Jóhann Jóhannsson: A Prayer to the Dynamo (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

A Prayer to the Dynamo; The Theory of Everything – Suite; Sicario – Suite. Paul Corley, electronics production and electronics; Skúli Sverisson, guitar; Iceland Symphony Orchestra conducted by Daniel Bjarnason. Deutsche Grammophon 486 4870

The late Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson (1969-2018) is perhaps best known for his film scores such as those for the movies Sicario and Arrival. His compositions often combine elements of classical, electronic, and ambient music to great effect. Among his other attributes, Jóhannsson had a remarkable gift for writing music conveying an atmosphere of that is deeply contemplative and inward-focused – serious, but somehow neither morose nor depressing. Those dimensions of his music take on a special poignancy in light of his tragically short life. He died at 48 in Berlin, the German autopsy report indicating that the likely cause of death was a fatal conjunction of cocaine and flu medication. On the surface, that might strike some readers as an indication of a character flaw or another case of some high-flying celebrity being brought down by wretched excess, but it is highly plausible that the story is deeper and more tragic than it might first appear, involving the pressure of composing music for high-profile film studios. But that is speculation to which it is best not to take too far, lest we ourselves succumb to our own dark and very possibly untrue thoughts. Let us instead turn to the music at hand on this new  release, which present different dimensions of his art.

 

The program begins with A Prayer to the Dynamo, a work for full symphony orchestra. As the liner notes point out, as a composer of film scores, Jóhannsson (pictured left) had access to orchestras, “but this album offers a rare chance to hear his orchestral writing freed from cinematic or orchestral constraints. A Prayer to the Dynamo calls for a full orchestra, as well as a soundtrack comprised of the sounds of the Elliðaár power plant itself.” Jóhannsson had a great fascination with technology, and had made recordings of electrical installations and generators at the Elliðaár Power Station in Iceland (pictured below). Furthermore, he was also captivated by the works of Edison, Tesla, and especially a chapter in the memoirs of American historian Henry Adams (1838-1918) in which Adams described his impressions of the 1900 Paris World Exhibition and the hidden power of the enormous machines he had seen there. The net result is a coherent musical work, not a collection of sound effects; the electronic sounds are blended in quite subtly. The work is in four parts, the first of which is colorful yet mysterious. The second part, which is the longest, slowly builds tension. The third gives an impression of power being built up, along with birds in flight, then the energy slowly dissipates at the end. The fourth part begins in the low strings, as once again we sense a buildup of energy, more bird activity, and then a kind of contemplative dissolution to the end. A fascinating work.

 

The album also includes two suites from Jóhannsson's soundtracks for the films The Theory of Everything and Sicario, both of which were nominated for Oscars and other awards, with the former winning the Golden Globe for Best Original Score. The suites recorded here were arranged by Jóhannsson and are receiving their premier performances on disc. The presentation of the music varies from how it was presented in the soundtracks. For example, the opening piano music (“A Model of the Universe”) that opens the Theory of Everything Suite appeared later in the score, while the music that closes the suite (“Cambridge, 1963”) was actually used at the beginning of the score. Similarly, the brief three-part Sicario – Suite does not follow the order of the score, opening with “Target,” a brief section mostly in the lower strings that establishes a feeling of tension, which is from later in the score. This is followed by “Desert Music,” in which a plaintive solo cello part sings out against quite orchestral accompaniment. Finally, the suite and the program end with “Melancholia,” which features a prominent role for a solo bass guitar. It is a peaceful but haunting conclusion to this remarkable album. The CD booklet offers some valuable insights into Jóhannsson and his music. Dynamically recommended.