Tan is unquestionably one of the leaders of current American avant-garde composers. Perhaps the most recognized of those who seek to incorporate both cutting edge classical Western musical styles and traditional Chinese musical elements into his personal voice, he has composed a large of body of work of stunning variety and originality. He has produced five operas, orchestral works, chamber works, film scores, and compositions that, in their uniqueness, defy easy placement in conventional genres. A master of traditional Western musical styles as well as traditional Chinese instruments and vocal traditions, he deftly combines them into a unique and fascinating oeuvre.
Born in Hunan, China, like so many Chinese from that time of Cultural Revolution, his personal interests in the rich traditions of Chinese music were repressed. But, after a time of working in the fields, he was ultimately able to attend the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. Along the way he learned to play various traditional musical instruments and performed in opera orchestras. Not withstanding the insularity of the cultural repression of the times, at the conservatory he was able to encounter the music of many of the Western avant-garde. By the 1980s he was able to move to New York City and become a doctoral student at Columbia University, becoming a protégé of the well-known composer and teacher, Chou Wen-chung. Immersed in the New York scene, he soon was influenced by progressive composers well known to the American musical public: Steve Reich, George Crumb, Philip Glass, John Cage, and others of that familiar ilk. Nevertheless, his compositions were completely and equally informed by all of the sounds, techniques, and values of traditional Chinese music. To traditional Western genres and media, he incorporated Chinese stringed instruments—even instruments of stone and paper, as well as water! To that mix there comes the drama and sounds of traditional Chinese opera, as well as shamanistic rituals. Furthermore, Tan is fond of exploring video images as integral to some of his compositions. It’s a formidable mélange of multicultural, multimedia elements. Some composers with these proclivities produce artistic hash. But, the impressive imagination, artistic discipline, and technical master of Tan succeed famously. Worldwide acclaim is now his.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was a stunning cinematic hit of 2000. It was not your usual martial arts film, though, but rather one in an important Chinese tradition of chivalry and historical fantasy that is highly regarded as art and literature. The film, thoroughly Chinese in every way, was a worldwide smash, and among its many awards, it garnered ten Academy Award nominations, winning four. One of the winning Oscars was given to Tan Dun for his impressive musical score. The Crouching Tiger Concerto is based upon that film score, and saw its première in London in 2000, with Yo-Yo Ma as soloist.
While the movie and the concerto based upon it, taken from almost every viewpoint, are self-evidently Chinese, the cultural reality is somewhat more nuanced. Western audiences tend to visualize Chinese culture in somewhat dated and clichéd simplicities, but only some of these presumptions inform Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. In point of fact, much of the film, and Tan’s musical inspirations, draw upon a province of China far removed from the old clichés about China and its putative cultures and geography. The old caravan route between the Orient and the Occident, often called the “Silk Road,” snaked through many lands and cultures as it made its way from China, through central Asia, to Europe. An important departure point was the northwest Chinese province of Xinjiang. It’s a bleak, sparsely occupied, desert and dry grassland region, home to a number of ethnic groups, including the Uyghur. The latter people, especially, have been subject to persecution by the Chinese government, in a series of human rights abuses. Some controversially accuse the Chinese authorities of genocide. It is the Uyghur culture and its musical traditions upon which Tan has based some important aspects of his concerto. So, the imagery is not all bamboo forests and pandas. Rather, think Mongolian camels and caravans.
In the concerto the solo ‘cello is accompanied by string orchestra, harp, flute (doubling on alto flute and piccolo) and a substantial percussion ensemble. “Accompanied” is a bit misleading, for the accompaniment is in reality a significant partner in the work. Though subtle, the solo ‘cello is amplified as an integral part of the conception of its sound, not because of any acoustic difficulties. In fact, to do so is not uncommon is some of the more recent avant-garde works featuring the instrument. There are six movements of modest length, each with an evocative title stemming from the scene associated with that portion of the original film score.
The first movement, “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” begins with an introduction by the ‘cello alone, in a ruminating, mysterious soliloquy that features glissandi and some opportunities for a bit of improvisation. The effect is to somewhat allude and reference the traditional Chinese fiddle, the erhu. Soon the orchestra joins with its own glissandi, while the alto flute takes up some of the solo ‘cello’s ideas, accompanied by bongo drums. A heavy percussion ostinato from the whole section ensues, and one will eventually hear the solo ‘cello plucking the strings with a guitar pick—again imitating a traditional ethnic instrument, now the rewapu of the Uyghurs of Xinjiang. The movement ends in a dynamic frenzy, everyone hammering away in a section that accompanied a “night fight” in the film.
--Wm. E. Runyan
©2023 William E. Runyan