ECM New Series 1767 (461 818-2)
Time ... and again
Kremerata Baltica
Gidon Kremer (violin)
V & V
The Bridge Ensemble
Gidon Kremer (violin)
Georgian composer’s chamber works of expressive and ethical power
Chamber music is relatively sparsely represented in Kancheli’s output and it is hard to imagine his characteristic long, meditative structures working to maximum effect without the colouristic resources of the orchestra to provide contrast. This disc supplies generally convincing answers.
Both Time … and Again and the Piano Quartet which gives the disc its title are as long and as slow as the familiar Kancheli. But the violin and piano duo immediately sets off on an unusual course by means of intransigent opening gestures more suggestive of Ustvolskaya, and it makes several encounters of a Schnittkean kind before introducing some trademark images of wistful innocence. As ever, it is in the confrontation of painful reality and longed-for transcendence, neither of which is allowed to unfold fully, that the expressive and ethical power of Kancheli’s music resides. It takes a performance as inwardly intense as this one by its dedicatees to get to the heart of the matter.
As the subtitle indicates, the Piano Quartet sticks unflinchingly to its initial quaver=50 tempo – making it one of many compositions from the lands of the former Soviet Union that have picked up the threads from Shostakovich’s last String Quartet. Not the least impressive thing about this piece is the way Kancheli delays his first protesting outburst until close to the 10-minute mark (the next comes at around 23’20”). On early acquaintance, the Piano Quartet could ideally do with a couple more memorable ideas of that kind, and it is hard to see it winning the repertoire status of, say, Schnittke’s Piano Quintet. But this is still a finely crafted work and one that I am looking forward to returning to, not least so as to renew my admiration for the playing of the Bridge Ensemble, who gave the premiere in 1998.
Composed at the initiative of Yehudi Menuhin for his Gstaad Festival, V & V again features the almost preternatural calm of Kremer’s violin playing. The other ‘V’ is the voice, represented by taped fragments of the same Svanetian funeral lament heard in Kancheli’s Third Symphony, the idea being to counterpose this symbol of the Eternal with the Real as represented by the violin and strings. Kancheli’s calculated underuse of a virtuoso known for extrovert agility sets up a tension that is masterfully sustained through to the concluding reappearance of the voice.
These pieces were recorded over four years in three different locations; not that you would know that from the purity of the recorded sound, in the best ECM tradition. Supporting documentation in the booklet is more discursive than informative.
David Fanning
Gramophone, August 2005
If you are familiar with other works by Georgian-born Giya Kancheli, you will know what to expect here. Rather like Arvo Pärt, tempos are all slow, melodic material is made up of the most simple, repeated fragments that do not appear to develop towards a climax, and the soporific atmosphere is often punctuated by violent outbursts form the instruments, as if the listener is being jolted out of any sense of stasis.
These elements are all present and correct here, and whether this music ‘does it’ for you will depend largely on how you view this sort of compositional process. The booklet note tries to tackle this head on, becoming nothing short of a defence of the communicative power of simplicity in the wake of Second Viennese complexity. I have mixed views. I was very moved by a previous Kancheli disc of orchestral works …a la Duduki, where the variety of colour within the orchestra helped reduce any boredom that might set in. Here, it’s a little more difficult with much smaller forces, and the chamber delicacy that suits much of his music can be negated by that sheer lack of variety.
That’s not to say there aren’t things to enjoy, but my advice would be to take it one at a time. For me, the most compelling piece here is Time…and again, which could be an artistic credo for the composer. The bell-like intoning of the piano provides a mournful backdrop for the lamentations of the violin and a feeling of soulful longing that the odd peremptory outbursts do nothing to assuage. This is music that can be hypnotically moving in the right mood, unbearably protracted in the wrong one, though one is sure of an honesty and integrity at work.
V & V provides more of the same, though a larger string body and taped voice chanting a ghostly, child-like melody do set up a strongly atmospheric texture. Kremer’s fragmented violin line, with its sustained repetitions and fermatas stopping any straightforward climactic progress, makes the piece end up like some sort of dreamlike violin serenade.
The Piano Quartet in l’istesso tempo is the longest piece here, and as such I did feel the composer indulging in a certain amount of what could be termed minimalist note-spinning. The obsessively sustained ‘same tempo’ of the title is alleviated here and there, but overall the composer seems intent on imposing a state of contemplation on the listener, whether they like it or not. I guess you can always switch the player off if you disagree.
One thing is for certain, the performances are absolutely dedicated to the cause, and the recording wonderfully warm and atmospheric, with the sounds just emerging from absolute silence.
Tony Haywood
MusicWeb, March 2005
Every year or so, ECM New Series releases a new CD of music by Giya Kancheli. This is the most recent, but the music itself is not terribly recent, dating from between 1994 and 1997. The previous Kancheli CD contained two pieces – Diplipito and Valse Boston – completed in 1997 and 1996, respectively. The recordings are not new either, although this apparently is their first release on CD. One must ask: what has Kancheli been up to lately? Has he composed himself into a corner? Kancheli's fondness for slow tempos, spare textures, dramatic contrasts in dynamics, and overall Weltschmerz are just as apparent on this new CD as they were on its predecessors. You've got to hand it to the guy: he's got a recognizable style: intimate, cryptic, and unhurried.
In L'istesso tempo ("in the same tempo") might be a motto for his entire output. This piano quartet was commissioned for the ensemble which plays it here, and is dedicated "to my first music teacher." The music elements are simple, and there is much repetition, but that's not to say that the work is naïve. Great, haunted eyes seem to be looking out at the listener. Time . . . and again was written for Kremer and Maisenberg, who premiered it in London in 1997. The score bears a quotation from Paul's epistle to the Galatians: "Now the things which I write unto you, behold, before God, I lie not." Over the course of some 25 minutes, the violin sings a gloomy lament – sometimes agonizing in intensity - which is punctuated at intervals by harsh interjections from either instrument. Even the booklet note comments that it "seems to last an eternity" – a statement which perhaps sounds less negative in the original German than it does in English! Touchingly, it ends with what might be a very slow and fractured lullaby. While Time ... and again hardly opens any doors, there's no doubting the composer's sincerity.
V & V is scored for violin and taped voice with string orchestra. The use of the taped voice at the start and at the end of the work distances the material from the listener, to say nothing of the "live" musicians. Disembodied fragments of folk music – perhaps from Kancheli's native Georgia? – create a haunting effect. Seemingly unconcerned with beautiful tone quality, at least in the traditional sense, Kremer lightly draws his bow over the strings of his violin. The effect is very, very private. The voice and the violin – the "V & V" of the title? – are given a luminous backdrop by the string ensemble.
Despite the three recording dates and two recording venues, the sound quality is consistent from piece to piece. All of the performers have a personal relationship with the music, and there's no reason not to call these performances definitive. The music is something of an acquired taste, but it is worth acquiring.
Raymond Tuttle
Classical Net, 2005