Mobile

An improbable orchestra in an unwritten fairy tale by Lewis Carroll."
—Le Salon Musical

"An exit towards the cosmos."
— Pascale Criton, Radio France

"I could listen to this forever and more."
—Musical America

Mobile is a piece that resonates with me because it engages listening with an imagination that I would describe as visionary, as it allows one to hear unheard-of sonic qualities—those that we are not accustomed to hearing. This work, written in 2012, references John Cage's Sonatas and Interludes (particularly XIV-XV) from 1948, which introduce the idea of preparation and play inside the piano. The preparation envisioned by Michelle Agnès Magalhaes is unique and promotes the unstable energy of sound. A set of carefully chosen objects—including 11 tubular magnets in balance—meticulously scattered among the strings, allow for playing with the complex nature of the string, varying tones, pitches, harmonics, beyond the identity of the note.

What particularly interests me in Mobile is the idea of mutation that underlies both the generation of sounds and the form of the piece. The initial sounds, immediately very rich and suspenseful, somehow diffract into punctual, rhythmic elements. These articulated figures then give way to echoed, repeated bursts that proliferate and tend towards a continuous, boundless stretching of sound.

This mutation is quite astonishing. The listener experiences an internal transformation, a "molting" that starts from distinct, identifiable elements and projects them towards a multiplying expansion: an exit towards the cosmos.

It's a music grounded in the physicality of sound that gives significant importance to the performer.

Pascale Criton, le Carrefour de la création, France Musique, 12/01/22

Few compositions have impressed me as much in my life as this genius work by the Brazilian composer, pianist and improviser. I remember that when I found it a few years ago I did not give credit to what I was listening and I could not imagine how those sounds were produced without any electronic manipulation. The idea of using cylindrical neodymium magnets inside the piano, shows that there are no limits in the imagination of the composers and that the resources to be used in our instrument are unlimited, even if there is an increasingly frequent number of people in our professional environment who hate these practices.

The idea of combining precise writing with improvised fragments seems to me to fit perfectly with the spirit of the work, which was born from the improvisational world of the composer herself.
Mobile is a tribute to John Cage (hence the classic screws and washers) and is inspired by the sculpture of Ricard Lippold "Gemini" that, at the same time, served as inspiration for the Sonatas XIV and XV of the American composer. Mobile evokes an imaginary metal sculpture, a sound automaton and its cyclic movements. The result is a gorgeous universe of bells, ghostly echoes and distant ritual drums.

Mobile is an essential part of my concert programs since it entered my life and one of the pieces that every year I work with my students in Musikene. I’m sure that it will become a classic of new piano music. I can only say: thanks, Michelle for creating something so beautiful, so original and so pleasant to play.

Ricardo Descalzo, pianist

Snow Soul

An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –
When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death
(There’s a certain Slant of light, Emily Dickinson)

Soul of Snow, much like my previous pieces, originates within the realm of the piano, delicately exposing its harp to fingers that meticulously manipulate the continuity and contrasts between harmonic and inharmonic sounds. The pianist's hands, their direct friction on the strings, and the sonic traces they leave in a blend of resonance construct a unique and distinct acoustic space. This space will be redefined, expanded, and deepened by the timbral harmonies of alternating thirds (a subtle allusion to Debussy's studies). These cuts, contrasts, articulate the form, introducing perspectives or free navigation through the layers. Microtonality is integrated here as color and depth.
"Soul of Snow," one of my pieces paying tribute to Emily Dickinson (much like "Herbarium," a cycle for piano, percussion, and double bass), seeks a connection (and its paradoxes) between the intimacy and explosiveness of life and death. For me, personally, "Soul of Snow" carries the marks and memories of the year I spent in New England between 2017 and 2018, not far from Dickinson's residence. It encapsulates all of my amazement, my discovery, and my musical translation of this wintry landscape.

My microtonal piano Album by Sanae Yoshida

Herbarium

Of all the Sounds despatched abroad
There's not a Charge to me
Like that old measure in the Boughs—
That Phraseless Melody—
The Wind does—working like a Hand--
Whose fingers comb the Sky—
Then quiver down—with tufts of tune—
Permitted Gods—and me—

"Before You Thought of Spring" serves as the first piece of Herbarium (2018), a collection of compositions for piano, double bass, percussion, and electronics. Employing sound exciters and a mini-speakers ensemble within the piano, the piece resonates with historical instrument recordings made by the composer at Harvard Musical Instruments collection.

A significant aspect of the composition lies in its temporal and spatial interplay with the pianist, juxtaposing live performance with pre-recorded elements. Rather than aiming for a seamless integration of acoustic and electronic, the electronic support offers an alternative perspective on the musical material, enriching the listening experience.

Conceived during a residency at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Studies (Harvard University) in 2018, the project initially focused on recording pianos scattered across Harvard's campus. However, the discovery of Emily Dickinson's piano at Houghton Library redirected the project's trajectory.

Dedicated to the Talea Ensemble, the cycle premiered at the Americas Society in New York in March 2018, followed by a performance at the Radcliffe Institute the subsequent month.

Inspired by Dickinson's manuscripts and visual experimentation, each piece within Herbarium features a unique notation system mirroring the poet's eclectic style. The title itself pays homage to Dickinson's botanical collection, drawing parallels between the meticulous preservation of dried flowers and the composer's endeavor to capture ephemeral sounds within the confines of musical notation.