Microfest Records has recently released Memories of a Shadow, a new CD by Chris Votek. The liner notes state that Votek is “…an innovative composer refracting Indian Classical music through the lens of modern chamber music.” The string ensemble performing on this recording consists of two violins, two cellos and a viola. The lower registers predominate, creating an unusual sonic balance and perspective. The resulting album is an appealing blend of raga forms incorporating Western medieval harmonies clothed in deep tones and a rich timbre.
Serpents, the first piece of the album, opens with sustained tones dominated by the cellos with more active phrasings in the higher parts. The tempo is measured, but not slow, creating a sense of quiet drama. There is a solid, woody foundation to this that alters the harmonic center, challenging the listener’s preconceptions of string ensemble music. The deepest tones are often gnarly, but this only adds to the refreshing context. As the piece proceeds, a series of intertwining passages coil in and around each other – serpent-like – but there is no menace in the lovely harmonies that develop. Serpents is beautifully wrought, the musical equivalent of a finely carved wooden sculpture.
Fossil Dance follows, with a fast opening that features active rhythms and nicely blended harmony. Repeating parts follow each other and a pleasing groove develops. There is less of the exotic and a more traditional feeling to this piece with a plaintive feel and a marked sense of introspection. The independence of the parts and the formality of the structure combine in Votek’s elegant and mature style. The ensemble playing is solidly skillful and always expressive. The tempo picks up about midway through and a bit of tension creeps in, especially in the violins and then the cellos. The pace gradually increases towards the finish, bordering on the anxious, until a sudden slowing returns to a solemn and almost sorrowful courtliness at the end. Fossil Dance is a refined and artful exposition of the emotional potential inherent in string music, masterfully performed.
The third track, Migration of the Fires, begins with a series of long, languid phrases and graceful harmonies. The rich timbre and dignified ambiance soon morphs into independent parts, each spinning actively in and out as the tempo gradually increases. The phrases have movement in the cellos while the violins hold lightly sustained tones above. This is all very deliberate and under control, even as the pace increases. About midway through, the piece goes from a trot to a canter and this adds a touch of anxiety. The playing is always disciplined and very precise with fast running phrases and strong bowing. By 9:00 everything slows again, as if out of breath. There is a much slower tempo now, with long sustained tones as the piece quietly fades to a finish. Migration of the Fires exhibits the same mature style and wide range of expression heard in Fossil Dance and is equally enchanting.
The final piece on the album is Bhimpalasi – Chota Khyal . Chris Votek, on cello, is joined by Neelamjit Dhillon on tabla performing this “traditional Hindustani raga in the singing style – gayaki-ang.” A low drone sound sets the foundation as the cello enters with a strong intonation in its very lowest register, almost as a growl. Even at this depth and slow tempo the phrasing is noticeably lyrical, if somewhat somber. At 4:40 the tabla enters with a welcome beat that lightens the mood and soon generates a pleasant, ambling groove. The style of this piece is consistent throughout but the details constantly change and evolve. The deep tones magnify the sense of singing that is heard in the cello melody and this seeming contrast holds the listener’s attention. At 11:40 the tempo picks up a bit and the cello is ‘singing’ more in a middle register with faster and plaintive phrases. A repeating theme soon appears in the cello and serves as a departure point for improvised variations. Towards the finish, the tempo increases again as the notes pour smoothly out of the cello and the tabla provides a solid rhythmic framework. Votek’s command of the cello is impressive and the coordination with the percussion is seamless. Bhimpalasi is clearly a traditional Indian form, but the expressive playing in the cello makes it more accessible to the Western ear – the kind of music you wish would last longer.
The artistic vision of Chris Votek for Memories of a Shadow succeeds with its unusual combination of classic Indian ragas mixed with contemporary forms, an unconventional string ensemble and a high technical level of performance.
Performance Personnel:
Andrew Tholl, violin
Adrianne Pope, violin
Ben Bartelt, viola
Derek Stein, cello
Chris Votek, cello
Neelamjit Dhillon, tabla (Bhimpalasi)
Memories of a Shadow is available from Microfest Records and as a digital download at Amazon Music.
Kit Downes
Vermillion
Kit Downes, piano; Petter Eldh, double bass; James Maddren, drums
ECM Records
After listening to Obsidian, Kit Downes’s debut as a leader for ECM, one might justifiably think from his considerable prowess as an organist that it was his sole specialty. Not so, as is eminently demonstrated on Vermillion, a piano trio album in a modern jazz idiom for ECM. On a set of originals by Downes and bassist Petter Eldh, along with a rendition of “Castles of Sand” by Jimi Hendrix, these two musicians along with drummer James Maddren demonstrate a simpatico collaboration, filled with rich harmonic progressions and a well-coordinated sense of swing.
“Minus Monks” is an homage to Thelonious Monk, with slender voicings and an angular melody adorning a circuitous set of changes. Downes plays with a silvery, legato touch, frequently locking in on polychords with Eldh playing rock solid roots. Maddren is resourceful, using the entire kit yet never overwhelming the proceedings. “Sister, Sister” has an intro that could be translated from a Debussy Prelude, and the impressionist timbres continue once he is joined by Eldh and Maddren, the bassist playing fleet countermelodies and the drummer shading the tune with cymbals shimmering. “Seceda” is a loosely articulated ballad with post-bop filigrees followed by a pastoral progression inflected with blue notes.
Eldh’s composition “Plus Puls” begins with a brief solo that sets a buoyant groove. The melody is frequently doubled in octaves by Eldh and Downes. The bassist’s tune “Sandiland” sets a walking line against syncopated piano chords and a wandering keyboard solo. “Math Amager ” is a showcase for Eldh’s fleet soloing. Maddren’s drums are featured on “Class Fails,” and the change in ensemble relationship provides welcome contrast.
The most intriguing piece on Vermillion is Downes’s “Rolling Thunder,’ in which dissonant arpeggios put the trio outside the pocket. Eldh fills in some of the chromatic verticals which Maddren again punctuates with cymbals and gentle syncopated fills. “Bobbi’s Song” also focuses on intricate chord progressions thickly voiced with a tenor register countermelody from Eldh. “Castles Made of Sand” closes the album with Hendrix’s song given bitonal treatment with parallel voicings and harp-like arpeggiations.
Whichever instrument Downes choses to play, piano or organ, he is a formidable and imaginative musician. One hopes he keeps the trio assembled here together: they collaborate with considerable skill and sensitivity.
-Christian Carey
Barbara Monk Feldman
Verses
GBSR Duo with Mira Benjamin
Another Timbre CD
Given her association with Morton Feldman, both personal and professional – he was both her spouse and her instructor at Buffalo University – it is tempting to look for comparisons between their compositions. Tempting but unrewarding. Yes, Monk Feldman creates slow, quiet pieces, but so do many composers since Morton Feldman who have greatly departed from his legacy. A fundamental distinction one hears on Verses, Another Timbre’s Monk Feldman recital disc, is that the composer has a cogent sense of form; the longest piece is thirty-one minutes and there are even two five minute pieces, all of which have distinct sectionalization.
The harmonic sensibility of Duo for Piano and Percussion (1988) and piano solo The I and Thou (1988) rely upon an extended sense of triadic post-tonality, with a great fluctuation of the deployment of pitches to create asymmetrical phrases. A distinct gesture that is found in most of the pieces on the recording is a grace note leading into or out of a rest, with this punctuation creating phrase-based boundaries within the pieces. The title work, for solo vibraphone, uses microphrases, short splashes of arpeggios with the pedal down that are followed by rests. Throughout the piece these expand and contract, thicken to wide-spaced chords and reduce to intervals, creating a miniature full of information and surprises.
The recording’s centerpiece, The Northern Shore (1997) is inspired by a place where Monk Feldman, a Canadian, goes to every summer in Quebec. Like a number of the composer’s pieces, nature as a touchstone, rather than as a programme, serves as a wellspring of inspiration. There is something of a ritualistic quality to the way that each player interprets the same intervals and then passes them off to the next, in a kind of call and response. In addition to nature, Monk Feldman has long been interested in theater, particularly Noh, with her most recent opera, or “non-opera” as she prefers to designate them, finished just before the beginning of the pandemic. Color is an important consideration in The Northern Shore, with different verticals and arpeggiations having distinctly scored accumulations of pitch. Like much of her work, the use of triads that never quite resolve provides an achingly beautiful ambience. GBSR Duo – percussionist George Barton and pianist Siwan Rhys – joined by violinist Mira Benjamin, are sympathetic and compelling interpreters of the music.
One question: when will her operas be recorded?
-Christian Carey
Morton Feldman
Late Works for Piano
For Bunita Marcus, Palais de Mari, Triadic Memories
Alfonso Gómez
Kairos 3xCD
Morton Feldman’s late piano works are totemic structures, influential on a generation of composers from the Wandelweiser collective to American experimentalists. Slow-moving, prevailingly soft, and quite long, apart from the Palais de Mari, which still clocks in at nearly a half hour in duration. This Kairos recording presents compelling renditions of Feldman in clear, focused sound that captures the pedaling and decay of notes with admirable detail. Alfonso Gómez’s recent recording of Messiaen’s Vingt Regards, also on Kairos, was an impressive outing and he is more than equal to the challenges and subtleties of Feldman’s music.
Feldman often mentioned that the usual late twentieth century pieces, which often were bounded by a somewhat arbitrary 20-minute time frame, were easier for programming. Feldman preferred to think of his predilection for longer pieces as exploring “scale” rather than “form.” Thus the somewhat diffuse direction found in For Bunita Marcus. Written for a composer whom Feldman mentored, it distinctively uses short, thread-like gestures in the middle register in distinctive fashion. These melodic cells are then expanded into dissonant arpeggiations. As is so often the case, the introduction of a new pitch seems like an important event. The pauses and, for lack of a more accurate term, cadential points, are even more so, and beguilingly asymmetrical.
Palai de Mari plays with a widely spaced chordal domain, with two to four sonorities frequently connected in post-tonal voice-leading. A number of the verticals sound like the added note triads found in Poulenc or Milhaud, but they are of course deployed without the sense of harmonic rhythm that propels music by Les Six. These are interspersed with melodic fragments that emphasize the usual seventh and, less usual, fifth. All told, the effect of the piece is that of Feldman exploring different sonorities within his preferred framework of “scale” rather than “form.”
Triadic Memories, clocking in here at nearly an hour and a half, is a journey of thirds set against Feldman’s characteristic use of dissonances. Shifts of pacing are pointed up by Gómez’s rendition, where the tempo ranges from very slow to andante. In general, changes in texture, tempo, and pitch selection are faster than the previous two pieces, yet in the uncoordinated and unexpected nature of these shifts Feldman manages to create music that floats rather than inexorably moving towards a goal. His late fascination with Asian rugs, with their uneven threading, is a worthy analogue to this piece in particular.
Gómez thrives in the epic environments of Messiaen and Feldman. His focus and sense of large-scale pacing are without peer. Recommended.
Catherine Lamb: String Quartets
JACK Quartet
Kairos 2xCD
Catherine Lamb’s studies with James Tenney at Cal Arts, as well as substantial research of figures such as Erv Wilson, have led her to crafting compositions with subtle tuning systems based on just intonation. On a double-CD from Kairos, JACK Quartet performs an early piece, Two Blooms (2009), and a recent, gargantuan opus, divisio spiralis (2019). Where extended just-intonation composer Ben Johnston created quartets like his Fourth, based on “Amazing Grace,” where the focus is melodic cells, Lamb is interested in the confluence of different intervals, creating beats from difference and combination tones and reveling in the interplay of harmonics.
JACK plays the subtle shifts of intonation with gorgeous specificity, savoring each dyad or vertical construct as a sound image in itself, yet providing a flowing legato that connects the various strands. Their renditions take time, the phrases breathing within a subtle, mainly soft, dynamic spectrum. In this one hears Lamb’s predilections for allowing difference tones to be articulated without the high amplitude of pieces by LaMonte Young and Phil Niblock. The overtones nearly take the role of extra voices in the texture, shimmering and poignant. Two Blooms focuses on the development of the entire compass, not stinting intervals in the tenor and bass registers. It ends with an open fifth that is perfectly tuned, abundantly spacious.
Her most recent quartet, divisio spiralis, is an epic journey of thirteen movements. It too focuses on the entire compass, but the main sections often deal with piquant dissonances in the upper register, where major and minor seconds deliver achingly biting beats. As the piece progresses, wider intervals, particularly open fifths and octaves, provide a context of progression to the formerly aloft altissimo duos. Seconds become sevenths, affording a triadic component to the work’s conclusion. Despite the epic proportions of divisio spiralis, listeners will be rewarded with further details in subsequent listenings. Highly recommended.
On March 15, 2022 Brightwork Newmusic and Tuesdays at Monk Space presented New Universes: George Crumb’s Makrokosmos at 50. The concert, featuring pianist Nic Gerpe, consisted of the first volume of zodiac music by George Crumb as well as twelve new pieces inspired by Makrokosmos . These made up the movements of The Makrokosmos 50 Project, the second work on the concert program and a Los Angeles premiere. George Crumb was born in 1929 and, after a long and creative life, passed away suddenly on February 6. This concert, planned earlier in the year, unexpectedly became a commemoration for George Crumb as well as the performance of one of his more popular works.
George Crumb was one of the most influential composers of late 20th century, winning the Pulitzer Prize for music in 1968. Makrokosmos Volume I, written in 1972, dates from what was a very fertile and artistically productive period in the composer’s career. His use of amplified piano, along with extended techniques and graphical scores, expanded the possibilities of piano music to new horizons. Crumb once noted that with Makrokosmos he intended to write “an all-inclusive technical work for piano ([using] all conceivable techniques).”
Makrokosmos, Volume I is subtitled Twelve Fantasy-Pieces after the Zodiac for Amplified Piano. There is about an hour of music in total, organized into three sections, each with four separate pieces. Each piece also has its own title, and while the work is based loosely on the signs of the zodiac, there is no attempt to characterize them with a personality. The pieces are given titles such as “Night-Spell”, “Primeval Sounds”, “Music for Shadows”, etc and are generally dark and otherworldly, as is the music. During this concert the sound of the piano almost always defied the listener’s preconceived expectations. The amplification and close acoustic of Monk Space made it seem as if one were inside the piano rather than out in the audience.
Pianist Nic Gerpe was certainly kept busy during the performance. Only occasionally were the sounds initiated conventionally from the keyboard and these were generally spare melodies of solitary notes or short, simple phrases. In some ways this trang casino trực tuyến work resembles the prepared piano music of John Cage, but instead of the strings being populated with various bits of hardware, the pianist must lean in to provide the external stimulus. Most of the time Gerpe had his hand inside the piano plucking, strumming or pounding on the strings even as he was also called upon to chant, whistle or sing miscellaneous phrases during the various sections. All of this was done with an amazing smoothness and economy of motion – there were no awkward pauses or sudden gestures as the music flowed forward. It is striking how differently the piano sounds in Makrokosmos, yet Gerpe was completely at home during the entire performance.
After an intermission, Gerpe performed the second work on the program, the Los Angeles premiere of The Makrokosmos 50 Project. This was twelve new pieces, each inspired by the original George Crumb work with twelve individual composers having created short piano pieces based on one of the zodiac signs. In some ways this was similar to a concert given by Synchromy in January where Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Tierkreis zodiac was presented along with twelve new pieces from contemporary composers based on the original. A small instrumental ensemble was used for the Stockhausen concert and the new pieces displayed a wide variety and independence from the style of the original.
Makrokosmos 50, however, was entirely piano music and held closely to Crumb’s vision of a piece consisting mainly of extended techniques. Each of the new pieces generally began with some integral component of the associated section of the Crumb zodiac: perhaps an opening chord or tone cluster, a direct quote, part of a phrase or fragment of a melody. Two of the composers actually submitted graphical scores and all made effective use of the many specialized sounds heard in the original Makrokosmos. The Crumb vocabulary for the amplified piano is highly original and yet was easily absorbed by each of the contributing composers: Juhi Bansal, Viet Cuong, Eric Guinivan, Julie Herndon, Vera Ivanova, Gilda Lyons, Alex Miller, Fernanda Aoki Navarro, Thomas Osborne, Timothy Peterson, and Gernot Wolfgang. The twelve new pieces convincingly evoked the powerful style of the original and served to illustrate why George Crumb is such a significant influence on contemporary composition.
There was an unusual incident during “Ghost of Manticore”, composed by Nic Gerpe, the fifth piece of this second half. The hall seemed to shake as fierce sounds poured from the piano like a volcanic eruption. It was as if the dark powers ,so prominent throughout the Crumb original, were being summoned by the pianist all at once. As the volume crested to its ultimate intensity, an alarm in the back of the hall went off and wailed continuously. The sounds mixed with the tones in the piano strings for a few moments until the performance was suspended and the alarm eventually silenced. It was probably just an old smoke alarm or motion detector that was overwhelmed by the sound pressure, but I prefer to believe it was George Crumb signaling his approval and wanting to join in. The Makrokosmos 50 Project was instructive listening as well as a fine tribute to an immensely influential composer.
Inner Astronomy is an album of new vocal music from 4Tay Records and composer Molly Pease. Inspired by the poetry of the late Randall Pease, Inner Astronomy is structured as a cantata with exquisite singing and a superbly understated accompaniment from a small string ensemble. The music on the album reflects “ ..the poet’s search for strength and meaning through spare and metaphorical language…” and incorporates a number of experimental techniques. The result a testament to the emotional power of vocal music when guided by a spiritual theme.
The poetry of Randall Pease reflects the struggle of the poet with addiction, recovery, dementia, and cancer. But it contains, at the same time, vivid imagery and instances of hope and joy within its economical framework. Here is a fragment from the first track, Recovery Family:
Our love
Above
lip buds bloom as if they’re moons
Spirits starring, still eyes shining
To pass to others
As if one mother
The music for this is similarly concise, starting with a single vocal tone, whose pitch bends as it is sustained. The strings enter quietly underneath with a series of active phrases that contrast effectively with the smoothly expressive vocal line. The text is delivered calmly and deliberately as the strings, never dominating, add an undercurrent of uncertainty. This compact architecture is perfectly aligned with the feelings and sensibilities inherent in the poetry.
The other pieces on the album proceed in similar fashion – the vocals are always in the foreground with the string ensemble offering a subdued counter commentary. The overall sound is always under control and seldom includes any technical fireworks. Most of the tracks are short – less than eight minutes – but the emotional impact, rich details and technical precision are more than sufficient to fully engage the listener.
Track 5 is Higher Power and this piece combines three treble voices in close harmony along with the strings in a beautiful mix of interlacing parts and textures. The feeling is warm and expressive and the instrumental accompaniment is reminiscent of John Luther Adams’ string quartet music. The vocals enter again, building to a high dynamic peak, then subsiding back to the slow, lush sounds of the opening. The music reinforces the organically peaceful spirit of the text:
Green shadows
guide the way off
through tunnel trees
toward the sea
above.
While just a short piece, deer proud of our climbs extends the artistic horizons with three voices curling in and around each other with masterful harmony and a beautifully balanced vocal technique. Tree’s Me is another short piece that mixes a light violin pizzicato with whispering wind and voice reciting the text. Two singing vocals enter and are heard mingling with the words in a lovely harmony of sustained tones. In general, when multiple voices are heard in any of the pieces in this album, the singing is precise, the tones are pure and the balance with the accompaniment is extraordinary. Inner Astronomy is compelling vocal music.
The sound engineering, mixing and mastering by Umberto Belfiore deserves special mention. All the pieces were performed live in the sanctuary of First Congregational Church, Los Angeles but the result is as precise as any studio recording and every subtle detail is clearly heard.
The poetry and music of Inner Astronomy brings us face to face with our inevitable human anxieties, even as its graceful elegance bequeaths to us a quiet confidence.
The personnel on Inner Astronomy are:
Poetry by Randall Pease
Molly Pease, Kathryn Shuman, Sharon Chohi Kim and Lauren Davis, vocals
Rachel Iba, Nigel Deane, violin
Patrick Benkhe, viola
Tal Katz, cello
Miller Wrenn, bass
Fahad Siadat, conductor
The Inner Astronomy CD is available at Amazon Music. The CD and digital downloads are also available at Bandcamp. A book of poetry by Randall Pease and the published score are available at See-A-Dot Music Publishing.
Centaur Records has recently released Metamorphoses, a new CD of harp music by Tasha Smith Godinez. The album features six new works by five different contemporary composers who are friends and colleagues of Ms. Godinez. The result is an engaging variety of new music carefully crafted and brilliantly performed.
The opening piece on the album is Hidden, by Sidney Marquez Boquiren. This is intended as a social commentary on the current US immigration situation and was also inspired musically by another work for harp, Pièce Symphonique, by Henriette Reniè. Hidden opens with a strong chord by the harp rising from the lower registers marked by an unsettling, scrambled rhythm. There is a strong sense of the unseen and the mysterious. Clear notes and elegant arpeggios are heard that offer a vision of purity and order, but the rougher sounds invariably follow. At times the harp is strummed in the manner of a guitar, evoking the music of distant Mexico.
The variety of of sounds in this piece are impressive, with plucked harp notes heard as clearly as from a piano keyboard. The arpeggios are smooth and nicely shaped and the playing artfully sustains a sense of hidden uncertainty over long passages. The mix of standard intonation and extended techniques is masterfully applied throughout. Towards finish the tempo and dynamics build, increasing the tension between the clean notes and scratchy sounds. As the music softly fades away, the listener is left reflecting on the absence of justice and compassion. Hidden powerfully articulates the emotional conflict between the unseen world of the undocumented immigrant and the promise of a brighter future that is kept just out of reach.
Obsessive Imagery, by Michael Vincent Waller is next and the liner notes explain that his “…music can be described as lyrical and introspective, drawing inspiration from impressionism, post-minimalism and world music.“ All of these elements are present, beginning with a quiet opening arpeggio that is soon accompanied by an expressive counterpoint in the higher registers. As the piece proceeds the notes become ever more active, like the patter of a gentle summer rain. A simple piece that is gracefully beautiful and elegantly played, Obsessive Imagery manages to be both lyrical and introspective simultaneously in a way that adds to its appeal.
Track 3 is Born on a Wednesday by José Gurría-Cárdenas. Although this track is less than four minutes in length it features a strong pulse and a wide variety of playing styles. The piece works as a metaphor of the emotional oscillations of teen age youth, as based on memories by the composer of his son. The strumming here resembles a guitar as much as a harp and the piece swings between a heady optimism and brooding concern, never sure where it wants to land. There are lovely lyrical stretches and these are balanced by somewhat darker sections heard in the lower registers. About halfway through, the tempo slows to a more languid and gentle feel, brightening in the higher registers and returning to the strong beat of the opening just before it concludes. Born on a Wednesday is a nostalgic reminiscence of sunny youth, artfully performed.
Diomedea, for Harp and Khaen, by Christopher Adler follows, inspired by the great albatross sea bird species of that name. The khaen is a bamboo reed mouth organ associated with Southeast Asia that somehow sounds like a subdued brass section in the soft chords of the opening. The harp melody rides atop this accompaniment, much like a wandering albatross might glide along on the winds above the ocean waves. There is a wide and somewhat lonely feeling in this piece that evokes the long migratory flights of the diomedea across the vast and empty Pacific. The reedy sounds of the khaen nicely compliment the often dazzling notes coming from the harp. There are occasional syncopated lines from both instruments playing against each other, and this produces some interesting textures. A slower tempo towards the finish is heard with spare, melancholy notes in the harp – a bluesy feel that completes the piece. Diomedea is a fine tribute to a little known but impressive sea bird and its peripatetic seagoing lifestyle.
Track 5 is Mobile Active Simulated Humanoids, by José Gurría-Cárdenas, who “…takes into consideration how we as a society become disenfranchised, isolated and hopeless.” Soft plinking in the upper register of the harp opens this piece, accompanied by a stream of ominous underlying eighth notes below. A modest groove develops from this that soon morphs into a series of fragmented passages freighted with a feeling of alienation. The tension is sustained by the precise technical playing and contrasting emotions. The intonation is always clean and the notes crisply heard.
There is movement and direction in this music but it is also full of quiet desperation, with patterns that recur without any sense of resolution. Mobile Active Simulated Humanoids embodies the futility of an act of repetition that never improves its outcome and makes a gentle, yet powerful commentary on how we are continuously conditioned by society for conformity.
The final track of the album is Transfigured Verse, for Harp with Computer-generated Sound, by Jon Forshee, a piece inspired by an Old Testament story of David and a verse from Psalm 57. 1 Samuel 16 relates the story of how God, having rejected Saul as King of Israel, sends Samuel as his prophet to anoint the young David as the new King. An evil spirit sent by the Lord torments Saul, whose councilors observe: “See now, an evil spirit from God is tormenting you. Command the servants who attend you to look for someone who is skillful in playing the lyre; and when the evil spirit from God is upon you, he will play it, and you will feel better.” After some searching, David arrives with a lyre and his playing pleases Saul who takes him into royal service. Psalm 57:8, attributed to David, rejoices in the musical power of the lyre.
Awake, my soul!
Awake, O harp and lyre!
I will awake the dawn
The opening of Transfigured Verse is mysterious, quiet and introspective with a slight tension that builds from a high electronic sound. The playing starts out slow but the tension gradually increases as the harp and electronics contrast, perhaps recreating the mental distress that Saul may have felt. The electronics drone along in the background, never dominating, but delivering a relentless sense of oppression. The harp notes and chords gradually become more active, generating a restorative vigor that infuses the overall sound. Towards the finish the tempo slows and the harp notes are spaced out between silences and scattered electronic blips. The final feeling is one of relief so that Transfigured Verse softly and artfully brings out the healing powers of the harp.
The harp is known to most listeners from a few predictable solos in an orchestral context. In Metamorphoses, Tasha Smith Godinez continues to expand the vocabulary of the harp by exploring new horizons in contemporary music.
Metamorphoses is available from Amazon Music.
how do I find you?
Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano, Kirill Kuzmin, piano
Pentatone CD
Mezzo-soprano Sasha Cooke and collaborative pianist Kirill Kuzmin supply an entry in the “pandemic recording” subgenre, how do I find you?, named after the title piece by Caroline Shaw. Cooke performs a great deal of contemporary repertoire, creating roles in operas and premiering art songs by composers including William Bolcom, Nico Muhly (Marnie at the English National Opera), and Joby Talbot. Apart from a selection by Muhly, all of the songs on the release are with new collaborators, composers in the under-fifty age bracket. Written in 2020, the songs are inspired by topics from that fraught year of pestilence, protests, and political rancor.
The first two songs on the album, Shaw’s and Kamala Sankaram’s, are particularly well written and moving. Here, as elsewhere, Cooke sings with great beauty, deploying a richly hued voice with impressive diction and expressivity. Shaw focuses on the ability of natural beauty to provide succor, those distanced walks so many treasured as a respite from lockdown. Sandaram’s “Listen” is a moving and harmonically rich musical tribute to George Floyd, with an eloquent poem written by Mark Campbell, one that could be classical music’s equivalent of “Strange Fruit.” Elsewhere, Missy Mazzoli’s “Self-Portrait with Disheveled Hair,” with words by opera librettist Royce Vavrek, is an aria in its own right, inspired by Rembrandt’s painting and bifurcated into a soaring recitative and post-minimal main section. One could easily imagine her writing a role for Cooke; has Mazzoli’s Met debut been cast yet?
Nico Muhly knows Cooke’s voice well, and deploys it in the touching and delicate “Intimate Things.” Hilary Purrington counts on Cooke’s legato control and brings a mix of added note chords and chiming interjections to “That Night’s” fetching accompaniment, creating a piece that resembles a musical theater scene, albeit with no belting required. Gabriel Kahane writes both music and lyrics for “The Hazelnut Tree,” a touching song about fear of global warming and the gloom of the daily news being soothed by a beautiful scene in the backyard. Timo Andres provides some of the highest notes on the recording for Cooke to sing to a jaunty accompaniment. Her control and Kuzmin’s incisive playing are both impressive.
“After the Fires,” referencing the California wildfires, by Lembit Beecher, uses expressive vocal devices, such as melisma, to create a keening and harrowing ode to senseless destruction. The plight of immigrant detainees is encountered in Huang Ruo’s “The Work of Angels,” a setting of a 1978 poem about the imprisonment of Chinese emigres under the 1882 Exclusion Act. At nearly eight minutes, it is a powerful depiction of squalid conditions and suicide, decrying past and present US immigration policies.
Andrew Marshall acknowledges the challenges of remote learning with a charming cabaret song, “(A Bad Case of) Kids.” Rene Orth’s “Dear Colleagues” also affords Cooke the opportunity to tear into an angst-filled scene. Chris Cerrone’s “Everything will Be Okay” is an understated setting depicting anxiety, in this case lost then found cash in a hotel.
It is hard to know how long audiences will want to hear pandemic year music. Perhaps, rather sooner than one expects, it will become something left behind, as are (in some cases regrettably) many of the pieces dedicated to 9/11. Cooke and Kuzmin are to be commended for presenting every song in a strong performance with equally fervent commitment, creating a musical time capsule that is an evocative summary of the challenges facing many during painful pandemic days. If there is an album depicting 2020 to which I wish to return, this is it.
-Christian Carey
Wind Bells Falls
Robbie Lee and Lea Bertucci
Telegraph Harp
“Glitter and Gleam,” the leadoff single for Robbie Lee and Lea Bertucci’s collaboration Wind Bells Falls immediately brings you into the altered domain of their engaging approach to sound art. An essay for warped celeste, it provides a sense of musique concrète while also exploring a playful sensibility. Bell-like timbres ricochet throughout the soundfield, supplying exactly what the title suggests.
Throughout the nine pieces on the recording, the duo deploys winds, keyboards, and tape machines. Their specialties include using acoustic instruments in unconventional ways and distressing tape to make it sound synthetic. “Image Mirror” features wild flute overdubs, once again kaleidoscopically transformed. They sound like the wailing riff from an Arkestra member’s free jazz solo chasing itself around the room.
It is striking how willing the artists are to restrict their palette to a limited and distinctive set of sounds for each track. On “Bags, Boxes, and Bubbles,” chiming chords are set against glissandos in a reiterative dialogue. Via an excellent segue, this morphs into duets of slides and trills on “Division Music.”
The duo stretch out on “Azimuth,” retaining small collections of sounds for discrete sections but gradually morphing between them through a process of addition and subtraction of new timbres and motifs. Baying shards gradually build into a registrally delineated rhythmic canon, a venerable composition device redeployed in this experimental context. The album closes with a delicate miniature, “Somebody Dream,” in which chimes and delicate cooing afford a lullaby sendoff to this unusual and diverting recording.
-Christian Carey