With the flattening of temporal existence brought about by the information age, a wealth of contemporary popular music writing has centred on the notion of aesthetic ‘newness’ and forward-thinking, or a lack thereof, in post-millennial music culture. While Steve Goodman (Reference Goodman2009) and Adam Harper (Reference Harper2011) championed the potential innovations in alternative digital methods of composition, Simon Reynolds (Reference Reynolds2011) foregrounded the increasingly accepted notion that novelty has ceased to inspire musical trends, lamenting the ever-changing styles of the latter 20th century. It seems apt, then, that Alvin Lucier, one of the leading experimental composers of that era, should now release a book focusing upon then-crucial avant-garde musical pieces by himself and his contemporaries.

According to the press release, Music 109: Notes on Experimental Music is not an ‘objective survey of the genre’, instead offering ‘analyses of works that [Lucier] personally loves or has been involved with over his long career’ aimed at ‘all lovers of music’ (Anon. 2012). As the title suggests, the book is structured around notes for Lucier's lectures at Wesleyan University, interspersed with personal, biographical references. Combining Lucier's unique insight, ‘clear and warm-hearted’ enthusiasm (Ashley Reference Ashley2012, p. ix) and informal story-telling style, Music 109 declares that ‘all readers are welcome’ to share in this rare attempt to render accessible an aesthetic analysis of a complex musical genre.

The book's success hinges on Lucier's knowledge and amiability, both of which cement its accessibility. The use of lecture notes lends his monologue a conversational tone, and his direct addresses to the reader (‘Do you know what white noise is?’ (p. 6) ensure that his analysis is comprehensible to all levels of readership. Surprisingly for such an academic subject, Lucier's humour permeates the text, in witty asides like ‘I don't think it's true but let's pretend it is’ (p. 67), and enhances the teacher/student relationship that he favours. His heavily imprinted personality provides a platform for his impressive knowledge and insight, and he offers aesthetic analyses of the work of multiple leading composers. Both well-known compositions, such as John Cage's 4'3” and Lucier's own I Am Sitting in a Room, and lesser explored pieces (Morton Feldman's Christian Wolff in Cambridge, Annea Lockwood's A Sound Map of the Hudson River) are granted equal space for study, and Lucier's style clarifies both the aesthetic relevance and compositional processes behind each piece. Rather than falling into a journalistic biography of the composers themselves, Lucier provides an in-depth musical analysis of this under-explored sound culture.

The structure of the book contributes to its lecture-like nature. Each of its 20 chapters is built around a specific theme, instrument, compositional process or technical experiment, each of which is then sub-headed with relevant compositions. These range widely; from Chapter 3's focus upon Indeterminacy, to the work of the Sonic Arts Union in Chapter 8, to studies of Tape Recorders, Opera and String Quartets in Chapters 11, 17 and 20, respectively. Although selected works are dated from the 1950s to the 1990s, aesthetic links are made across eras. This offers an interesting alternative to a conventional chronological history, with Lucier using the headings to make connections between seemingly disparate auteurs and compositions. A key example of this can be found in Chapter 12, ‘Repetition’, which draws comparisons between pieces by Terry Riley, Phillip Glass, Steve Reich and Christian Wolff, despite their varying contexts and styles. Certainly, connecting these different sets of lecture notes prevents a study of over 100 works from becoming confusing and disorientating.

The only problem that stems from the notes themselves is Lucier's frequent reference to either listening to or performing certain pieces during the lecture. Although on one level this enhances the conversational tone, and there is a likeable personal aspect to the author's wish to ‘play some of them [as] they always make me feel good’ (p. 12), the book does not come with any accompanying medium through which to experience the sounds. Although Lucier does a fantastic job of describing the aesthetics of every composition within the book, it is impossible to truly comprehend the innovations intrinsic to this music without the ability to hear them. Perhaps this is indicative of contemporary cultural expectations, and the reader's assumed ability to locate and listen to the pieces online. Despite this, however, the compositional descriptions are accessible to all readers, and the book is predominantly comprehensible despite its musicological subject matter. Given his role at the centre of this musical culture, Lucier's book also offers the novelty of fascinating and hugely useful visuals from his collection. Many rare musical scores are found throughout the pages of the book, and the author makes frequent reference to them in order to offer clarity beyond his own descriptions. Among the most interesting are examples of a score for John Cage's (1960) Cartridge Music (p. 59), and the fourth page of Christian Wolff's (1964) For 1, 2, or 3 People (p. 45), both of which expand upon Lucier's rendering of the music into text.

Music 109 is an enjoyable, readable and informative account of experimental music from an influential, knowledgeable and inspiring member of this unique group of composers. As stated, a biographical and conversational approach is employed in order to supplement what is a predominantly aesthetic analysis. This does limit the theoretical side of the work somewhat, as the non-chronological structure offers little reference to the relevance of these pieces within either popular or classical music culture at the time (aside from several references to composers who failed to comprehend these experiments, such as Leonard Bernstein (pp. 21–2). Overall, however, this book achieves the aims of accessibility and comprehensibility set out in its press release. It is a fantastically enthusiastic memoir of an era in which novelty was championed, providing a rare analysis of multiple innovative musical experiments in neo-classical music.