A new album from Masayoshi Fujita, whose exploits with the vibraphone and marimba have seen him explore new sounds in music inspired by nature.
Fujita returned to his native Japan from Berlin in 2020, locating with his family in the mountains of Kami-cho, Hyōgo – where he turned an old kindergarten into a recording studio. The first album released on his return, Bird Ambience, put Arcana under its spell with its enchanting and expressive writing.
To his well-known mix of marimba, vibraphone and synthesizer, Fujita now adds vocals from Moor Mother and Hatis Noit, with guest contributions on saxophone (Osamu Fujita) and shō (Mattias Hållsten).
What’s the music like?
Listening to Fujita’s music is akin to glimpsing a rare bird in bright evening sunshine. His compositions are notable for their rare beauty, and on Migratory he captures the climate of late summer sunshine. It’s easy to imagine where these works were composed, with a great deal of light and space but also brightness that makes the music glint at the edges.
Pale Purple is an especially beautiful composition, with soft drones and half-conscious thoughts on the marimba given wonderful colours by the shō. Moor Mother excels on Our Mother’s Lights, where the brightly coloured textures shimmer in response to the voice. There are lovely, soft tones on the restful Desonata, while the tone painting on In A Sunny Meadow is uncanny, and rather beautiful. Valley, meanwhile, is a mere breath of wind, drawing the listener in with its subtle bass sounds.
Does it all work?
It does. Fujita writes fluently and gracefully, the bright tones of his music lifting the mood.
Is it recommended?
Yes. If you’ve been following Fujita’s career you will not be surprised to learn that his masterful way of writing for vibraphone and marimba remains unchanged, but the addition of extra instruments here mean the music blossoms, extra colours added to his spectrum.
For fans of… Terry Riley, Laraaji, Bing & Ruth, Harold Budd
Listen and Buy
Published post no.2,301 – Saturday 14 September 2024
Helen Field (soprano) Beatrice Cenci David Wilson-Johnson (baritone) Count Cenci Ingveldur Ýr Jónsdóttir (contralto) Lucretia Stuart Kale (tenor) Cardinal Camillo/An Officer Justin Lavender (tenor) Orsino/Bernardo Jeffrey Carl (baritone) Giacomo/Savella/First Judge/Second Judge Nicholas Buxton (tenor) Marzio/Third Guest/A Cardinal Devon Harrison (bass) Olimpio/Colonna/Third Guest Serena Kay (soprano) First Guest/Second Guest The Millennium Sinfonia / James Kelleher
Toccata Classics TOCC0094 [two discs, 101’32’’] Producer & Engineer Geoff Miles Remastering Adeq Khan Live performance, 12 December 1997 at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, Southbank Centre, London
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Toccata Classics fills a major gap in the Havergal Brian discography with this release of his opera The Cenci, given its first hearing 27 years ago by a notable roster of soloists with The Millennium Sinfonia conducted by James Kelleher, and accorded finely refurbished sound.
What’s the music like?
The third among the five operas which Brian completed, The Cenci emerged as the second of its composer’s seminal works inspired by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822). While his ‘lyric drama’ on the first two books of Prometheus Unbound (1937-44) had set its text almost word for word, Brian was ruthless in adapting his ‘tragedy in five acts’ – the outcome being a rapid traversal of a drama whose themes of incest and parricide made it publicly unstageable in the UK until 1922, some 103 years after publication in Livorno where it had partly been written.
Two further operatic treatments emerged either side of that by Brian. Berthold Goldschmidt’s Beatrice Cenci (1949-50) won first prize in the Festival of Britain opera competition in 1951 but itself went unheard 1988 (ironically enough, in a concert performance at Queen Elizabeth Hall), and Alberto Ginastera’s Beatrix Cenci (1970-71) went unstaged in his native Argentina until as recently as 2015. Whereas both these operas centres on the heroine of Shelley’s play, Brian’s focusses more on its ensemble as to content with the emphasis shifting from father to daughter as it unfolds. Compared to the poised yet rather self-conscious lyricism favoured by Goldschmidt or the full-on expressionism of Ginastera, moreover, its often circumspect and sometimes oblique emotional demeanour renders Shelley’s drama from an intriguing remove.
Not its least fascination is the Preludio Tragico that, at 14 minutes, is less an overture than an overview of what ensues – akin to Beethoven’s Leonora No. 2 in its motivic intricacy and expressive substance – which would most likely warrant a balletic or cinematic treatment in the context of a staging. Perfectly feasible as a standalone item, this received its first hearing in 1976 and was recorded by Toccata Classics in 2009 (TOCC0113). Ably negotiated by his players, Kelleher’s lithely impulsive account accordingly sets the scene in unequivocal terms.
What follows are eight scenes which encapsulate this drama to compelling if at times reckless effect. The initial three scenes correspond to Shelley’s first act and culminate with the gauntly resplendent Banquet Scene, but Brian’s fourth scene goes straight to the play’s fourth act with the despairing exchanges of Beatrice and Lucrecia. The fifth scene finds daughter and mother in a plot to murder Count Cenci that soon unravels, then the last three scenes take in Shelley’s fifth act as fate intervenes with Beatrice, Lucretia and stepbrother Giacomo facing execution. Save for a crucial passage where the Papal Legate arrives to arrest Cenci, omission of which jarringly undermines continuity in the fifth scene, Brian’s handling of dramatic pacing leaves little to be desired – the one proviso being the excessive rapidity with which certain passages, notably several of Cenci’s, need to be sung that would have benefitted from a slight easing of tempo. Musically, this is typical of mature Brian in its quixotic interplay of moods within that context of fatalism mingled with defiance as few other composers have conveyed so tangibly.
Does it all work?
Very largely, owing to as fine a cast as could have been assembled. Helen Field is unfailingly eloquent and empathetic as Beatrice, with such as her remonstrations at the close of the fifth scene and spoken acceptance at that of the eighth among the highpoints of mid-20th century opera. David Wilson-Johnson brings the requisite cruelty but also a sadistic humour to Count Cenci, and Ingveldur Ýr Jónsdóttir is movingly uncomprehending as Lucretia. The secondary roles are expertly allotted, notably Justin Lavender’s scheming Orsino and stricken Bernardo. The Millennium Sinfonia responds to Brian’s powerful if often abrasive writing with alacrity under the assured guidance of James Kelleher, and if the sound does not make full use of the QEH’s ambience, its clarity and immediacy tease unexpected nuance from the orchestration.
This set comes with two booklets. One features the libretto devised by Brian, duly annotated to indicate omissions or amendments (yet a number of anomalies in this performance remain unaccounted for). The other features Shelley’s own preface to the first edition, with articles by Brian afficionados including John Pickard’s informative overview of the music and Kelleher’s thoughts on its performance. Charles Nicholl’s speculations as to the ‘real’ Beatrice Cenci are more suited to activities on a culture cruise than to Brian’s opera but are entertaining even so.
Is it recommended?
It is indeed. TheCenci is unlikely to receive further performances (let alone staging) any time soon, so this reading gives a persuasive account of its manifest strengths and relative failings. Kelleher is ‘‘formulating plans to return to conducting’’ and ought to be encouraged to do so.
Emma Tring (soprano), BBC National Orchestra of Wales / Martyn Brabbins
BIS 2721 [72’51’’] French text and English translation included
Producer Thore Brinkman Engineers Simon Smith, Mike Cox Recorded 29-31 March 2023, Hoddinott Hall, Cardiff
Written by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
BIS continues its coverage of John Pickard (b.1963) with a pertinent coupling of his Second and Sixth Symphonies, heard alongside his song-cycle to poems by Verlaine, in what is the most wide-ranging release – whether chronologically or stylistically – to date in this series.
What’s the music like?
It hardly seems 35 years since the Second Symphony blazed forth at its Manchester premiere, so establishing Pickard’s reputation. The composer had earlier studied with Louis Andriessen, to whose confrontational minimalism this piece is indebted in certain particulars – but, unlike other among his contemporaries who were so influenced, Pickard was alive to its symphonic potential. Unfolding over six continuous sections, the work builds via an intensifying process of tension and release to a seismic culmination as marks a seamless, even inevitable return to its start. Those familiar with that pioneering version by Odaline de la Martínez (on YouTube) will find this new one hardly less attentive to the visceral power of what, given its predecessor remains unheard, is a symphonic debut with few equals and one that urgently warrants revival.
Almost 35 years on and the Sixth Symphony offers a very different though no less involving perspective on what this genre might be. The first of its two movements channels a modified sonata design such that an almost whimsical opening has become brutalized well before the despairing close. Its successor refashions the expected continuity from an even more oblique vantage – the music heading eloquently if funereally toward a plangent climax that subsides into a delicate intermezzo, infused with the sound of nature, then on to a final section which recalls earlier ideas in a mood of rapt anticipation. Not that this understatement offers in any sense an easy way out: indeed, the work concludes with its composer poised at a crossroads as much existential as musical, and from where the whole creative process can begin afresh.
Separating two substantial statements of intent, the Verlaine Songs continues Pickard’s recent involvement with poetic texts and, while Paul Verlaine might seem far removed from Edward Thomas or Laurence Binyon, his evocations fanciful while sometimes unnerving – hence Le sqelette with its graphic aural imagery – finds the composer reciprocating in kind. Coming in between scorings with ensemble or violin and piano, this version with orchestra finds Pickard enriching a lineage of French song-cycles from Berlioz, via Ravel and Messiaen, to Dutilleux.
Does it all work?
It does, not least because Pickard is conscious of the need for his music to determine its own course. However dissimilar these symphonies might seem, the sensibility behind them is the same and any stylistic differences more apparent than real. It helps when Martyn Brabbins is a conductor familiar with this idiom as to inspire a committed response by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, with Emma Tring alive to the manifest subtlety of the vocal writing, and the recordings consistently heard to advantage in the spacious immediacy of Hoddinott Hall.
Is it recommended?
Indeed, in the hope this series will be continued. Both the First and Third Symphonies await recording, as do Partita for strings and large-scale choral work Agamemnon’s Tomb, so that Pickard’s discography has a way to go even without addition of new pieces to his catalogue.
This is the second outing for the duo of guitarist / producer Leo Abrahams and drummer Martin France, pooling their considerable musical resources for four tracks of contemplation and improvisation.
The first instalment of Krononaut, released in 2021, featured guest appearances from Arve Henriksen, Matana Roberts and Shahzad Ismaily. This one is restricted to just the two musicians, and brings in a number of influences explored by Leo on this playlist for Arcana a few weeks back:
What’s the music like?
There is some rather special music making here. The sessions took place over the course of a single afternoon in Abrahams’ East London studio, and it’s possible to imagine the sunlight making a play on the studio walls, and the possibility of it shimmering through leaves as interpreted by Abrahams’ guitars.
These are intensely layered but full of melodic invention, either in short nuggets or in broad, arches. The descending motif that starts to take over in Spindle suggests an object moving down through the sky, doing so over a backdrop of rolling drums from France, before Abrahams’ guitar suggests Spanish influences in its rich harmonies. Meanwhile the rarefied atmosphere of Silver Silver gnaws at the tendrils of icy clouds high up in the atmosphere.
France’s drumming is entirely acoustic and often extremely intricate – but never overdone. He pushes the momentum forwards towards the end of Silver Silver, but contrasts with considerable restraint on Mirage, where Abrahams’ dreamy lines curl upward and take the lead.
PGC 20513 – which appears to be the name of a star in the constellation Gemini – gets an appropriately spacey backdrop, beautifully cast by Abrahams, with reverberation that sets the wide screen picture but ensures it is filled with complementary musical motifs. The longest composition here, it inhabits a far-off world, ending in a compressed cell of melodies from the guitar, rich in treble and prompted by steady hi-hats and rolling toms.
Does it all work?
Yes – it does. Moments and moods captured in sound, that would only sound this way once – which makes them all the more special.
Is it recommended?
Yes, enthusiastically. The chemistry between these two musicians is rather special, and the four meditations unfold naturally in a four-part suite that inspires the senses.
For fans of… Bill Laswell, Kit Downes, Harold Budd, Terry Riley
Pepe Deluxé like their albums to tell a story, and Comix Sonix is certainly no exception – and extends through to the bare bones of the album’s construction, where an ‘extraordinary array of devices’ are used, each with a unique back story.
For instance, the duo (Paul Malmström and James Spectrum) plundered the ‘Instrumentarium’ collection of Bart Hopkin, not to mention sourcing instruments such as the American Airlines 747 flying coach lounge Wurlitzer, the world’s oldest known musical instrument (a 40,000 BC mammoth bone flute), a 19th-century lithophone ‘once cherished by Queen Victoria herself’, and the piano of the Hindenburg – restored with modern technology.
The credits are long and detailed, extending back to original band member DJ Slow, who brings old school hip hop to the table. Lyrical inspiration is similarly broad, taking in a wide range of cultures, and – in the band’s words – utter nonsense!
What’s the music like?
As eventful as the back story suggests it will be! In fact this is a great example where you can judge a book by its cover, for the colourful and chaotic riot of the Comix Sonix artwork is most definitely a representation of what lies beneath. The signs ‘Weird & vintage’ and ‘Trash & treasures’ are particularly revealing, for the musical inspirations for their work runs a long way.
The book of influences for this album could be large, but in all reality the duo harness their musical loves to make something original. That said, there is definitely a ring of Frank Zappa, The Avalanches and Parliament – George Clinton certainly brings his presence to the chorus of Freedom Flag. Meanwhile the melodramatic Wise Monkeys And The Devil brings opera and Sparks to the table, brilliantly virtuosic and inventive.
While there is a danger that the music might take second place to the novelty value of the stories described above, but thankfully Pepe Deluxé ensure that doesn’t happen, with a fast moving album that peaks with moments like the wistful chorus of Saddle The Wind, and the fairground beats and brass of Earth Boys Are Easy. As with a good deal of their music there is an underwater feel to the sound, felt on tracks like Sweet Baby Sun. The final Le Petit Voyage (Homo Sapiens), however, is suitably epic.
Does it all work?
Not always – there is sometimes too much going on! – but that’s Pepe Deluxé all over, and nobody could emerge from an encounter with Comix Sonix feeling short changed.
Is it recommended?
It certainly is – a lot of fun. Comix Sonix is a dizzying ride through recent pop history, from musical minds who are incredibly clever but also able to pool their resources, making a punchy record with loads of hooks to hang your musical coat on. It will certainly brighten up your summer!
For fans of… The Avalanches, The Go Team, Parliament, Mr Scruff
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