In 2014 I went to see Heiner Goebbels’ production of American composer Harry Partch's Delusion of the Fury at the Edinburgh International Festival. In the rich, intimate interior of the King's Theatre, the futuristically clad ensemble sat on a stage piled high with unusual instruments that, in the words of Bob Gilmore, looked like ‘the artefacts of some imaginary ethnic group, a compost of allusion to flower stems, tendons, human sexual organs, claws, stamens, dismembered limbs, petals’.Footnote ¹

The two acts – the first ‘very serious’, the second ‘highly farcical’ – tell separate tales that are linked by their exploration of putting anger aside in favour of forgiveness. The first presents a warrior who meets the ghost of a rival he slew, while the second shows an altercation between a hobo and woman who has lost her lamb, which is then pronounced upon by a myopic judge. Or, at least, this is the bare bones of the plot derived from the synopses and literature. At the time I am not sure I knew entirely what had happened, or what it meant, though I did know I would jump at the chance to hear it again.

The evening was a mixture of ritualistic scenes with distinct rhythmic characters and intoning voices. Triadic organ passages repeat rather like rock progressions, if prog rockers had been interested in dividing the octave into 43 intervals. A snaking zither melody returns at periodic intervals, while various drums and bells, flutes and pipes comment on proceedings. The voices for the most part do not offer any recognisable text, instead offering statements such as ‘O la klu/Boo day tho/Klu la o/Tho day boo day’. These descriptions can make it sound like a menagerie of exotica but somehow it coheres into a special Partchian unity. It is informed by a profound appreciation of music cultures from around the globe, as well as a connected conviction that Western music had taken a wrong turn with the move towards equal temperament. The recording here was made one year after that Edinburgh performance, so Partch fans have had to wait rather longer than might be expected for its release.

There was a question whether the disorientating immersion of the live performance would transfer to CD. Partch himself was always keen to stress the totality of his theatrical conception, as experienced in the ‘seen and heard performance’. He states that the ‘concept of this work inheres in the presence of the instruments onstage, the movements of musicians and chorus, the sounds they produce, the actuality of actors, of singers, of mimes, of lights; in fine, the actuality of truly integrated theatre’.Footnote ² He goes further, claiming that he ‘could no more become a writer of acceptable concert music than I could become an acceptable kangaroo’.Footnote ³ While seeing the full production would be ideal, there is a drama to the sounds of the instruments and mildly eccentric use of voices that gives the imagination more than enough sustenance. From memory, the staging did not seek to explicate the precise meaning behind the mysterious scenario, also giving room to the musical expression.

The disc manages to conjure up so much of what was fascinating that evening. This does not necessarily mean that the music exists alone as a fascinating object without the drama but, rather, that the drama is so ingrained in the music its expression is in a way inherently dramatic. The loving recording of the various instruments also helps this sense of immediacy. For example, I do not envy the sound engineer trying to capture the giant marimbas for which Partch had a penchant. So big are they that their resonators must necessarily be shorter than the physical ideal and, in person, it was as if the instruments created a short-lived breeze that brushed past your ears. The CD conveys it all, though, with remarkable clarity.

The barriers in place for Musikfabrik's performance of this work are more than enough to make most ensembles run for the hills. Gilmore, describing the composer's oeuvre in general, states that perhaps the most ‘controversial aspect of the entire enterprise is the sheer unavailability of much of Partch's work’, this being the chief reason performances are few and far between.Footnote ⁴ The first major challenge concerns the instruments, which include a wonderful array of marimbas, guitars, ‘chromolodeons’, ‘cloud-chamber bowls’, ‘kithararas’ and ‘harmonic canons’. Partch's original instrumentarium, which he created to aid the performance of the tonal system he developed, is ageing and only available for research at the University of Washington, Seattle, and not to be transported. Almost the entire set of instruments (some 40-odd) was recreated by a dedicated team, with instrument builder and percussionist Thomas Meixner contributing over 20. This is the work of years and the results are staggering.

The second challenge resides in the fact that the instruments and the piece require musicians who assume unusual, multiple roles. Players from the ensemble learnt entirely new percussion instruments; they double-up as the chorus, as dance troupe, and some are featured as vocal soloists. As Partch himself stated, ‘I believe in musicians who are total constituents of the moment, irreplaceable, who may sing, shout, whistle, stamp their feet. I believe in players in costume, or perhaps half-naked, and I do not care which half.’Footnote ⁵ Special mention should be made of Christine Chapman (usually playing French horn in the ensemble), who gives a gripping account of the Old Goat Woman. It seems as if the entire ensemble changed its way of working for this one endeavour. The instrumental playing is also regularly of the highest order, tightly moving between the rhythmic scenes, and with some fantastic mallet percussion playing.

Finally, this is an effort that must have required a phenomenal amount of financial support alongside its status as a passion project. The production is an international collaboration between the Ruhrtriennale, Holland Festival and Lincoln Center Festival, and received funds from the Kulturstiftung des Bundes and Kunststiftung NRW. It is a feat that will not easily be repeated.

That this is an excellent disc does not need restated, yet it may well be more than that. There is a sense of importance that emanates from this performance, from this project, that is unique. As a document of large-scale Partch performance it is peerless and, as such, it is filling one of the most intractable gaps in recordings of twentieth-century American music, though mention should be made of Bridge Records, who continue to put out Partch recordings at regular intervals. Nevertheless, Musikfabrik's release feels like a landmark and, with the complete set of instruments now at their disposal, it may not be the last.

What a commitment. What a performance. What a group.