Music
for Solo Violin from London, 1650-1700.
Peter Sheppard Skærved, violin. Athene. $18.99.
Marc
Mellits: No Strings Attached; Black; Red; Troică; Gravity. Philadelphia Percussion + Piano Project conducted by
Phillip O’Banion. BCM+D Records. $9.99.
Music
for Voice, Winds and Strings by Taylor Brook, Heather Stebbins, Eve Beglarian,
Reiko Füting, Scott Wollschleger, and Paula
Matthusen. loadbang (Jeff Gavett,
baritone; Andrew Kozar, trumpet; William Lang, trombone; Adrian Sandi,
clarinet). New Focus Recordings. $16.99.
Sometimes the main reason to listen to a CD is to hear the way the
instruments on it are played – not to hear the specific music for which those
instruments are employed. A new Athene disc is of this type: the playing by
Peter Sheppard Skærved is excellent; the violin
used for most of the recording, which dates to 1664 but whose maker is unknown,
has a warm and full-bodied sound that is instantly attractive; a second violin,
used for a subset of the material, is an absolutely wonderful, even-toned
Girolamo Amati instrument from 1629; the composers represented are a kind of
“who’s who” of the Baroque era; and the CD’s length of almost an hour and a
quarter is generous. However, all these positives are at the service of works
that are, truth be told, by and large not terribly interesting. The disc has 44
tracks, with pieces ranging in length from 48 seconds to (in a single case)
nearly four minutes; most of these little works are in the one-to-two-minute
range. The majority come from a 1705 collection of Preludes & Voluntarys, with 10 (the ones for which the Amati is
used) being composed by Thomas Baltzar (c. 1630-1664) – arguably the most-famous
violinist of his time. Among the many other composers represented here are
Corelli, Torelli, Biber, Albinoni, Pepusch, and Purcell – and there are also
works by composers now known only by their last names: Mr. Dean, Mr. Simons,
Mr. Smith, and Mr. Hills (they were presumably court musicians). What is
noteworthy is the uniformly high quality of the material: every single composer
was clearly skilled at writing for solo violin, exploring the instrument’s
capabilities within a constricted length, and there is little to distinguish
the preludes by the virtually unknown composers from those of the more-famous
ones. Skærved, a strong advocate for music of this time period,
treats every work here with respect and explores the repertoire with care as
well as skill. And it is certainly interesting, from a historical perspective,
to learn that there were so many fine composers flourishing at this time and
producing works exploring the violin’s capabilities. But the fact remains that
nothing here is of any outstanding musical interest in and of itself. Short
prelude follows short prelude, with differing keys and tempos but little chance
for the composers to establish individuality or produce any work of
significance. The Baltzar material is the most interesting, simply because
there is enough of it (more than 20 minutes in all) to provide a sense of
Baltzar’s compositional and performance skills. But the main focus here, other
than history, is the sound of the two violins that Skærved plays – which means that listeners interested in
differences among violins, even ones of the same era, will find this material
intriguing. On a strictly musical basis, however, the disc is very thin indeed
and unlikely to appeal to many people other than violinists or dedicated
students of 17th-century string music.
There are no strings at all in the performances of music by Marc Mellits
on a new CD on the BCM+D Records label. In fact, the disc has the overall title
“No Strings Attached,” which is also the title of one of the works presented.
Like many contemporary composers, Mellits has a strong interest in the sound of
the instruments for which he writes – and the percussionists who perform the
works on this disc (from the Boyer College of Music and Dance at Temple
University) are enthusiastic about combining their instruments as well as
having individual ones stand out from time to time. All this, however, begs the
question of what is worth hearing in the music itself, rather than the sounds as sounds. The work with the title No Strings Attached, for example, is an
arrangement for two vibraphones and two marimbas of a piece written for a
modern fortepiano that was created for the express purpose of sounding like a
mixture of the 18th-century instrument with a 1970s synthesizer.
Thus, instrumental sound was always front-and-center in this work, and is
certainly so in the arrangement heard here. As is so common in self-consciously
avant-garde music, the work has movements with overly clever titles whose
reference to the music is obscure at best: “Splifficated Mustard” and “Curried
Kafka,” among others. The initially interesting merger of instruments becomes
tiresome rather quickly, and the piece wears out its welcome well before its 14
minutes are up. The central movement, “This Side of Twilight,” is the most
engaging in its delicacy, although even here, there is simply too much
repetitiveness for the work to be fully effective. There is also repetition
aplenty – although with somewhat greater variety – in Black, a piece heard here on four marimbas and also existing in
other focus-on-the-instruments arrangements, including its original one for two
bass clarinets. Black offers some
rhythmically different sections that make the comparative monotony of some of
its portions more tolerable. Red, a
longer, six-movement work, uses only two marimbas, and the interplay of the
performers is well-done – but here too, the listening experience is primarily
focused on sound for its own sake, most noticeably in the minimalist fourth
movement (“Slow, with motion”) and the intense finale (“Fast, Obsessive,
Bombastic, Red”). A somewhat different sound combination appears in Troică, which is performed on
vibraphone, marimba and bass marimba: inspired by the sound of bells on horses
pulling a sled, the piece interweaves the instruments effectively, although it
does not really have enough inherent variety to justify its seven-minute
length. Gravity uses the same
instruments as Troică but ups the sonic ante by
using two vibraphones, two marimbas, and a bass marimba. Gravity goes on even longer than Troică –
10 minutes – and has elements of accelerando
to provide forward momentum as the instruments mingle. It is easy to see how
performers on these instruments would find Gravity
and the other works on this CD congenial: Mellits provides plenty of
opportunities for them to showcase their skills and bring out the unique and
contrasting sounds of their superficially similar instruments. For
non-performers, the disc will be mainly interesting simply for offering the
chance to hear the ways these various percussion instruments sound when
expressing themselves in different combinations. This is certainly involving
for a while, but there is a monotony to the overall sound of the material –
exacerbated by Mellits’ fondness for extended sections at the same tempo and
volume – that makes the CD less than engaging from a musical (as opposed to
sonic) standpoint.
If the sound of Mellits’ works tends to the monochromatic, that of the works played by loadbang (no capital letter – a typical affectation in the avant-garde) is intended to go to the opposite extreme. The quartet includes baritone, trumpet, trombone and clarinet – certainly a very unusual sound combination. And on a recent New Focus Recordings release, these four sounds are joined by those of strings (a chamber ensemble including six violins, three violas, two cellos and double bass) to extend the aural palette. The six works here, by six different composers, are very different in many ways – but the underlying similarity among them is that their preoccupation with using the specific sound combinations made available by loadbang results in music that draws more attention to how it sounds than to what it says. Taylor Brook’s Tarantism actually does this effectively, offering narration consisting of English versions of 16th- and 17th-century Italian texts about tarantula bites and their treatment. The dissonance of the sound picture mixes with rhythmic dancing – tarantula reactions are the source of the tarantella – as the story moves toward eventual exhaustion. Heather Stebbins’ Riven adds electronics to the mixture of loadbang and strings to create a sound world that is dense, often to the point of impenetrability, but not particularly revelatory of anything. Eve Beglarian’s You See Where This Is Going should beware of its title, because anyone who has sampled contemporary music will indeed see where this mixture of vocal gymnastics and largely arbitrary instrumental interjections is going: toward a kind of portentousness that does not lead up to anything particularly significant or moving. The most-peculiar title of a work here – another avant-garde affectation – is that of Reiko Füting’s mo(nu)ment for C/Palimpsest (ah, yes, no capital letter at the start of the complexly punctuated title). Whispered verbal fragments and standard outbursts from both voice and instruments (individual and grouped) create a soundscape of no particular direction or import – and the work continues in this vein for 13 minutes. It is, however, not as long as Scott Wollschleger’s 17-minute CVS, which uses intonation of the drugstore chain’s name and other, very different phrases to create an extended soundscape in which everything said, everything played, seems at the same level as everything else – which appears to be the point. The point of Paula Matthusen’s Such Is Now the Necessity seems to be to contrast long sonic lines with short ones and staccato material with legato, overlaying everything on everything else to create sound that accumulates rather than actually building into anything structural. Only Brook’s Tarantism, driven as it is by audible narrative, goes beyond the purely aural effects to which loadbang is clearly devoted to produce a work that seems to have something to say beyond “listen!” Of course, the point of music is to listen, but the reason for listening matters: if the only purpose of doing so is to hear sonic combinations, then music, however carefully constructed, offers nothing worth hearing again – after the novelty of the sound exploration has worn off.
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