Yes, it’s hard to sell a record these days. No matter how
good an artist you are, you find that either people already own what you have
to offer or that people want it free. That’s in part a consequence of the
Internet these past dozen years. One can get a ton of music of all kinds in
free downloads or on disc for ridiculously discounted prices. And I haven’t
even mentioned the plethora of used album on-line. As a consequence, artists
must have a gimmick, a hook to get them in the door. Such is the case, at least
in part, with the 2012 Sony release Baroque
Conversations. This is not to say the gimmick doesn’t work, however, nor
that I disapprove of the approach. Let me explain.
David Greilsammer is a prizewinning pianist as well as the
Principal Conductor of the Geneva Chamber Orchestra. Born in Jerusalem, Israel,
he studied there at the Rubin Academy before entering the Juliard School in New
York and making his solo debut in 2004. Apparently, one of the things audiences
have enjoyed are his recitals juxtaposing Baroque and contemporary music, as he
does in this program. Now, you may object to my calling this a gimmick, which
my Random House Unabridged Dictionary
defines as “an ingenious or novel device, scheme, or stratagem, esp. one
designed to attract attention or increase appeal.” As I say, people need such
an ingenious device these days, and if it works, more power to them.
Anyway, in this album Greilsammer offers four segments
comprised of three piano selections each, two Baroque masterpieces as the outer
movements and a modern work in the middle. Greilsammer tells us in a booklet
note that his intent was “to see opposing worlds meet and converse with one
another, in the infinite hope of witnessing the birth of a dialogue between the
extremes.” Thus, the album’s title. He goes on to say that “little by little,
by expressing all of the lyricism and madness hidden within them, these planets
begin to stare at each other, move closer, talk, perhaps even touch one
another, slowly, gently.” Fair enough, although I’d say he’s hoping for a
little more than a lot of listeners may find in these pieces, because at least
for me the contrasts far outweigh the similarities. But, then, I am not a fan
of much contemporary classical music, so who am I to judge? Besides, if two
planets ever did touch, we’d have a cosmic catastrophe on our hands.
OK, with that introduction you can probably guess what I’m
going to say next. Greilsammer is an extremely sensitive, intelligent pianist
with a load of talent. The Baroque pieces I found ravishing, brilliant, glowing
from beginning to end with poetry and passion. It’s the stuff in between I
simply found jarring, out of context. No planets touched; rather, they smashed
into one another. Which, I suppose, is part of the album’s objective. Each
listener will bring away from the experience something different, for better or
for worse. And even if it’s for the worse, the listener should be able to
understand why, which is a learning point of its kind.
So, each of the four sets follows the
Baroque-contemporary-Baroque pattern. For example, the first set begins with
the Gavotte et Six Doubles by
Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764), followed by Piano Piece by Morton Feldman (1926-1987), and concluding with the Sonata No. 84 in D major by Padre
Antonio Soler (1729-1783). The Rameau dance variations are melodious,
rhapsodic, falling on the ear gently, like a soft spring shower, even in the
more rambunctious second half. Feldman’s Piano
Piece from 1964 is likewise gentle, even quieter than the Rameau work, yet
without much of the melody, the notes instead of gently dropping down upon us
emerging slowly, almost hesitantly, as though creeping up and lying in wait.
Whereas Rameau requires only an open heart to appreciate, the Feldman music
takes patience. Still, it provides a cozy, slow interlude between the Rameau
and the concluding Soler piece, which acts as a kind of closing Scherzo Finale.
In all of this, as with the rest of the album, Greilsammer
plays dexterously, with zesty wit, a serious commitment, and a smiling
intellectualism. I have to admit, though, that I would rather have heard just
his performances of the Baroque material; but I suppose that’s what one can do
if one chooses--program the album according to one’s own whims and fancies.
This is especially so because sometimes, as in the second set, the modern music
of Porat can be so raucously contrasting that it wholly disrupts any mood
created by the older music of Couperin. This said, it makes the Handel Suite in D minor that ends the set all
the more attractive for its sheer beauty.
If the disc, which also includes Frogerger, Sahar,
Gibbons, Frescobaldi, Lachenmann, and Sweelinck, suggests anything, it’s that
as music evolves, it doesn’t necessarily get better, just different.
Sony made the recording at Jesus-Christus-Kirche,
Berlin-Dahlem, Germany, in 2011. It’s quite lovely, the piano sound sweet, very
lightly warm, and resonant. The notes materialize clearly from dead quiet
backgrounds, Greilsammer fully understanding the importance of the silent
spaces in music and using them to good advantage. The disc displays a
reasonably quick transient response, too, with a fairly strong dynamic impact,
helping to reinforce a lifelike impression.
