![]() The result loses the setting of the sanctuary, but none of the polyphonic fullness that the sacred proportions of a cathedral allow. Spencer Yeh, Chris Corsano, and Ava Mendoza-headed to Oktaven Audio in the suburb of Mount Vernon and recorded the previous night’s composition in a single day. Meanwhile, Wooley and an edited version of his ensemble-which, even in slimmed-down form, consists of 14 musicians, among them contemporary downtown fixtures C. When my partner and I woke at home the next morning, we could still feel the music, even as its immediate sensory imprint faded. An ecstatic, communal experience in a city seemingly built for them, the debut roused and moved us as our night bled into the wee hours of Sunday. The piece that followed was hardly ordinary, and it didn’t aspire to the divine, either. Susan Alcorn’s pedal steel accented the vocals. Musicians, seated on the pulpit surrounding Wooley’s trumpet like stoics, started to play. But the choral music was ideal for the acoustics of a 19th-century cathedral, rising like heat over the Spuyten Duyvil blue stone. “Didn’t they do this when Steve Reich and Arvo Pärt were at The Shed?” I muttered. ![]() ![]() Singers inserted into the audience belted out a choral work from the neighboring benches. An actual hum began around us, shadowy and doleful. ![]()
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