(+++) THREESOMES AND A TWOSOME

Music for Oboe, Clarinet and Piano by Bach, Schubert, Eduardo Destenay, Christos Tsitsaros, and Bill Douglas. Talea Trio (Dan Willett, oboe; Wes Warnhoof, clarinet; Natalia Bolshakova, piano). MSR Classics. $14.95.

Vaster Than Empires: Astral Crosswind; Seaward Galaxy; Empyrean Tides; Upcoast Drift. Vaster Than Empires (Erica Dicker, violin; Allen Otte, percussion; Paul Schuette, synthesizers and guitar). Panoramic Recordings. $16.99.

Jake Heggie: Force of Nature; Rene Orth: Weave Me a Name; Nailah Nombeko: Many Facets of Womanhood; Steve Rouse: Morreale Monologues. Emily Albrink, soprano; Kathleen Kelly, piano. Lexicon Classics. $20.

     Not all trios are string trios, or piano trios, or any other usual-combination-of-instruments trios. Listeners who would like to hear the combinatorial effect of three instruments that are not usually combined can occasionally find works written or arranged for less-than-typical instrumental groupings – such as oboe, clarinet and piano. Those are the instruments in the Talea Trio, whose MSR Classics release is an interesting amalgam of arrangements by famous composers with works originally written for this instrumental combination, albeit at very different times. The arrangements are a Bach chorale from Cantata No. 140 (arranged by the trio’s oboist, Dan Willett) and Schubert’s Das Hirt auf dem Felsen (“The Shepherd on the Rock”), originally for soprano, clarinet and piano and arranged by the Talea Trio for its instruments. The Bach is the very well-known Zion Hört die Wächter Singen, and it sounds rather odd in this arrangement. The Schubert is his last-composed work and is less familiar, and perhaps for that reason is more effective: it is an extended scena (12½ minutes) with, in the original, considerable parts for soprano and clarinet and rather less for the piano. The Talea Trio’s version is a fine adaptation that is, however, somewhat less effective than the original because of the absence of text to carry the music along. Of greater interest for an audience seeking works for this specific instrumental combination are the three pieces written for exactly these forces. The Trio in B Minor, Op. 27 by Eduardo Destenay (1850-1924) dates to 1906 and is thoroughly Romantic in approach and outlook. It is the longest work on the disc, almost 23 minutes, and sustains quite well: the first movement is intense, dramatic and generally dark in sound; the second is plaintive and on the sweet side, with an overall impression of delicacy; the finale returns to the mood of the first movement but leavens it with some brighter sounds and pleasant contrasting lyricism. A much more recent approach to these three instruments is heard in the 2017 Fantasy by Christos Tsitsaros (born 1966), which drifts along pleasantly toward no particular destination. Also from the 21^st century is the Trio by Bill Douglas (born 1944), a three-movement piece written in 2007. Intriguing, rather bluesy rhythmic changes in the first movement, Bebop cantabile, are followed by a fluid Lament that speaks more of pathos than tragedy, and then a Rondo con brio with a touch of swing and an overall jazzlike sensibility. None of the music on this disc is especially captivating, although Destenay’s Trio is something of a find. The main attraction here is the very fine playing by three performers whose instruments are not often heard together and that, for that very reason, create an attention-getting musical experience.

     Speaking of attention-getting, the three-performer group known as Vaster Than Empires (a phrase from the poem “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvell) certainly bids for it with combinations considerably more outré than those of the Talea Trio. The mixing of violin with percussion is an unusual one in itself, but combining those instruments with guitar and synthesizers leads to sound creation that is quite far from what most audiences will likely expect from a trio of musicians. The Panoramic Recordings disc featuring Vaster Than Empires is unusual in another way: all four pieces on it are improvisations, which means they are captured in the versions heard on the CD but would never again sound the same even if the performers chose to play them (or something like them) again. There is quite a bit of music here – the disc runs 78 minutes – but as so often with avowedly avant-garde material, there is no significant respect in which the works’ titles bear on or reflect their sounds. All the pieces are 19 to 20 minutes long, and all seem longer because, again as is common in avant-garde material, they offer no particular sense of progression or shape through form: they simply start, do various things, sound in various ways, and then stop. Astral Crosswind includes everything from distorted wind chimes to percussive flower pots, and frequently leads the ear to very high pitches. Seaward Galaxy has a vaguely wavelike opening with honks more-or-less resembling foghorns, but soon loses any possible reference to its title as it becomes a series of squeals and the sound of static. Empyrean Tides combines tambourine sounds with much-distorted guitar notes before moving to high-pitched electronics – those seem to be favorite sounds of these performers. Upcoast Drift fades in, its background-like sounds emerging into the foreground before a series of chords and emphatic attacks turn into a chaotic section that eventually gives way to an exploration of multiple percussion performance techniques. These pieces will appeal only to existing fans of avant-garde electronic and electronic-plus-acoustic music: the works would likely be more interesting if heard and seen in live performance, since there is a visual element involved in multi-player improvisation that is missing on a CD. Two of the Talea Trio’s performances are of 21^st-century music, but that three-player music is as different from the three-player material heard here as the 21^st century is from the distant past – or distant future.

     The viewpoint is also female but is ultra-modern and secular rather than Medieval and mystical on a new Lexicon Classics release featuring soprano Emily Albrink and pianist Kathleen Kelly presenting world premières of song cycles by four contemporary composers. Although only two performers are involved here, the emotions explored, moods communicated and feelings conveyed are intended to stand for a multitude of female voices. Indeed, the title of the three-song cycle Many Facets of Womanhood by Nailah Nombeko could stand for the entire disc. The texts by Mary McCallum focus on one element of women’s lives: motherhood, especially its complexities in the modern world. The desire to Be brave, be bold, be free! (the title of the first song) comes up against the realities of everyday modern life: schedules, overwork, difficult introspection, guilt and more. The settings are expressive in traditional art-song mode, somewhat overdone in light of their quotidian topics: they convey a greater sense of drama and intensity than do the rather winsome words themselves. And it is actually not this cycle but the one by Jake Heggie, Force of Nature, that lends its title to the entire CD. Heggie’s work, with texts by the two performers, has the most direct and personal connection of those here, being a tribute to Albrink’s mother, Nancy Albrink, who died in 2017 at the age of 65. Force of Nature is the title of the three-song cycle, of the entire disc, and of the first song in the cycle, which begins with the words, yes, “Force of nature.” The point is made more than clearly through this multitude of uses of the phrase – as well as within the song itself, which describes Nancy Albrink as a tornado, rain, sun and wind, all of them changing as weather does. Heggie’s slightly acerbic setting indicates that there are difficulties to having a force-of-nature parent, along with the pleasures. The second song, about Emily Albrink’s visit to Disney World at age five and her choir audition at age 11, is lighter in tone while still showcasing underlying strength; the third, Now I See You, is the most lyrical and sweetest, trying just a bit too hard to appreciate, thank and love this human “force of nature.” The other two song cycles on this (+++) disc are longer but scarcely more varied. Rene Orth’s Weave Me a Name (words by Jeanne Minahan) has a family connection of its own, being inspired by Minahan’s grandmother. Its seven songs trace the typical-yet-individual life of a woman of an earlier generation, starting with a cascade of piano notes that sound like raindrops or the flow of water, and by implication of life. The songs progress through a marriage that did not go well, the need to work and be separated from three children, and the economic and emotional difficulties of fulfilling life’s necessities, eventually leading to Handiwork in the form of what happens to the next generation. The piano part participates significantly in the story, offering comments on the words at times, underlining them at others. The words themselves are heartfelt if frequently a bit overdone: the settings tend to be more earnest and emphatic than the content really justifies. The fourth work on the CD is Steve Rouse’s Morreale Monologues (texts by Vin Morreale, Jr.) – and it is as focused as Orth’s cycle is extended. These five songs could all take place within a single day; certainly they are “everyday” in their topics. Their orientation is interior rather than outward-facing, and there is a great deal of repetitiveness in them – the words “thank you” seven times in one song, multiple repetitions about keeping a secret in another. The essentially trivial material allows a more-lighthearted approach to the music than in the other cycles on this disc, but Rouse’s vocal settings keep trying to make the thoughts more portentous than by rights they can or should be. In fact, one thing missing from the entire CD – but surely as worthy as other elements of modern women’s lives – is anything lighthearted. The whole disc is so insistent on the seriousness of its topic that it comes across as rather dour. The material is well-crafted and well-performed, but the music as a whole is much more often downbeat than uplifting.