Tz’akah (“outcry” in Hebrew) pulls together microtonally-inflected harmonies, pulsating rhythms, and sinuous lines into a world that at turns screams, dances, flutters, and sings out. The title reflects the piece’s opening sonic burst, a sound which contains multiple layers of meaning: an archaeological foundation of a-minor is camouflaged with extended tonal debris, glissandi, and scratch tones, evoking the experience of gazing at a memory through overlaid layers of paint (think of how primary colors emerge through cracks in Gerhard Richter’s paintings).
Formally, the piece relaxes after the opening and traverses a kaleidoscope of harmonies. A four-against-three ostinato grounds the music, supporting spectral vibrations above. As the music develops, sinuous lines spiral out of the pulsations, adding a tangled web to the thick harmonic underpinnings.
A contrasting section acts as a negative to the opening. The fullness vanishes, leaving a vacuum for hushed, anxious pizzicati, and staccato notes in the winds to emerge. In this space, new, jagged melodies sing forth. The piece moves through other terrain, including pulsed declarations and spiraling lines. The music finds a point of rest before climbing to a final, intensified scream.