Terry Riley's concert at the Barbican last night was some kind of triumph of music for music's sake. A concert hall packed full of people who had come to listen to the music of this 81 year old Californian. The first half consisted of new material: duets with his son Gyan playing guitar and Riley playing piano. Familiar ground - but only if the joy of constant modal invention can be described as such. Riley's musical thought processes are as wide open as Sonny Rollins's, say, or Coltrane's, but as my friend Clive said: "It's just SO not jazz!" Nor is it the the kind of precious soundscape that ECM used to champion with the likes of Keith Jarrett or Jan Garbarek. No, Riley has remained a complete original largely by remaining true to what he learned from studying the disciplines of Indian Classical music. He doesn't copy it, he uses its conventions for his own musical ends. He thinks modally at all times it seems, but just as you're getting used to the mode, he will change it in a way that an Indian musician never would. He has listened to jazz, of course, but he doesn't copy that either. He makes his own music. Always.
The classic "In C" formed the second half of the concert. How many times has Riley played "In C"? And yet, written into its construction is the certainty that no two versions could ever be the same. Tonight the performance was by 20 musicians from the London Contemporary Orchestra - most of them looked like recent music college graduates (can you imagine what fun it would be to get a call, maybe from your old professor, saying: d'you want to play "In C" with Terry Riley at the Barbican?). There was a double bass which gave this rendition more bottom end than usual. There was a celeste, three percussionists, various strings, a pipe organ, flute, two electric guitars, three singers - with Riley also singing from time to time and playing melodica as well as grand piano. Together, the ensemble really shook the house. Wave after wave of shifting tectonic plates of music - like controlling the weather, or the earthquakes of Riley's home state. It was about 50 minutes or so. I've seen Riley do a 90 minute version in the past - but he is 81. Time enough for sure to lose oneself completely in the vibrant timelessness of this great music. As I listened I thought how, even now, Riley isn't given sufficient credit for rescuing musical academia from Musique Concrete, aleatoric theories and electronic bleeps - stuff which, however interesting it might be to read about, just isn't much fun to listen to. Then in 1964, up pops this diffident bohemian with this completely original idea. "In C" is utterly musical, attractive to the ear even as it takes you to the strangest places. Yes, the basic technique is borrowed from Javanese or Indonesian music, as was a lot of the timbre of Cage's prepared piano music. It's easy to see that now. But just as with his use of Indian traditions ("In C" must have been written before Riley went to India), Riley made music, makes music, with these techniques that is entirely his own. And entirely melodious, sonorous, never ugly or cynically manipulative - like Zappa, his near contemporary, was often guilty of being. I daresay Riley's music is as truly Californian as Beethoven's is German or Vaughan-Williams is English, but only in that it is genuinely international and also, far out... (in both the hippie and literal sense.)
Somewhere there is a cloud up there where "In C" is played forever. I am very happy to visit it regularly and stay awhile. It's been 40 years since I first heard it. It is cleansing and pure. It never lets you down.