Donnacha Dennehy: Moireen (for clarinet vibraphone and violin)

For cl(bcl), vib(optional D3-tuned gong), vn (2026)

Duration: 11 minutes

A reduced version of MOIRE originally commissioned by The Serge Koussevitzky Music Foundation in the Library of Congress and F-Plus.
 
For The Serge Koussevitzky Music Foundation in the Library of Congress and dedicated to the memory of Serge and Natalie Koussevitzky

Composer note
Moireen is a reduced version of Moire, especially made for F-Plus on the occasion of their appearance at PASIC in 2026. Moire might be considered an Irish name, or at least a variation on one. I suppose I have form in writing pieces with real names, such as Paddy, Bridget, etc. So I like naming pieces. But moire could also refer to moiré, the optical illusion that happens when two similar patterns collide or are overlaid. This collision of similar materials to produce a new perceptual disturbance or frisson not explicitly there in the notes themselves is a driving idea of this piece. I make little progressions or processes where the pitches or rhythms tend towards something, but they do it in different ways and then these are superimposed on top of each other. The approach is like a canon in that it plays with something new being created out of the superimposition of similar material, but here it is rarely delayed, and the little changes between the similar-ish material create interesting glitches on the surface that add to the moiré effect, often compounded by oscillating pulsing glisses that merge between the cracks of the varied but similar material. Sometimes, one instrument is doing a quantized version of the other: where the violin is glissing between nodes on the harmonic series, the clarinet is leading to them in a terraced fashion while the vibe is only hitting on the closest equal tempered equivalent. Ultimately this patterning is a way of creating a kind of vibrating organism that somehow transforms and goes beyond the three individual instruments. Together, more is possible, as it were.

— Donnacha Dennehy