This is an eagerly awaited solo album from Adam Wiltzie, once part of acclaimed duo Stars Of The Lid with the much-missed Brian McBride.
For this album, he looks to anaesthetic drugs for inspiration, recreating in a musical sense the feeling of induced sleep, where cares are parked and the brain is slowed.
Aiding him with production is Loop‘s Robert Hampson.
What’s the music like?
Some ambient music immediately makes you go “Aaah…”…and that is definitely the case with Adam Wiltzie, who sets out on a serene journey with these pieces.
They may not be fugues in the musical sense, but there is a sense of precision, a stately profile where each note carries equal importance.
The evocatively titled Buried At Westwood Memorial Park, InAnUnmarkedGrave, ToTheLeftOfWalter Matthau, runs in two slow parts, its supporting ambience soft in focus but not in content.
Robert Hampson’s production supports StockHorror, where a sonorous drone underpins an elegant chord progression. DimHopes adds bell-like chimes up top, while the drone takes on a new dimension in the deep, rumbling bass of MexicanHelium. A similar power can be felt in the broad scope of As Above Perhaps So Below.
Does it all work?
It does, especially if the album is experienced as a single musical canvas.
Is it recommended?
Without hesitation. It is reassuring indeed to have this release from Wiltzie, whose poise and stature in modern ambient music will only be enhanced by this special album.
James Ehnes (violin, above), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Markus Stenz (below)
Schumann Violin Concerto in D minor WoO23 (1853) Bruckner Symphony no.7 in E major WAB107 (1881-83, ed. Nowak)
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Thursday 25 April 2024
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Picture of James Ehnes (c) Benjamin Ealovega, Markus Stenz (c) Kaupo Kikkas
His appearance here for performances of Mahler’s Second Symphony two years ago had made one hope that Markus Stenz might soon be invited back to the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra – such being so tonight for this outstanding programme of Schumann and Bruckner.
Although it now enjoys frequent hearing, Schumann’s Violin Concerto yet remains under the shadow of its eight-decade limbo after the composer’s mental breakdown then decision by its intended soloist Joseph Joachim to withhold performance. Only in 1937 was it given in public, since when it has gradually come to be regarded (as Yehudi Menuhin believed it would be) as the missing link between Beethoven and Brahms. Certainly, there was nothing tentative about James Ehnes’ advocacy, which proved as interpretively acute as it was technically immaculate.
Pacing the initial movement so that its earnest character never becomes unduly sombre is not easy, but Ehnes ensured its halting progress never felt effortful and Stenz drew textures of no mean luminosity from these modest forces. The slow movement seemed more eloquent for its listless pathos, with its terse transition into the finale astutely judged. Its underlying polonaise rhythm deftly inflected, this rather gauche rondo yielded an easy-going momentum in the call and response between soloist and orchestra, through to a conclusion both genial and resolute.
A memorable performance which reinforced Ehnes as among the most consistent (as well as undemonstrative) of present-day virtuosi – something that was no less evident in his account of the Third Sonata (‘Ballade’) by Eugène Ysaÿe which here made for a scintillating encore.
The UK has seen little of Stenz since his tenure with the London Sinfonietta during the mid-1990s, a pity given he has few peers among conductors of his generation in terms of Austro-German repertoire. Such was borne out by Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony – Classical in its lucidity of motion, Romantic in its frequently impulsive emotion. Not least an initial Allegro moderato that elided between its contrasting themes with unforced rightness, the abruptness of certain tempo changes (accentuated by his rare recourse these days to the Nowak edition) channelled into a coda of surging sublimity. Even finer was the Adagio for the inevitability with which this drew respectively elegiac and lyrical themes into a sustained traversal, via an exultant peroration (cymbal and triangle duly outdone by timpani), to a nobly resigned close.
The latter two movements can easily seem anti-climactic, but there was nothing understated about the Scherzo as Stenz heard this – the impetus and acerbity of its outer sections finding accord with a trio whose lilting poise was delectably pointed. As for the Finale, most succinct of Bruckner’s maturity, Stenz emphasized its expressive contrast between themes through his choice of tempi – while managing to mould these into a convincing unity before heading into a coda which revisits that of the first movement with blazing affirmation in the here and now.
The performance would not have made the impact it did without the CBSO playing at or near its best throughout – such Bruckner interpretation having few, if any, equals when it comes to live music-making. One can only hope conductor and orchestra will work together again soon.
Kasper Bjørke is proving himself to be an extremely versatile songwriter and producer. His new album Puzzles, described as a love letter to early 2000s New York, is in direct contrast to two collaborative EPs recently released on Live at Robert Johnson and Mule Musiq, not to mention a second ambient album as Kasper Bjørke Quartet for Kompakt.
Puzzles is sprinkled with collaborations, too, as Bjørke looks to combine a love of disco with jazz, funk and conventional songwriting. The finished article, admits the press release, is ‘the album he was most proud of and wished he had made 20 years ago’.
What’s the music like?
Kasper Bjørke certainly is a puzzle – for just when you think you have him pinned down and cornered musically, the Danish producer pops up to add another string to his bow!
This is a thoroughly enjoyable album of really effective tribute and pastiche, yet it is done in such a way that none of the music sounds second hand or done as a poor imitation. Instead there are some quality songs and memorable hooks to savour.
Top of the pile is Corridor Of Dreams, the first track featuring Sísý Ey, Systur & Oilly Wallace, a track 1980s Bryan Ferry or Erasure would have been proud of, bearing a little similarity to the latter’s Blue Savannah and featuring a lush saxophone solo from Wallace. Equally smooth is Ugle (Drømmen Om Møn), where Wallace transfers his talent to the flute.
Bjørke’s disco beats are irresistible, whether he applies them to instrumentals or to some of the well-crafted songs. Conversations is most definitely one of those, Sísý Ey channelling her inner Stevie Nicks for a breezy chorus line.
The instrumentals work really well, too – with a special mention for the chunky synths and wiry bass of the excellent Club Paradisco.
Does it all work?
It does – Bjørke’s craft is impeccable.
Is it recommended?
Very much so. This is airy, springlike pop music with an electro tinge that makes the listener yearn for better weather ahead in the year. Here’s hoping!
For fans of… Fleetwood Mac, Empire of the Sun, Gus Gus
This is a vinyl and digital release of rare and unreleased material from Salsoul label co-founder Joe Bataan and several cohorts, mining the Ghetto Records vaults for material originally released in 1972. It includes an entire side of Bataan’s unreleased Drug Story, an extended track spanning a number of styles, traversing Latin funk, salsa and soul. Inspired by true events, it ranks among his most adventurous songs for a man described as ‘the poet laureate of El Barrio’.
In his own words on the press release, Bataan speaks of how “Ghetto Records was part of my journey, a stepping stone to everything else that I’ve done. I learned enough that it enabled me to get out of the box with my thinking, it showed me how to deal with adversity.”
What’s the music like?
Drug Story itself is an extraordinary piece of music, a suite in which Bataan stretches himself to tell a poignant story. The music responds in kind, initially slow but then flexing its muscles for a much more urgent soul soundtrack.
The other pieces are extremely complementary. Latin Soul Square Dance is superb, with sassy brass and brilliant lyrical couplets. There are two songs each from Eddie Lebron, The Edwards Generation and One’Sy Mack. Lebron’s My Vows To You shows off his vocal talents, while Sigue Tu Vida sashays irresistibly. Mack’s voice sounds great on Never Listen To Your Heart, and when paired with the string-laden part writing of A Part Of A Fool.
Does it all work?
It does indeed. The importance of Bataan’s contribution to soul and disco music tends to be overlooked, so it’s good to see him given top billing here.
Is it recommended?
Absolutely. Just the right mix of thought-provoking and spirit-lifting music here.
For fans of… Luther Vandross, Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes, Smoove & Turrell
Leon Bosch (double bass), Lviv National Philharmonic Orchestra of Ukraine / Theodore Kuchar
Thomas de Hartmann Symphonie-Poème no.1 Op.50 (1934) Fantaisie-Concerto Op.65 (1942)
Toccata Classics TOCC0676 [81’49’’] Producers and Engineers Andriy Mokrytskiy and Oleksii Grytsyshyn Recorded 15-23 September at National Philharmonic Hall, Lviv
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Toccata Classics continues its exploration of orchestral music by Thomas de Hartmann with first recordings for two of his most characteristic works, idiomatically realized by the most fervent of present-day advocates and further confirming the intrinsic value of this composer.
What’s the music like?
De Hartmann heralded a return to original composition, after more than a decade focussed on his collaboration with philosopher Georges Gurdjieff, with the first of four pieces designated Symphonie-Poème. Those having heard the unfinished last of these (recorded on TOCC0633) may be taken aback by what they encounter – this 65-minute work drawing on such expansive symphonic precursors as Rachmaninoff’s Second and Glière’s Third, but with a formal logic and harmonic practice all its own. Not least in the imposing first movement, whose brooding introduction presages its synthesis of fantasia and fugue with an underpinning of sonata form to result in a construct as diverse in musical content as it feels cumulative in its overall design.
That the composer continued from here says much for his ambition, but the work does justify itself as a totality – whether in a Scherzo that unfolds as continually evolving structure rather than the usual ternary form, an Andante whose recourse to martial rhythm and Ukrainian folk -music gives it a distinctive colouring and emotional affect, then finale (interestingly marked Allegretto feroce) such as projects this covertly autobiographical statement defiantly into the ‘present’ through a trenchant rhythmic profile that builds inexorably toward the visceral close. Received with guarded admiration and not a little consternation at performances in Paris and Brussels in the mid-1930s, this is a major inter-war work as well warrants its belated revival.
So, too, does the Fantaisie-Concerto which de Hartmann wrote with the double-bass playing of Serge Koussevitzky vivid in his mind’s ear decades afterwards (the latter had long since turned to conducting, and it is not stated who premiered this piece). Drawing on elements of dance, the outer Allegros indicate those quizzical and capricious qualities which come to the fore in the composer’s later music, but the central Adagio leaves the most lasting impression. This ‘Romance 1830’ draws on an earlier setting of Vasily Zhukovsky, along with images of Glinka and his bass-playing servant, in what is a ‘song without words’ of no mean eloquence or evocative poise: qualities duly enhanced by the subtle understatement of its orchestration.
Does it all work?
Yes, though the larger work will likely take a few listens for its overall coherence to become manifest. That it does so is owing primarily to the conviction of de Hartmann’s thinking, but also to that of Theodore Kuchar in having the measure of this opulent score and conveying it to the musicians of the Lviv National Philharmonic Orchestra, who almost always sound unfazed by its demands. The concerto benefits from the expertise of Leon Bosch, affirming this as among a handful of pieces that establish the double bass as a concertante instrument in its own right.
Is it recommended?
Indeed – not least as the orchestral sound has been so sympathetically captured, detailed and spacious in equal measure, with informative notes by Elan Sicroff and Evan A. MacCarthy on life and work respectively. Cordially recommended, with the third instalment keenly awaited.
Arcana.fm 