Kaito is the name of the project under which Hiroshi Watanabe works, the Japanese electronic musician having joined InFiné after a twenty year stint that began at the Kompakt label.
Kaito is a name of significance for Watanabe – it is the name of his son born in the year 2001, when he started with Kompakt. It means ‘universe’ and ‘secret’ in Japanese, and as the press release says, “these references hint at a spirituality visible in his photographic work and contribute to the elements that make Japanese artists masters of the ambient genre”.
Collection is made up of nine tracks composed during the pandemic.
What’s the music like?
Incredibly soothing and yet subtly energising, too. In some of these tracks Kaito transcends time and space, allowing the music to simply float.
The slow pace of A Call From The Ground is a case in point, where a lovely slow arc of synths works its way over the backing, A piano drifts weightlessly over Summer Mood, while A Life That Can Only Be Dream Now is a lovely sketch expanding like a slowly evolving cloud – complemented by Nexus 2.
Does it all work?
It does – a musical time out of the best variety. Instinctive ambient music is difficult to come by, but this definitely does the job..
Is it recommended?
Very much. The Kaito project is music that is incredibly easy to listen to – and especially at times of stress, where it can just wash over the consciousness.
It’s nine years since Jamie xx last made an album. That record, In Colour, was a celebration of London in all its forms. This time around, he’s gone for a night out – and In Waves is the result, a concept piece to track his every move and emotion, naturally with the help of a few vocal collaborators.
What’s the music like?
In a word, thrilling. We begin with a blast from the past, a distant recollection of the late 1990s UK garage explosion – Double 99’s RIP Groove taking us straight back to south London. From there we are wrenched into the present day, with the multiple highs of Treat Each Other Right, and the dancefloor beckons.
Jamie xx then hits the floor running, and the central two highlights are the Honey Dijon collaboration Baddy On The Floor, a spring-loaded anthem with a touch of Armand van Helden about it, and the superb Life, currently soundtracking the goals on Match of the Day 2 in the UK, gets to work, its wobbly riff and vocals from Robyn hitting every conceivable spot.
Elswhere there are wins aplenty – from Waited All Night, with Romy and Oliver Sim, to Nobody and Dafodil, a multi-vocal extravaganza that doesn’t fully make sense but which travels through some fascinating sonorities on its way. All You Children, with The Avalanches, is excellent, while the closing Falling Together – while a bit cheesy – proves the ideal sunrise moment.
Does it all work?
It does – a brilliantly thought out album from beginning to end, loaded with musical fireworks.
Is it recommended?
Most definitely. When Jamie xx wants to dance, he has all the tools of the trade you could possibly wish for!
For fans of… Basement Jaxx, Disclosure, Armand van Helden, Groove Armada
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Published post no.2,317 – Monday 30 September 2024
Janáček Violin Sonata in G sharp minor JW VII/7 (1913-15, rev. 1916-22) Enescu Violin Sonata no.3 in A minor Op.25 ‘Dans le caractère populaire roumain’ (1926) Barry Triorchic Blues (1990, rev. 1992) Beethoven Violin Sonata no.9 in A major Op.47 ‘Kreutzer’ (1802-03)
Wigmore Hall, London Saturday 28 September 2024
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
The duo of Alina Ibragimova and Cédric Tiberghien has offered some memorable recitals at Wigmore Hall during the past few seasons, with this evening’s typically diverse programme ranging over almost two centuries of compositions for the combination of violin and piano.
A first half of complementary opposites began with the Violin Sonata by Janáček. Ensuring cohesion across its four highly contrasted movements is no easy task, but the present artists succeeded admirably in this respect. Thus, the opening Con moto had an edgy ambivalence which was allayed in the Ballada – its relative repose and expressive warmth infused with a nostalgia as likely reflects the composer’s youth (and may indeed derive from one of those long-lost sonatas written while studying in Leipzig and Vienna 35 years earlier). Despite its marking, the Allegretto is a tensile scherzo whose frequently combative interplay was much in evidence here; the final Adagio then pivoting between stark plangency and a heightened eloquence which subsided into an ending whose muted regret was unmistakably to the fore.
Whatever the conceptual or aesthetic gulf between them, Enescu’s Third Sonata followed on with some inevitability. This was inspired by and recreates without quoting traditional music, as its subtitle duly indicates, and Ibragimova was alive to the musing inwardness of an initial Moderato whose ‘malinconico’ consistently undercuts any formal or expressive resolution up to a close where the songful and dance-like themes disperse into silence. The highlight was a central Andante of sustained though unforced intensity, its improvisatory aspect a stern test of coordination violinist and pianist met head-on. Almost as compelling, the final Allegro lacked a degree of inevitability in its unfolding – Tiberghien’s superbly articulated pianism less than implacable at the close, for all that Ibragimova conveyed its ominous ecstasy in full measure.
Beginning life as a test-piece for solo piano and adapted for numerous media, Triorchic Blues is Gerald Barry at his most uninhibited and would have made an ideal encore in this context – but its ever more scintillating opposition of instruments was not out of place after the interval.
This second half ended with the grandest of Beethoven’s violin sonatas, its ‘Kreutzer’ subtitle misleading yet indicative of this music’s inherent virtuosity. Ibragimova and Tiberghien made an impressive cycle of these works for the Wigmore’s own label, so it was surprising to find them at slightly below their best here. Not in the central Andante con variazioni, its judicious fusion of slow movement and scherzo rendered with unfailing poise and an acute sense of the profundity drawn out of so unassuming a theme. Yet, after its suitably arresting introduction, the first movement lacked drama – the duo playing down its rhetoric not least in a less than impulsive coda. The relentless tarantella-rhythm that underpins the finale felt similarly reined in with, again, too little of an emotional frisson as this music vividly reinforces the home-key.
What was never in doubt was their quality of playing individually and collectively, making one anticipate future recitals by these artists which will hopefully find them exploring more of that extraordinary corpus of music for violin and piano of the early and mid-20th century.
Having just extended his contract with the BBC Symphony Orchestra until 2030, which at 17 years will make him its longest serving chief conductor after Sir Adrian Boult, Sakari Oramo began the new season with this frequently impressive account of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony.
Impressive but equally unpredictable – not least in an opening movement whose tensility and even terseness was emphasized by mostly swift tempos and the nowadays rare omission of its exposition repeat, which predicated martial aggressiveness over any more yielding expression. There was no lack of deftness in the central interlude, for all that the off-stage cowbells were distinctly unevocative in their tinkling, yet the developmental passages either side exuded an unwavering purposefulness so that the arrival of the reprise more than usually made its mark. Stealthily launched, the coda duly emerged rather than burst forth though this was audibly in accord with the ambivalence of its affirmation as Oramo perceived it. Those closing bars had no lack of finality, for all that there was more of ruthlessness than joyousness in their arrival.
Speaking recently, Oramo stated his conviction in the revised order of the central movements with the Scherzo placed second. He might profitably have headed into this without pause, as to underline the consistency of rhythmic profile with what went before, but there was no hint of inflexibility here or in the trio sections which effortlessly elided between the winsome and sardonic. Equally in evidence was that fatalistic sense pervading the music as it unfolds, and so made possible a coda whose evanescent poise could not conceal more ominous portents.
From this vantage, the Andante provided if not balm to the soul, then a measure of unforced pathos. Enticingly rendered with some notably felicitous playing by the BBCSO woodwind, it was shaped by Oramo with unerring rightness through to a climax whose emotional force was the greater for its being held in check. Surprising that this movement has never attained the popularity of the Adagietto from the Fifth Symphony: then again, its salient qualities are conveyed even more completely when experienced within the context of the work as a whole.
By a similar token, it arguably matters less in what order the middle movements are played if the finale proves a culmination in all respects. That it certainly was here – Oramo imbuing its lengthy introduction with acute expectancy balanced by the visceral impact of what followed. Nor did tension fall off in those quiet but eventful interludes, strategically placed between the larger formal sections, and in which cowbells are overlaid by tubular bells for what became a haze of resonance as affecting as any more demonstrative expression elsewhere. Oramo also restored that third hammer-blow which does not so much alter the course of this movement, as confirm its resignation before fate in even more graphic terms. Nothing could have sounded more matter of fact than the baleful rumination of brass prior to that explosive closing gesture. While not the most inclusive performance, this was undoubtedly one to renew admiration in the audacity of Mahler’s conception or his conviction in bringing it off. It also gave notice of continued rapport between Oramo and the BBCSO as they begin their 12th season together.
Kompakt’s annual compilations are a very reassuring presence in the world of electronic music, and this one is no different, as Michael Meyer assembles a typically inventive and varied set of tracks.
What’s the music like?
With the quality threshold high, Kompakt always find something to tickle the fancy of any electronic fan. The familiar names from the label are here again and deliver the goods – headed by Meyer’s own excellent Urian.
Tee Mango’s So In Love is an English signing, delicate minimal beats orbiting a warm-hearted song. Jürgen Paape introduces a lightness of touch and humour to Chee-Caruso that works really well, while on a slightly tougher course Rex The Dog contributes a distinctive hook to his nocturnal Laika.
Sascha Funke is pretty delicate, with some interesting offbeat play on The Heck, but Jörg Burger’s Legacy of Ashes is a bit too monotoned to hit the spot. By contrast Wassermann’s Die Goldene Zeit is a warm wash of colour over a serrated bass.
Does it all work?
It does, pretty much – reliably good music from a reliable source. Digital customers get the bonus of another seven tracks, which include Deer Jade’s easygoing, piano-led winner Jukurpa and the strident The Shell, a collaboration between Gui Boratto and Darren Emerson. Meanwhile electro-goodness is found from Raxon’s Your Fault.
Is it recommended?
It is, enthusiastically. Keeping up with Kompakt’s output is strongly advised, and as this compilation shows they are still on very good form!
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Published post no.2,314 – Friday 27 September 2024
Arcana.fm 