The gnomic message

Two summers ago, Pauline Oliveros, an American composer and performer who calls her meditative music “deep listening,” improvised on her accordion in the backyard of the Schindler House. Police helicopters roared in the West Hollywood skies. A spider silently wove its web, as L.A. Weekly critic Alan Rich delightedly pointed out to those around him. In such an atmosphere, a listener, breathing along with the inhale-exhale rhythms of the squeeze box, could feel in peaceful, spiritual tune with the environment, no matter what the sonic extreme. I don’t recall anyone leaving early.

On Friday night, a German improviser, Rudiger Carl, played his accordion in the same space on another pleasant evening for the same series, “sound. at the Schindler House,” produced by the wonderfully named Society for the Activation of Social Space Through Art and Sound. This was the first of two concerts Carl gave there over the weekend, the second being Saturday, when he improvised on the clarinet in collaboration with local artist Raymond Pettibon, who read some texts.

As an accordionist, Carl created a very different effect than Oliveros. He appeared to listen not to the environment but to himself. He didn’t invite the audience into his sound world as much as provide it with gnomic messages from the beyond. The helicopters were louder than ever. The atmosphere was tense. “Bye-bye,” Carl whispered into the mike when a couple exited after less than half an hour. The playing may have gotten more interesting during the hourlong set, but the audience got smaller.

Perhaps what proved off-putting about Carl’s solos was that he seems more interested in the past than the present, and that is a confusing attitude for an improviser. One of his favorite pointillist devices proved to be tapping out telegraph-style codes on his accordion’s keys. It didn’t help that he played with his head turned to the side, not looking at the audience.

Carl favored quiet drones, often made with dissonant pitch intervals, fading in and out of the ether. He shook, rattled and rolled in pursuit of agitated tremolos. The glissandos were probably the best trick up his short sleeve -- looking the part of hip accordionist, he wore a white short-sleeve shirt with tie and sported heavy black glasses.

Out of nowhere might arise a sentimental tune or songs with strange Brechtian-like texts, made stranger still by his tendency to mumble and to sing just under the mike. “Who is the founder of the ancient bad mood? And why is the mood always bad?” is what I think he sang for his single encore.

Carl is better known as a reed player, particularly a saxophonist, who has collaborated with several important European jazz musicians, avant-garde improvisers and visual artists, and on Saturday, he was transformed into a marvelously engaging clarinetist. The problem this time was the (intentionally?) clumsy, befuddled readings by Pettibon.

Certainly the mood was different. The crowd -- younger, more festive, far more fashionable and art-worldy -- was clearly drawn by Pettibon’s celebrity. Seemingly enlivened by a lively audience, Carl wandered around the patio, where the stage was, and even into the house as he played. Morse-code staccato notes blown into a reed were not sterile but bursts of exciting energy. Swing tunes sounded suave rather than nostalgic. A compelling and amusing piece played on two mouthpieces provided striking evidence that Carl becomes animated when engaged in dialogue, even if it is with himself.

In fact, it apparently doesn’t take much to get him going, considering the laconic readings by Pettibon, who sat in a corner shuffling papers. The texts, some by Schindler, could be compelling, but not the artist’s chaotic stumbling through them -- although many in the audience seemed to take that for a kind of charm. He had promised to employ a megaphone, and he did, for about two seconds, relying the rest of the time on a mike.

Carl can be an inspired performer if inspired. Next time he returns, it would be nice if it’s with collaborators who are at his level and who can bring him out.