Music for Bassoon Solo by Maurice Allard, Nikolaus Maler, Klaus Thunemann, Malcolm Arnold, Gordon Jacob, Willson Osborne, Marcel Farago, Charles Koechlin, Antonio Lauro, and Mathieu Lussier. Céleste-Marie Roy, bassoon. MDG Scene. $24.99 (SACD).
Richard Carrick: l’Algérie. Either/Or (Bahar Badieitabar, oud; Richard Carrick, piano; Jennifer Choi, violin; Justin Jay Hines, percussion; John Popham, cello). New Focus Recordings. $18.99.
Vivaldi’s three dozen concertos notwithstanding, the bassoon has not always been treated with the musical respect it deserves, being relegated for far too long to a subsidiary and often clownish role within the orchestra. Modern bassoonists, thankfully, will have none of that, and the best of them are displaying the full emotional compass of which the instrument is capable – often by unearthing little-known works by little-known composers, or by playing music by contemporary composers who are determined, for reasons of their own, to showcase the instrument. And there is no better showcase than material that is written for the solo bassoon – including the pieces by all 10 composers heard on a very fine MDG Scene SACD featuring Céleste-Marie Roy. The disc not only demonstrates how wide-ranging the expressiveness of the bassoon can be but also shows how varied are the composers intrigued by it: those represented here are from France, Germany, England, the United States, Romania, Venezuela and Canada. And they are from multiple time periods: Charles Koechlin (1867-1950) was born earliest, Mathieu Lussier (born 1973) most recently. Roy handles every piece on the disc with understanding and, where appropriate, flair. Along the way, she helps confirm the inescapable persistence of Paganini as a source of inspiration for variations: three very different pieces on the release use his famous 24th caprice for solo violin as a basis. They are Variations sur un thème de Paganini (1986) by Maurice Allard (1923-2004); 18 Variazoni su un Thema di Paganini (2020) by Klaus Thunemann (1937-2025), which at one point includes an echo of a Vivaldi bassoon concerto; and Phantasy on a Theme by Paganini (1984) by Marcel Farago (1924-2016). The three works are separated on the disc, but it is worth hearing them one after the other to find out the very different ways in which the same inspirational theme is handled on the same instrument by the three composers – as a jumping-off point for Farago and as the basis for a variety of interesting and frequently complex elaborations by Allard and Thunemann. Indeed, the varying uses of the solo bassoon are apparent throughout this unusual and unusually interesting recording. Fantasy for bassoon (1966) by Malcolm Arnold (1921-2006) is, like most of his music, approachable and enjoyable listening. Partita for solo bassoon (1971) by Gordon Jacob (1895-1984) consists of five micro-miniature movements – the whole work lasts just five-and-a-half minutes – with Jacob’s typical mixture of seriousness with good humor. The 2 Monodies pour basson (1947-1948) by Koechlin are brooding and atmospheric. The bassoon’s usefulness in non-Paganini variations is clear in Ten Variations on “La Folia” (2021) by Nikolaus Maier (born 1972), with the work based on a tune that also attracted the attention of Vivaldi and many others. Rhapsody for bassoon (1958) by Willson Osborne (1906-1979) showcases the instrument’s expressiveness, while Lussier’s Fantasia Tango pour basson (2002) displays its rhythmic capabilities to good effect. And the five 1998 Paquito D’Rivera arrangements for solo bassoon of works by Antonio Lauro (1917-1986) show that although Lauro is best known by far because of his guitar music, here too the bassoon has bone fides in terms of forays into rhythm and expressiveness. In truth, listening to this disc straight through from start to finish can be a bit much – this is a lot of solo-bassoon material in one package – and it may be more enjoyable to pick and choose among the tracks at various times, as by hearing the three sets of Paganini variations one after the other or perhaps listening to the fantasies by Arnold, Farago and Lussier as a threesome. What is clear throughout, in any case, is that Roy is thoroughly committed to careful presentation and skilled interpretation of all this music, and does a highly commendable job of proving, if proof be necessary, that the bassoon has all the fluidity and emotive potential that one could want in any wind instrument, even if it has not always been utilized to the fullest extent of its capabilities.
The instrument that is central to the concept of l’Algérie by Richard Carrick (born 1971) is the oud, a lutelike, fretless 11-or-12-stringed instrument with a deep, warm and resonant sound. Carrick, like many contemporary composers, likes to create auditory experiences joining multiple cultures and musical forms, while also extending techniques associated with well-known instruments – in this case the piano, which is equipped with magnets and mutes and which Carrick himself plays as part of an ensemble known as Either/Or. l’Algérie, whose title does not begin with a capital letter (a common spelling affectation among many modern compositions), is a nine-movement suite that is the second part of a trilogy incorporating music from the Maghreb region of North Africa – hence the prominent oud, which is important in that area’s musical life. The piece is semi-autobiographical, as are the other portions of the trilogy, The Atlas and The Path. There is aural experimentation of all sorts in l’Algérie, sometimes literally through improvisational sections and sometimes through the performance techniques that Carrick requires, and the sounds resulting from them. Unsurprisingly for an avant-garde work, l’Algérie has a wide variety of self-referential elements, some involving Carrick’s family (his mother was born in Algeria) and some from his own experiences hearing or researching specific tunes and musicians. Some of the resulting sound is interesting, such as the occasional coupling of oud and violin. But much of it is simply as-expected juxtaposition, incorporating elements of non-Western music, plus jazz and other forms, into segments that will display Carrick’s intentions and their own meaning only to audiences willing to delve into the background of l’Algérie and use their research to further their understanding of what they are hearing. Taken at face value – or perhaps “ear value” is more accurate – l’Algérie is just another example (albeit a long-form one) of all the sonic material that a contemporary composer can extract from unusual instrumentation and/or unusual performance techniques. The occasional dips into more-traditional sounds, as at the start of the movements called La reine and Gnawa Loops, are quite welcome as aural oases in what is otherwise material whose meaningfulness to Carrick is no doubt sincere but is not effectively communicated to listeners outside those already acquainted with his works and his personal life. Because of its narrow focus and because this is a short release for a full-price CD – lasting fewer than 45 minutes – the recording is a (+++) disc whose largely self-limited appeal makes it seem indifferent to reaching out to any audience wider than the inner circle of Carrick cognoscenti.
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