Jazz pianist and composer Marta Sanchez was born in Madrid and now resides in Brooklyn. She presents eleven originals on her fifth recording, Perpetual Void (Intakt, 2024). Usually Sanchez performs and records with a quintet featuring two saxophonists. Here, in her first trio outing, she is joined by bassist Chris Tordini and drummer Savannah Harris. The leaner lineup works well, as it allows Sanchez abundant room to solo and, moreover, to express elements of the emotional journey that transpired during the time she composed the works on Perpetual Void. She had lost her mother and subsequently coped with frequent insomnia and anxiety.
The tracks are titled to reflect these challenges. “I Don’t Wanna Live the Wrong Life and Then Die,” which opens the album, is uptempo and nervous-sounding, Sanchez and Tordini run through presto melodic lines while Harris lets rip on both crash symbols. This is followed abruptly by “3:30 AM,” which once again presses the tempo and uses crunching half steps and abundant syncopation to channel an angst-filled bout with insomnia.
“Prelude to Grief” is a solo by Sanchez with the yearning bird calls of early morning set against wide-ranging arpeggiations and biting dissonant attacks. It is followed by “The Absence of People You Long For,” a mid-tempo ballad with an offset duet between piano and bass and subtle percussion effects. “Perpetual Void” has a chromatic melody overlaid with Latin rhythms. The second time through, a countermelody in the bass is juxtaposed against it. Sanchez’s solo is the most overt use of Spanish and Latin American materials, and it exudes a sense of exuberance. Tordini accompanies with bits of the countermelody interwoven with a walking line. Harris’s drumming is virtuosic, following the melody and adding ample fills.
“The End of That Period” allows for a momentary cessation of the previous intensity, with a major key melody split between piano and bass and economical drumming. On “Prelude to a Heartbreak,” Sanchez again plays solo, building arpeggios in both hands into faster and faster gestures. The piece’s coda is a slow exploration of tender harmonies and tuneful feints. “The Love Unable to Forgive” spotlights Tordini, who plays ostinatos and a bass tune that guides the proceedings. After Sanchez contributes a mercurial solo, she rejoins Tordini on the ostinato passages, dovetailing in counterpoint with the bassist. “Black Cyclone” has an intense opener, with stabbing fortissimo jabs, followed by a swinging melody and zesty harmonic changes.
Eventually the album announces a turn. With “This is the Last One About You,” a blues-inflected tune and driving tempo are bounteous terrain for fleet soloing from all three members of the trio. The final track, “29B,” is a fiery climax. After Sanchez’s solo, Tordini shares a slower one of his own, building to a final section that adds the other players and speeds back up to the original tempo, ending abruptly.
One hopes that Perpetual Void proves to be cathartic for Sanchez. Her lived experiences are exemplified in this moving and musically superlative set of compositions: recommended.
Boston Modern Orchestra Project, Gil Rose, Music Director
BMOP/Sound 1098
Composer Ellen Taaffe Zwilich turned eighty-five in April, and one of the many celebrations of her life and work is a recording by Boston Modern Orchestra Project. Directed by Gil Rose and featuring flutist Sarah Brady and violinist Gabriela Diaz as concerto soloists, it is a generous program of her music. The centerpiece is Zwilich’s Symphony No. 5 (2008), a powerful four-movement work that combines traditional formal structure with a musical language of a more recent vintage.
Upbeat! (1998) opens the recording with a brief, sprightly overture that resembles its title, with neoclassical string motives and ebullient brass and percussion entrances juxtaposing in comedic fashion. Concerto Elegia for Solo Flute and Strings explores an entirely different emotion, that of mourning. The first movement, “Elegy,” introduces flutist Sarah Brady as its protagonist, with a fluid sound and emotive, but never bathetic, delivery of limpid runs and ardent crescendos. “Soliloquy” features a modal theme against poly-interval chords and another motive on the violin’s g-string. The music proceeds through a variety of melodies and embellishments that have a doleful demeanor. The “Epilogue” begins with diaphanous string verticals, and then a legato main theme that is offset by pizzicatos. Then the music shifts towards early jazz. The pizzicato theme recurs, but this time played arco, with the flute doubling it in octaves. The melodic doublings continue, with the rest of the strings going back and forth between pizzicato and sostenuto chords, and the piece ends in an apotheosis of major harmony.
Still another set of moods, along with historical characters, is explored in Commedia dell’Arte for Solo Violin and Orchestra (2012). Hundreds of years ago, each of the Commedia characters were memorably deployed at the Venice Carnival. They have evolved over the centuries; in England, one can see a resemblance to them in Punch and Judy. Both Stravinsky and Schoenberg revived them in the 1910s for Petroushka and Pierrot Lunaire, and several composers have investigated the characters since.
Zwilich depicts the commedia in four separate movements. Arlecchino (the Harlequin) is propelled by slaps in the percussion and a florid melody, with blue note glissandos, ricocheting back and forth between the soloist and strings. Alongside it are puckish pizzicatos and brawny octave punctuations. Columbina, the romantic interest of both Arlecchino and the Capitano is given appropriately heart-throbbing music and a high-lying solo line. Martial drumming accompanies Capitano as well as a brisk tune that mercurially shifts through various keys. The close of the movement is a long decrescendo of drumming: the captain marches away. Cadenza and Finale begins with bell sonorities, out of which a cadenza that coopts all three previous tunes is played with energetic brilliance. The orchestra rejoins in luminous fashion, bells signaling a final flourish from the violin and the piece’s repeated octaves to conclude.
Symphony No. 5 opens with a Lydian motive and fortissimo brass chords. After the relatively chamber-like ambience of the concertos, tutti strings and tangy brass up the ante. The transition incorporates winds in tropes on the first theme. The second theme is a Beethovenian gesture, an oscillating minor third that recalls a different fifth symphony. Timpani and hand drumming add driving intensity, but it is short-lived, broken up by a brief interruption of soft winds and high violins. Again, the forte brass and Beethoven’s minor third return. This alternation repeats once more, the movement concluding piano.
The second movement is a scherzo, with arcing chromatic lines in strings and winds, timpani punctuations, and overlapping trumpet solos. This is succeeded by the theme in mid-register winds and then emphatic repeated octaves, a gesture in common with the concertos. The strings return to the fore with quick ascending lines, played with admirable coordination by BMOP. Winds and brass repeat terse phrases, while soloists ascend too. Vigorous percussion is unleashed, and repeated chords conclude the movement. It is the briefest, but most potent, of the symphony’s sections.
The third movement is slow, alternating rigor and lyricism. It opens with a flute solo, once again in Lydian. Brass takes on a chordal role beneath altissimo register violins, which develop the flute melody into a breathless line, accompanied by downward arpeggios. Brass, snare drums and timpani are added to the proceedings as modal scalar passages are deployed in the strings. A general crescendo is brought to a halt, the texture thinning, punctuated by snippets of the arpeggiated descending line. A shift in pitch center moves the thematic material upward, helping to gather intensity. A sudden hush, and oboe and bassoon get their own solo turns. Sostenuto violins and violas return, as does the arpeggiated motive in solo clarinet and low strings. Softly, low register repetitions of the wind solos and repeated brass chords provide a final thematic utterance, and pizzicatos conclude the movement.
The finale begins another Beethoven allusion, the thrice repeated string gesture found in the Eroica Symphony. The bassoon and double flutes are pitted against repeated brass chords and cymbals, while the minor third motif, from previously, is heard again as an accompanying gesture. In the next section, horn stabs and sustained low trombones build the texture, while the violins play a wide-ranging chromatic theme. The strings then hold a long, high note while brass and percussion repeat the rhythmic ostinato that has undergirded so much of the movement, but this time with thunderous attacks. The violins return to their expansive melodic material, but at yet a slower pace, with rearticulations continuing to contrast it. The modal scales come back, descending first in strings and winds, then ascending in high violins. The symphony comes to a powerful conclusion with the repeating verticals and clangorous percussion in a slow ritardando.
Zwilich is well-served throughout, both by soloists and BMOP under Rose. These are benchmark recordings of pieces in her catalog that show both her connection to tradition and eagerness to explore. As she celebrates her eighty-fifth birth year, one hopes that more pieces are forthcoming from Zwilich. Recommended.
Video: Guided by Voices: “I Am A Scientist,” 30th Anniversary Version
Guided by Voices celebrates the thirtieth anniversary of their album Bee Thousand with a remake of one of their early, most-beloved songs, “I Am A Scientist,” via Rolling Stone.
In an interview with RS, frontman and principal songwriter Robert Pollard describes “I Am A Scientist” and Bee Thousand as follows:“The song and the album opened the door for me and allowed me to play rock music for a living.” Prior to that, he was a science teacher.
Guided by Voices
Strut of Kings
GBV Inc. (2024)
The ever-prolific Pollard and band have released dozens of titles. Their most recent recording,Strut of Kings, streeted late last month. Pollard is joined by guitarists Doug Gillard and Bobby Bare, Jr., bassist Mark Shue, and drummer Kevin March in the current iteration of Guided by Voices, which debuted in 2017 and has proven a durable unit.
The opener, “Show Me the Castle,” has a slow, crunching guitar riff over which Pollard sings the first verse laconically, the second double-tracked with quirky interval relationships. The band double times in the chorus while Pollard’s line remains in the original tempo. A flute synth interlude leads into the third verse, which is adorned with a different vocal harmony, followed by a brief burst of sustained guitar. This moves directly into the next song, “Dear Onion,” which is played in a loping mid-tempo groove of interlocking rhythm guitars. Unlike “Show Me the Castle,” which is built up in multiple sections, “Dear Onion” is typical of Pollard’s more aphoristic song craft, in which an entire narrative can be found in under two minutes and the skin of an onion.
Even by the elliptical standards of Pollard’s titles and lyrics, “Olympus Cock in Radiana,” which includes the phrase “Strut of Kings” in the lyrics, is one of the more unusual ones. Power chords speed up and slow down, with Pollard’s voice serving as the eye in the hurricane. “Caveman Running Naked” is another weird title for a tuneful song, with March’s brusque fills offsetting the guitars’ duet breaks and Pollard’s quick delivery. The coda overlaps open string arpeggiations in a marked contrast to the rest of the song. “Leaving Umbrella” is led by a sinuous vocal, the band punctuating it with emphatic downbeats.
“Timing Voice” embodies the grandeur of seventies prog, incorporating a Romantic chord progression and a guitar solo that channels Steve Howe. “Fictional Environment Dream” is another standout, with duet vocals on a memorable chorus. “Serene King” and “Bicycle Garden” deliver a one-two punch to conclude the album, with its best hooks and most energetic performances from Pollard.
Some artists creatively dry up as they age, others flourish. Pollard is among the latter camp, and Strut of Kings is ample evidence. While Bee Thousand and other earlier albums should still play a part in live set lists, Guided by Voices also has memorable new songs to play.
Pianist and scholar Donald Berman has made a special inquiry into the music of American hyper-modernist composers, Charles Ives chief among them. This year marks the sesquicentenary of Ives’s birth, and Berman celebrates the occasion with an Avie CD of the original piano version of St. Guadens (“The Black March”), best known as one of the movements of the orchestra piece Three Places in New England, and his own scholarly edition of the totemic Piano Sonata No. 2, Concord Mass., 1840-1860, usually known by its nickname, the “Concord Sonata.”
One of the challenges of these pieces is the importance of spatiality in Ives’s approach to composition. In the liner notes, Berman acknowledges this, stating the goal of creating “three-dimensional” versions of the programmed works. In a two-channel stereo recording of a stationary piano, one cannot hope to mirror the spatiality of the orchestral version of Three Places in New England, where voices move through the orchestra and are bent in a simulacrum of the doppler effect. The piano score for St. Gaudens attempts this through shifts of register, texture, tempo, and dynamic that provide impressive contrasts. Civil War era songs and one by Stephen Foster are quoted. St. Gaudens is named after the statue on Boston Common of the 54th Massachusetts Regiment, the first of all African-American soldiers. Their history was a bloody one, and, in a moving performance, Berman leans into the bellicose sections and allows for the softer ones, particularly the diaphanous coda, to emerge as wisps of sound.
St. Gaudens is a fine introduction to Ives’s approach at the piano, but the Concord Sonata presents his aesthetic writ large. Each of the four movements is dedicated to American transcendentalists: Emerson, Hawthorne, the Alcotts, and Thoreau. Transcendentalism was an important philosophical trend that shaped the thought of many Americans: philosophers, poets, novelists, artists, and, especially in Ives’s case, musicians. His concept of transcendentalism in music involves the aforementioned soundworld, as well as liberal quotation of sacred and secular tunes, often overlapping. At three quarters of an hour long, the stamina required by the piece is most formidable.
Berman possesses both the virtuosity and interpretative acumen to give the sonata one of its most compelling recordings to date. “Emerson,” the sprawling eighteen-minute long first movement, could easily sound amorphous, but the pianist finds the formal boundaries and grounding lines in its diverse material. Some performers of Ives, perhaps giving recourse to the cranky elements of his biography, don’t understand the musicality that can be brought to bear instead of stentorian caricature. Indeed, Berman’s performance of “Emerson” captures dynamic nuances that few others adopt. In “Hawthorne,” Berman prioritizes bold rhythmic cross-accentuations and dramatic shifts from impressionist-tinged solos to a dissonant passage from one of Ives’s favorite songs, “They Are There.” There is a fair bit of proto ragtime in the latter part of the movement, as well a march filled with multiple quotes shifting kaleidoscopically. It ends with a bold, ascending chromatic scale.
“The Alcotts” is the briefest of the four movements, balancing hymnody, parlor piano of a Scottish cast, and a reharmonized rendition of the motive from Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. There is also a melody often used by Ives, “the Human Faith” theme. The final movement, “Thoreau,” begins with the diaphanous music that Ives often uses to depict walking in nature, in this case, likely Thoreau’s beloved Walden Pond. In a gradual buildup, whole tone scales vie against chromaticism, and the Beethoven 5th Symphony motive returns to announce the final section. The coda brings the piece back to the Walden Pond music, as if a ruminative walk has found Thoreau returning to his cabin. Berman’s keen sense of molding frequent contrasts into a narrative concludes the piece with a thoughtful portrait of the most emblematic transcendentalist.
Berman’s Ives CD is one of my favorites thus far in 2024. Highly recommended.
Soprano and conductor Barbara Hannigan is an extraordinarily talented and versatile performer. Bertrand Chamayou is a superlative player of the French repertoire. Putting the two together in a recital of vocal works by Olivier Messiaen is inspired programming. The CD’s gestation is detailed in Hannigan’s program note, which describes the two artists’ first meeting and subsequent decision to collaborate. The soprano’s longtime duo partner, Reinbert de Leeuw, was too ill to continue performing, and by the time that Messiaen was recorded, it was after his passing. The sessions were done on de Leeuw’s piano at his home, a fitting tribute. Hannigan’s first impression of Chamayou’s playing was its “liquescent legato,” which she would emulate when they performed. This is certainly the case on Messiaen, where the soprano’s sound seems to celebrate a sense of luxuriant line.
The program consists of two song cycles, Chants de Terre et de Ciel (1938) and Poèmes pour Mi (1937),and the scene La Mort du Nombre (1930). All have texts written by the composer, with imagery and reference points taken from the New Testament. Chants de Terre et de Ciel, “Songs of Earth and Heaven,” is substantial, containingsix songs but lasting over a half hour. The music celebrates the birth of his only son, Pascal. It begins with Bail Avec Mi, (pour ma femme), “A Pact with Mi (for my wife).” Mi was Messiaen’s nickname for his wife Claire Delbos, a composer in her own right whose works he championed. It has the quality of a recitative, the piano playing birdsong adornments. The rest of the cycle concerns Pascal, in the next three songs as a celebration of his arrival and life. The last two songs take a turn. Minuit pile et face (pour la Mort), “Midnight Heads and Tails (for Death),” is a nightmarish view of death, and it is followed by an ecstatic vision of the afterlife, Résurrection (pour le jour de Pâques), “Resurrection, for Easter Day.” These last two might seem incongruous, but what parent doesn’t fear the death of their child? And Messiaen devotedly looks to the promise of the Resurrection; he hopes and trusts that it will be experienced by his child.
Poèmes pour Mi is dedicated to Delbos. It is about their romantic love and, as the cycle proceeds, a sense of the agape love that embodies both families on earth and the family of believers in union with the divine. The nine songs are split into two books, the first consisting of four and the second of five. This helps to underscore the move from eros to agape, from earthly to spiritual love. Messiaen recommended that the part be for a dramatic soprano, which is not how I would describe Hannigan’s voice. However, she declaims the forte passages strongly without ever pushing, maintaining the aforementioned liquescent legato. The piano part requires frequent shifts in demeanor, as Messiaen’s predilection for composing blocks of sound rather than formal throughlines is omnipresent. Possessing a seemingly endless reservoir of resources, Chamayou provides a different touch and timbre for each new section. There are several recordings of this cycle that I admire. In my estimation, Hannigan and Chamayou’s rendition has significant differences in approach but equals the benchmark recording by Phyllis Bryn-Julson and Mark Markham (Music and Arts 912).
La Mort du Nombre (The Death of the Number) includes two guest artists, tenor Charles Sy, a frequent collaborator of Hannigan’s, and violinist Vilde Frang, acquainted with Chamayou but new to working with the soprano. Both acquit themselves memorably in this comparative rarity from Messiaen’s early catalog. In the part of the Second Soul, Sy plaintively sings a text floridly rich with allegory about being kept distant from God. The First Soul, sung by Hannigan, urges her counterpart to take courage and stay the course, gently declaiming a recitative of koan-like aphorisms. Chamayou is then given a virtuosic part to accompany Sy. Frang follows with an interlude that is accompanied by music in the piano filled with the coloristic harmonies Messiaen used to represent resurrection. Hannigan joins, singing an arioso over whole-tone arpeggiations from the instruments, the poetry describing “an eternal spring.” La Mort du Nombre betrays its youthful naivete in places, but it also reveals a number of musical and textual reference points that would remain constants for Messiaen’s entire career. Well worth reviving.
The recording is distinguished by sterling production values, affording the performers a resonant, yet not overly reverberant, acoustic, that captures even the most subtle dynamic shifts. One hopes that Messiaen is just the beginning of the musical partnership of Hannigan and Chamayou. It is one of my favorite CD’s thus far in 2024.
Lukas Foss (1922-2009) was an omnivorous composer who, over the course of his career, went through multiple style periods. When he was a teenager, he studied with Hindemith at Yale and then made close contacts at the Berkshire Music Center (now Tanglewood) with Serge Koussivitzky, Aaron Copland, and Leonard Bernstein (a lifelong friend and supporter). In the 1940s, his music resembled the Americana and neoclassical styles being pursued by a plethora of American composers. In Ode (1944, revised 1958) Foss clearly adopted Americana’s signatures, with thunderous brass and timpani, and intricate string and wind lines. There are tonal centers, but ones elaborated by polytonal chords. While one could imagine this kind of material sounding triumphal, there is instead a portentous atmosphere, and with good reason. Foss was inspired to write Ode to lament the loss of Allied soldiers during the Second World War. On this Naxos CD, JoAnn Fallatta leads the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra in a muscular performance with brilliant tone and clear balancing of the various sections.
Photo: David A. Beloff
Three Early American Pieces (1944-1945, orchestrated in 1989) finds Foss returning to early material, three pieces for violin and piano. Rather than score the work in his late style, Foss returned to the sound world of his early music. No. 1 Early Song: Andante is reminiscent of the neo-classicism of Hindemith, with paired flutes playing an introduction followed by a supple violin solo accompanied by modal writing in winds and strings that concludes with a propulsive dance section. No. 2 Dedication: Lento has a pastoral quality. Vaughan Williams is not a composer usually associated with Foss, but there is more than a whiff of The Lark Ascending in Early Song. No. 3, Composer’s Holiday: Allegro, in an obvious nod to Copland’s Rodeo (1942), is an ebullient hoe-down. In all three, violinist Nikki Chooi plays the violin solo part with artful phrasing and ebullient demeanor.
The First Symphony (1944) was written (as was Ode) during a residency at the MacDowell Colony. It is the apotheosis of Foss’s Americana and neoclassical period. The piece is conservatively made, with four movements that correspond to those expected in a symphony by Mozart or Beethoven: The first movement has an andantino introduction followed by an allegretto sonata form, the second is an adagio, the third a scherzo, and the finale mirrors and recalls the first movement, with an andante introduction followed by an allegro finale. Many American neoclassicists employed tried and true formal designs, but the harmonies and rhythms that caught their ear were decidedly from the twentieth century. There is an interesting dichotomy in Foss’s First Symphony, between Hindemith’s sense of balance and Stravinsky’s zest for innovation. Adding a bit of Americana á la Copland, and Foss provides a comprehensive picture of his influences in the mid 1940s. The symphony is a stalwart addition to the mid-century repertoire. Falletta leads the Buffalo Philharmonic in an ideal rendition of the piece.
Renaissance Concerto comes from the 1980s, when Foss had moved through two decades of experimentation at UCLA and Buffalo and begun to write works in a postmodern style that channeled early music. The composer likened it to a “handshake across the centuries.” The soloist, flutist Amy Porter, is a marvel, providing the microtonal inflections, frequent trills, and liquescent phrasing that this piece requires. She has an extraordinarily beautiful tone as well. The first movement, Intrada, begins with a long cadenza followed by a dancing section based on the English song The Carman’s Whistle, which was arranged for harpsichord by William Byrd. The cadenza returns and then dance and flute solo are juxtaposed, with the rest of the orchestra first shadowing and then boisterously accompanying the soloist. It ends with a delicate and slow passage for the soloist alone. The second movement, Baroque Interlude, is based on L’Enharmonique, a harpsichord piece by Rameau. The flutist plays a set of variations on the tune that twist and turn through a series of harmonic shifts and embellishments, while the orchestra provides a puckish accompaniment. The third movement, Recitative, is based on the lament aria from Monteverdi’s Orfeo. Rife with pitch bends and chromaticism, it replicates the keening of Orpheo in the opera, when he has realized that Eurydice has died. Porter and the orchestra provide a captivating rendition of the section. The finale, Jouissance, is based on a bawdy round from early seventeenth century composer David Melvill. Percussive extended techniques are added to the flute’s kit bag of extensions, and feisty lines from Porter contend with a web of counterpoint from the orchestra. A fugue rife with syncopation supplies the piece’s climax, after which the flute and tambourine provide a boisterous duet. The piece concludes with tightly overlapping melodies in the ensemble while the flute, with a bevy of ornaments, deconstructs the tune.
Like many of the chameleon-like identities Foss adopted, the concerto provides a window into his perspective on music of the past. In most of his late music (apart from a few pieces, like Solo Observed, that dally with minimalism), he approaches earlier composers’ music with curiosity, interested in mining their works’s capabilities and putting his unique stamp on the results. One hopes that Falletta revisits Foss on recording – often.
Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard and Quatuor Bozzini – Colliding Bubbles: Surface Tension and Release (Important)
Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard is a composer based in Copenhagen. On his latest EP he joins forces with the premiere Canadian string quartet for new music, Quatuor Bozzini, to create a piece that deals with the perception of bubbles replicating the human experience. In addition to the harmonics played by the strings, the players are required to play harmonicas at the same time. At first blush, this might sound like a gimmick, but the conception of the piece as instability and friction emerging from continuous sound, like bubbles colliding in space and, concurrently, the often tense unpredictability of the human experience, makes these choices instead seem organic and well-considered. As the piece unfolds, the register of the pitch material makes a slow decline from the stratosphere to the ground floor with a simultaneous long decrescendo. The quartet are masterful musicians, unfazed by the challenge of playing long bowings and long-breathed harmonica chords simultaneously. The resulting sound world is shimmering, liquescent, and surprising in its occasional metaphoric bubbles popping.
Kronos Says Goodbye to Two Members After a Hello to Moondog and Sun Ra
Credit: Lenny Gonzalez
Many are celebrating the tenures of two members of Kronos Quartet – violinist John Sherba and violist Hank Dutt – who are, after more than forty-five years, retiring from the group at the end of June.
As a valediction, I have been listening to and enjoying recordings from throughout their catalog. I am impressed by how enduring the quartet’s creative vitality and imagination has persisted, even on their most recent outings.
Joined by the Ghost Train Orchestra and a number of guest vocalists, last Fall Kronos released Songs & Symphoniques: The Music of Moondog. Louis Hardin, AKA Moondog, AKA The Viking of Sixth Avenue, shares moments of whimsy and often playful titles. Artists could take that an imprimatur to always playfully play it, but not on Songs & Symphoniques. Indeed, I’ve long been impressed with Moondog’s self-taught craft. His madrigals and canons, written down in Braille and then “translated” for seeing musicians, are at times quirky, but are often substantial pieces. Kronos and colleagues emphasize this, as well as the emotive character of his songs’ lyrics.
Rufus Wainwright joins with a backing vocal chorus and a number of the instrumentalists in one such canon, “Be a Hobo.” While maintaining the canonic structure, it is arranged to allow close-miked Wainwright to act as its focal point, thus functioning as both song and contrapuntal excursion. Marisa Nadler performs “High on a Rocky Ledge” with her characteristic dark-hued lyricism, adding duplicate vocal tracks for the chorus. The quartet and an electric guitar play the tune’s descending riff and a series of Tin Pan Alley chords to flesh out the piece. “I’m This, I’m That” features a gravelly-voiced, affecting rendition by Jarvis Cocker. Contributing an alto lead vocal and joined by other singers for a round, Petra Haden also memorably channels Annie Ross in her high soprano line on “Down is Up,” giving it the flavor of a cappella jazz.
“Enough About Human Rights” is a humorous text that is delivered with a wink by Karen Mantler and the quartet, who double on the vocal chorus. The song asks about the rights of a long list of animals, even skunks and bats, pointing out an even-handed ecological mindset that is a throughline in Moondog’s writings. She also sings on “Coffee Beans.” After a jaunty 6/8 groove is introduced by drums, jazz-inflected sax chords, pizzicato strings, and, ultimately, a wayward tune, Mantler sings a round about how to make the best coffee. At the conclusion, a harmonica solo adds a lilting counter-melody. Joan as Police Woman uses overlapping voices and vocoder to create a round on “Why Spend a Dark Night with You?” Hand-claps underscore the syncopation while electric guitar, saxophone, and the quartet add additional wisps of tunes, and then a raucous interlude. Mantler resumes the round in its former context, but in a new key, to conclude. A favorite is the duet between Sam Amidon and Aoife O’Donovan on “Behold.” Celtic folk fiddling style both in a solo and in the quartet accompanies their singing. Amidon takes the first verse in hyperkinetic fashion, O’Donovan’s rendition of the second resembles some of the inflections in the strings. The third verse treats the melody as a round, and the quartet provides a bluesy chord as a button.
In addition to the vocal turns, several well-conceived instrumentals are performed by Kronos and Ghost Train. “The Viking of 6th Avenue” is a calling card piece of Moondog’s; this was his nickname and mentions his stomping grounds. The arrangement incorporates pitched percussion instruments – xylophone, metallophones – that he performed when busking, but it also has a full jazz arrangement and the quartet playing in contemporary classical fashion – an extraordinary mash-up of styles that befits the polyglot musical approach to composition of Moondog. “Bumbo” features the lower brass alongside, again, high pitched percussion, with a Latin-tinged groove that supports saxophone and guitar solos. There’s a bit of Rain Dogs-era Tom Waits here, and one imagines that the Moondog albums might well have been on his mind when creating the Tom trilogy in the 1980s.
The recording concludes with another vocal track; Joan as Policewoman sings on “All is Loneliness,” which is one of the most poignant of Moondog’s creations. It is in canon, with saxophones and strings delivering the first few entrances gently, and Joan as Policewoman entering soon after with serene, sustained singing of the motive. It is a moving closer to a recording that reveals Moondog’s multitudes.
Out this month is another recording: Outer Spaceways Incorporated – Kronos Quartet and Friends Meet Sun Ra. This double LP is the fifth in Red Hot’s Sun Ra series, and by far the most substantial. Once again, prominent collaborators join the quartet to create new renditions of Sun Ra’s music as well as new compositions that both channel the visionary artist and extend his legacy.
The title track begins with spoken spacey glissandos in the strings, and a muted trumpet call. Then the vocalist Georgia Anne Muldrow sings the tune, doubled by Harrington, with supple tone and elegant phrasing. The arrangement by Jacob Garchik recasts the piece with emphatic music for strings but retains its linear gestural vocabulary. Electronic musician Jlin, known for her work with post-classical materials and creation of footwork singles, provides vociferous string chords and hand drums in her composition “Maji.” Laraaji adds synths and the flavor of New Age electronica on “Daddy’s Gonna’ Tell You No Lie.”
“Blood Running High” incorporates two hip hop artists – RP Boo and the duo Armand Hammer – rapping over a sax section and the quartet. Sun Ra’s spoken word recitations have undeniably been an influence on hip hop and here there is a tip-of-the-hat here in return. Moor Mother, DJ Haram, and 700 Bliss add reverberant production, samples, and rapping to “Secrets of the Sun.”
The centenarian bandleader of the Sun Ra Arkestra, saxophonist Marshall Allen, also appears on the recording. He joins Sex Mob and Laurie Anderson for “Images Suite,” one of two extended tracks on the CD. Post-bop horns and otherworldly electronics combine in a savory concoction that embodies the juxtapositions inherent in the music-making of Allen’s ensemble. Anderson adds treated vocals, and chimes accompany trumpeter/arranger Steven Bernstein. Allen gets multiple solo turns, displaying a rich tone undiminished by age. Anderson joins Allen and Kronos on “Phenomenon” and “The Wuz.” The resulting amalgam pays tribute to the eclecticism intrinsic to Sun Ra’s music while maintaining the tension between the various contributors’ own approaches. “Love in Outer Space,” featuring keyboards by Trey Spruance, imparts the tune with piano, organ, and synth playing that revels in Sun Ra signatures.
A second extended cut ends the recording with, appropriately enough, “Kiss Yo’ Ass Goodbye.” It is a lyric from Sun Ra’s famous and much-covered song “Nuclear War,” and here as well the notion of apocalypse is explored through the lens of Afrofuturism, in which the escape to space may be the only thing saving us from annihilation. The quartet is joined by Terry Riley, playing keyboards and singing, and vocalist Sara Miyamoto. It opens with portentous straight tone slides, almost like an air raid siren, which are joined by quick singing of the title in saucy fashion. The strings and percussion provide intense accompaniment and the glissandos change direction alongside an Ivesian amalgam of melodic fragments and a coda of overlapping voices (shades of Moondog’s canons).
From its outset and for a half century, Kronos has made many “cover albums.” Outer Spaceways Incorporated is among its most successful in terms of concept and execution. The quartet will continue performing and recording with two new members, violinist Gabriela Díaz and violist Ayane Kozasa.
NEW YORK – In their last concert appearance this season at Carnegie Hall, the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, conducted by their Music Director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, presented a program of music from two early twentieth century operas that both explore French folktales alongside one of the most famous nineteenth century opera overtures, based on a legend first promulgated by mariners in the eighteenth century.
The latter, Richard Wagner’s Overture to the Flying Dutchman (1843), opened the concert. It has a memorable and bellicose main theme, one that particularly will delight brass fans. Aside from a couple of phlegmatic entrances at the very beginning, the Met’s brass section played admirably, with brilliant, powerful tone and incisive rhythm. Nézet-Séguin’s interpretation emphasized a strong and questing demeanor. The accentuation of leitmotifs associated with the ship’s captain and the sea’s rollicking waves suggested a character ready to break free from the curse inflicted upon him.
Credit: Evan Zimmerman / Met Opera
Claude Debussy’s opera Pélleas et Mélisande (1902) is one of the composer’s crowning achievements. He never made a suite from the opera, and conductor Eric Leinsdorf decided to craft one, assembling a bit more than twenty minutes of its instrumental music. The piece received its Carnegie Hall premiere at the concert.
Keeping with the Dutchman’s aquatic theme, Leinsdorf’s selections from Pélleas et Mélisande often involve water inspired passages, including music from the incomparable grotto scene. The music is frequently subdued, primarily operating in a dynamic spectrum between pianissimo and piano. There is forte music in Pélleas, but much of it involves the vocalists, particularly the role of Golaud and the penultimate scene that goes from love to murder. Thus, apart from a few portentous passages, Leinsdorf crafted a suite with more than a passing resemblance to the composer’s tone poem La Mer (1905). The Met orchestra played exceedingly beautifully, with a luminous sound that seamlessly blended winds and strings. Nézet-Séguin gave the piece a detailed and delicate reading, with well-paced phrasing providing continued vitality in a work that, in the wrong hands, could be treated to an overly sentimental and languid rendition.
Credit: Evan Zimmerman / Met Opera
The Met’s orchestra concerts usually feature at least one piece for vocalists. Concluding the evening was an unstaged one-act opera, Bluebeard’s Castle (1918) by Béla Bartók. Even by the standards of early modernist opera, the story is exceedingly morbid (“creeptacular,” opined a concertgoer near my seat). Bluebeard brings Judith, his latest wife, to his castle. She is both fearful of his reputation and smitten with him. There are seven doors in the home, which include a torture chamber, armory, treasury, garden, et al. Judith is insistent that all of the doors be opened, that light be let into the gloomy castle. Behind the last door is a room that contains three of Bluebeard’s previous wives, all murdered. He describes this room as “a space on the border of life and death.” Judith is sent to join the other wives, never to depart.
Why Judith doesn’t run the other direction when she sees the bloody implements in the torture chamber behind door one I’ll never know, but the progression from door to door isn’t just a realistic depiction of a castle. Maeterlinck was an important Symbolist writer, and the play and, by extension, the libretto for Bluebeard’s Castle, is rife with archetypal imagery. Bartók leaned into this understanding of the story, creating music that clearly delineates both of the characters and the progression through a castle that is equal parts nightmare dwelling and the inner life of Bluebeard.
Mezzo-soprano Elina Garanča played Judith and Christian Van Horn took the role of Bluebeard. Garanča’s voice is a high, lyric mezzo, which served the challenging tessitura of the role well. In addition, she embodied the character’s mixture of feelings with eloquent expression, affording Judith successively greater curiosity and dread as more is revealed. Van Horn has a darkly sonorous instrument which he used to diabolical effect. The contrast between the two characters, one vulnerable and the other villainous, was well interpreted, Garanča singing with excitement and insistence, Van Horn sepulchrally forceful. Not for the faint of heart, but as Bartók’s only opera, it makes one yearn for him to have composed more for the stage.
There is an interesting connection between Pélleas et Mélisande and Bluebeard’s Castle. Maeterlinck, whose plays were the basis of theirlibrettos, depicts Mélisande as a wife who escaped Bluebeard’s predations. Perhaps this explains her dissociative and even perplexing behavior in the opera.
The concert’s program contained vivid contrasts as well as intriguing commonalities. The orchestra and Nézet-Séguin proved as compelling in concert as they are in the pit.
Vision Fest 2024 – William Parker Receives a Lifetime of Achievement Award
On June 18th, luminary bassist, bandleader, poet, and composer William Parker will receive a Lifetime of Achievement Award at Vision Fest 2024. The Brooklyn series for ecstatic jazz and improvised music has often featured Parker in a variety of ensemble configurations and in memorable solo performances.
He will be celebrated on Tuesday, June 18th, with a plethora of events (below) and performances that will also be livestreamed (tickets).
There is more to celebrate. On Friday, June 21st, AUM Fidelity is releasing two recordings featuring Parker.
William Parker and Ellen Christi – Cereal Music (AUM Fidelity)
This is William Parker’s first spoken word album. Themes that he has long addressed in writing – racial justice, spirituality, peace, and healing – are explored in the eloquent selections shared here. Parker also plays flutes and bass. His collaborator, vocalist and sound artist Ellen Christi creates an elegant sound design for the recording and contributes her rich, sonorous voice as well. Birdsong features alongside conventional instruments and subtle electronic drones. Parker’s word-play contains fantastical imagery grounded in gritty experiences from the urban landscape. His declamation drifts easily, occasionally punctuating a particular concept like an arrival point in an improvisation.
Heart Trio – William Parker, Cooper-Moore, Hamid Drake – Heart Music (AUM Fidelity)
William Parker is joined by two long-time collaborators – Cooper-Moore and Hamid Drake – in a new ensemble called Heart Trio. On their debut recording Heart Music, the musicians play a number of instruments, many Non-Western in background. Parker plays doson ngoni, shakuhachi, bass dudek, Serbian flute in F#, and Ney flute; Cooper-Moore plays ashimba and hoe-handle harp; Hamid Drake performs on frame drum and drum kit. The music they create simultaneously celebrates and transcends the traditions from which these instruments emanate. It combines polyrhythms identified with various cultures as well as passages, especially those featuring drum kit, that are palpably influenced by jazz. In spite of all of these elements, the trio’s interactions are seamless.
The theme of Heart Music is sound healing. Theraputic use of music is a practice that has its own academic discipline. One can also look to Pauline Oliveros’s Deep Listening practice for another way to approach healing with sound. Heart Trio’s mission to heal takes on a different guise. Their music accesses the shamanic, the power of dance as ritual, and the jubilation of three lifelong companions finding a new way to interrelate.
JUNE 18, 2024 WILLIAM PARKER LIFETIME OF ACHIEVEMENT
6:30 PM ROOTS AND RITUALS William Parker / Josh Abrams / Joe Morris / Mixashawn Rozie / Hamid Drake / Jackson Krall /Juma Sultan / Michael Wimberly
7:15 PM Trail Of Tears Excerpts, The Blue Sky” Vanished Horizon” Annemarie Sandy, Andrea Wolper, Raina Sokolov-Gonzalez / Mara Rosenbloom / James Brandon Lewis / Mixashawn Rozie / Isaiah Parker / Hamid Drake
8:30 PM Raining On The Moon William Parker / Rob Brown / Steve Swell / Eri Yamamoto / Leena Conquest / Hamid Drake 9:15 PM The Ancients Isaiah Collier / Dave Burrell / William Hooker / Miriam Parker / William Parker 10:00 PM William Parker & Huey’s Pocket Watch
Rob Brown, Aakash Mittal /Isaiah barr / Alfredo Colon / Dave Sewelson / Steve Swel / Colin Babcock / Taylor Ho Bynum / Diego Hernandez / Colson Jimenez / Hans Young Binter / Juan Pablo Carletti / Ellen Christi / Kyoko Kitamura / Patricia Nicholson / Art by William Parker
