by Karl Nehring
Divergent Paths. Ravel: String Quartet in F Major; Schoenberg: String Quartet in d minor, Op. 7. Telegraph Quartet (Eric Chin, violin; Joseph Maile, violin; Pei-Ling Lin, viola; Jeremiah Shaw, cello). Azica ACD-71360
The Telegraph Quartet, which hails from the San Francisco Bay area, has embarked upon a recording project that they are calling 20th Century Vantage Points, the aim of which “is to display the works of composers with unique visions that also speak to the zeitgeist of their time.” Divergent Paths is the first release in this new series. Since its formation, the focus of the group has been primarily upon works from the 20th century, and here they present quartets from the early years of that century by two composers who were born only one year apart (Schoenberg in 1874, in Ravel in 1875). The Telegraph Quartet found these two works by Ravel and Schoenberg, despite their contrasting qualities, make an appealing and intriguing pair. These two quartets are not what one would expect to find paired together on disc; the Ravel is almost always paired with the Debussy. Concerning this unusual pairing, the group explains: "As an ensemble, we've always been attracted to these two quartets by Ravel and Schoenberg –– at first for almost opposite reasons: the Ravel Quartet has a vibrant purity, while Schoenberg's epic Quartet No. 1 is thoroughly tumultuous and bewildering. Yet we found that both works, written within two years of one another and by composers of the same age, truly do reflect the sensuality and exploration of the human psyche that was such an important part of the dawn of the 20th century."
To listen to this album brings to mind the Robert Frost poem, “The Road Not Taken.” For those who might not quite remember their high school English class, that’s the one that begins, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.” Now you remember, right? But unlike Frost’s traveler, the music lover coming upon Divergent Paths need not choose one path – that is, quartet – over the other. In fact, the whole point of the album is to have the listener hear both quartets – to travel both divergent paths taken by the two composers and hear where those paths led. The real dilemma, however, is how often the typical listener will actually want to travel both paths. The answer is up to the individual listener, of course, but these really are two quite different works; the Ravel (no doubt familiar to most listeners) offering color contrasts and varying moods over its four movements and the Schoenberg being densely packed, intense, seeming composed of millions of notes over its formidable 46-minute duration. As the Quartet characterizes it, “Schoenberg’s Op. 7 is like a Wagner opera for string quartet.” As beautifully performed and recorded as it might here, it’s still a challenging path for all but the most intrepid musical traveler. Kudos to the Telegraph Quartet for mastering its intricacies and making this performance available, and kudos to Azica for an attractive package that includes informative liner notes.
Thunder. Stephan Micus: A Song for Thor; A Song for Raijin; A Song for Armazi: A Song for Shango; A Song for Vajrapani; A Song for Leigong; A Song for Zeus; A Song for Ishkur; A Song for Perun. Stephan Micus, voices, frame drums, dung chen, Burmese temple bells, Himalyan horse bells, ki un ki, bass zither, storm drums, bowed sinding, kyeezee, shakuhchi, sarangi, nyckelharpa, kauka, sapeh, nohkan. ECM 2757
German-born Stephan Micus (b. 1953) is a unique musician and composer. Since the mid-1970s he has recorded nearly 30 albums, and on all but one of those recordings he played every instrument. He collects and studies instruments from all around the world and creates his own musical journeys with them. On this, his 25th solo album for ECM, its sound is dominated by the four-meter long Tibetan dung chen trumpet, an instrument he has recently learned and is using for the first time. It was the thunderous sound of this instrument that led to the album’s name and its nine tracks celebrating deities around the world. “I dedicate this music to the big family of thundergods around the world, humbly hoping that - when they hear it - their destructive powers will be somehow pacified,” Micus declares. Don’t let the quasi-New Age spiritual overtones of those words dissuade you; the music’s the thing, and the music has substance in abundance. This is not some aging hippie blowing mindless melodies on a wood flute.
The opening cut, A Song for Thor, truly does evoke the thunderous power of a Norse god. As the album proceeds, it is fascinating to hear the sounds of the instruments – all played by Micus, through the miracle of overdubbing – instruments from Tibet, India, Burma, Borneo, Siberia, Japan, South America, Gambia, Namibia, Sweden, and Bavaria. I’ve listened to a number of Micus’s albums over the years. Some, to be sure, have sounded too New-Agey to leave much of a lasting impression; however, Thunder delivers the goods, sounding like powerful chamber music with a world music twist. Engineered to ECM’s usual high standard, it’s quite an impressive show as well.
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