Lainie Fefferman: Here I Am

The album begins with the spoken “Intro”, reading census text from Torah listing the twelve tribes of Israel, and establishes an ambiguously liturgical atmosphere of the work. That atmosphere is swiftly broken by “Lot’s Daughters”, a driving setting of a story concerning questions of what we owe each other featuring Fefferman’s own gravelly vocals. The influence of progressive art rock is felt throughout, evoking the theatricality of the early work of Genesis and Pink Floyd. A high register sustain in the violin elides into the opening of “Nephilim,” which features soprano Charlotte Mundy’s crystalline voice over an ethereal, luminous accompaniment to meditate on the role of these angels barely mentioned, whose role is seemingly only to have sex with human women. Fefferman animates the static, modal ensemble sound world with light arpeggiation in the piano, and atmospheric effects in the percussion.

“Offerings” features a vocal trio that functions as a sort of Greek Chorus throughout the work (Martha Cluver, Mellissa Hughes, and Caroline Shaw). They open in chant-like homophony, before splitting into rhythmically independent parts that retain a quality of ritual and prayerfulness as they recount the taxation to the temple that defined Israelite identity for centuries. "Deuteronomic Rules" uses Fefferman's dry reading tone to highlight a few rules from the Book of Deuteronomy that present a stark and startling dissonance with modern life and values. A steady pulse on the hi-hat propels “Sword on Thigh” forward, with hits between the anvil and distorted electric guitar punctuating Meaghan Burke’s earthy vocals as she chronicles a bloody civil war as the Jews build a new life after slavery in Egypt. “Innocent Men” is scored once again for the vocal trio, who articulate folkloric mixed meter material with clapping and stomping outlining Abraham's bargain with God as he worked to save the people of Sodom.

The proportions of Here I Am shift for its final three tracks, as the eighth and tenth tracks are both much longer than any of the prior movements. “And Their Bloodguilt Shall Be Upon Them” opens with ferocity, as the ensemble plays massive, insistent chords under a modular, ascending line passed through the ensemble that is steadily displaced and varied rhythmically. Mellissa Hughes is the vocal soloist here, delivering the texts in various guises, sometimes over percolating sustains, sometimes in dialogue with dramatic attacks and moto perpetuo figures in the ensemble.

For a climactic passage admonishing readers not to “uncover the nakedness” of various relations, the score turns to dramatic, melismatic lines in the layered, overdubbed vocal line as a bass drum forcefully underpins a long scalar build in the ensemble. Fefferman chooses to confront one of the most problematic passages head on; we hear the prohibition against “lying with a man as one does with a woman” with sudden, stark transparency of orchestration, with Hughes solo spoken voice over cymbal rolls and a pedal point in the piano. The intensity builds again, culminating in Hughes’ proclamation “I am the Lord your God!,” revealing the crashing sustain of overdriven guitar and disembodied, unstable ponticello tones in the strings. The text returns to the litany of prohibitions over whispers in the ensemble and ominous anvil strikes. The calamitous opening texture reappears for a final recitation of some of the harshest pronouncements. The vocal trio makes its final appearance in “Lineage”, returning to the listing of the twelve tribes from the opening movement, this time sung as a responsive duo.

“Take Your Son” opens with effervescent glissandi harmonics passed around in the strings and inside of the piano, and Hughes enters with a kind of cantus firmus over the developing sonic ecosystem. The story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac is told in plain speech, as Tanning’s violin holds a high tone and Levine plays ethereal harmonics. As Hughes shifts into singing the text, the instruments in the ensemble become more active in brief soloistic moments; a flourish from Sara Budde’s clarinet and a splash of color from the guitar. Ashley Bathgate’s cello establishes a repeating figure to accompany, “Take your son, your only son.” The piece ends, once again, with the recitation of the numbers of the twelve tribes, here supported by a glistening accompaniment, closing as it began, an assertion of the cyclical, timeless nature of ancient texts and the power of inherited identity.

– Dan Lippel