Ástor Piazzolla: María de Buenos Aires. Ce Suarez Paz, Gualtiero Scola, Alberto Maria Munafò; Orchestra Filarmonica della Calabria conducted by Filippo Arlia; Cesare Chiacchiaretta, bandoneon; Giovanni Zonno, violin; Salvatore Russo, electric guitar; Nico Fiscaldo and Filippo Arlia, piano. Brilliant Classics. $16.99 (2 CDs).
Veni Redemptor Gentium: Medieval Music for Christmas. Concordian Dawn (Amber Evans, soprano; Catherine Hedberg, mezzo-soprano and percussion; Nickolas Karageorgiou, haute-contre tenor; Michell Kennedy, soprano; Thomas McCargar, baritone and percussion; Daphna Mor, recorder, ney, voice and percussion; Niccolo Seligmann, vielle and percussion; Christopher Preston Thompson, director, tenor, medieval harp and percussion). AVIE. $19.99.
Kyriakos Kalaïtzidis: Christmas at the Castle. Vasiliki Nevrokopli, narrator; Psaltikon conducted by Spyridon Antonopoulos; En Chordais chamber music ensemble. Cappella Records. $17.99.
Stylish, surreal and suitably strange, María de Buenos Aires, Ástor Piazzolla’s self-styled 1968 tango-operita, is a remarkable exploration of the depth and extent to which nuevo tango can be used to explore life and death, the hereafter that is identical to the now, and the many moods of a complex and vivid and hellishly illuminated cityscape and the mostly unseen multitudes who inhabit it. Piazzolla (1921-1992) created the work in close collaboration with lyricist Horacio Ferrer (1933-2014), who also wrote words for some freestanding Piazzolla tangos. The interrelationship of Piazzolla and Ferrer produces a theatrical work that is unlike any other, steeped both in the sort of magical realism for which authors such as Gabriel García Márquez became famous – and in mid-20th-century nihilism and social commentary. The Brilliant Classics release of the work features an absolutely first-rate performance by well-versed soloists and the Orchestra Filarmonica della Calabria conducted by Filippo Arlia. The totality results in a recording that is fascinating and thoroughly engaging almost in spite of itself: the story, such as it is, makes it clear from the start that the title character is a metaphor rather than (or in addition to) a person, and the combination of singing and narrative produces an almost hypnotic feeling of being involved in circumstances that are somehow meaningful even when they are virtually incomprehensible. Ferrer’s lyrics are somewhat time-bound and somewhat overly self-referential, but highly effective nevertheless, with (for example) the many references to the meaning of the tango within the story – around which Piazzolla weaves tango music – emerging both as self-serving and as crucial elements of the narrative. María de Buenos Aires is in two parts, in the first of which the title character ekes out a short-lived existence as a prostitute in the unforgiving city, only to reappear in the second part as her own ghost and eventually be reborn to repeat (presumably eternally) the depredations of her life and of an urban hellscape. Somehow this framing tale becomes, thanks to Piazzolla’s music, thoughtful and involving rather than merely depressing: María de Buenos Aires is certainly packed with social commentary, but the insistent surrealism of Ferrer’s lyrics results in a kind of distancing that prevents any sense of a hectoring message and makes the overall scene one of sadness and regret rather than despair. Brilliant Classics does not provide the libretto – a major flaw in this otherwise excellent release – and while the company says the lyrics are available online, it offers no link to them. Listeners will certainly want to search for the words, which are crucial to the communicative power of this not-quite-opera – and anyone not fluent in Spanish will need to find a translation that conveys the peculiarities as well as the power of the verbiage. The performers themselves very effectively put their roles across: Ce Suarez Paz as María and her ghost; Gualtiero Scola as a young writer who is also something of a demonic presence, and who mostly narrates rather than singing; and Alberto Maria Munafò as a payador, a kind of traveling minstrel whose songs punctuate the story – and also as the voice of several minor characters within the tale. The sound of the tango permeates every element of María de Buenos Aires, and that means the sound of the bandoneon (beautifully played by Cesare Chiacchiaretta) is everywhere. But Piazzolla also manages to weave a magical musical spell with other solo instruments: violin, electric guitar and piano all contribute significant elements to the atmosphere. María de Buenos Aires is a brooding, intense, unusual stage work that insists perhaps a bit too strongly on its meaningfulness and importance but, despite that, draws the audience into a gritty and often unpleasant world in ways that are impossible to ignore – all framed by the wondrous ways in which Piazzolla creates and re-creates tango-infused phantasmagoria.
Voices and instruments combined for wonders of a very different sort many hundreds of years ago – but the works performed by Concordian Dawn on a new AVIE release are in their own way as fascinating as Piazzolla’s tango-operita. The ensemble here offers 22 Christmas-themed tracks – and actually, despite its devotion to medieval music, includes two world première recordings of works by David Yardley (born 1978). Yardley writes in what can be thought of as a modernized medieval style: both This Holy Tym Oure Lord Was Born and Vox Clamantis in Deserto neatly balance very old thoughts and sensibilities with a certain cleanliness of style derived from contemporary musical sensibilities. Yardley’s pieces fit neatly into the overall tone of this very well-sung recording, most of whose works are anonymous and nearly all of which are very old indeed: there is one by Perotinus, also known as Pérotin (1160-1230), one by Mikołaj Radomski (1400-1450), and one by Guillaume Dufay (1397-1474), in addition to all those whose creators are unknown. The members of Concordian Dawn not only sing unfamiliar music but also play some very-little-known instruments, including the vielle (an ancestor of both the violin and the viola da gamba) and the ney (an ancient end-blown flute). Yet just as Piazzolla manages to make a single musical form, the tango, encompass a very wide range of expressions and emotions, so the composers on this recording – whether from medieval times or indebted to them for inspiration – all manage to entrance the ear and elevate the spirit in multilingual expressions of faith that, while seasonal, are thoroughly suitable for hearing at any time of year. Some instrumental touches are especially notable, such as the medieval harp at the start of Isaiah and Sybil’s Prophecies, the vielle opening of Kuando el rey Nimrod, and the jaunty non-vocal Orientis partibus and Personent Hodie. Among the many vocal standouts are the purity of Ave, regina cælorum, the heartfelt Dum medium silentium, and the quiet beauty of Verbum caro factum est. The sensitivity to period style, to the meanings of the words sung here, and to the underlying significance of the Christian seasonal celebration and its miraculous underpinnings, come together in this beautifully blended ensemble’s renditions of every work on the disc. The result is a CD whose sheer loveliness transcends the time period in which most of the music was created, speaking to a contemporary audience in a manner diametrically opposed to the dark cynicism of Piazzolla and Ferrer – and reflective of an equally prominent and meaningful side of the human experience both in the past and in the modern world.
Christmas seems to invite composers, including contemporary ones, to create works that unite the ancient with the modern in such a way as to produce new material that spans the centuries – and joins them. This is true not only for composers steeped in the form of Christianity that is most familiar to Western audiences but also for ones focused on other traditions, as Kyriakos Kalaïtzidis (born 1969) is on the Byzantine. The world première recording of Kalaïtzidis’ 2023 Christmas at the Castle, a sort of dramatic oratorio, very clearly displays the uniting of past and present within a Christ-centered spiritual universe – but one that will be so unfamiliar to most listeners that only those with a yearning for the exotic and for new perspectives on the meaning of Christmas will find this (+++) Cappella Records release compelling. Kalaïtzidis’ piece is based on a work by Alexandros Papadiamantis (1851-1911), an author well-known and highly respected in Greece but quite unfamiliar elsewhere. Vasiliki Nevrokopli (born 1968), herself an author – primarily of children’s books – adapted the story and narrates it, with musical elements provided by the Boston-based Byzantine-chant-specialist ensemble Psaltikon under Spyridon Antonopoulos, plus the chamber ensemble En Chordais. Kalaïtzidis’ piece is in three scenes: "At Papa Frangouli's Home," “At the Castle,” and “At the Temple.” It interweaves elements of the Byzantine celebration of Christmas with a secular story of shipwrecked sailors begging for rescue – a circumstance that will in turn reflect back on the meaning of Christmas, which Papa Frangouli and his flock have been celebrating by observing ancient frescoes at a now-neglected sanctuary. The basic story arc will be easy enough for listeners to follow: many tales have expanded upon the meaning of Christmas by having characters’ lives follow unexpected paths that eventually reflect on Christ’s. But the method of exploring Papadiamantis’ story will be challenging for most audiences not already familiar with Byzantine liturgy and music. Kalaïtzidis is extremely dedicated to use of traditional forms and sounds, resulting in singing in rhyming 15-syllable Greek verse for which the composer employs the eight modes of Byzantine chant – which means, for example, that there is differentiation among set pieces in Second Mode, Plagal Second Mode, and Second Mode Mesos. Audiences are of course not required to have intimate knowledge of the underpinnings of the music – and the booklet provided with this CD is a huge help, including notes by Kalaïtzidis and all the texts in original Greek and English translation. The actual sound of the music is relentlessly insistent on its historical and ethnic roots, and indeed the purely instrumental elements of Christmas at the Castle, including the very first piece, “The Shadow of God: Instrumental,” and “Instrumental Semai: Third Mode” in the second scene, are helpful doorways into the work’s overall sensibility. The heart of the work, though, is the vocal material, both narrated and sung, and listeners attuned to Kalaïtzidis’ sound world – or who wish to become attuned to it – will need to listen carefully not only to what is said and sung but also to the musical flow underlying the vocals, which draws strongly on sacred chant that bears little resemblance to more-familiar Western Christmas-themed music. Thoughtfully produced and carefully assembled to draw audiences into Papadiamantis’ world and the Byzantine liturgy, the CD of Christmas at the Castle will be a fascinating and meaningful experience for listeners seeking what for most will be a hitherto unexplored and somewhat opaque exploration of the meaning of the holiday. Although it is certainly not for all audiences, the disc will be, for those inclined to explore it, a genuine and much-appreciated Christmas gift.
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