Dresden Symphony Orchestra: No egomania on the rhythmic battlefield

The gallant bow of the three robot arms with seven joints and the colorfully glowing batons was the most convincing. As if they actually felt relief that 20 years of developing ideas with the founding father of the Dresden Symphony Orchestra Markus Rindt, weeks of programming work at the Technical University of Dresden and five days of rehearsals finally led to the result in the Hellerau Festival Hall. To that “robot symphony”, which received a lot of advance attention, the self-made gift for the 25th founding anniversary of this experimental project orchestra.

After the high-rise symphony on Prager Strasse in Dresden, concerts on the USA-Mexico demarcation line or from an Elbe steamer, now an excursion into a not so new world of controlled jukeboxes or the cybernetics that were fashionable 50 years ago. Horn player Markus Rindt finally found the right partner in the CeTI Cluster of Excellence at Dresden University, which conducts research on the human-machine interface.

It was supposed to be the world’s first experiment in orchestral conducting by a robot, and Deutsche Welle also streamed one of the two concerts live. But Spiritus Rector Markus Rindt, composers and the Hellerau team avoided sensationalism and arrogance in advance. It was not about replacing human creativity, let alone genius, they said. The machine should only overcome the technical limits of human conducting, especially with polyrhythmic structures.

What was actually heard in the eagerly awaited 25 minutes after the concert break, in which the well-programmed triumvirs of synthetic conducting were deployed, did not overwhelm any of the mostly curious and competent visitors. High expectations may have been followed by mild disappointment, but the question of musical added value did arise.

Wieland Reissmann’s “#crossknot” refers to an experiment “Canon X” by Conlon Nancarrow. At the Dresden Days of Contemporary Music in 2001, which was still directed by Udo Zimmermann, two self-playing pianos controlled by punched tape played out this practical joke more impressively: one began phlegmatically and became increasingly faster, the other started in prestissimo and became more and more ritualistic. At some point they met for moments of synchronicity. However, the principle of rhythmic opposites was hardly apparent with Reissmann because drawn-out sounds and no panicked, phlegmatic rhythms predominated.

The second AI work of the evening by the undoubtedly original composer and pianist Andreas Gundlach, who is very familiar to the Dresden Symphony Orchestra, remained just as unsensational. According to the announcement, one could expect a noble chaos that was difficult to decode. But soon the heretical thought crept in that we had heard more complicated polyrhythms from African groups or in modern jazz.

The three rather likeable robots showed no egomania at all on a rhythmic battlefield. An unexpected amount of synchronicity could be heard, many consecutive solo passages avoid collisions, and you can only swing with a common “one” anyway. What apparently diverges between the three wind orchestra groups could have been expressed in syncopation or in hemioles under a flesh-blooded dictator.

For long stretches you could follow a classic four-quarter conducting, sometimes broken down to eighth notes by the “competitor arm”. By the way, minimalistic hits, because the sensitive little arms can’t handle eruptive chords. The term “collaborative robot” seems presumptuous. Because he doesn’t collaborate, but reels off his program unimpressed, refusing any interaction that is inevitable for true music. “It’s not about aleatorism,” composer Reissmann had already ruled out any risk of spontaneity.

His compositions and those of Konstantia Gourzi and Markus Lehmann in the first part, which were still conducted by humans, were more suitable for a festive program than provocative. Well, an electric hammer to start, but otherwise clear, catchy structures, transparent sound structure, recognizable motifs, sometimes even classical cadences. To the delight of some, everything remained clearly audible; for others, the big band sounds were too conventional.

But everyone in the Hellerau Festival Hall was united by their enthusiasm for the performers, these fascinating brass musicians brought together from Germany and halfway around the world. Visually impressively placed, four tubas (!) on the left, which seemingly effortlessly played sixteenth notes in sync, and a set of trumpets on the right. Eight horn players are positioned centrally, with an immensely powerful percussion behind them. They played with fantastic confidence and intonation at an anniversary level.

A comparison between the three machine arms and the Norwegian conductor Magnus Loddgard, who stepped in at short notice, was not at all obvious. It’s best to acknowledge the robot experiment with a smile as an increase in experience and not interpret it as a revolution of musical possibilities.