(++++) A SENSE OF DISQUIET

Prokofiev: Symphony No. 6; Valentin Silvestrov: Quiet Music. Aarhus Symphony Orchestra conducted by Dmitry Matvienko. OUR Recordings. $21.99. 

Wolfgang von Schweinitz: Plainsound Music for Ekmeles—“DADA NONO & REJOICE”; Katherine Balch: forgetting; George Lewis: Lone Coast. Ekmeles vocal ensemble (Charlote Mundy, soprano; Elisa Sutherland, mezzo-soprano; Timothy Parsons, countertenor; Tomás Cruz, tenor; Jeffrey Gavett, baritone and director; Steven Hrycelak, bass). New Focus Recordings. $20.99. 

     A peculiar pairing whose admirable intentions are not quite brought out through actual performance marks the recording debut of Dmitry Matvienko (born 1990), who became Chief Conductor of the Aarhus Symphony Orchestra in the 2024-2025 season. The second strongly World War II-influenced symphony by Prokofiev, No. 6 of the eight he wrote (including two very different ones that both bear the number 4), is a three-movement work that is conceived on a large scale despite not being especially lengthy (it runs 40-45 minutes). Matvienko has an unusual and unusually intense approach to it that is apparent from the distinctive, dramatic snarl of sound at the opening of the first movement. In this movement Matvienko emphasizes dissonances and the futile attempts of lyricism to compete with them. Individual lines of different sections of the orchestra are well-played against each other: the ensemble is highly responsive to its conductor. The movement has an expansive feeling although its actual pace is not slow. The brass are especially warm and rounded. The ponderousness of the marchlike section is highlighted here, with timpani, wood blocks and other percussion very emphatic in accenting specific points. The overall impression is of a fragmentary design that only gradually coalesces. The second movement hews to dissonance at the start but soon becomes more flowing than the angular first movement. But it is still unquiet: Matvienko allows no sense of relaxation anywhere, keeping  the movement feeling tense throughout and giving very little respite from the first movement. The pacing is quicker than the Largo tempo indication, which is one reason for the tension; in addition, Matvienko focuses on exclamatory elements (notably, interjections by brass and percussion) that disturb whatever peace the themes may hold. There is little of gentleness here and little relaxation. The finale opens in quick and bright mode, but there is still underlying tension: the music sounds driven. Long lines in the strings provide little warmth. Matvienko focuses much more on the intense rhythmic elements and seizes on anything even remotely jagged – snare drum, trumpet calls – giving short shrift to the almost-lyrical elements in the strings and winds (particularly clarinets). The movement’s second-half overlay of themes in different instrumental groups has a competitive feel to it. And the recurrence of slow material from the first movement comes as a surprise after the headlong pace to that point. Matvienko prolongs the late-movement silences into anticipatory predictions of what turns out to be an ending that positively growls. This is the opposite of an expansive reading of the symphony – it is compressed and intense. Likely for that reason, Matvienko sees Quiet Music by Valentin Silvestrov (born 1937) as a place of repose after Prokofiev’s intensity. This short three-movement work for 18 string players certainly contrasts strongly with the Prokofiev, even more so in light of Matvienko’s handling of the symphony. The first movement of Quiet Music, called “Waltz of the Moment,” has a hesitant rhythm: it seems to want to be a waltz but never quite becomes one. It keeps reaching for flow in three-quarter time without ever quite obtaining it. There is nevertheless a gentleness to it, mostly a feeling of resignation; and it does not end but simply fades. The second movement, “Evening Serenade,” continues to produce a sense of quiet meandering that is slightly melancholic. There is little here of forward motion: the overall impression is one of stasis. The pizzicati are pretty but provide little contrast to the legato material – in all, this is monochromatic music. The very short third movement, “Moments of the Serenade,” has a gently rocking feeling and comes across not so much as minimalist as being intentionally soporific. The pairing of this work with the Prokofiev certainly deserves admiration as an unusual aural experiment, and the exemplary playing both of the full orchestra and of the reduced string complement helps make this OUR Recordings release a fascinating one. But there is something calculated in the juxtaposition of the two works: the Prokofiev interpretation is unusually intense and acerbic, as if specifically designed to contrast strongly with Silvestrov’s ultimately rather unconvincing foray into calmer regions. The disc as a whole makes an impression that is stronger intellectually than emotionally: it is more admirable than gripping. The handling of the Prokofiev itself, however, is intriguing enough to point toward a fascinating cycle of the composer’s symphonies should Matvienko have the opportunity to record one. 

     The whole notion of “quiet music” is, in a sense, one that deliberately defies expectations, music being inherently something different from silence (John Cage’s notorious 4’33” notwithstanding). To an even greater extent, the vocal ensemble Ekmeles offers singing that does not sing at all on a (+++) New Focus Recordings CD that actually bears the title “Nonsongs.” The 50-minute disc includes two very extended works and one much shorter one, all of them assertively avant-garde in nature. Wolfgang von Schweinitz’ Plainsound Music for Ekmeles—“DADA NONO & REJOICE” (created in 2024 and titled and spelled exactly that way in good solid avant-garde fashion) is a very lengthy exercise in pitch adjustment that requires sensitivity to microtonality and the ability to navigate it vocally. Ekmeles’ skill in the complexities of the material is much in evidence here, but the complexity is the meaning: the vocalizings are nothing but syllables as pronounced in seven languages (English, French, German, Hebrew, Latin, Russian and Spanish). The skill with which the singers (more accurately, vocalizers) navigate the requirements of the piece is impressive on an intellectual level, but the work makes no attempt to connect meaningfully with any audience besides the composer and performers: it is ultimately vapid in terms of content while brimming with technique. And it goes on and on long after making its points about ways in which vocal presentations, like instrumental ones, can be extended beyond the normative ones. For the other works on the disc, voices alone are not quite enough. Katherine Balch’s forgetting (from 2021 and spelled without a capital letter in a typical avant-garde affectation), the shortest piece on the CD, adds percussion in the form of ratchets to the vocal sounds: the singers/vocalizers use percussive elements along with both pitched and non-pitched expressions to create one of those immersive sonic environments that seem designed to pull listeners, for a time, into an otherworldly space – not, however, for any revelatory purpose, but simply to demonstrate ways in which the everyday world can be modified to allow experience of a different sort of sonic palette. George Lewis’ Lone Coast (2023) takes the vocalizers-with-percussion-instruments notion a step further, giving the members of Ekmeles gongs that produce a kind of gamelan resonance and adding an accordion (played by Iwo Jedynecki) to the overall mixture. Again, extended techniques are de rigueur here in a lengthy presentation of technical prowess that challenges performers and listeners alike without really repaying the effort required of an audience to follow the piece’s metamorphoses. The use of gongs and accordion does give Lone Coast a more engaging overall sound than the other pieces on the disc possess, but as with the von Schweinitz work, the soundworld is well-established within a short time period and continues to present itself long after it has made what points it has to make. As is so often the case with ultra-modern compositions, the works here will speak clearly and informatively only to audiences that have determined, well before hearing them, that the pieces and their composers have something worthwhile to say. Or, as the case may be, vocalize.