Inside the Sound

The New Angle Collective performed Friday in a converted planetarium, where the audience surrounded a low, nine-sided stage. The nonagon placed listeners near every instrument, so even quiet gestures carried across the room. The septet comprises flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano, percussion, and double bass. Although that mixture promised confusion, the players arranged their competing colors with surprising care.

At first, Mina Okafor's flute traced a buoyant phrase, lifting the mood with quick, sunny notes. A rough scrape from the cello then pushed forward, while the flute seemed to recede until it was barely noticeable. This contrast felt deliberate: the group had clearly planned how one sound would yield space to another. In less careful hands, sudden whistles and knocks might seem frivolous, like jokes with no musical purpose. Here, however, each interruption altered what the audience heard next.

The hall's curved ceiling complicated the performance. Echoes blurred several rapid passages, especially when drums and piano struck together. An audiophile seeking perfectly reproduced sound might object to that haze, but it also became part of the drama. During the slow central section, the ensemble's force began to ebb; the volume weakened, and the echoes thinned with it. That fading exposed a lucid clarinet line whose simple shape was easy to follow, even as other instruments murmured beneath it.

The final movement returned to disorder, yet it no longer sounded random. Percussionist Leo Vance tapped the rim of a bowl, and each bright click traveled to a different corner. Cello and bass answered with heavy pulses, making the room feel larger than before. Gradually, the scattered parts locked into a steady pattern, then stopped together at a raised hand. The silence afterward showed how closely the audience had listened. This was demanding music, but not cold music; its risks invited attention and rewarded patience.