Mikel Rouse: Narrative Biography
For
the last fifteen years, composer and performer Mikel Rouse has been
developing a technically and thematically adventurous trilogy of
multimedia operas that have played in theatres and festivals around
the world. He's putting the finishing touches on the final
installment of this series, The End Of Cinematics, in anticipation
of its September 17th premiere at the Krannert Center for the Performing
Arts at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
Rouse's musical and theatrical repertoire has its roots in
the high art-meets-popular culture, mix-and-match aesthetic of the
early 80s downtown Manhattan music and art scene from which
Rouse emerged. In Dennis Cleveland, his most celebrated
work (and the second part of his trilogy), he transformed the landscape
of trash-talk TV into opera. Rouse himself played the rabble-rousing
host, a character who, it turns out, is not so much holding a volatile
show together as falling apart in front of the cameras. This provocative
piece of environmental theatre, in which cast members were planted
amongst the audience and the audience itself was featured on video
monitors, blurred the lines between performance and reality in the
same way the "Jenny Jones"/"Jerry Springer"
type talk fests confused personal confession with popular entertainment.
Dennis Cleveland began its life with a sold-out run at
tiny New York City avant-garde venue the Kitchen, where theatre-goers
had to turn to scalpers to nab hard-to-come-by tickets, and returned
to Manhattan years later in more full-blown form, for a critically
acclaimed engagement at Lincoln Center. Village Voice critic Kyle
Gann called it "the most exciting and innovative opera since
Einstein on the Beach."
Rouse was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, “Michael†became “Mikel†at an early age, when Rouse decided to spell his name the way it sounded – and realized it looked considerably cooler in print like that. He attended both the Kansas City Art Institute and the Conservatory of Music at the University of Missouri in Kansas City, simultaneously fueling his interests in the visual and the musical. He may have acquired some of his theatrical smarts even before then when, as a teenager, he briefly ran away to join a carnival. Relocating to New York City in 1979, Rouse explored African and other World Music and began studying the math-based Joseph Schillinger Method of Composition. Through Carla Bley’s New Music Distribution Music Service, which at the time was the avant-garde music community’s most effective conduit to forward-thinking consumers, he released albums with his contemporary chamber ensemble, Mikel Rouse Broken Consort. He recorded more overtly rock-oriented material with another combo, Tirez Tirez, through a deal with new wave indie label, IRS.
Rouse started working in 1989 on the first piece in his operatic
trilogy, Failing Kansas, inspired by Truman Capote's
In Cold Blood. This piece was performed solo by Rouse and
employed multiple, unpitched, prerecorded voices in counterpoint
to each other and to Rouse's own vocals, a technique he dubbed
counterpoetry that would become central to his work. Failing
Kansas, which premiered at the Kitchen in 1994 and continues
to be mounted internationally, examined the perception-altering
and manipulative power of media as well as Americans' approach
to religion and spirituality, themes that re-emerge in both Dennis
Cleveland and the forthcoming The End Of Cinematics.
While New York City may have been his artistic incubator, it was
on the campus of the University of Illinois that Rouse has fully
able to put his remarkable imagination to work. As Rouse explains,
Krannert director Mike Ross has been fostering the sort of interdisciplinary
dialogue that would not have been out of place in Manhattan back
in the day, trying to get artists, teachers, scientists,
philosophers to intermingle and realize that their goals are not
dissimilar. Which meant that Rouse wound up in, of all places,
the National Center for Supercomputing Applications, where he was
introduced to new technology, hybrid technology, CGI stuff
they're doing with computers, motion sensing, stereo television.
Collaborating with NCSA scientists, Rouse dreamed up a high-tech
framework for The End Of Cinematics that turns Hollywood-style
special effects inside out. Rather than placing actors in computer-generated
landscapes, he has removed the images of actors from a film he shot
on the real streets of Paris, so that live performers can take their
place on stage and, in a sense, on film. Via panels, scrims and
real-time video projections, The End Of Cinematics will
become a "hyper-real" live-action 3-D movie.
The End of Cinematics was inspired by a pair of essays
on movies written by the late Susan Sontag and is intended as a
commentary on the vacuity of corporate entertainment. The score
has a pronounced Beatles-esque feel at times (think trippy, Revolver-era
Fab Four) and a definite, electronic-edged, hip-hop influence at
others. The music from the piece, which will travel to the Mondavi
Center at the University of California, Davis after its Krannert
debut, is collected on The End Of Cinematics, available
via iTunes.
But Rouse doesn't only think big: he's also been able
to operate on a more intimate scale as a solo recording artist and
live performer, traversing the United States like a 21st Century
Mark Twain with a surreally beautiful song-and-video storytelling
piece called Music For Minorities. He's now made
the soundtrack to this suitcase tour, as he calls
it, available via iTunes and CD, along with its audio prequel, Test
Tones. This isn't just another easily downloadable collection
of material, however, but a fourth wall-shattering theatrical experience
all its own. His elegantly arranged, subtly spiritual songs constitute
a portable performance for audiences on the go, guaranteed to transform
even the most ordinary of daily journeys.
This material, while as theoretically complex and technologically
sophisticated as his operatic work, is easily accessible, emotionally
compelling and utterly personal stereo-worthy. He dedicates Test
Tones to Brian Wilson and Steve Reich, which may seem like
an odd pair to name-check together, but says a lot about the nature
of Rouse's music and the breadth of his influences. Layers
of gorgeous harmonies, multi-tracked by Rouse in an affecting, Harry
Nilsson-like voice, float above rigorously structured, hypnotically
repetitive tracks. Lyrics are terse, epigrammatic, sung over and
over like mantras, as fragmented -- and riveting -- as the content
of dreams. The arrangements on Test Tones feel more experimental,
angular, urban; Rouse employs instrumental versions of these tracks
to underscore the video portions of his Music For Minorities
live production. The actual songs he performs in the piece, accompanying
himself on guitar and harmonica, are collected on the Music
For Minorities disc. They have a gentler, almost-folk-ish quality;
the arrangements, on the surface at least, seem more traditional,
and there's just a hint of the blues.
Music For Minorities, commissioned by UCLA Live, was shaped,
sonically and conceptually, by the time Rouse spent in rural Northern
Louisiana at a college artist-in-residence program arranged by Meet
The Composer, Inc. along with the North Central Louisiana Arts Council,
Louisiana Tech University and Lincoln Parish School Board. As Rouse
explains, "I got to know some of these really old delta blues
guys. I kind of got back into playing guitar more and hanging out
with them, just playing music. I think you can see the progression
from Test Tones to Minorities. You can still hear
the sort of metric combinations I like to use, but the flavor starts
to change. There's a progression with those two records as
I got further and further into the delta and further back into playing
guitar."
On the visual side, too, Music For Minorities mixes talking
heads from rural Louisiana, some sporting accents so thick they
need subtitles, with snippets of Manhattanites enlisted from Rouse's
own circle of friends and colleagues (including choreographer Merce
Cunningham). No one from either locale quite gets to finish a story,
but their dialogue is edited into a kind of music, their images
into visual poetry.
"I shot the film over two and a half years, doing interviews
with people I knew in the Delta during my residency and in New York,"
he explains, "I wanted to come up with a different way of
working with film and live performance. I started to focus on how
people actually consume media nowadays. Channel surfing
to me, that's how people live with television. Part of it
is because television is so bad, part of it is because it's
a new vocabulary. You can go around 500 channels in 20 minutes.
The whole non-narrative thing is really natural to me. I like to
think of Music For Minorities as romantic channel surfing.
Some stories almost resolve, but it's like when you're
watching movies around the TV dial. You might find one whole movie,
but usually it's just twenty minutes here, twenty minutes
there, it doesn't matter. You still realize whether the guy
gets the girl or when something else happens. You see some infomercials,
you see some news, you see a number of things. I'm taking
that exact same experience and presenting it from a different perspective."
Test Tones and Music For Minorities (along with
the new releases International Cloud Atlas, House Of Fans
and Love At Twenty) are available via iTunes. Music For
Minorities is packaged as a CD/DVD two-disc set, containing both
the music and video imagery from the live piece.