Record Roundup: Fall Classics, Vol. 2

Continuing on from last time, here are six more albums from the vast universe of contemporary classical music in 2020. As promised, the playlist has grown...and will keep growing!

 

Grossman Ensemble - Fountain Of Time This powerhouse chamber ensemble, founded by composer and educator Augusta Read Thomas, has been growing in Chicago for the last few years, already amassing a portfolio of 36 commissioned works. Featuring five works from their first season, each one the result of a uniquely collaborative process directed by composers Anthony Cheung and Sam Pluta, it's hard to imagine a better introduction to their virtuosic interplay than this debut album. I'm sure it helps that all the players, including Tim Munro (flute), Ben Melsky (harp), Daniel Pesca (Piano), and the Spektral Quartet (strings) are brilliant on their own, but their sense of unity is a rare thing indeed. This is also no doubt aided by the spectacular recording, warm and nearly three dimensional, and the conducting of Ben Bolter, Michael Lewanski, Jerry Hou, and David Dzubay. 

The music ranges from Shulamit Ran's picturesque Grand Rounds, with its splashy percussion (played by Greg Beyer and John Corkill), and Cheung's supremely colorful Double Allegories, to the occasionally spectral PHO by Dzubay and the skeletal soundscape of Tonia Ko's Simple Fuel, which has some of the tension and release of a Lalo Schifrin score. The album ends with David Clay Mettens' Stain, Bloom, Moon, Rain, as spare and dramatic as the Japanese poems which inspired him. Kudos to Thomas for kicking this thing off and to the Chicago Center for Contemporary Composition and the University of Chicago for giving it a home. Thanks to this spectacular album, the Grossman Ensemble is no longer solely the property of the windy city.

Páll Ragnar Pálsson - Atonement Quake, Pálsson's piece for cello and orchestra, was a highlight of not one but two albums in 2019, Vernacular by Saeunn Thorsteindottir and Concurrence by the Iceland Symphony Orchestra, so I welcomed this opportunity to go deeper into his music on his first collection since 2017's Nostalgia. These are all chamber works, performed by Iceland's Caput Ensemble, and most feature voice, either the soprano Tui Hirv or poet Ásdís Sif Gunnarsdóttir. These forces combine in sympathetic performances that manage to give equal weight to the darkness Pálsson evokes through his harmonic invention and the sparkle he creates through his orchestration, which often takes on a form of serial interaction, with piano sparking flute, which in turn triggers violin, and so on. Hirv's rich voice is the perfect foil for the instruments on Atonement, Stalker's Monologue, which takes its text from the Tarkovsky film, and Wheel Crosses Under Moss, while Gunnarsdóttir recites her own poem for Midsummer's Night. The theatricality of the music in that last piece, combined with Gunnarsdóttir's understated delivery, makes for an enthralling experience - a feeling that will grow more familiar with repeat listens to Atonement.

Sarah Frisof and Daniel Pesca - Beauty Crying Forth: Flute Music By Women Across Time Literally a breath of fresh air, this album expertly compiles music composed by women for flute and piano (mostly), stretching from Clara Schumann's Three Romances (1853) to Shulamit Ran's Birds of Paradise (2014). Tania León's Alma (2007), brightly sets the tone of the album, which is rarely less than sunny. The one exception is Kaija Saariaho's Cendres (1998), which adds cello (Hannah Collins) to Frisof's flute and Pesca's piano. With wild flutterings from the flute and hard-driven cello, often slicing into harmonics, Cendre is a mysterious knockout, like a smoky cocktail that forces you to lay down and contemplate the inside of your eyelids. Pour me another!

Bára Gísladóttir - Hīber If you fell in love with the sharp sound of Saariaho's cello on Cendre's, you will be enraptured by Gísladóttir's blazingly brilliant song cycle for double bass and electronics. Taking her instrument to the limit, with whispering harmonic highs and grinding lows, she creates a universe that pulls you in from the start. Titles like No Afterlife Thanks and Fists Clenched give an idea of some of the emotional realms she's drawing on, but just listening will give you all the clues you need to get there. And get there you must - even if it means signing up for your first streaming account, as this is only available on those platforms. You'll want to be prepared for her upcoming release on Sono Luminus...

Patchwork This debut album for the saxophone and drum duo of Noa Even and Stephen Klunk goes a long way toward establishing a repertoire for a combo that is surprisingly versatile. Featuring five commissioned pieces by Osnat Netzer, Hong-Da Chin, Eric Wubbels, Erin Rogers, and Dan Tramte, and recorded in an appealingly dry acoustic, which allows every pop, tick, and scrape their own moments in the spotlight, it's an entertaining ride, too. Rogers' Fast Love is a perfect example of what Even and Klunk can do. If you've ever seen Rogers play, you know how brave it was for Even to assay a piece by her! But, in Even's hands, Fast Love sounds remarkably tossed off and spontaneous, especially during the wild fourth section, full of gutbucket honks and Desi Arnaz grunts. Klunk distinguishes himself throughout, up for any challenge thrown his way - check him out in Tramte's G®iND, inspired by a YouTube clip about wind-up toys. It's a nifty, inventive piece and as good a proof of concept as anything on this inspiring collection.

Hildegard Competition Winners Vol. 1 Since 2018, National Sawdust has been running this mentorship program for "outstanding trans, female, and nonbinary composers in the early stages of their careers," which provides a cash prize, guidance from established composers like Du Yun and Angélica Negrón, and a live performance led by cellist Jeffrey Zeigler. Having managed to miss every one of those performances, I'm thrilled to have works by the first six winners available for on-demand listening. Eclectic in both conception and sound, works like the tremulous and lyrical Openwork/Knotted Object/Trellis In Bloom/Lightning Ache by inti figgis-vizueta or Casual Champagne + Cocaine by X Lee, with its iPhone noises and scrabbling violins, make a clear case that what may now be on the margins needs to move closer to the center. In addition to the two composers mentioned above, remember the names Kayla Cashetta, Niloufar Nourbakhsh, Emma O’Halloran, Bergrún Snæbjörnsdóttir, not to mention those of the 2020 winners (Flannery Cunningham, Jimena Maldonado, and Sonja Mutić), who have yet to be recorded. What National Sawdust is doing here is certainly noble, but there is nothing academic or appeasing about the music they're ushering into the world. Let it open your mind and your ears.

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2 Nights, 4 Trios, 1 Duo

Three Portraits: Cheung-Trapani-Du Yun

Among The Torrid Vines

Record Roundup: Unclassifiable

"The classical period is certainly, visually, one that is very structured, with gilded moldings and perfection naturally associated with that - and we need to totally get rid of that. So even as fundamental as the language,  not calling it "classical music" and then "other music" or "classical" and then "world music," which is the most ridiculous distinction you could possibly have. Just very much with language, what are we including as being representative of the community...it's "common music" or "music of the people" that we present, as opposed to classical music as a thing. So trying to think at the root what we are trying to classify as a representative art form of the people, which is how classical music started, by being popular music of the people, right?" - Ashleigh Gordon, co-founder, Artistic and Executive Director, and violist of Castle of our Skins on Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness.

Just leaving that there, knowing that Gordon is speaking mostly about the efforts of Castle of our Skins to make visible the work of Black creators, who are only minimally represented below. I'll also say that I use genre terms to help readers find their way to the music they want to hear most quickly, recognizing that not everyone wants to listen to everything. If there's a better term than "classical" I am so ready to put it to work. That said, many of the records below mix and match genres and techniques so freely as to be essentially unclassifiable. Take the leap and listen even if you don't know exactly what to expect, beyond the impressions I can convey in a few brief words.

Wet Ink Ensemble - Glossolalia The latest grand statement from this band of experts gives an opportunity to focus on the compositional talents of two members, Alex Mincek and Sam Pluta, both of whom put their colleagues through some extraordinary paces. Whether it's the power and precision of percussionist Ian Antonio in the Isonomy movement of Mincek's title work and the On/Off section of Pluta's Lines On Black, or Kate Soper's searing vocals in Pluta's Lines On Black, everyone burns bright. There's also a great deal of wit here, as in Duo, which opens the Pluta piece, with the interplay between Erin Lesser's flute and Josh Modney's violin even recalling some of Ennio Morricone's wilder moments, all puffs and pops, swoops and glides. Cycle, the fifth part of Lines On Black, could even be the soundtrack to a particularly abstract - and very kinetic - video game. Any one section of either of these major works of ultra-modern chamber music could serve as a calling card for the ensemble, the players, and the composers. Taken as a whole, the 65-minute album is a nearly overwhelming infusion of pure creativity.

Jobina Tinnemans - Five Thoughts On Everything Wildly inventive stuff from a Dutch-born composer who seems to resonate with some of the directions coming out of Iceland over the last decade or two. In fact, the second piece, Djúpalónsdóttir & Hellnarsson, features recordings of the South Iceland Chamber Choir in those two locations (along with some seagulls), with Tinnemans then bending their singing to her will for a dislocating experience of another kind of glossolalia. The Shape Of Things Aquatic alternates field recordings of a Welsh coastline and and Icelandic waterfall for a sort of mental vacation. Most fun of all is Varèsotto, Hinterland of Varèse, commissioned to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Edgard Varèse's Poeme Electronique. The great man himself would likely enjoy this  funhouse of synthesizers, bird calls, and manipulated vocals. Perhaps most important, however, is the firm hand Tinnemans keeps on the tiller as she pulls you through nearly uncharted territories, following tributaries from the 20th century's avant garde to their natural conclusions.

Amanda Gookin - Forward Music 1.0 Upon first listen, Nathalie Joachim's Dam mwen yo ("my ladies"), which opens this debut album, almost felt too familiar, yet another combination of cello, voice, and loops, but I stuck with it and soon became hypnotized by the textures and metronomic rhythm. Stolen, by Allison Loggins-Hull, comes next and gives you full immersion into Gookin's wondrous tone, which is then taken into twilight territory by Angelica Negron's electronics in her Las Desaparecidas. Both works take inspiration from tales of human trafficking, lending their restraint even more elemental power. Gookin commissioned all seven pieces here from female composers at various stages in their careers each with their own approach to themes around the power, challenges and pain of women in the world today. The final piece, Jessica Meyer's Swerve, brings joy and lyricism into the equation, a perfect send-off perfectly played by Gookin. Rest assured that everything here exists on a level of glorious musicality, with access to the artists' intentions not a requirement for listening. But once you know, you will be even more floored by what Gookin has achieved here. You'll also be on high alert for recordings of works commissioned for Forward Music 2.0, which premiered last year, and 3.0, set to be performed at National Sawdust on November 1.

Ning Yu - Of Being The three pieces here, by Wang Lu, Misato Mochizuki, and Emily Praetorius, were all written for Ning over the last two decades and get first recordings on this debut solo album from one of the pianists in Yarn/Wire. The compositions are full of drama and intrigue, but it's the title track, by Praetorius, that hangs in the air long after it ends. Made up of fragments and silences, it constantly threatens to coalesce into something you can grasp - but then it slips through your fingers again, demanding further listening. Ning's playing throughout is as lethally elegant as the album's design, making this one of the finest piano albums of the year so far.

Andy Kozar - A Few Kites Trumpeters around the world owe Kozar, also a member of loadbang, a debt of gratitude for commissioning ten count'em TEN terrific new pieces for trumpet and electronics. Kozar and his collaborators push the trumpet into realms of expressiveness not heard since Luciano Berio turned his attention to the instrument in 1984 for Sequenza X. Whether it's the first movement of Ken Ueno's Quentin, which literally deconstructs the trumpet, or Blister by Quinn Collins and on the imagined relations of night sounds (and silent darkness) by Paula Matthusen, both of which use field recordings and found sounds to interact with Kozar's gleaming tones, the variety here is simply astonishing. It's a well-sequenced album, too, reaching a perfect conclusion with Eva Beglarian's ruminative Osculati Fourniture, its use of modes from Persian classical music giving it a quality both ancient and modern. Let's hope other trumpeters pick up Kozar's torch and put these pieces into concert halls as soon as we're able to gather for live music again.

Dai Fujikura - Turtle Totem This expansive collection puts Fujikura's expertise in nearly every setting - from chamber to orchestral - on full display. Each piece is so assured, with architecturally solid structures, inventive melodies, and innovative instrumental approaches, that he makes everything sound fresh. Even something as hoary as the horn concerto gets a new injection of life from Fujikura's dedication to never taking the easy way out. The first piece, THREE, for trumpet, trombone, and electric guitar, is also a lot of fun, with Fujikura reveling in the sonic possibilities of each instrument. It was commissioned by Ensemble Three, an Australian group whose work I'm now looking forward to exploring. His hand is also sure when it comes to electronics, as on Obi, where he samples the sound of the sho, a traditional Japanese mouth organ played by Tamami Tono, creating drones and echoes to accompany the instrument. A quick look at his discography finds that Fujikura is remarkably prolific as well. Start here and then dig further into what's sure to be a rich seam of music driven by emotion and skill.

Collage Project - Off Brand Dan Lippel never ceases to amaze me. Even as he tirelessly enriches the musical universe with his work for New Focus Recordings, he finds time to make music as fantastic as this album, a collaboration with old friends, Aidan Plank (bass) and Dan Bruce (electric guitar), and guests. From the first track I knew Off Brand would be essential listening for any fans of Nels Cline, Bill Frisell, or others exploring Venn diagrams where jazz, prog-rock, and classical meet and meld. Lippel's For Manny combines his tart and swinging nylon string acoustic with Bruce's fiery electric, driven hard by Nathan Douds' splashy drums. It's a knockout, and the rest of the album, whether improvised or composed, remains at that high level while exploring different moods with an overall lightness of touch that's very inviting. All the playing is great, but Off Brand is especially a feast for lovers of the guitar in all its multifarious incarnations.

Matteo Liberatore - Gran Sasso Speaking of feasts for guitar fans, Liberatore's second solo album is made up of a single 20-minute piece that finds him dishing out a kaleidoscopic array of techniques. Virtuosic, yes, but all in the service of a melodic narrative at times reminiscent of Nino Rota's work for Fellini films and just as delightful. The title refers to the largest mountain in the Apennines, in central Italy, but Liberatore's piece is more like an absorbing walk in the forest rather than a difficult ascent - and it's a journey you'll want to take often.

Sreym Hctim - Turn Tail Perhaps most unclassifiable of all are the five surrealist sound collages on this second album from "Sreym." In fact, this stuff could almost be the endpoint of all music, period. Once the boundaries between sound, song, style, emotion, structure, and sensibility have been erased, it might sound like the work of Mitch Myers (read it backwards). While much of what Myers is doing here is wildly original, it does rhyme with some things from the past, such as Pere Ubu's Dub Housing or New Picnic Time, if you removed all song form, or Varèse's Poeme Electronique, if it had been made by a digital native rather than a pioneer of magnetic tape composition. But as Varèse himself famously said, "I experiment before I make the music," and one thing that makes these pieces work is Myers absolute confidence in his process. Give yourself over to it and you will likely follow my lead and order the expanded edition. Released on cassette, it includes a live set performed on WNYU, which even shows Myers weaving in strains of Top 40 pop and avant R&B. Get to Turn Tail to get on the pulse of what comes after what comes next.

Find samples from all these albums in this playlist - and remember, since the concert industry is shut down right now, consider buying anything you love to help support the composers, performers, and labels that make all of this magic happen.

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Of Note In 2020: Classical
Record Roundup: Contemporary Kaleidoscope

Best Of 2019: Classical

As far as music that I covered throughout 2019, this is the second largest category. At the top you will find links to previous posts to remind you of the best in composed music about which I’ve already written. Following that are a number of special items that I either missed along the way or that came out late in the year. Press play on the playlist so you can hear what I’m talking about!

First Quarter Report: The Albums
Melia Watras - Schumann Resonances
Sæunn Thorsteindottir - Vernacular
Unheard-Of Ensemble - Dialogues
Nicholas Phillips - Shift
Louis Karchin - Dark Mountains/Distant Lights
Greg Chudzik - Solo Works, Vol. 2

Record Review: Beauty... And Darkness
Žibuoklė Martinaitytė - In Search Of Lost Beauty...

Record Roundup: Electro-Humanism
Rand Steiger/International Contemporary Ensemble - Coalescence Cycle Volume 1: Music for Soloists and Electronics

Record Roundup: Contemporary Classical In Brief
Seattle Symphony Orchestra - John Luther Adams: Become Desert
Caleb Burhans - Past Lives
Alex Weiser - And All The Days Were Purple
Matt Frey - One-Eleven Heavy
Caroline Shaw - Orange
Siggi String Quartet - South Of The Circle
Duo Zuber - Blackbird Redux
Rupert Boyd - The Guitar
New Thread Quartet - Plastic Facts
Splinter Reeds - Hypothetical Islands

Record Roundup: Past Is Present
JACK Quartet - Filigree: The Music of Hannah Lash
Wild Up - Christopher Cerrone: The Pieces That Fall to Earth
Anne Leilehua Lanzilotti - in manus tuas

Record Roundup: String Theories
Ben Melsky/Ensemble Dal Niente
Ashley Bathgate - Sleeping Giant: Ash
andPlay - playlist
David Bowlin - Bird as Prophet
Kronos Quartet - Terry Riley: Sun Rings

Record Roundup: Contemporary Kaleidoscope 

Mario Diaz de Leon - Cycle And Reveal

Tak Ensemble - Oor
Jessica Meyer - Ring Out
Ted Hearne - Hazy Heart Pump
Daniel Lippel - Mirrored Spaces
Dither - Potential Differences

Sarah Hennies - Reservoir 1: Preservation

It’s almost embarrassing how much more familiar I am with Hennies’s Twitter presence than her music, but she is truly a virtuoso on the platform. That doesn’t explain why I wasn’t even aware of this album until December, when it showed up on someone else’s “Best of” list. But I’m glad I caught up with it as it a striking work, nearly an hour long, scored for percussion trio and piano. The piano, played by Phillip Bush, cycles through a meditative series of suspended chords that anchor the piece and provide equilibrium amongst the chatter, clatter, and general disruption of the percussion. Perhaps due to the inclusion of improvisation, which is a feature often included in performances by Meridian (Hennies, Tim Feeney, and Greg Stuart), there’s a sense of never stepping in the same river twice when listening to Preservation. Or that could simply be the interaction of my emotional state with the music, and the fact that sometimes time pressure dictates I start where I last left off and return to the beginning. This is one of those recordings that becomes a companion, defining a personal era, and I plan to keep it close. I’m also glad that I learned about Black Truffle, which released it, as they are definitely on the right track, including the packaging, which features an excellent photo by Abby Grace Drake, another artist whose work I plan to investigate further. P.S. This album is not on Spotify, but you can listen easily on Bandcamp. I have also included an excellent piece by Hennies from a compilation called Infinite Futures and highly recommend you clear 30 minutes of time to watch her performance of Falsetto, three years in the making. 

Hildur Guõnadóttir - Joker (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) The Golden Globes already got hip to this Icelandic cellist and composer’s achievement. But I didn’t need an awards show to be certain that her piercing, claustrophobic, and doom-laden sounds are at least as responsible for the film’s success as Joaquin Phoenix’s blistering performance in the title role. Also true is that if you just want some pitch-black modern music for cello, orchestra, and electronics, look no further whether or not you’ve seen the movie. 

Iceland Symphony Orchestra - Concurrence Of course, if we’re talking Icelandic music, the name Anna Thorvaldsdottir should not be far from your mind. Happily enough, this immaculately performed collection has a commanding new piece from her, Metacosmos, which has a cinematic sweep of its own. Also included is Haukur Tómasson’s Piano Concerto No. 2, alternately busy and pensive, with some of Shostakovich’s bite, María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir‘s Oceans, a glistening tone poem with surpassing mystery, and the same recording of Páll Ragnar Pálsson's Quake that appears on Sæunn Thorsteindottir’s wonderful Vernacular. Altogether, a wonderful follow up to Recurrence, the first entry in the ISO’s series under conductor Daniel Bjarnason. Volume 3 coming in 2021? I’ll be there!

Echo Collective - Jóhann Jóhansson: 12 Conversations with Thilo Heinzmann Released on what should have been Jóhannsson’s 50th birthday, you might think this 40-minute, 12-movement string quartet is appropriately elegiac for a final posthumous release. But elegy was basically Jóhannson’s metier - and who knows what else is in the vault? But whether or not you know who Heinzmann is (I didn’t), this an immersive and involving work, with a welcome austerity in place of the sentimentality Jóhannsson could sometimes fall into outside of his film scores. The recording is beautiful and the playing by Echo Collective essentially perfect. If this is indeed the final recording of Jóhannsson’s music, it is a more than fitting capstone to a remarkable career which ended far too soon. 

Kaija Saariaho - True Fire, Etc. and Circle Map, Etc. Moving on to Finland, here are two spine-tingling albums from a composer who manages to carry a through-line straight from Sibelius, Shostakovich, and Britten, while still remaining thoroughly herself and contemporary. Perhaps it’s her seeming belief in the ritual power of orchestral music and its ability to create a whole world where seconds before stood only silence. The performances, by the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Oslo Philharmonic, are crisp and committed, with special note given to baritone Gerald Finley’s commanding take on True Fire. Saariaho’s operas usually get the most attention, often via complaints that they aren’t often performed here. Between these two albums we have a half-dozen excellent opportunities to get her music in American concert halls - who will pick up the slack?

Meara O’Reilly - Hockets For Two Voices Like the mighty aglet, which ensures laces pass smoothly through the holes in your sneakers, hocketing, which is a technique of alternating notes, pitches, or chords between two instruments, is so familiar that you might not even know it has a special name. You’ll recognize its centuries-old provenance in O’Reilly’s work, which occasionally sounds Baroque or even Medieval. But neither Monteverdi or Bach was ever this drily witty - and it’s hard to imagine anyone in their day executing something with the perfection O’Reilly demonstrates here, singing both parts of her own piece. Can’t wait to see what she comes up with next! 

Wendy Richman - Vox/Viola While I have heard string players vocalize along with their instruments, Richman’s debut solo album is the most sustained investigation of the practice I can recall. Richman, the founding violist for the International Contemporary Ensemble, commissioned all nine pieces, demonstrating not only superb taste in composers but an adventurous spirit that has her going all-in on whatever they dish out. It’s no surprise that her viola technique is beyond a compare, but her voice is equally controlled and flexible, whether as a honeyed mezzo on the British Isles folk of Christian Carey’s He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven (based on lines from Yeats), or gasping and ululating on demanding pieces by Lou Bunk and Everette Minchew. At some of the darker moments, the late work of Nico may come to mind, or even Diamanda Galas. The sequencing of the album is quite brilliant, too, giving you the feeling of being led through an experience, rather than being manhandled by the stylistic twists and turns. This is true right to the end, as the last track is Ken Ueno’s stately Song For Sendai, almost coming full circle to the mood of the Carey piece. On the whole, a triumph. Listen and hear a genre being born.

Polish National Radio Orchestra with Beth Gibbons - Henryk Gorecki: Symphony No. 3 I’m going to be honest here. I am a huge Dawn Upshaw fan but I sold my copy of her recording of this piece - and I had gotten the disc for free! But the idea of Gibbons pushing herself into this territory was too compelling to ignore. Mostly known as the vocalist for Portishead (although her album with Rustin Man is a lost classic), Gibbons is known for a wracked vulnerability married to an intonation and relation to pitch that is completely wonderful in that context - but how would her voice fare here? The good news starts before she enters, with Krystof Penderecki (himself!) conducting with a drier approach than David Zinman took in that earlier recording, which veered towards bathos. Gibbons follows Penderecki’s lead for her brief statement in the first movement, letting the music carry the emotion. She has more to do in the second movement and you start to feel her lose herself in the music, drawing the listener deeper in as well. No vibrato, either, which makes a huge difference. While I still have my quibbles with Górecki’s simplistic architecture, this version gives me new respect for his achievement and is the one I will return to when in need of “sorrowful songs.” Gibbons can write her own ticket now and I can’t wait to see where it takes her. 

Lise Davidsen - Strauss: Four Last Songs/Richard Wagner: Arias from Tannhaüser, etc. I have brilliant recordings of most of these pieces on my shelf (Gundula Janowitz, for one), not to mention what Spotify holds, I listened to this in spite of myself. I’m glad I did, however, as Davidsen is the real deal, a soprano who seems to immerse herself in the emotions and narratives of the songs and arias. The support from the Philharmonia Orchestra led by Esa-Pekka Salonen is sensitive fully engaged. It’s mind-blowing when you consider she heard her first full opera a mere five years ago. She was born to sing this music and apparently she can act, too. A friend’s father her saw her at the Met in The Queen Of Spades had this one-line review, “They should keep her.” I hope they do, and if we can hear her in some contemporary music that would be a nice bonus!

Michael Hersch - Carrion-Miles To Purgatory On this collection of three duos, Hersch is as unafraid as ever to look in the face of darkness. The first piece, ...das Rückgrat berstend, has violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja and cellist Jay Campbell emerge from silence, intertwined like a vine on a leafless branch. Then Kopatchinskaja intones a text by Christopher Middleton, translated into German, and a sense of ceremony takes over. The blandly titled Music for Violin and Piano is an excerpt from an evening length medley of earlier works played at National Sawdust by violinist Miranda Cuckson with Hersch himself on piano. The section we get here is a highly dynamic, seamless piece that works entirely well on its own. Cuckson and Campbell join forces for the title work, an alternately anguished and solemn 13 movements based on poems from Robert Lowell's Lord Weary's Castle. It's not until the last, and longest, movement, that we feel some compassion start to creep in. Hersch is not an easy listen, but I am always fulfilled - and even cleansed - by time spent in his sound-world.

New York Philharmonic with The Crossing and the Young People's Chorus of New York City - Julia Wolfe: Fire In My Mouth A sense of righteous if controlled fury fuels this epic oratorio for chorus and orchestra based on the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire. This piece of history is ever-enraging, and even more unfortunately, ever-relevant. I can only imagine the impact of seeing this in the concert hall, with the huge forces amassed and the chorus snipping garment shears in the the second movement's coup de theatre. But the superbly recorded album will pin you back in your seat well enough! Kudos to Jaap Van Zweeden for conducting and the NY Phil for commissioning, and Donald Nally's leadership of The Crossing is as crisp and nuanced as we have come to expect from their long discography. This album bodes well for the Van Zweeden era, especially among us who were concerned about his commitment to the music of living composers. 

William Brittelle - Spiritual America I can't quite put my finger on my initial discomfort with this album. Was it the ultra-slick prog-rock guitar that laces through the massive composition? Was it the involvement of Wye Oak, a band I have always consigned to the ranks of the NPR-beloved and overrated? Or was it simply the discomfort Brittelle himself was struggling to interrogate as an "agnostic Buddhist" still living with the aftermath of a conservative Christian upbringing? Further listening has allowed me to sit within all the  varieties of discomfort engendered by the piece - and notice the influence of the similarly ambitious Scott Johnson (including his processed guitar tone) - and come to the perhaps inevitable conclusion: Spiritual America is a knockout. This is the kind of big, bold, sometimes even crazy symphonic work of which we could use a lot more, with orchestral brass and strings competing with fat synthesizers, rock drums, choral singing, and more. Even Wye Oak impress, with Jenn Wasner's gorgeous vocals soaring throughout. Ryan Streber, an engineer par excellence, deserves a pat on the back, a hug even, for blending all these disparate sounds in a way that sounds richly integrated and massively powerful. While a division in Brittelle's mind was the impetus for Spiritual America, this is the kind of music that could bring together people of many musical stripes, perhaps within sight of some amber waves of grain. Massive respect to all involved, not least to the leadership of both Nonesuch and New Amsterdam, who joined forces to bring this behemoth to life.

Riot Ensemble - Speak, Be Silent On their third album, this London-based new music group comes into sharp focus with four world premiere recordings, including the title track, which they also commissioned. Kicking off with Chaya Czernowin’s Ayre throws down the gauntlet and puts their virtues on display with a fearless performance of a work that traverses from barbed wire knottiness to glassy sighs and moans. Baby Magnify/Lilith’s New Toy, by Mirela Ivičevič, is even more colorful, a crisp synthesis of percussion, piano, winds, and strings that keeps you alert and on the edge of your seat even through repeated plays. Liza Lim’s Speak, Be Silent is three movements of an almost theatrical bent, including a dialog for a muted trumpet and an anguished violin, with the bold and colorful suspense of a Lalo Schifrin score. The album ends with the tense quiescence of Rebecca Saunders’s Stirrings Still II, which has the effect of centering the listener after all that came before. Also included is Thorvaldsdottir’s Ró, first recorded by the Capital Ensemble on Aerial in 2014. The Riot’s version is a bit slower, making for an even more hypnotic experience. It’s always good to see new works get further established in the repertoire with additional recordings, but the full strength of this album is in the premieres, and they are very strong indeed, and meticulously performed. 

Piccola Accademia Degli Specchi - William Susman: Collision Point While the name of the title piece may imply drama or even violence, this album is instead an inviting collection that finds a middle-ground between the pure charm of those mid-70’s Claude Bolling albums and Reichian repetition. The culmination of a 10-year collaboration with “the little academy of mirrors,” the pieces reflect Susman’s deep engagement with their unusual instrumentation of flute, saxophone, violin, cello, and piano four-hands, and the players fulfill their briefs with an appropriately light touch. 

Colin Hinton - Simulacra The line between composed and improvised music blurs most wondrously on percussionist Hinton's latest dense slab of jazz-like chamber music. The players, all of whom are longtime collaborators, distinguish themselves by dispatching whatever Hinton tosses their way, with special note paid to Edward Gavitt's exquisite work on both electric and acoustic guitar. My beloved Jimmy Giuffre and Kenyon Hopkins records now have a new friend. 

Cassie Wieland/Erich Barganier - in a (once-) blossomed place This split EP is an exciting snapshot of two composers who may just be moving too fast to make an album right now. Each demonstrates loads of sonic personality in their two tracks, from the organic feel of Wieland's Weeds, performed by line upon line percussion ensemble, to the strangled stridulations of Barganier's The Veneer Melts for two violins and electronics.  Grab on now - next time you look they will be somewhere else. Plus, for ten bucks you can get a tote bag and the digital album!

yMusic - Marcos Balter: We Carry Our Homes Within Us, Which Enables Us To Fly Composed for a Bill T. Jones dance piece, Balter's 20-minute work is full of melody, rhythm, and life. You can watch a terrific documentary on the their process of working together here - or you can just listen and explore your own language of movement to these lively and lovely sounds.

Clarice Jensen - Drone Studies This two-track single doubles down on the mesmerism Jensen, a cellist, composer, and co-founder of ACME, put forth on her awesome solo debut in 2018. Which means you will be deeply fascinated and experience some sublime psycho-acoustical effects while listening. My sense is that calling these finely crafted soundscapes "studies" is doing them a disservice as they feel entirely complete within themselves. More please.

Believe it or not, this is not everything that caught my attention in the classical sphere in 2019. Dive in to this playlist to find additional listening.

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Best Of 2018: Classical
Best Of 2017: Classical
Best Of 2016: Classical
Best Of 2015: Classical & Composed

Shamans Of North Sixth

One night, two venues, and two very different approaches to channeling the charismatic in music.

Part One: Carolina Eyck at National Sawdust

Leon Theremin’s pioneering electronic instrument just hit its century mark, having made its debut in 1919, and there are probably only two or three people alive who both see beyond its novelty value and have the technique to exploit it fully. One of them is Carolina Eyck, who first came to my attention in 2016 on Fantasias for Theremin and String Quartet, a collaboration with the American Contemporary Music Ensemble. That remarkable album was a constant listen and found a home on my Best Of 2016 (Classical) list. 

However, while I’ve had the files for her latest album, Elegies for Theremin & Voice for some time in advance of its release about a month ago, I’ve been finding it hard to fully connect to the music. While the surface is shiny and bright and the textures - both electronic and vocal - are wonderful throughout, there also seemed to be static quality to the songs. Such is my respect for Eyck, however, that I jumped the chance to see her perform at National Sawdust on Friday, October 25th. 

The rows of seats were almost full when I arrived and sank into mine, already grateful for the intro music, which was Eno’s Music For Airports played on NatSaw’s superb sound system. Eyck’s theremin was center stage accompanied by a table with a laptop, an MPC, and some other gear. Her confidence immediately commanded my attention when she strode on stage, resplendent in crushed velvet and jewel tones, a touch of face-paint lending a ritual aspect to her appearance. 

She sat at her instrument and...made magic. The astonishing control of her right hand (which controls the pitch) allowed the notes to take shape in the air, becoming a physical as well as aural reality. The first piece had the sense of an overture, all swoops and glides and echoing drama. While I dismissed my mind’s initial attempt to place it adjacent to the fat analog synth tones of Steve Miller Band’s Space Intro in my mental library, as the evening progressed and Eyck put her humor and pop skills into the mix, I thought, Why not? 

When she played songs from the album, witnessing the layering and looping of her vocals exposed the solid architecture that I was having trouble discerning. She also gave a little background to some of the songs, such as Remembrance, which pays homage to a school friend who died too soon. But rather than just lamenting her death, Eyck celebrates her life with some light and playful sounds, sharing this special person with us. She also gave a brief tutorial on the workings of the theremin, describing how she visualizes a string in the air, which she plucks with her right hand, while the left hand controls the volume by gesturing around the looped horizontal element. 

Eyck getting into the rhythm of a new song

We were also privileged to hear a “very new” song called After The Sun Went Down, which, with its propulsive bass line and bright melody, is one canny remix away from the dance floor - it’s a banger in the making! After a brief interlude of “fairy” sounds and what sounded like another new song, Eyck ended the night with Commemoration from Elegies, its massed choir of her own voice sounding heavenly. Based on other reviews I’ve read of Elegies, it is unlikely that you will need a live performance to gain entry into its many charms. Either way, if Eyck comes to your town I would not hesitate to take advantage of an opportunity to spend some time in the presence of this supremely talented and heartfelt musician.  

Part 2: Starcrawler at Music Hall Of Williamsburg 

The night was still youngish when I left National Sawdust and ran into a friend who invited me to join him at the Starcrawler show. As this is a band I’ve wanted to see since last year, when I called their debut album, “Pure filth, sloppy, grinding, filth, but tuneful,” I jumped at the chance. A rigorous security check presaged the dramatically different experience I was about to have as we entered the familiar confines of MHOW. The opening act was still on, which I would have been happy to skip in favor of a drink in the basement bar, but my friend, having seen Starcrawler before, wanted to get prime position near the front of the stage.

I got a cup of Old Broadhorn for me and a water for him and met him in the main room. We listened to the opening band, a lumpy stew of psychedelia and The Clash, for just a few minutes before he turned to me and said, “This is really bad.” Indeed, it was. Everything about it was terrible, in fact, from their stage presentation and the over-miked drums, to the shit guitar tones and pretentious jamming. I worked mightily in my mind not to lose the mood of excellence imparted by Eyck, holding it in my cortex as these knuckleheads thrashed away. I was mostly successful and it was, thankfully, over soon. Bizarrely enough, they had fans, who had been dancing maniacally and singing along and were now calling for an encore. “The opening act does NOT get an encore,” I spat out loud enough for people to hear. That felt good!

We had a little time to wait so I caught up with my friend, whom I had never before met in person, and made some new ones. During the banter I was surprised that no one had heard of Frankie & the Witch Fingers, who are another band from L.A., very different but they rock just as hard as Starcrawler. Finally, just as we natives started getting restless, the house lights went down and Starcrawler’s drummer, Austin Smith, entered stage left, sat down at his kit and started pounding out the rolling glam stomp that opens Lizzy, the first song on their terrific new album, Devour You. The crowd started to move to the beat but it was when guitarist Henri Cash, looking fab in an imitation Nudie suit, came out and unleashed his wicked right hand that we exploded. It was like rock & roll lightning had struck us all, with Tim Franco’s bass the only thing keeping us from frying to a glorious crisp.

Then Arrow de Wilde, in the first of many well-informed theatrical gestures, oozed down the few stairs from the stage door before settling in a heap near her mic. The knowledge that the explosion was coming did nothing to reduce its effectiveness when she sprang up and began assaulting the mic with a variety of screams while showing off moves that found a through-line between Cotton Club shimmy dancers, ballet, and the snake-hipped antics of Iggy Pop and Jim Morrison. In short, de Wilde was a high voltage electromagnet for our attention, riveting in her every twitch. Her outrageousness only seemed to inspire Cash to his own pursuit of the guitar-player posture hall o’fame, which included pulling outrageous and hilarious faces.

The Cash and de Wilde show.

The amazing thing about both de Wilde and Cash as performers is that there was absolutely nothing studied about any move they made - everything they did grew organically out of the sounds they were making. As my friend warned me, de Wilde can also be a provocateur, flipping one fan’s hat off his head on more than one occasion, putting a foot on the shoulder of another, drooling fake blood, and inevitably leaving the stage to writhe on the floor and then be carried around by the audience. When we chatted with Cash after the show and wondered if she had ever gotten in trouble due to her behavior, he said no before explaining, “When Arrow is on stage, there’s nothing here” - he pointed at his forehead - “it’s all here” - he indicated his body. Fair enough! Cash also turned out to be an eager student of rock history. My friend had sent him a DVD of The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus, which gave us a opportunity to geek out briefly about The Dirty Mac.

Cash's collection of guitars also betrayed a deep knowledge of the sounds he wished to achieve, including playing several songs on not one but two guitars with only three strings. The band’s energy never flagged as they thundered through their set like a runaway train. Even if only some of the variety and, yes, subtlety (There's a ballad!) of Devour You showed up on stage, as the first half of my evening proved, your recorded personality need not match what you do in a live setting. Another way to look at it is that it’s almost like having two Starcrawlers - to which I can only say: What a time to be alive. I’ll let more pictures tell the rest of the story - and I hope to see an even bigger crowd the next time Starcrawler swings through NYC. Will you be there?

Arrow de Wilde assaulting the mic.

Henri Cash, unleashing his right hand.

Austin Smith and Tim Franco, holding down the bottom.

Cash spraying notes from one of his three-stringed guitars.

Cash feeds off the energy of the crowd.

De Wilde becomes one with the audience.

Who was this guy? Unknown - but he finished the show!

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Best Of 2018: Three Concerts

I only had a chance to write about a fraction of the live shows I saw last year. There were spectacular shows from the realm of rock by Palm, Bon Iver and Jonathan Wilson. Then there were contemporary classical performances at The Kitchen as part of the MATA Festival, by ACME in memory of Jóhann Jóhansson, a Red Bull-sponsored concert featuring the music of Tristan Perich (50 violins!) and a portrait of Du Yun at the Miller Theater. But there were several more moments of music in the dark that stuck with me. Here’s a brief selection that I hope will point you towards some of your own moments of transcendence. 

Killing Joke at Irving Plaza, Wednesday September 12, 2018

I’ll state this plainly: everyone should see Killing Joke. Just as everyone should experience the Eiffel Tower, the pyramids, the canals of Venice, or the Grand Canyon, everyone should come face to face with this uncompromising band of brothers who put forth a sonic blast like no other. But good luck - when they come to NYC it’s typically for two nights at at Irving Plaza (capacity 1,200), which sell out months in advance. Well, pardon me for being among the converted when they came to preach during their 40th anniversary "Laugh At Your Peril" tour - a more generous man would have donated his ticket to the uninitiated!

Part of my impetus for going was that I hadn't seen them perform since 2007. Plus, their last album, Pylon from 2015, was among their best and I wanted to feel the physicality of those songs come towards me from the stage. Also - 40 years. How many other bands are still touring with their original lineup after all that time? 

Killing Joke

After an ambitious but ultimately forgettable opening set from PIG, the four men of Killing Joke - Jaz Coleman (vocals), Geordie (guitar), Youth (bass) and Big Paul Ferguson (drums) - took the stage along with a touring keyboard player and kicked the night off with Love Like Blood. By the time the colorful guitar arpeggios faded and they had barreled through European Super State and Autonomous Zone, it was obvious they were in top form. In some ways it was not unlike the last time, in 2007, with Geordie standing stock still, spraying notes and chords from his trademark Gibson ES-295, Youth slouching and plucking his bass seemingly without a care, Big Paul working his kit like a steam train stoker, and Jaz striking kabuki poses and pulling magnificent faces. But there was a lightness that was new, a joy in what they were doing, the glorious experience of craft and art overlapping, like a chair built by Picasso. 

The setlist stretched from 1980 to 2015 and, although the records occasionally trucked with the production whims of their eras, on this night it was as though that 35-year span pancaked into a continuum of urgency that remained at a white heat. I stood there and let it burn me, accepting that this might have been the last time I see Killing Joke. But I sure hope it isn't. And if they do happen to come around again, maybe I'll buy you a ticket so you can tell your grandchildren you saw one of the wonders of the world.

Summer Like The Season, Nnux, Elana Low at Sidewalk Café, Friday, November 9, 2018

Summer Like The Season (SLTS), a quartet from Detroit were both headliners and curators of this varied evening at Sidewalk, an East Village institution that just recently went under the renovator’s sledgehammer. Some may mourn, but if they can improve the awkward layout of the back room, where the music takes place, that will not be a bad thing. The sound was good, though, so hopefully they won’t fix what’s not broken. 

Elana Low started off the night, which confused me at first as she wasn’t in the information I had on the lineup. But I was instantly mesmerized by her harmonium and her honeyed, vibrato-free voice. Her songs, mostly original, found a fascinating intersection between folk songs of long ago and the immediacy of text threads between friends and lovers. At this point Low was still in her first year of music making, and seemed come an astonishing distance in that time. To prove to myself that she wasn’t an apparition, I went out to see her again about a month later at Pete’s Candy Store and she was even better!

Elana Low and Her Harmonium

None of the recordings on her SoundCloud quite do her bewitching work justice (Wolf Country comes closest), but I expect that to change when she releases her first EP later this year. In the meantime, follow her on all the socials, sign up for her extremely well-written and engaging newsletter, and try to get out to one of her upcoming concerts. Perhaps I’ll see you there. 

Next on the bill was Nnux, the project of Mexican singer and composer Ana Lopez-Réyes. I had prepped for the moment by listening to her 2017 EP, Distancia, which would definitely have been on my Best Of 2017: Electronic list had I heard it. On its three songs, Nnux stacks rich electronics up against acoustic brass and percussion creating a fresh synthesis of familiar elements. It would be a fascinating, immersive listen even if she hadn’t lavished her gorgeous voice all over the tracks. Based on the EP alone, which I played on repeat, I knew I was in the presence of an artist well along her way to making a wider impact. 

Nnux

Her stage presence and performance did not disabuse me of that notion, either - it actually strengthened it. Fully in command of her keyboard and other electronics, Nnux unveiled one incantation after another, nearly expanding the walls of tiny Sidewalk with her power. She is a major talent and, if given the chance, I can see her at National Sawdust, Roulette, LPR - and beyond - in the near future. Given a community and more collaborators, there's no telling how far she could go. She has a bunch of local dates scheduled - get to one of them and tell me I'm wrong! Back in the present, I was already floored by Nnux and Low, and there was still one act left to go, the group I had come to see in the first place. 

I was amazed by how quickly SLTS set up their gear, shoehorning it all onto the small stage. This was the moment I had been waiting for ever since bandleader, singer and drummer Summer Krinsky has sent me their music, which I found immediately captivating. She counted it off and they launched into their set, immediately in sync with each other, tight, adventurous, surprising - always anchored by Krinsky’s drums, although they’re all excellent musicians. 

Summer Like the Season

The set was a total rush, with tricky rhythms, bright melodies, otherworldly harmonies and a variety of almost tactile sonic textures. Even if it was too short for my taste, I came away completely convinced that SLTS not only has the material for an album, but the chops to bring it out to the world in a much bigger way than a pass-the-hat venue like Sidewalk, although no shade on them for giving artists like this an opportunity. Having seen Crumb, a great band with some similarities to SLTS, pack the house at Market Hotel on the strength of just two EP’s, makes it all too easy to envision them doing the same. Perhaps Sidewalk’s hiatus will inspire all three acts to make the push to the next level. Either way, consider this an insider’s tip that it won’t always be pay-what-you-will to go on the musical journey I was lucky enough to take that Friday night in November, and one I would relive in a heartbeat. 

Steven Isserlis with Orpheus Chamber Orchestra at the 92nd Street Y, Sunday December 9th, 2018

I’m not going to lie: it has been decades since I walked into the wood-lined glory that is the Kaufmann Concert Hall at the 92nd Street Y - and it may take me a few visits before it recedes into the background entirely. It is truly one of the gems of Manhattan, with a design that will never look dated, and an acoustic that is so rich and present that I had to convince two older gentlemen that there was no amplification at work. Kudos are also due to the leadership at the Y for keeping it in tip-top shape!

The afternoon began with the American premiere of Hans Rott’s Symphony for String Orchestra, No. 37. It only took 143 years for it to be played on these shores, but it could hardly have had a more persuasive introduction than what the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra delivered. Their conductor-free approach was just as fun to watch as when I saw them at Carnegie Hall with Dawn Upshaw in 1994. Rott was a roommate of Gustav Mahler's and a student of Anton Bruckner's and they both thought very highly of his work. On first listen, I felt that while it is certainly not a major work, it deserved to be heard, and knowing he was only 20 when he composed it relaxed my expectations. It also made for ideal Sunday listening, a mood which would continue with the next piece. 

You could create a 1,000 sprightly pop-folk songs from the melodic DNA of the outer movements of CPE Bach’s Cello Concerto in A Major H.439 - and the way Steven Isserlis tossed his silvery mane while playing them suggests he is more than aware! Not having seen him before, I could only assume his joy was genuine and I let it infect me. The Orpheus seemed slightly more dutiful, if as musically excellent as always, in their performance. 

But the real magic of CPE Bach’s writing here is in the slow movement, the Largo Maestoso, in which he seems to see the future, becoming daringly spare and employing some shifting harmonies over which Isserlis was free to go very deep, emotionally. I continued to think about it for the rest of the day. 

The concert closed with a true meeting of the minds: an arrangement of Franz Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14, AKA Death & The Maiden, that was planned out by Gustav Mahler and completed by David Matthews. Mahler’s inspiration takes the work out of the drawing room and throws it up on an IMAX screen for a highly dramatic and visual approach to Schubert’s narratively driven music. Orpheus gave a superb, ripping performance, completing an afternoon that showed off that amazing hall to beautiful effect. I’m looking forward to returning!

P.S. No photos allowed (boo) so you’re going to have to see it for yourself!

What live shows transported you in 2018?

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