography and the obvious warmth between the performers added a special level of comedy and life to the piece. In October of an election season, who doesn’t need a laugh like that?
The world premiere of Wang Lu’s Pecking Orders closed out the evening’s program. Before the performance, Lu came on stage to discuss the piece’s origin. She had questioned an AI about various “pecking orders:” from the levels of status in chicken societies, to perceived hierarchies of musical instruments, to the social strata of an American public high school. She took its answers and set that text to music with the goal of exposing the absurdities of human-created hierarchies.
In the most successful moments of the work, the ensemble sounded more like a flock of chickens than actual living chickens do. Soprano Amanda Bartlett’s skilled acting and undeniable stage presence added depth and flair to the text as she spoke, sang, and occasionally shouted out “PECKING ORDERS.” However, the stress of the unrelenting dissonance and yelling made for a tense listening experience with which to end the evening. But overall, Ensemble Dal Niente presented a provocative and heartfelt rollercoaster of a program, showcasing their range and daring spirit.
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