The Karlheinz Company launched their 2004 season with a sampling of electro-acoustic work from past and present students of the university's music department, the only exceptions being the Korean composer Isang Yun and one J.S. Bach, who provided piquant acoustic interludes between the electronica.
Some electronic scores stood bythemselves. Alison Grant's Tarawera Night Mountain, inspired by a Riemke Ensing poem, kept the poem itself a secret but treated us to a wide-range of bird-like songs, some of which were surprisingly dissonant and disturbingly insistent.
Lissa Meridan's Sweeping Dawn was just that as it swirled into our consciousness, re-casting material from fellow composer John Elmsly.
Kim Maree's Cantoris, mixed from the singing of the University Choir, offered beautifully modulated sonic textures, although projected images of the stained-glass windows in St-Matthew-in-the-City being de-focused and kaleidoscoped, were rather distracting.
A live component was most effectively brought in for Matthew Suttor's Rugwerk, in which flautist Alistair Greenwood retained his poise and tone while the composer unleashed Bach-like organ textures and fluttering, dancing underlays, all created from reworked flute sounds.
Roderick Skipp's Joust, in which its cellist-composer and violinist Vanessa Tam improvised alongside their own electronic enhancement, had the two string players trading off tense tremolo with aplomb, but gave the impression of being more duo than trio.
Two offerings featured groups of students working at a circle of monitors set across the stage like an internet cafe.
There were snappy titles in 700 Salamanders Swimming in the Town Hall Organ, where an improvising quartet were taken along a call-and-response trail by Andrew McMillan's spunky sax. And Classic Ghosts saw some playful damage being perpetrated on some Beethoven evergreens.
The best came last with a screening of Tinge, a film with music, produced by Norm Skipp and choreographer Wilhemeena Gordon.
Sybaritic images, with prominent wine glass and cigarette, slipped in and out of sepia. Piling on top of one another, they created their own dance with Skipp's music, which often played against the energies coming from the screen.
The programme note offered three definitions of the work's title; this reverberant work suggested there were quite a few more.
