Recent Releases, No. 21 (CD Reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Vasks: Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra; Vēstījums (Message) for Two Pianos, Strings, and Percussion;  Lauda. Albrecht Mayer, oboe; Andris Poga, Latvian National Symphony Orchestra. Ondine ODE 355-2.

This new release of music by Latvian composer Peteris Vasks (b. 1946) comprises two older works, Message (1982) and Lauda (1985), plus a much more recent work, the Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra (2018). The program opens with the concerto, a richly melodic work that should prove enjoyable to a wide variety of listeners. Of this work, Vasks writes, “In my view, the oboe is a pastoral instrument – drama and tragedy do not first come to mind when thinking about the oboe sound and its possibilities. Overall, the concerto could be viewed as akin to a human life with its beginning, period of maturity, and departure. However, I would prefer to think of it as something more like a long cosmological day which lasts, say, a hundred years.” (I must say that as someone who is getting on in years, Vasks’s euphemism “departure” is a welcome, gentle touch.) The work is cast in the traditional three-movement form, all three offering passages of great imagination and beauty, the closing minutes of the final movement sounding especially poignant and moving.

Both of the two earlier works are in one movement. Message and Lauda were actually among the first works by Vasks I ever heard on an old CD on the Conifer label that is now out of print (a copy is buried in a pile somewhere in my listening room) and it is nice to have them back together again on this excellent new recording. Regarding the central message of Message, Vask states, “I wanted to talk about how exquisitely beautiful the world is and what we, in our hubris, are doing with it.” That message is expressed through an energetic interplay among piano duo, strings, and percussion. Although you can feel the tension building, Message never veers off into discordant unlistenability. It maintains musical interest throughout its 16 minutes. Lauda continues in the same dramatic vein, but now employing the full symphony orchestra. Of this work, Vasks notes, “Lauda was my form of spiritual protest. It is an anthem to my nation, my culture, the very existence and being of my people.” (Lest we forget, when Vasks composed this piece, Latvia was still under Soviet control.) Once again, this is powerful music, moving and expressive. The Latvian forces play with conviction, and the Ondine recording quality does not stand in the way of the music. For those unfamiliar with the music of Vasks, this new release would be a fine introduction.

Bartók: Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta; Concerto for Orchestra. Susanna Mälkki, Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra. BIS BIS-2378 SACD.

My guess would be that the majority of classical music lovers are quite familiar with the Concerto for Orchestra (1943) by the Hungarian composer Bela Bartok (1881-1945), which he wrote on commission for the Boston Symphony Orchestra in only 54 days while in ill health. The work was given its premiere by the BSO under the direction of Serge Koussevistsky on December 1, 1944, only 10 months before Bartók’s death. It is one of those pieces that people who are just starting to show an interest in classical music are often introduced to, as it allows the various sections of the orchestra to strut their stuff while playing music that is consistently musical and entertaining yet serious enough to withstand repeated listening over years and years.

There have been many, many recordings of the piece over the years, the touchstone recording for most music lovers and audiophiles being that by Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Their performance was taped in 1955 and released on an RCA LP in 1956. Long prized for both its performance and its sonic qualities, it has has been rereleased digitally in CD and SACD format with the same pairing as on this BIS new disc, Bartók’s Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta, a piece not typically as likely to appeal to the person new to classical music; rather, it is a piece that often takes time to grow on you, but once it does, its “spooky” passages will give you musical chills and thrills. Mälkki and her Helsinki forces do great justice to both pieces, as do the BIS engineers. This is a truly fine recording. For those who already own the Reiner, there may be no need to run out and get this one; however, for those just getting into classical music, especially those who may be contemplating a move into and SACD- or streaming-based multi-channel listening experience, this new BIS release would clearly be the way to go, and even for those with two-channel systems, this is a highly recommendable release of some truly remarkable music that belongs in every classical music lover’s collection.

Peter Gregson: Patina. Includes Hidden; Patina; Sense; Cluster; Schema; Sequence (Seven); Over; Don’t Wake; Continuum. Peter Gregson, solo cello, piano;  Warren Zielinski, Magnus Johnston, Matthew Denton, Richard Blayden, violins; James Boyd, Eoin Schmidt-Martin, Meghan Cassidy, Stephanie Edmundson, Richard Harwood, violas; Reinoud Ford, Ben Chappell, Tim Lowe, cellos; Laurence Ungless, double bass; Anthony Weeden, conductor. Deutsche Grammophon 0029 486 0567.

Although I was familiar with compositions by composer and cellist Peter Gregson (b. 1987) from CDs by other musicians, Patina is the first recording I have encountered led by Gregson himself. As you can see from the header, the music is scored for traditional classical instruments, with no synthesizers being employed. That being said, the music itself lies somewhere between classical and something else entirely – not New Age, not ambient; I’m not quite sure how to categorize it. You can get a quick sample of the music here, and here is what Gregson himself has to say about the it: “What happens when you remove a melody? Supporting melodies change in importance; harmonies, cadence, phrasing all take on a different role. But the blueprint of the absent melody can still be felt, even if it isn’t heard.” Note that he says remove a melody, not remove all melody. There are still plenty of what he calls “supporting melodies” that make the album a pleasant, engaging musical experience.

Interestingly enough, despite professing a desire to remove the primary melody from this music, in a sense hiding it from his listeners so that they would at best experience it only indirectly, Gregson professes quite the opposite approach to the way the album is recorded: “These ‘songs without words’ are recorded to sound honest. I want to bring you, the listener, right up close to the instruments, next to the scratches of the bow on the string, the fingers on the keyboard, the breath in the room… This is a collection of pieces where the sounds have aged, where the music has levied a life; where the reverbs are shadowy, dusty crevices, subtly degrading as they decay. In this album, musical distortion is not used for aggression, but for playing with the perception of the sound like a trick mirror at a playground… All of the sounds in all of the music on this album are the sounds of a life that has been lived. This may be mechanically reproduced – a perfect snapshot in time, never changing, the same forever – but accepting imperfections and appreciating the everyday impact of life is, for me, what PATINA is all about.” That last sentence might strike some readers as a bit over the top, but the more I listen to the album, the more I believe I understand what Gregson is trying to say. The music really does seem to have a sense of resignation about it, but a contented, mellow resignation that signifies an appreciation for beauty, for music, for life. Those looking for high-energy musical excitement will not find it here; rather, this is music for those seeking shelter from the storm.

KWN