Busoni: Eine Lustspielouvertüre;
Gesang vom Reigen der Geister; Rondò arlecchinesco; Clarinet Concertino;
Divertimento for flute and small orchestra; Tanzwalzer. Giammarco Casani,
clarinet; Laura Minguzzi, flute; Gianluca Terranova, tenor; Orchestra Sinfonica
di Roma conducted by Francesco La Vecchia. Naxos. $9.99.
Saint-Saëns: Fantasie for
Violin and Harp; Martinů: Chamber Music No. 2; Matan Porat:
Night Horses; Debussy: Sonata for Cello and Piano; Bartók: Contrasts.
Israeli Chamber Project (Tibi Cziger, clarinet; Itamar Zorman, violin; Shmuel
Katz, viola; Michal Korman, cello; Sivan Megan, harp; Assaff Weisman, piano).
Azica. $16.99.
Marty Regan: Selected Works for
Japanese Instruments, Volume 2. Navona. $16.99.
Gheorghe Costinescu: Jubilus;
Pantomime. Ensemble Sospeso (Lucy Shelton, soprano; Brian McWhorter,
trumpet; David Rozenblatt, percussive body sounds; Gheorghe Costinescu and Rand
Steiger, conductors). Ravello DVD. $24.99.
Among composers
seeking musical sounds beyond the ordinary, Ferruccio Busoni stands out not
only because he straddled the Italian/German music divide but also because of
his synesthesia – a mixing of senses in which, for example, he could “see” a
particular musical note in a specific color.
Busoni’s music often seems to reach beyond traditional forms even while
using them, and it frequently has a somewhat exotic sound even when employing
standard orchestral forces. A pacifist –
he refused to perform in countries that participated in World War I – he was
also a musical philosopher, predicting a future in which music would be open to
more sounds than the conventional ones, and frequently striving in his own
works to open listeners’ ears. The
unusual treatment that Busoni often provided to supposedly straightforward
forms and instruments meant that his works fell into disfavor for decades after
his death in 1924, and they are scarcely universally popular even today. But listeners who want to explore Busoni’s
worldview, and the music he created within it, will find the new Naxos CD by
Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma under Francesco La Vecchia to be a variegated and
well-played sampling. Busoni seems to
try on different musical personalities in these six works. The earliest, Eine Lustspielouvertüre (“Comedy Overture”), dates to
1897 and has more lightness and instrumental clarity than do many of Busoni’s
later works. Gesang vom Reigen der Geister (“Song of the Spirit Dance”), from
1915, is delicate, harmonically forward-looking and redolent of traces of
mysticism. Rondò arlecchinesco, also from 1915, is much more straightforward
and humorous in a witty rather than broad way, and has unusual scoring that
features a vocalise for tenor. The Clarinet Concertino (1918) is carefully
organized and adheres fairly closely to classical forms, while the Divertimento for flute and small orchestra
(1920) takes formal constraints much less seriously and is, indeed,
diverting. So is Tanzwalzer, which also dates to 1920 but which has the flavor of a
throwback to the Vienna of the Strauss family – it is actually dedicated to the
memory of Johann Strauss Jr., although Busoni’s tunefulness is clearly filtered
through a very different sensibility.
The boundaries pushed
back by the Israeli Chamber Project are of a different sort. An unusual chamber group in which strings,
winds, harp and piano all take part, the ensemble in its first recording offers
works as they were written, others in arrangements and one written for it –
displaying considerable versatility in repertoire. Saint-Saëns’ lovely Fantasie for
Violin and Harp gets eloquent and
smooth treatment, only to be followed by the much more angular Chamber Music No. 2 by Bohuslav Martinů – the only work on this Azica CD featuring
all six performers. Matan Porat’s Night Horses was written for this
ensemble, although only four instruments take part in it: clarinet, violin,
cello and piano. The work has some
dynamism and some interesting treatment of the instruments, although it is not
the sort of piece that really stays with a listener long after the
performance. Debussy’s Sonata for Cello and Piano, though, does
have staying power, sounding almost haunting as played here in an arrangement
by Sivan Megan for cello and harp – with Megan herself on harp and Michal
Korman on cello. The CD concludes with
Bartók’s Contrasts, and here the three participating musicians (on clarinet,
violin and piano) really go to town, emphasizing the vitality of the music and
its frequent rhythmic changes. The
overall mixture of music is actually rather odd – the CD is interesting
primarily as an introduction to some top-notch young chamber players who may
perhaps, in future releases, offer programs in which the works are somewhat
better integrated with each other or are contrasted in careful ways rather
than, as here, feeling as if they were selected primarily to highlight the
musicians rather than the music.
The boundaries
breached by Marty Regan are clear ones: those between Western and Japanese
music. Regan is deeply imbued with the
culture of Japan, has studied with prominent Japanese composer Minoru Miki, and
has translated Miki’s book on composing for Japanese instruments. Listening to Regan’s works requires entry
into a sound world with which aficionados of Western music generally have
little familiarity. The instruments,
scales and compositional principles of Japanese music are quite different from
those in Western works. The word
“exotic” comes to mind, but it is not really the right one, because there is
nothing deliberately “exotic” in Regan’s many dozens of compositions for
Japanese instruments. Indeed, they are
respectful of Japanese musical traditions and appear to have much the same flow
as works by composers born and trained in Japan. There are six works on Navona’s new Regan CD:
Flamefox (2007) for a quartet of
shakuhachi (a Japanese flute traditionally made of bamboo); Dragoneyes (2006) for shakuhachi,
shamisen (a three-stringed instrument somewhat resembling a banjo), and
21-string koto (Japan’s national instrument, which has movable bridges and is
plucked); In the Night Sky (2010) for
shakuhachi, 21-string koto and percussion; Magic
Mirror (2008) for shamisen, hichiriki (a double-reed flute), ryūteki (a bamboo transverse flute), shō (a wind instrument made of bamboo
pipes), shinobue (a transverse flute with a high-pitched sound), and
shakuhachi; Voyage (2008) for
shakuhachi and string quartet; and Devil’s
Bridge (2008) for shamisen and biwa (a type of lute). In terms of sound, Magic Mirror, with its subtly different wind instruments, and Voyage, with its juxtaposition of
Japanese and Western elements, are particularly interesting. In fact, all the music here stretches Western
ears, and 70 minutes of it is rather a lot for a single sitting – listeners
interested in experimenting with some unfamiliar sonorities may want to hear
the pieces one at a time over a couple of days.
The boundary-blurring
on a new DVD of works by Gheorghe Costinescu occurs on multiple levels. This is a case in which a DVD definitely puts
music across better than a CD would, because the music is only part of
Costinescu’s conception. Another part is
gestures – used extensively in Pantomime. And another is sound that comes from
unexpected places – “percussive body sounds,” not traditional percussion, in Jubilus, which is written for those
sounds plus soprano and trumpet (an instrumental combination every bit as
unusual as anything in Marty Regan’s music).
Pantomime uses a more
traditional instrumental mix – a chamber orchestra – but it uses the musicians
in unusual ways, having them produce a wide variety of moods that are inspired
by or reflected in pantomimed gesturing.
Pantomime fits loosely within
category of ballet, but Jubilus is
hard to characterize. Both works are
imaginative, but not compelling enough so most people will believe they warrant
repeated viewings and listenings. And
the two works together last only 36 minutes – the balance of this 97-minute DVD
is a series of discussions of the scores and a lengthy interview with
Costinescu from 2005 (three years after these live performances were recorded). So this is really a super-specialized item,
the focus far more on the composer than on his compositions (the interview with
him lasts longer than the two performances put together). Costinescu is a prominent Romanian-born
composer who now, at age 77, has received numerous awards and has something of
an international following. But only his
strongly committed fans will likely want this particular balance of his music
and his words.
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