By Karl W. Nehring
Americascapes: Loeffler: La Mort de Tintagiles, Op. 6; Ruggles: Evocations (Orchestral version, 1943); Hanson: Before the Dawn, Op. 17; Cowell: Variations for Orchestra. Delphine Dupuy, viola d’amore; Robert Trevino, Basque National Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1396-2.
It is always exciting to come across a new release that features a program of unfamiliar music by composers you have heard of although you have heard very little of their music. It is even more exciting when it turns out to be as delightful a disc as this new Ondine release of American music played by a Spanish orchestra led by American conductor Robert Trevino (b. 1984). The program opens with the longest composition (25:48) on the CD, La Mort de Tintagiles by Charles Martin Loeffler (1861-1935). The piece is subtitled Poeme dramatique, d’apres le drame de M. Maeterlinck (“dramatic poem after the drama by M. Maeterlinck”). Loeffler, by the way, was actually born in Berlin, but settled in the United States in 1982, joining the recently formed Boston Symphony Orchestra as a violinist and becoming an American citizen in 1887. According to the liner notes by noted music critic Tim Page, “Loeffler seems to have had a fondness for near-concertos… In The Death of Tintagiles (1897), presented here, the viola d’amore takes center stage. Tintagiles is a discursive tone poem, inspired by a very strange play for marionettes by Maurice Maeterlinck about a wicked queen who murders an entire family, one by one. It is orchestrated in a manner that is both brilliant and subdued -- imagine Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherezade as it might have been rewritten by Gabriel Faure and you’ll have the general idea.” I must admit that it is hard to imagine that this charming music has anything to do with a family being murdered. Although there are some dramatic moments punctuated by some whacks on the bass drum, for the most part the music is lovely and flowing. And for me, although the lovely sound of the viola d’amore (a stringed instrument about the size of a viola, but with six bowed strings plus additional sympathetic strings arrayed below them) does take the lead from time to time, to describe this piece as a “near-concerto” seems to be quite a stretch. In any event, it is an attractive piece that gets the program off to an engaging start.
Next up is the orchestral version (a solo piano version also exists, which Ruggles continued to revise from 1934 to 1953) of Evocations by Carl Ruggles (1876-1971), whom Page characterizes as “notoriously salty.” Classical music fans of a certain age probably best remember Ruggles – at least by name – from an old DG recording featuring a young Michael Tilson Thomas leading the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a program that included Ruggles’s intriguingly titled composition Sun Treader along with Three Places in New England by Charles Ives. I can’t imagine that LP was ever a big seller, but for a time I could swear I seemed to see it everywhere I went. Perhaps the striking cover prompted record stores (remember them?) to display it prominently. At any rate, Evocations is a short piece (10:13) in four brief movements, sounding more modern than the Loeffler – chunky, assertive, enigmatic perhaps (particularly the ambiguous, atonal ending) but no, not salty. Mildly challenging though it might be, Evocations remains quite listenable and ultimately enjoyable, fully worthy of its place in the program.
Then comes the world premiere recording of a brief (6:44) symphonic poem by a young Howard Hanson (1896-1981) titled Before the Dawn, which he composed in 1921. Following the atonal, ambiguous-sounding ending of the Ruggles piece, the opening measures of Before the Dawn offer a striking a change of mood, immediately giving off that lush, sweeping, romantic, what strikes these ears anyway as “movie soundtrack vibe” that characterizes much of Hanson’s orchestral output. I do not mean that as snarky criticism; in fact, I find much of his music –including Before the Dawn – highly enjoyable, but Hanson has a signature sound that reminds me of film music – quality film music, that is. I find Page’s summation quite apt: “It seems that Hanson may have considered Before the Dawn juvenilia, for he could certainly have performed and recorded the work had he wanted to. Yet it is engaging from the start, filled with rich melodies, and sumptuously orchestrated in the style that Hanson would make his own over a career that would span six decades.” Amen to that! It is an engaging, sumptuously orchestrated little composition.
As good as the disc has been so far, with three unfamiliar but rewarding pieces expertly performed and recorded, the folks who put this program together have saved the best for last. Variations for Orchestra by Henry Cowell (1897-1965) is a delight from start to finish. The orchestra gets put through its paces, with passages of tender beauty from the strings followed at times by outbursts from the percussion. The music is sometimes exuberant and playful, at other times giving off a hint of mystery. Seemingly everyone in the orchestra gets a chance to shine over the 19:23 duration of the piece, and the Basque forces do themselves proud. It seems hard to believe that in all my years of listening, I have never before encountered a recording of this composition, which can hold its own right up there alongside, for example, Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra. (It has in fact been recorded before, but never by a major ensemble on a major label, and certainly nowhere remotely near the frequency accorded recordings of the Bartok.) This, folks, is a composition to which you really ought to give an audition. Where has it been hiding?
Besides the booklet notes from Tim Page, there are also notes by conductor Robert Trevino. The engineering is first-class, the orchestra plays with finesse, the program is imaginative and rewarding – what’s not to like? Hats off to a Finnish label for recording a Mexican-American conductor leading a Spanish orchestra in a revealing program of rarely-heard American music deserving much wider recognition. Bravo!
Last Song. Louis Couperin (1626-1661): Unmeasured Prelude (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir & Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir);Atli Heimir Sveinsson (1938-2019): Three Marian Prayers (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787): Melodie (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Jórunn Viðar (1918-2017): Icelandic Suite; Ole Bull (1810-1880) Ensomme Stunde (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir); Jules Massenet (1842-1912): Meditation; Karólína Eiríksdóttir (b. 1951): Winter; Magnús Blöndal Jóhannsson (1925-2005): In a Dream; Lullaby; Couperin: Aubade Provencale (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643): Ave Maria; Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179): Anima Processional; Una Sveinbjarnardóttir (b. 1975): Last Song before the News. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir, violin; Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir, piano, prepared piano, toy piano. Sono Luminus DSL-92248.
Well, I see no need to beat around the bush on this one. I could easily make this review shorter than the listing of compositions above by simply stating that Last Song is the finest, most entertaining, thoughtfully assembled, artfully performed, and skillfully engineered recording of music for violin and piano that I have heard in many years. But because I get paid by the word, I will continue.
I received this CD a few months ago but somehow absentmindedly placed it atop a stack of older CDs that have been just sitting there unplayed for quite some time off to the side of my listening room. It was pretty much dumb luck that caused me to notice it sitting there, but as soon as I realized what it was, I felt so guilty and guilty that I immediately stuck it in my CD player without so much as a glance at the program. All I knew is that it was by a couple of Icelandic women, which I could infer from the names on the cover. But as I started listening, I knew this was, despite its rather drab cover, a truly special recording, and I soon dove into the liner notes to see what light they might be able to shed on the players and the program. There are some one-page biographical sketches of both musicians, plus some brief commentary on the composers and music by violinist and composer Una Sveinbjarnardóttir. As you can easily see from the header above, the music spans the centuries and includes compositions both familiar and unfamiliar. Yet from these two skilled musicians, the program feels like an organic, inevitable whole. The occasional use of the prepared and toy piano in place of the normal piano adds variety to the sound, but never sounds as though it is being used as some sort of special effect.
Violinist Sveinbjarnardóttir explains the program in her brief introductory essay: “ Last Song before the News. The project is inspired by the moment before the realization of something that drastically changes your life, the moment of just being, existing in the moment. That moment in time is free and full, mindfulness-ish and unaffected by misery, sorrow, regret, shame, anxiety and depression. In my mind it is bright and has a sense of nostalgia. The title also refers to a daily tradition on Icelandic radio Rás 1, where a song, “last song before the news” would be played just before the news hour at noon. The song would typically be an Icelandic one, sometimes a lullaby, a love song or an ode to scary and gorgeous nature. Or an Icelandic traditional, sometimes an Italian canzone or a Scandinavian sorrow. Jórunn Viðar’s piece Icelandic Suite sums up all these elements, a piece written for the 2000 years anniversary of inhabitation in Iceland in 1974. The lightness and the longing are with us throughout the program except in the title piece of mine, Last Song before the News, where apocalyptic visions are awfully obvious and take over early on.”
Just to be clear, no, I don’t actually get paid by the word. I was just being silly. In fact, I don’t get paid at all. But when I say this is a remarkable recording, well, you can take that to the bank.
The News: Andrew Cyrille Quartet (Andrew Cyrille, drums; Bill Frisell, guitar; David Virelles, piano, synthesizer; Ben Street, double bass). ECM 2681.
Veteran drummer Andrew Cyrille plays with a delicate touch that sets the tone for this talented quartet, who make a strong case on this recording for the idea of jazz as a form of chamber music. Guitarist Frisell brings a similarly light touch to his guitar stylings, playing with his usual loopy lines but with a lighter, softer tone than usual. All four musicians seem to be listening closely to each other, striving to play harmoniously together. Those looking for solo fireworks will not find them here; rather, they will find creative interplay. One piece that stands out as different from the rest is the title cut, “The News,” which sounds restless, unsettled, and aggressive – and then a few brief spoken words by Cyrille put everything in context. I won’t spoil the surprise; you’ll have to listen for yourself to see what I mean. The title of another cut seems to describe perfectly the vibe of the album as a whole: “Dance of the Nuances.”
KWN
Americascapes: Loeffler: La Mort de Tintagiles, Op. 6; Ruggles: Evocations (Orchestral version, 1943); Hanson: Before the Dawn, Op. 17; Cowell: Variations for Orchestra. Delphine Dupuy, viola d’amore; Robert Trevino, Basque National Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1396-2.
Next up is the orchestral version (a solo piano version also exists, which Ruggles continued to revise from 1934 to 1953) of Evocations by Carl Ruggles (1876-1971), whom Page characterizes as “notoriously salty.” Classical music fans of a certain age probably best remember Ruggles – at least by name – from an old DG recording featuring a young Michael Tilson Thomas leading the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a program that included Ruggles’s intriguingly titled composition Sun Treader along with Three Places in New England by Charles Ives. I can’t imagine that LP was ever a big seller, but for a time I could swear I seemed to see it everywhere I went. Perhaps the striking cover prompted record stores (remember them?) to display it prominently. At any rate, Evocations is a short piece (10:13) in four brief movements, sounding more modern than the Loeffler – chunky, assertive, enigmatic perhaps (particularly the ambiguous, atonal ending) but no, not salty. Mildly challenging though it might be, Evocations remains quite listenable and ultimately enjoyable, fully worthy of its place in the program.
Then comes the world premiere recording of a brief (6:44) symphonic poem by a young Howard Hanson (1896-1981) titled Before the Dawn, which he composed in 1921. Following the atonal, ambiguous-sounding ending of the Ruggles piece, the opening measures of Before the Dawn offer a striking a change of mood, immediately giving off that lush, sweeping, romantic, what strikes these ears anyway as “movie soundtrack vibe” that characterizes much of Hanson’s orchestral output. I do not mean that as snarky criticism; in fact, I find much of his music –including Before the Dawn – highly enjoyable, but Hanson has a signature sound that reminds me of film music – quality film music, that is. I find Page’s summation quite apt: “It seems that Hanson may have considered Before the Dawn juvenilia, for he could certainly have performed and recorded the work had he wanted to. Yet it is engaging from the start, filled with rich melodies, and sumptuously orchestrated in the style that Hanson would make his own over a career that would span six decades.” Amen to that! It is an engaging, sumptuously orchestrated little composition.
As good as the disc has been so far, with three unfamiliar but rewarding pieces expertly performed and recorded, the folks who put this program together have saved the best for last. Variations for Orchestra by Henry Cowell (1897-1965) is a delight from start to finish. The orchestra gets put through its paces, with passages of tender beauty from the strings followed at times by outbursts from the percussion. The music is sometimes exuberant and playful, at other times giving off a hint of mystery. Seemingly everyone in the orchestra gets a chance to shine over the 19:23 duration of the piece, and the Basque forces do themselves proud. It seems hard to believe that in all my years of listening, I have never before encountered a recording of this composition, which can hold its own right up there alongside, for example, Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra. (It has in fact been recorded before, but never by a major ensemble on a major label, and certainly nowhere remotely near the frequency accorded recordings of the Bartok.) This, folks, is a composition to which you really ought to give an audition. Where has it been hiding?
Besides the booklet notes from Tim Page, there are also notes by conductor Robert Trevino. The engineering is first-class, the orchestra plays with finesse, the program is imaginative and rewarding – what’s not to like? Hats off to a Finnish label for recording a Mexican-American conductor leading a Spanish orchestra in a revealing program of rarely-heard American music deserving much wider recognition. Bravo!
Last Song. Louis Couperin (1626-1661): Unmeasured Prelude (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir & Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir);Atli Heimir Sveinsson (1938-2019): Three Marian Prayers (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787): Melodie (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Jórunn Viðar (1918-2017): Icelandic Suite; Ole Bull (1810-1880) Ensomme Stunde (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir); Jules Massenet (1842-1912): Meditation; Karólína Eiríksdóttir (b. 1951): Winter; Magnús Blöndal Jóhannsson (1925-2005): In a Dream; Lullaby; Couperin: Aubade Provencale (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643): Ave Maria; Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179): Anima Processional; Una Sveinbjarnardóttir (b. 1975): Last Song before the News. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir, violin; Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir, piano, prepared piano, toy piano. Sono Luminus DSL-92248.
I received this CD a few months ago but somehow absentmindedly placed it atop a stack of older CDs that have been just sitting there unplayed for quite some time off to the side of my listening room. It was pretty much dumb luck that caused me to notice it sitting there, but as soon as I realized what it was, I felt so guilty and guilty that I immediately stuck it in my CD player without so much as a glance at the program. All I knew is that it was by a couple of Icelandic women, which I could infer from the names on the cover. But as I started listening, I knew this was, despite its rather drab cover, a truly special recording, and I soon dove into the liner notes to see what light they might be able to shed on the players and the program. There are some one-page biographical sketches of both musicians, plus some brief commentary on the composers and music by violinist and composer Una Sveinbjarnardóttir. As you can easily see from the header above, the music spans the centuries and includes compositions both familiar and unfamiliar. Yet from these two skilled musicians, the program feels like an organic, inevitable whole. The occasional use of the prepared and toy piano in place of the normal piano adds variety to the sound, but never sounds as though it is being used as some sort of special effect.
Violinist Sveinbjarnardóttir explains the program in her brief introductory essay: “ Last Song before the News. The project is inspired by the moment before the realization of something that drastically changes your life, the moment of just being, existing in the moment. That moment in time is free and full, mindfulness-ish and unaffected by misery, sorrow, regret, shame, anxiety and depression. In my mind it is bright and has a sense of nostalgia. The title also refers to a daily tradition on Icelandic radio Rás 1, where a song, “last song before the news” would be played just before the news hour at noon. The song would typically be an Icelandic one, sometimes a lullaby, a love song or an ode to scary and gorgeous nature. Or an Icelandic traditional, sometimes an Italian canzone or a Scandinavian sorrow. Jórunn Viðar’s piece Icelandic Suite sums up all these elements, a piece written for the 2000 years anniversary of inhabitation in Iceland in 1974. The lightness and the longing are with us throughout the program except in the title piece of mine, Last Song before the News, where apocalyptic visions are awfully obvious and take over early on.”
Just to be clear, no, I don’t actually get paid by the word. I was just being silly. In fact, I don’t get paid at all. But when I say this is a remarkable recording, well, you can take that to the bank.
The News: Andrew Cyrille Quartet (Andrew Cyrille, drums; Bill Frisell, guitar; David Virelles, piano, synthesizer; Ben Street, double bass). ECM 2681.
KWN
