Tilted Axes Finds a New Dimension in Necessary Music Only

Reflections on our recent production at Theater for the New City, and the continuing evolution of music, movement, and experimental theater.

By Patrick Grant | October 2026

What happens when an orchestra refuses to sit still? For the past fifteen years, my ensemble Tilted Axes: Music for Mobile Electric Guitars and I have been exploring that question in streets, parks, museums, and public spaces around the world. With Necessary Music Only, presented September 17 through October 4 at Theater for the New City, we brought our distinctive musical philosophy indoors, transforming the Johnson Theater into a laboratory for sound, movement, and theatrical expression.

At the heart of this production was an idea I’ve been pursuing for many years: that music need not simply accompany movement, but that movement itself can become an essential part of musical composition.

I founded Tilted Axes in 2011 with the idea of creating an ensemble that could take music out into the world. Our musicians perform on electric guitars powered by portable amplifiers, allowing us to move freely through performance spaces while maintaining the complexity and precision of a chamber ensemble. My compositions draw on influences ranging from minimalist repetition and Baroque counterpoint to rock, world music traditions, and experimental performance art.

I’ve never considered Tilted Axes to be a conventional guitar orchestra or a rock band. Our identity lies somewhere between the two, with elements of dance, procession, and ritual incorporated into the musical experience.

In Necessary Music Only, we brought these elements together within a more deliberately theatrical framework.

Music as Movement

Working with choreographer Christopher Caines, I’ve been developing a performance vocabulary in which musicians become moving components of a larger visual and sonic architecture. Instead of occupying fixed positions, our performers navigate geometric formations, intersecting pathways, and shifting configurations that continually redefine the relationship between sound and space.

The implications are more substantial than they might initially appear.

In a traditional concert, the audience’s attention is directed toward a relatively stable arrangement of performers. In our work, the arrangement itself becomes part of the composition. Musical lines can be understood not only through pitch, rhythm, and harmony, but through the changing physical relationships between the players.

This approach has always interested me because of its relationship to experimental dance and music theater, particularly the interdisciplinary traditions associated with the downtown New York arts scene.

The absence of spoken dialogue or a conventional narrative is central to the concept. Rather than telling a story through characters and events, I wanted the work to suggest dramatic relationships through musical interaction, physical proximity, collective action, and contrast.

It’s theater in which the music carries the dramatic argument.

An Orchestra of Individual Voices

The musical foundation of Tilted Axes is polyphony, the simultaneous interaction of independent musical lines.

My compositions frequently employ interlocking rhythmic patterns, repeated figures, shifting accents, and contrasting instrumental textures. These techniques can create music that appears deceptively simple on the surface while revealing considerable structural complexity.

The electric guitar is particularly well suited to this approach. Its capacity for both percussive articulation and sustained resonance allows individual performers to move between rhythmic, melodic, and textural roles.

Within the ensemble, the addition of bass and live percussion provides both rhythmic propulsion and a counterweight to the guitars’ interwoven patterns.

Unlike the familiar guitar-centered spectacle of rock performance, my emphasis is on collective musical organization. Individual virtuosity serves a larger structure, with the ensemble functioning as a network of interdependent voices.

I’ve often thought of the ensemble in terms of a gamelan orchestra, where musical complexity emerges through the coordinated interaction of distinct parts. There are also connections to minimalist composition, although my musical language embraces a broader range of rhythmic and harmonic contrasts.

One of the things that continues to interest me most is the possibility of making musical structure physically visible. Counterpoint, normally experienced as an auditory phenomenon, acquires a spatial dimension when the musicians themselves become moving lines.

INFLUX: A Hidden Symphony

At the heart of Necessary Music Only lies what I think of as a hidden symphony. INFLUX, an ambitious composition in four movements, provides a larger musical architecture for the production, with each movement arriving at the conclusion of a successive quarter of the performance.

It is among the most intricate, demanding, and richly constructed works I’ve written for Tilted Axes, and I believe it represents an important step forward in the evolution of our musical language.

The composition draws upon our established vocabulary of interlocking rhythms, independent melodic lines, and shifting metric relationships, but develops these elements into something considerably more expansive. Musical ideas emerge, intersect, separate, and reassemble, creating an elaborate network of relationships that demands extraordinary concentration from the performers.

There is an almost orchestral ambition to the writing. Although the instrumentation remains rooted in electric guitars, bass, and percussion, I wanted the density of the counterpoint and the independence of the individual voices to suggest a musical world extending well beyond the conventional expectations of a guitar ensemble.

Perhaps most intriguingly, certain movements seem to evoke the psychological and emotional dimensions of space exploration. I hear something of the vast distances between planetary bodies, the mathematical precision of orbital trajectories, and the fragile exchanges of information between astronauts and ground control.

The effect isn’t intended as a literal depiction of outer space, but rather an exploration of the human experience of navigating it. Musical phrases can suggest transmissions sent across enormous distances, signals answered or interrupted, and independent objects moving through a shared gravitational system.

These associations seem particularly appropriate for an ensemble whose musicians are themselves engaged in a continual negotiation of distance, timing, and collective coordination.

Because INFLUX is such a recent and demanding addition to our repertoire, we performed its four movements stationary, with the musicians reading from their scores. This provided a contrast to the choreographed works surrounding them. For a group whose identity is so closely associated with mobility, these passages offered an opportunity to concentrate attention on the extraordinary detail of the musical writing itself.

I don’t consider this a departure from our theatrical ambitions, but rather a stage in the work’s development. My intention is to bring INFLUX into the choreographic language we’ve established elsewhere in the production, allowing its elaborate musical structures to acquire a corresponding physical expression.

The prospect is exciting, and not without its challenges. Music of such rhythmic and contrapuntal complexity requires considerable precision, particularly when combined with movement. But I also see opportunities for a deeper integration of choreography and composition.

For me, INFLUX is more than a technical accomplishment or a series of evocative sonic landscapes. Its four-movement structure gives Necessary Music Only a sense of larger musical purpose, functioning almost as a symphony concealed within the theatrical presentation.

It also points toward a significant new direction for Tilted Axes. Our familiar techniques are no longer simply the basis for individual compositions or mobile performance situations. They have become the building blocks of a more extended, architecturally ambitious musical form.

If Necessary Music Only represents our growing confidence as a theatrical ensemble, INFLUX suggests an equally important evolution in our compositional identity.

From the Street to the Stage

Perhaps the most significant development represented by Necessary Music Only is our continuing transition from public-space intervention to theatrical presentation.

Tilted Axes originally distinguished itself by bringing unexpected musical experiences directly into everyday environments. Our processions challenged the assumption that audiences must enter a concert hall to encounter serious contemporary music.

In the theater, however, the relationship changes. The audience arrives expecting a performance, and we have to sustain attention within a defined dramatic framework.

That shift presents both opportunities and artistic challenges.

The controlled environment allows choreography, lighting, and visual media to assume more substantial roles. It also places greater emphasis on pacing, transitions, and the overall shape of the production. What might function as an exhilarating encounter on a city street must develop a different kind of continuity over an extended theatrical work.

This has become one of the central artistic questions for me: how can an ensemble whose identity is rooted in mobility and unpredictability preserve those qualities within the formal boundaries of a stage production?

I think the answer lies less in recreating the spontaneity of street performance than in developing a theatrical language appropriate to our distinctive musical resources.

My collaboration with Christopher Caines has been especially important in this respect. His choreography provides a means of organizing the musicians’ movements without reducing them to decorative accompaniment. Our challenge is to establish a genuine relationship between musical structure and physical action, allowing each to inform the other.

The production’s use of lighting and visual media further extends that vocabulary, suggesting possibilities for a form of music theater in which instrumental performance remains the primary expressive medium.

A Distinctive Place in Contemporary Performance

There are precedents for combining instrumental music with theatrical movement, from the instrumental theater of Mauricio Kagel to the multimedia productions of Robert Wilson and the choreographic structures associated with experimental opera.

These are traditions I’ve long been interested in, but Tilted Axes approaches this territory from a different direction.

Our starting point is not opera, dance, or traditional theater, but the practical and musical possibilities of a mobile electric-guitar ensemble.

That distinction matters to me. Rather than adding musicians to an existing theatrical concept, we’ve been developing a theatrical practice out of the particular capabilities of our instruments and performers.

The result is a project that resists easy categorization. It can be approached as contemporary chamber music, experimental theater, or a form of choreographed sound installation, but none of these descriptions is entirely sufficient.

The title Necessary Music Only also suggests a broader aesthetic position. In an era when performances frequently depend upon elaborate technological spectacle, I’m interested in what can be accomplished with comparatively direct materials: musicians, instruments, movement, light, and the shared experience of a room.

That economy of means doesn’t necessarily imply simplicity. On the contrary, the complexity emerges from the relationships among those elements.

An Evolving Artistic Language

Our three-week engagement at Theater for the New City represents an important stage in the development of Tilted Axes.

Following our previous theatrical presentation, Circle With No Center, in 2025, Necessary Music Only continued our exploration of how a project originally conceived for public spaces might evolve into a sustained form of music theater.

It also raises productive questions about our future. How might more intricate musical passages be integrated with movement? How can the physical arrangement of performers become an increasingly precise compositional tool? And how might these techniques develop into a theatrical language capable of sustaining larger works?

These questions become especially relevant when I consider the future of INFLUX. Its four movements already possess the scale, sophistication, and internal architecture of a substantial concert work. The next challenge will be to discover how that complexity can be translated into movement without compromising the precision that makes the music so compelling.

In this sense, the stationary performances of INFLUX were not merely a practical accommodation for new material. They represented a stage in an artistic process unfolding in public, with the musical foundation established and its theatrical possibilities still to be explored.

One of the ideas I wanted to explore with Necessary Music Only is that the relationship between music and theater need not be hierarchical. The music doesn’t merely support the staging, nor does the staging simply illustrate the score. Both belong to the same artistic proposition.

For Tilted Axes, moving indoors isn’t a retreat from our original mission of taking music out into the world. It’s an expansion of that mission into another kind of space, one in which the familiar boundaries between concert, choreography, and theater can be reconsidered.

If there’s one idea I hope people take away from Necessary Music Only, it’s that music isn’t simply something that happens in a space. Music can organize, animate, and transform that space.

And with INFLUX pointing toward an increasingly ambitious musical and theatrical future, I believe some of the most intriguing possibilities for Tilted Axes still lie ahead.


Tilted Axes: Necessary Music Only was presented September 17–October 4, 2026, at Theater for the New City, Johnson Theater, New York City. Created and directed by Patrick Grant, with music by Grant and Tilted Axes composers, choreography and lighting by Christopher Caines, and technical direction by Elijah Smith, and Olivia Talian stage manager. The production featured performers Gene Ardor, Lori Bingel, John Ferrari, Grace Goss, Patrick Grant, John Halo, Jim Lee, Jeremy Nesse, James Schoen, and Dmitri Shapira. Photography and video were provided by Jocelyn Gonzales and Jack Wang. Produced by Peppergreen Media.

FIELDS AMAZE (& other sTRANGE Music) 20th anniversary new recording

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new recordings + bonus tracks

1. Keeping Still
extended percussion quintet

2. Fields Amaze
homemade gamelan and microtonal keyboard

3. A Visible Track of Turbulence 1
flute, clarinet, and piano 4-hands

4. Everything Distinct: Everything the Same
three keyboards in Gb just intonation and three percussion

5. A Visible Track of Turbulence 2
flute, clarinet, and piano 4-hands

6. Imaginary Horror Film 1
chamber prog ensemble

7. The Weights of Numbers
aka Fractured Fictions 
three keyboards and drums

8. Imaginary Horror Film 2
chamber prog ensemble

9. If One Should Happen to Fall
six words vs. thesaurus

“…a driving and rather harsh energy redolent of rock, as well as a clean sense of melodicism … the music’s momentum and intricate cross-rhythms rarely let up, making the occasional infectious tunes that emerge all the more beautiful for surprise.” – The Village Voice

Patrick Grant: piano, keyboards, electric guitars, gamelan, percussion – Kathleen Supove & Marija Ilic: keyboards – John Ferrari: drums & percussion – Barbara Benary: additional gamelan – David Simons: Balinese percussion & theremin – Keith Bonner: flute – Thomas P. Oberle: clarinet – Darryl Gregory: trombone – Martha Mooke: viola – Maxine Neumann: cello – Mark Steven Brooks: electric bass – Alexandra Montano: vocalise – Lisa Karrer: lead vocal on If One Should Happen to Fall.

All 2018 production, overdubs, revisions, and new stems recorded at Peppergreen Media, NYC and The Ferrari Factory, NJ. Mixed at Mercy Sound Studios, NYC – Garry Rindfuss: mixing engineer – Sheldon Steiger: album mastering – Patrick Grant: producer

All music © 1997-2018 Patrick Grant and published by Peppergreen Media (ASCAP). This album ℗ 2018. All rights reserved.

Cover photo Cuming Co. Supercell, June 14, 2013 taken by Dave Rebot and used with permission. Album artwork, layout, and design by Eric Iverson. Peppergreen Media logo by Steve Ball. CD image collage created from Elément bleu XII, 1967 by Jean Dubuffet, photo credit: sTRANGE Music Inc.

Thanks and acknowledgements: The Braunschweig Family, Coudert Brothers, Bank Julius Baer, Matthews Panariello P.C., Chris LaBarbiera, Patricia McKenna, Context Studios, Music Under Construction, Philip Glass, Kurt Munkacsi, Jed Distler & Composers Collaborative Inc., Music for Homemade Instruments, Erik Satie, Kyle Gann & The Village Voice, The Bang on a Can Marathon, Stéphane Martin and the musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac, The Ross Institute, The Knitting Factory, Patrick Grant Group, I Wayan Lantir, STSI/ISI Denpasar, Gamelan Son of Lion, Celebrate Brooklyn!, Johnny Reinhard & The American Festival of Microtonal Music, The Fractal Music Lab, James Gleick author of Chaos: Making a New Science, The Margaret Jenkins Dance Company, The Brooklyn Academy of Music, Harvey Lichtenstein, The Mark Morris Dance Group, The Prix de Lausanne, Exploding Music, The Living Theatre, Kalvos & Damien’s New Music Bazaar, Annina Nosei Gallery, John Schaefer, WNYC’s New Sounds, Ralph Valdez, WDET Radio, James Moore & Independent Music Promotions Inc., Jocelyn Gonzales, The NYU Tisch School of the Arts, Roget’s Thesaurus.

Echoes and Dust (UK) Interview with Patrick Grant

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The creator of Tilted Axes: Music for Mobile Electric Guitars discusses his recent album A Sequence of Waves and his Detroit Music Awards nomination for Outstanding Classical Recording.

“Only classical compositions and that kind of inter-related album architecture could pull together elements of rock, world, and techno into a cohesive whole that goes beyond mere pastiche and that is integrated into its core.” Ljubinko Zivkovic chats to experimental / prog musician Patrick Grant.

Read the complete interview HERE

Les Paul – Coming Full Circle with the Original Looper

This blog wouldn’t exist if not for Les Paul (1915-2009). So many know of his innovations in the development of the solid body electric guitar, but there is also his work in the advancement of multi-track recording, tape delay, sound-on-sound looping, reverb etc. that we take for granted today. Before the software replicants that we use today, there was a time where, if something didn’t exist, you went into a machine shop and made it out of wood, metal, vacuum tubes and electrical components. That’s hardcore analog. That calls upon a wider range of skill sets than most of us have today and, in Les Paul’s case, than most anyone ever had.

Video: Les Paul and Mary Ford are hosted by Alistair Cooke on a 1953 broadcast of the legendary CBS show Omnibus doing a “sound-on-sound” performance of “How High the Moon.”

I’d been thinking a lot about him this week before his passing. I haven’t owned a guitar in years and I had just gotten tired of either borrowing my friend Gerald’s Gibson SG for recording or playing clean guitar sounds on my keyboard and running them through guitar FX plug-ins, that I decided to get one of my own again. The first electric guitar that I bought for myself was a silver Les Paul Standard copy made by the Cortez (!) company when I was a freshman at Wayne State University in Detroit. I’d decided to skip school that semester but still lived in the dormitory keeping up the pretense of going to classes. Money that was supposed to be spent on books was quickly converted into the cash needed to buy that guitar and an amp, so I could make spending money playing in original music bar bands at night. My days were spent giving myself a crash course in guitar playing that, thanks to years of violin, piano and theory that came before it, went very quickly. After moving to NYC and fully embracing the new paths that MIDI technology was taking us to, my bar band aspirations became a thing of the past. The guitar broke and was never replaced. Plus, I was surrounded by friends who were/are guitar wizards now so, why bother?

Cortez: accept no substitutes

Cortez: accept no substitutes

Yes, after moving to NYC with one of the number one bands in Detroit, that all fell apart. I returned to “serious” music, as I understood it at that time (I had classical training, J.S. Bach to Steve Reich, but the bands were a more immediate form of expressing Cold War angst, for this young man). I worked for John Cage’s publisher and then later, his editor, so that, coupled with my incipient work in avant-garde theater, saw me through a phase of trying everything possible: indeterminate music, serial music, prepared piano, percussion quartets, electronic soundscapes, etc. This led to a World Music phase in the 90s that was followed by a Neo-Minimalist phase because, with my keyboard-based ensemble, I was able to use non-tempered gamelan tunings within the guise of pattern-driven mini-epics for chamber ensemble. Still, it wasn’t completely ‘me’ yet. One of the best compliments I received from a live performance of a piece of mine for microtonal keyboard and gamelan at Celebrate Brooklyn! came at me like the kid who speaks up in The Emperor’s New Clothes: “I really liked your piece. It reminded me of The Who.” I laughed them off. But later, when I thought about it, when the piece was removed of all the ‘new music’ trappings, they were right. The road I chose may have been different, but the destination was the same. Since then, it’s all been about returning to who I was all along. My music has become a synthesis of everywhere I’ve been and everything I’ve done and that includes restoring the sound of the solid body electric guitar to my work, though with a lot more history behind it this time.

When I arrived in NYC, I almost felt I had to hide my punk rock/new wave ‘detour’ when I re-entered the classical world. I guess I was embarrassed about my incomplete music school pedigree. Worse yet was the embarrassment I felt (and still feel) for the Ivy League composers who dominate the NYC scene when they try to “rock out,” or decide to get all “downtown” on us. I guess it works both ways. To see it you gotta be it and, well, I don’t see it. Much. If hanging-in-there has brought me anything, it has made me come around full circle and feel comfortable in my own skin again with what I’m doing and where I want to go now musically, and there ain’t no degree you can get for that.

Playing a neighbor's Gibson arch-top 1980s

1980s: Goofing for the camera as Elvis Costello with a Gibson arch-top

So here I am last Sunday, 20+ years after that silver Cortez, looking at all the electric guitars hanging on the walls at Guitar Center on 14th Street in Manhattan. So many new models and guitar gadgets since I last looked. My trips to music stores had always centered around the keyboards, electronics and software. So, if I’m coming full circle, why not go all the way? After a half an hour of trying out different ones, I decided on a particular Les Paul Standard that seemed to call my name and felt just right.

Mind you this was before Les Paul’s passing today. I’m sure I’m not special. I’m sure that there were millions of musicians somewhere thinking about him every day. In the months, weeks, and days leading up to that moment, I’d been talking about him with my guitarist friends, building up the courage to get another Les Paul some day soon. My research led me to remember all the innovations that he’d made besides the solid body electric guitar: multi-tracking, overdubbing, looping, tape delay, reverb etc. Now these live on in the little machine before me that I’m typing into.

I had an Akai APC-40 to control my laptop on order from B&H Photo since late May, until they emailed me that it would not be shipped within the quoted 2-4 weeks. I would have to wait until September! Screw it, I’ll make do with how I’ve been doing things up until now. I canceled the order and put that money towards the Les Paul Standard sitting beside me right now. Sometimes musical expression has to be more immediate than a chain of gear that needs to be turned on, booted up, opened up, mixer on, speakers on, controller on… sometimes it has to be something you can just reach out and grab, touch, pound on if you must, and make some music with, dammit. Like now. That’s classical and that’s rock’n’roll.

2009: The new Les Paul Standard - I dub thee "Xanax!"

2009: My new Les Paul Standard

Thank you, Les Paul for always keeping a beautiful and musical balance between man and machine, and for an electric guitar that will sustain a note almost as long, but not quite, as your legacy surely will.

–Patrick Grant

P.S. – The MMiXdown would like to give a shout out to Studio360 and to Variety of Sound for adding us to their blogrolls. It must have been the bikinis. Thanks!

Meet the Old Boss, Same as the New Boss

All musicians have a few pieces in their lives that, when they heard it it for the very first time, it was an epiphany, it was something that said to them, “This is what you were meant to do,” almost like a memory that had been implanted since birth had been awakened. One of these moments for me was when a friend popped in a cassette tape (look it up kids) of “Who’s Next” by The Who and I heard the opening synthesizer part to “Baba O’Riley” only to end when more of the same on the albums closer “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” How surprising it would be, years later, to learn that Pete Townsend’s sequencer-driven, phase-shifting rhythm track was in turn inspired in part by Terry Riley’s minimalist manifesto “In C,” itself a study in loop-based composition though played on an indeterminate ensemble of acoustic instruments.

Previous to this I had been learning the classics through the side-door of Wendy Carlos’ and Isao Tomita’s transcriptions via the Moog. The other shoe had dropped. I could be cool now amongst my peers, always a primary concern to a teenager. The Who keep me going until, without the help of MTV or today’s internet, new bands started catching my attention on the late night Detroit airwaves (shows like Radios in Motion and The Electrifyin’ Mojo) and I moved sharply away from classic rock into a New Wave.

The personal note above has been added to show that things change quickly, one cannot get stuck in a rut. This is especially true if one wishes to stay on top of innovation. To illustrate this, here are two videos of Pete Townsend. This first one shows how the electronic rhythm track to that “Who’s Next “ album came into being:

Now compare this to the very same, if not heightened, enthusiasm he shows in a recent video, almost a tutorial really, that, camera in hand, he made himself in the studio (still his fascination of loop-based composition is thriving):

I can only hope that I’ll retain the same open mindedness 30 years down the road when I’m confronted by whatever means of music making we’ll have then.

-Patrick Grant