Andrew York: Hidden Realm of Light; Kevin Callahan: Alki Point; Michael Hedges: Aerial Boundaries; Phillip Houghton: Opals; Frederic Hand: Chorale; Robert Beaser: Chaconne; Tilman Hoppstock: Suite Transcendent; Houghton: Wave Radiance. Los Angeles Guitar Quartet (John Dearman, William Kanengiser, Scott Tennant, and Matthew Greif, guitars) LAGQ Records LAGQ 0322.
By Karl W. Nehring
The last time we encountered the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, they were playing a composition by the iconic jazz guitarist Pat Metheny, a review of which can be found here: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2021/06/recent-releases-no.html.
By Karl W. Nehring
(By the way, in the “it’s a small world” department, the producer of Opalescent, Steve Rodby, was for many years the bassist for the Pat Metheny Group.) This new release, which marks the LAGQ’s 40th anniversary as a touring ensemble and is dedicated to the late Australian composer Phillip Houghton (1954-2018), two of whose compositions are included in this album. In fact, his composition Opals, which consists of three movements – Black Opal, Water Opal, and White Opal – inspired the both the title of the album and its cover photo, a 3D digital image of an opal (reproduced in 2D for the cover photo, alas – a 3D image would have been dazzling g in the extreme, but I’m sure we can safely assume the LAGQ was not working with the same sort of budget that the Rolling Stones had for the memorable Their Satanic Majesties Request album cover back in the day). Striking image, striking music – three short sketches that are indeed colorful. His other composition, Wave Radiance, was originally written for two guitars; however, Houghton later expanded it into trio and quartet versions. It is a remarkable piece, hypnotic and suggestive, fading into eternity, thus ending the album on an enigmatic note.
The rest of the album is equally excellent, from the opening Hidden Realm of Light by former LAGQ member Andrew York (b. 1958), a light and lively romp, followed by Alki Point from Seattle-based Kevin Callahan (b.1958), a piece that was originally part of his Seattle Suite for guitar trio, but here arranged as a standalone for the LAGQ. Next up is a piece that fans of the old Windham Hill label – assuming there might be a few of you reading this – might well fondly remember, Aerial Boundaries by the late Michael Hedges (1953-1997), the title track from his 1984 album that really did gather a lot of attention for its innovative approach to the acoustic guitar. It is not just nostalgia that generates excitement as you listen to this arrangement for four guitars. What an amazing piece! Frederic Hand (b. 1947) says of his Chorale that it “is inspired by the Renaissance and Baroque choral music that I listened to in my youth, although I’ve integrated some of my favorite jazz harmonies and rhythms as well.” LAGQ member William Kanengiser notes that “Chorale turns the guitar quartet into a plucked version of a vocal a capella group; the seeming simplicity of the piece belies the difficulty of four guitars moving with the freedom and spaciousness of a chorus.” From Robert Beaser (b. 1954) comes the 12-minute Chaconne, which starts off stately and slowly transforms over time, but never sheds its dignity nor its delightful, dancelike demeanor. The final composer represented on Opalescent is Tilman Hoppstock (b. 1961), whose Suite Transcendent comprises five brief movements: Open Landscape, La Grande Cathedrale, A breath of Wind (Fuga), La Porte Du Ciel, and Danza Diabolica, said to be inspired by “an imaginary exhibition of Impressionist paintings.” With none of the five movements lasting more than three minutes, this is hardly a work to challenge Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition in scale or impact, but on its own modest scale, it is a charming work in its own right.
The rest of the album is equally excellent, from the opening Hidden Realm of Light by former LAGQ member Andrew York (b. 1958), a light and lively romp, followed by Alki Point from Seattle-based Kevin Callahan (b.1958), a piece that was originally part of his Seattle Suite for guitar trio, but here arranged as a standalone for the LAGQ. Next up is a piece that fans of the old Windham Hill label – assuming there might be a few of you reading this – might well fondly remember, Aerial Boundaries by the late Michael Hedges (1953-1997), the title track from his 1984 album that really did gather a lot of attention for its innovative approach to the acoustic guitar. It is not just nostalgia that generates excitement as you listen to this arrangement for four guitars. What an amazing piece! Frederic Hand (b. 1947) says of his Chorale that it “is inspired by the Renaissance and Baroque choral music that I listened to in my youth, although I’ve integrated some of my favorite jazz harmonies and rhythms as well.” LAGQ member William Kanengiser notes that “Chorale turns the guitar quartet into a plucked version of a vocal a capella group; the seeming simplicity of the piece belies the difficulty of four guitars moving with the freedom and spaciousness of a chorus.” From Robert Beaser (b. 1954) comes the 12-minute Chaconne, which starts off stately and slowly transforms over time, but never sheds its dignity nor its delightful, dancelike demeanor. The final composer represented on Opalescent is Tilman Hoppstock (b. 1961), whose Suite Transcendent comprises five brief movements: Open Landscape, La Grande Cathedrale, A breath of Wind (Fuga), La Porte Du Ciel, and Danza Diabolica, said to be inspired by “an imaginary exhibition of Impressionist paintings.” With none of the five movements lasting more than three minutes, this is hardly a work to challenge Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition in scale or impact, but on its own modest scale, it is a charming work in its own right.
The engineering is clean and clear, not so close as to hear every little scrape on the frets, thank goodness, and the liner notes, although fairly brief, do offer some insights into the composers and their compositions. All told, this is an excellent release that should appeal not just to guitar fans but to a much wider audience of music lovers.
Bonus Recommendation:
Every Good Boy Does Fine: A Love Story, Told in Music Lessons.
Jeremy Denk. Random House. ISBN 978-0-8129-9598-5 (hardback) 978-0-8129-9599-2 (ebook)
In addition, although I have not formally reviewed it, I have on at least a couple of occasions given a favorable shoutout to his recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, which is well worth acquiring not only for his performance, which is excellent and well-recorded to boot, but also for the included DVD in which he offers a fascinating account from the keyboard of Bach’s keyboard masterpiece. No matter how many recordings you might already own, if you are a dedicated fan of the Goldbergs, then Denk’s Nonsesuch release is one that would be well worth adding to your collection.
But on to his memoir, which offers us a deep dive into the musical education and experiences that helped shape Denk into the musician that he is today, a boy who did fine. However, it was clearly not always easy, even though he was a person born with unusual intelligence and talent. As the subtitle says, the book is a love story told by way of music lessons. As Denk recounts his many music lessons over the years, he reveals his love for his teachers – but most especially, the late György Sebõk, to whom the book is dedicated – and subtly but surely, for music itself (and along the way, individual compositions, such as his teenage crush on the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2). As you read of his encounters with his teachers and his struggles to master new pieces of music along with his occasional observations about recorded performances, you may well find yourself learning something new about music you like, or perhaps dislike. At other times, you may find yourself agreeing or disagreeing with an opinion he makes about a recording or artist with which you are familiar. Whether you agree or disagree with his assessments, you are bound to be drawn in and find yourself eager to continue reading to see what else he might have to say about music and artists familiar to you.
But the book is not just about music, or just about Denk, or just about music teachers; rather, the book is a vehicle for Denk to reflect on family life, love, friendship, education, travel, emotions, and many other topics. He does not cover all the topics in great depth, of course, but most of them with a nice bit of wit and wisdom. As I made my way through the book, I often came across passages that made me pause; sometimes to laugh, sometimes simply to sit back and ponder. Allow me to share a few of those passages with you below, with my explanatory notes enclosed in brackets [like this].
“I explained to my parents, again, how stupid they were, a task that was as tiresome as it was necessary.” [Denk was about 14 at the time.]
“This is efficient: if we don’t lose the line, we don’t need to return to it. But the melody becomes pointless, all of it hearing gone. Melody, among its many virtues, affirms the necessity of the unnecessary.” {From a discussion of the Brahms Piano Trio No. 1.]
“But over the years I’d heard certain recordings [of Bach] – a super-fast Ivo Pogorelich version of the English Suite in A Minor, which claimed to be all about motoric movement, and of course – who could avoid or resist the juggernaut? – Glenn Gould’s two ‘Goldbergs.’ I thought the second Gould recording was silly, because of how serious it tried to be. But the first – such lightness, crispness, a vision of clarity. Finger-work made sublime. The way you were captured in the wistful theme – then out of it erupted raw energy. At times, I had this clarity and energy – I couldn’t count on either, yet, but they were there somewhere. I had this idea to ‘do’ Glenn Gould, but with no perversity; which is like saying you want a roast beef sandwich without the roast beef.”
“Then he [Sebõk] said, ‘To show love for someone, but not to feel that love’ – long pause – ‘that is the work of Mephistopheles.’”
“Most of my attention was consumed with a new piece by the eighty-something composer Leon Kirchner, a sort-of-sonata for violin and piano. It was clear that this piece was a struggle, representing so much love, so much of Leon’s life’s work… Leon worked with us for hours and hours in humid Marlboro rooms. He described his wife, who had just died of cancer, as a ‘rare butterfly,’ and there were moments in the middle of the piece certain fermatas, moments where the harmonies did in fact hover, and alight, as if discovering themselves. I felt those, and felt all the intensity of Leon trying to create a work that would make his life land. One day, I played a few bars of Janáček after rehearsal. He looked more crestfallen than usual. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I never wrote anything as beautiful as that one phrase.’”
“If you want a nerdy thrill, compare Mahler’s opening [of his Symphony No. 1] to the opening of Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony. An honorable theft: reshaping, modernizing.”
“Richard Goode once said that a performance he heard [of the opening of Beethoven’s “Waldstein” Sonata] was so fast that it sounded like a ‘vacuum cleaner,’ which made me laugh and think of another great Beethoven story. Ferdinand Ries played a bit of the ‘Tempest’ Sonata and Beethoven was listening and scolded him for messing up. So Beethoven sat down to demonstrate, and it sounded, in the words of Ries, ‘like someone was cleaning the piano.’ Heh. All teachers know the dangers of demonstrating, and the feared look of disappointment on your student’s face when you f*ck up worse than any student would.”
[On recordings of the Fugue in B Minor from Book I of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier] “Do not bother with Glenn Gould on this one – it’s a travesty, the work of a spoiled man-child, like peeing on a monument just because you can.”
“I could never get my left hand to go fast enough in the last movement [of the Brahms Cello Sonata No. 3]. Come to think of it, much of my life has been trying to get my left hand to go faster and my right hand to go slower.”
[On his recording of the Mozart Concerto in C Major, K. 503] “Read my liner notes for the record, please? I worked hard on them.”
It is readily apparent that Denk also worked hard on writing this book, just as he has worked hard over the years at perfecting his musical craft. This is a truly delightful book, one that should appeal to a broad cross-section of music lovers, not just to fans of piano music. Those with children or grandchildren (or nieces or nephews or friends or neighbors) who might be contemplating the serious study of music beyond casual music lessons might also benefit from reading about Denk’s experiences. Regardless of your motivation for reading it, Denk’s engaging story and lively writing style should be more than sufficient to hold your interest from cover to cover.
KWN
But on to his memoir, which offers us a deep dive into the musical education and experiences that helped shape Denk into the musician that he is today, a boy who did fine. However, it was clearly not always easy, even though he was a person born with unusual intelligence and talent. As the subtitle says, the book is a love story told by way of music lessons. As Denk recounts his many music lessons over the years, he reveals his love for his teachers – but most especially, the late György Sebõk, to whom the book is dedicated – and subtly but surely, for music itself (and along the way, individual compositions, such as his teenage crush on the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2). As you read of his encounters with his teachers and his struggles to master new pieces of music along with his occasional observations about recorded performances, you may well find yourself learning something new about music you like, or perhaps dislike. At other times, you may find yourself agreeing or disagreeing with an opinion he makes about a recording or artist with which you are familiar. Whether you agree or disagree with his assessments, you are bound to be drawn in and find yourself eager to continue reading to see what else he might have to say about music and artists familiar to you.
But the book is not just about music, or just about Denk, or just about music teachers; rather, the book is a vehicle for Denk to reflect on family life, love, friendship, education, travel, emotions, and many other topics. He does not cover all the topics in great depth, of course, but most of them with a nice bit of wit and wisdom. As I made my way through the book, I often came across passages that made me pause; sometimes to laugh, sometimes simply to sit back and ponder. Allow me to share a few of those passages with you below, with my explanatory notes enclosed in brackets [like this].
“I explained to my parents, again, how stupid they were, a task that was as tiresome as it was necessary.” [Denk was about 14 at the time.]
“This is efficient: if we don’t lose the line, we don’t need to return to it. But the melody becomes pointless, all of it hearing gone. Melody, among its many virtues, affirms the necessity of the unnecessary.” {From a discussion of the Brahms Piano Trio No. 1.]
“But over the years I’d heard certain recordings [of Bach] – a super-fast Ivo Pogorelich version of the English Suite in A Minor, which claimed to be all about motoric movement, and of course – who could avoid or resist the juggernaut? – Glenn Gould’s two ‘Goldbergs.’ I thought the second Gould recording was silly, because of how serious it tried to be. But the first – such lightness, crispness, a vision of clarity. Finger-work made sublime. The way you were captured in the wistful theme – then out of it erupted raw energy. At times, I had this clarity and energy – I couldn’t count on either, yet, but they were there somewhere. I had this idea to ‘do’ Glenn Gould, but with no perversity; which is like saying you want a roast beef sandwich without the roast beef.”
“Then he [Sebõk] said, ‘To show love for someone, but not to feel that love’ – long pause – ‘that is the work of Mephistopheles.’”
“Most of my attention was consumed with a new piece by the eighty-something composer Leon Kirchner, a sort-of-sonata for violin and piano. It was clear that this piece was a struggle, representing so much love, so much of Leon’s life’s work… Leon worked with us for hours and hours in humid Marlboro rooms. He described his wife, who had just died of cancer, as a ‘rare butterfly,’ and there were moments in the middle of the piece certain fermatas, moments where the harmonies did in fact hover, and alight, as if discovering themselves. I felt those, and felt all the intensity of Leon trying to create a work that would make his life land. One day, I played a few bars of Janáček after rehearsal. He looked more crestfallen than usual. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I never wrote anything as beautiful as that one phrase.’”
“If you want a nerdy thrill, compare Mahler’s opening [of his Symphony No. 1] to the opening of Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony. An honorable theft: reshaping, modernizing.”
“Richard Goode once said that a performance he heard [of the opening of Beethoven’s “Waldstein” Sonata] was so fast that it sounded like a ‘vacuum cleaner,’ which made me laugh and think of another great Beethoven story. Ferdinand Ries played a bit of the ‘Tempest’ Sonata and Beethoven was listening and scolded him for messing up. So Beethoven sat down to demonstrate, and it sounded, in the words of Ries, ‘like someone was cleaning the piano.’ Heh. All teachers know the dangers of demonstrating, and the feared look of disappointment on your student’s face when you f*ck up worse than any student would.”
[On recordings of the Fugue in B Minor from Book I of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier] “Do not bother with Glenn Gould on this one – it’s a travesty, the work of a spoiled man-child, like peeing on a monument just because you can.”
“I could never get my left hand to go fast enough in the last movement [of the Brahms Cello Sonata No. 3]. Come to think of it, much of my life has been trying to get my left hand to go faster and my right hand to go slower.”
[On his recording of the Mozart Concerto in C Major, K. 503] “Read my liner notes for the record, please? I worked hard on them.”
It is readily apparent that Denk also worked hard on writing this book, just as he has worked hard over the years at perfecting his musical craft. This is a truly delightful book, one that should appeal to a broad cross-section of music lovers, not just to fans of piano music. Those with children or grandchildren (or nieces or nephews or friends or neighbors) who might be contemplating the serious study of music beyond casual music lessons might also benefit from reading about Denk’s experiences. Regardless of your motivation for reading it, Denk’s engaging story and lively writing style should be more than sufficient to hold your interest from cover to cover.
KWN
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