Showing posts with label Martinu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martinu. Show all posts

Monday, September 1, 2014

Isserlis Energizes Martinu Cello Sonatas

Martinu: Cello Sonatas 1-3
Works by Sibelius and Mustonen
Steven Isserlis, cello
Olli Mostonen, piano
BIS SACD

Steven Isserlis turns in an attractive program of cello music with this new SACD. Bohuslav Martinu wrote in a very distinctive style; one that was remarkably consistent throughout his long and prolific career. Martinu wrote tonal works, but they were his own version of tonality. Dancing syncopations and shimmering chords are Martinu trademarks, and they're here in abundance.

Playing two or more of Martinu compositions back-to-back -- especially ones using the same forces -- can have the effect of blurring them together. Isserlis avoids this by interspersing works by two composers whose styles complement Martinu's, simultaneously providing contrast and creating a coherent program.

Jean Sibelius' Malinconia, Op. 20 is a dark work, written after the death of the composer's infant daughter. Isserlis convincingly brings out the pathos of the work, while at the same time savoring the beauty of Sibelius' extended melodic lines.

Pianinst Olli Mustonen not only partners with Isserlis in these performances; he also provides a sonata as well. Mustonen's post-romantic composition fits in nicely with the Martinu and Sibelius works, with plenty of rich sonorities and juicy melodic tidbits.

Isserlis doesn't hold back in these performances. Martinu's music has a certain lightness to it, but Isserlis makes it more compelling by really digging into the notes. The urgent character his technique brings to these works makes them, in my opinion, some of the best recorded versions of Martinu's cello sonatas to date. And if you have an opportunity, listen to this release through an SACD player. The intimate nature of this chamber music becomes all the more vivid with the additional sonic details the format provides.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Listen.Listen.Listen

Shuffle.Play.Listen
Christopher O'Riley, piano ; Matt Haimovitz, cello
Oxingale OX2019

This is an album of arrangements and transcriptions. I know that might sound sort of "dirty" to some in the classical music world, but consider that even the "purest" and most un-tampered-with works on this album, the Pohádka (Fairy Tale) by Czech composer Leoš Janáček and the Suite italienne by Igor Stravinsky are themselves excerpted from larger works by their composers, and in the case of Stravinsky, sanctioned for arrangement by the much-praised cellist Gregor Piatigorsky.

This album is subtitled "a collaboration that blurs the boundaries between classical and pop." I'm not sure it does that in the way it portends. We're not suddenly whisked to Le Poisson Rouge or the Knitting Factory. Cellist Matt Haimovitz has spent the last decade bringing classical music to unlikely venues. Pianist Christopher O'Riley has broken the fourth wall of radio through his arts education/variety show, From the Top, and his arrangements of Radiohead songs for piano earned him four out of five stars from Rolling Stone magazine. This type of hybrid program fits into the vision of the classical future by music writers Alex Ross and Greg Sandow.

This is, in some ways, a very traditional live chamber music album; in fact, it succeeds better than most live albums of any genre. It captures all of the individualistic quirks of chamber music performance -- the burnished weight of the bow on the cello strings, the staccato (and even lighter) touches of the pianist's fingers, and most importantly, the blend of the instruments in a hall with just the right amount of ring. It does not seem to be recorded before a live audience -- which is not a bad thing. The album was recorded in the cavernous Multimedia Room of the Schulich School of Music at McGill University in Montreal.

The twentieth century is well-represented on the first disc, with works by Leoš Janáček (Pohádka [Fairy Tale]), Bohuslav Martinù (Variations on a Slovak Folksong), Igor Stravinsky (Suite italienne (after Pulcinella)), and O'Riley's own arrangement of Bernard Hermann's music cues from the 1958 film Vertigo. The five movements of this last suite are spread out between the other pieces of the disc, giving a shuffle feeling to the disc, even if one were not consciously shuffling their digital music player to the next selection.

The Janáček is given a upbeat and bright reading which brings out the love and anguish expressed in the original incidental music he wrote for Julius Zeyer's dramatic tale, Raduzand Mahulena, in 1899. Haimovitz's use of line and touch are also evident in the Martinù and the Stravinsky (which is alternately playful and detached as required--this is Stravinsky's neoclassic period, after all).

It is the Hermann where both have a great deal of fun in outlining the characters and the action--and it is all in the touch of Haimovitz's bow whether it is burnishing the strings or singing in a wisp-like fashion on the upper strings. (His use of harmonics are also outstanding). Once again, I can't think of a disc I've heard in recent memory where the the recording location has helped the performers sound so good. (Please don't let this be some tomfoolery of the post-production process!)

If you're familiar with some of the songs on the second disc, you are going to know that they have left their native environment. They lose the drum beats, the electric guitars, and the voices of their original incarnations. Arcade Fire's Empty Room keeps the frenetic strings (provided by Haimovitz at the outset), but he soon becomes the lead singer, crooning over O'Riley's fast fingers--in a style akin to Philip Glass's music, but also very close to the accompaniment of Stravinsky's Suite italienne.

Compare Haimovitz/O'Riley's version of Empty Room...



with the original by Arcade Fire:



Haimovitz twangs and colors each of the songs on this disc in a distinct way which sometimes mirror the original, and at other times is completely different. O'Riley shines more in the Radiohead arrangements, such as Pyramid Song and Weird Fishes/Arpeggi. If not all of these pieces capture the spirit of the originals, then it should be noted that there are some very pretty melodies that are being re-worked effectively for a classical audience.

Transposing the Mahavishnu Project's Dance of Maya by John McLaughlin on cello, though, eliminates the weirdness of the electric version, and we are left with music which sounds like Martinù. It swings later when O'Riley enters, and Haimovitz's energy amps up when he's using his portamento (sliding between notes) to create a distorting haze over the proceedings. I don't know if this is effective, but it certainly is well-played and thought-provoking.

McLaughlin's Lotus on Irish Streams in this form, alternates between Debussy and George Winston for me. Other treatments of Blonde Redhead (Misery is a Butterfly), the Cocteau Twins (Heaven or Las Vegas) and Radiohead alternate between intense, laid-back, and melodic. The selections on this second disc (arranged for the most part by O'Riley) have been well-chosen to blend with the first one.

Listening to these discs in the car on shuffle mode, they transitioned quite well, but they could also be programmed in a more conscious fashion. One could enjoy Shuffle.Play.Listen as a well-curated (and superbly executed) recital of different genres of music being incorporated into a concert hall experience. Or you could just sit back and shuffle through a bunch of good tunes. I recommend lowering the lights and taking it all in on the best audio equipment you own.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Review: Cello concertos that show what might have been

Martinu, Hindemith, Honegger
Cello Concertos
Johannes Moser, cello
Deutsche Radio Philharmonie
Christoph Poppen, conductor
Hanssler Classic, 93.276

What if classical music had taken a different turn in the mid-Twentieth century. Cellist Johannes Moser gives us a hint with his latest release of concertos. He presents three works by composers who all wrote in a somewhat tonal style.

Paul Hindemith wrote music that he believed to be the logical extension of the works of the great masters. His 1940 cello concerto is a brawny, intense work, meticulously constructed to work out its musical arguments. And yet there's nothing stiff or academic about the piece. The concerto present its musical arguments in a forthright and natural manner.

Swiss composer Arthur Honegger was more concerned about melody. From the sweeping lyricism of the opening movements to the crashing chords of the finale, the cello sings its song accompanied by the orchestra. This 1930 work occasionally betrays a hint of jazz, but it never degenerates to cliche.

Boheslav Martinu's music sounds like no one else's. His chords shimmer, his harmonies slide about, always consonant, yet never quite settling on a particular key. The music is often propelled forward with engaging folk-based rhythms that help keep things slightly off-balance. Martinu's first cello concerto, finished in 1930 isn't a landmark composition, but it provides a solid introduction to the composer's style. 

Johannes Moser moves effortlessly through all three works, adapting his playing to the composer's styles. Regardless of the technical challenges, his playing never sounds forced, and at times his cello seems to positively sing. The Deutsche Radio Philharmonie led by Christoph Poppen gives these works a spirited reading, nicely complementing Moser's playing.

This is a new addition to the WTJU library, so listen for it on air.

Recommended to anyone interested in unusual repertoire. And if you *hate* 20th Century music, you really should get a copy of this disc!