Meredith Monk’s “Gotham Lullaby” – a two word contradiction

 According to Encyclopedia Britannica, Meredith Monk is a pioneer in the avant-garde, and in extended vocal techniques. Compared to Alvin Lucier and Pauline Oliveros, and especially to John Cage and other pioneers of the avantgarde, Monk’s "Gotham Lullaby" feels “expected” and familiar, at least in the sense of what one knows as music as a Westerner deeply rooted in pop culture. Piano and vocals, nothing more, nothing less. Monk plays the piano herself, and, a fact that quickly becomes clear, she also plays her voice. Her composition shows that music itself, not the words that are sung, is the language, and that the human voice is capable of so much more than just reciting words.

Monk sings, squeals and cries in her own language, made-up abstractions and words that tell a bittersweet, even sad story. Over a scarce layer of four arpeggiated notes repeated only with slight variations, her voice flows in waves, coming closer and drifting away again. Its clarity reminded me of Kate Bush’s vocal delivery. The piano stays in the background the whole time, never overshadowing her voice.

Even though the language that is sung is and always will be unknown, its emotional and sentimental qualities come through. If the titular Gotham is New York City, this is not the lively, hectic metropolis that Charles Ives portrays in “Central Park In The Dark,” but a place where solitude can be found. It might be a lullaby about the city, or even for the city. Trying to put The City That Never Sleeps to sleep seems like an insurmountable task, but Monk’s voice somehow seems to be able to do it.