Atviru fortepijonu dienos

Last night was a joyous occasion. The first in a series of keyboard recitals in the brand new Organum koncertu sale. An opportunity to show off astounding pianistic talent, as well as showing off all the shiny new keyboards in the hall. Admittedly the concert was dominated by lots of different music, but I desperately want to write about the concert as it features two works by THE Sarunas Nakas. 

But before the concert began, of course there was a lot of speeches. Of course there were. But after all the discussions came the first instrument to demonstrate, the brand new Johannes Rucker copy harpsichord. This was done with two pieces, firstly with Padre Antonio Saler's Fandango a really lively and talkative piece for harpsichord. The second work was also by Antonio Saler, but it was his concerto for harpsichord and organ in G minor. Vaiva Storastiene was the harpsichordist for both works, and I found with her performing despite being wonderfully technically proficient, but missed that edge. Particularly in the Fandango, where the emphasis on the curious conversations is centre stage, a performer needs to make sure the conversation doesn't become monotone. This being said, the concerto for harpsichord and organ was far more interesting as a performance, especially as Dainius Sverdiolas was such a charming and characterful performer. The piece was already rather campy, but Sverdiolas manages to add a whole new level of wit and charm to a really endearing piece.

After even more speeches came a bit of Chopin. Constant talking about how the Stocker piano was perfect piano for this repertoire preceded the performance, and I was rather confused. Despite the wonderful colour of the bass strings of the piano, the overall piano sound was like I was submerged in water. Rather surreal experience. And meh, I am not the person to write about Chopin, so lets move on. 

Following the Chopin, and EVEN MORE talks, came two works for the new Johannus organ; Cesar Franck's Cantabile and Olivier Messiaen's Dieu parmi nous. Dainius Sverdiolas came out again and his characterful performances came to the fore again. Admittedly the Cantabile was too sickly for my liking, but Sverdiolas managed to make it stop sounding self indulgent. But the real joy came with Dieu parmi nous. Sverdiolas let rip and what a performance. The sheer tenacity and oomph was glorious. The sheer power and might of the work came out in every gesture of Sverdiolas, what a joy indeed. Truly glorious. 

Then when I was at a point of post-Messiaen bliss, came EVEN MORE SPEECHES! This time to introduce the Steinway piano and THE Muza Rubackyte. Rubackyte came out and stunned the audience with her renditions of Ciurlionis. Being very familiar with her recordings I was very excited to see it live, and what a treat. Truly magnificent. 

After this came the moment I was most excited about, two works by Sarunas Nakas. How do I define Nakas? How can one begin to describe the vast and intensive creativity of Nakas's output? One of Lithuania's truly original and unique voices, and a radical voice indeed. To start this astounding double bill was a brand new work by Sarunas Nakas, Hymn. Written for this event, a work for organ, piano, and harpsichord. A truly wonderful thing to behold. Starting from a modest single note on the organ, the work slowly grew with the vaguely canonic gestures from the percussive harpsichord and piano. The trio constantly danced around each other, and this work really showed Nakas at his most elegant. In a surprisingly modest gesture, the work slowly gains momentum and power, with the rather serene organ, staying rather static, until the climax of the work. The challenge of combining such disparate forces really fell to Nakas's advantage as he exploited the curiosity and differences of the ensemble to perfection. Hopefully, hopefully, another performance can happen in the near future, or at least I hope a recording begins to circulate soon! What a truly astounding work. 

Following this most serene of moments, came a clumsy interlude, where the audience had to be herded like cattle to three connected rooms to find some form of space between the 17 pianos. Yes. 17 pianos. Because the finale of the whole concert was Sarunas Nakas's Merz-Machine from 1985. The shape and structure of the work is rather straightforward, a slowly building gesture with pianos joining in one by one until we reach the powerful postlude. The constant repeating gestures, and loose connection of structure does have a vague similarity to Terry Riley's In C, that is if In C was written by a Hell's Angel, instead of a hippy. The work is truly monstrous and terrifying, even moreso in person. The ritualistic pulsations and unending sense of gathering doom is intensive. For me, the performance was made all the more mysterious and whimsical by the fact I could see Sarunas's silhouette dancing on the white piano in front of me. His violent gestures really made the piece feel like a monstrous piece of machinery functioning noisily, or like a witch doctor dancing into a frenzy. What a joy to witness. 

Afterwards came a very nice little reception which did have me thinking, why on earth did we listen to the speeches mid concert!? Why not give too many speeches when everyone has wine? The concert would have been far more fluid and enjoyable, and I probably wouldn't have left so hungry that I had to dive into the nearest chippy I could find. 

So for those who didn't get to see it, here is some cheeky recordings of Muza Rubackyte: 

And Sarunas Nakas!

An Anthology of Lithuanian Music

A few months late, but I finally managed to get my hands on MIC's newest CD anthology. Its been a thing I am very curious to get my hands on for multiple reasons, firstly for the curiosity variety of composers chosen, the choice of repertoire, as well as also being curious to see what the curator was intending to say with the anthology. 

After reading transcriptions of interviews and the CD sleeve notes, Frank Oteri (curator) detailed his choices focusing on different elements and primarily wanted this CD to show an 'outsider' perspective, as well as being as 'democratic' as possible and featuring composers who haven't been celebrated very much, yet. 'Tis a noble endeavour indeed, but it is a very tricky thing to navigate. Firstly the simple semantic issue that the classical music industry is hilariously undemocratic, how can a CD address this? or at least manage to stay diplomatic despite of this? Secondly the issue of celebrating the under celebrated is also extremely noble, but the question that has to constantly be asked is why? Why this person? Why not a standard classic? Why not a heavy weight? So this all ties in to what the curator should be tackling in his choices of the CD production. 

From the many wonderful composers living and working today, Frank Oteri chose his 18 composers, 9 Women and 9 Men. The selection is as follows:

Tomas Kutavicius, Loreta Narvilaite, Antanas Kucinskas, Vytautas Germanavicius, Jurgita Miezelyte, Monika Sokaite, Linas Baltas, Lukrecija Petkute, Raimonda Ziukaite, Justina Repeckaite, Juta Pranulyte, Tadas Dailyda, Elena Sataite, Julius Aglinskas, Jonas Jurkunas, Albertas Navickas, Rytis Mazulis, and Zibuokle Martinaityte.

A truly curious rag-tag collection of misfits indeed. 

Now from a critical standpoint this is a rather curious circumstance, I can either point out my thoughts on every single piece included, or refer to the curator's own choices. I shall attempt to do a bit of both.

For me it is a joy to see composers like Raimonda Ziukaite, Justina Repeckaite, Julius Aglinskas, and Juta Pranulyte being celebrated. These four composers I find have something particularly special within their work, and all four are rather diverse from each other too. The future looks very bright for them, and this CD hopefully is a place where that can start.

Featuring Rytis Mazulis, Zibuokle Martinaityte, and Loreta Narvilaite, is more obligatory than anything, as these two giants have had such an intensive impact on the musical landscape here they had to be featured. The other works I have many mixed feelings over. There will be some profound reason why Mr. Oteri chose the composers he did, but I am really struggling to find the justification. Having listened to all of the works I struggle to see the attraction to some of them composers involved.

The other major issue for me within this anthology is it misses the sheer diversity within the Lithuanian contemporary music today. The CD is intensely dominated my 'minimalistic' music almost to the point of nausea. When in fact the reality is much further from that. Yes minimalism has a lot of influence here, but sonoristic trends, as well as growing influence of spectral trends are creeping into the works of younger composers that not really demonstrating them is a bit of travesty. There are also some extremely major names who almost have been ignored, without justification, which does cause me some mild concern indeed. The more I listen, the more the anthology feels a tad like an attempt to romanticise the region, with its lovely melodies, anti-institutional trends, and radical radical-ness. This romanticism isn't particularly new. Hopefully I am wrong, but I do get the distinct impression of it.

The biggest thing for me, is Frank Oteri missed a rather vital piece of the puzzle. In the CD notes, Frank alludes to Lithuania's past and briefly mentions Lithuania joining the EU in 2004 and highlights it as a moment Lithuania really integrated with the rest of Europe. This could have been a great oppourtunity to explore the influence of the growing divide between Lithuanian Diaspora and Enduring Lithuanians. As Lithuania, like many of its fellow comrades this side of Europe, has witnessed large levels of migration with people leaving to Germany, France, Britain and so fourth the musical landscape of Lithuanians is reaching a massive divide, as those who move abroad really tap into the cultural energy of their new homes splitting them away from their native land. A CD anthology which definitively celebrated 9 diaspora and 9 enduring Lithuanians would have been a much more fascinating exploration, mostly because it would have been able to highlight what parts of these composers still sounds 'truly Lithuanian?', what is the raw 'Lithuanian-ism?', does that 'Lithuanian-ism' still exist today? What does this spell for the future for Lithuanians? I am definitely far more excited about that sort of process than anything else, as I imagine it would really show us far more interesting things that just a straightforward celebration of Lithuanian composers.

This all being said, it is definitely a joy to see other people taking such an interest in Lithuanian music and long may it continue! I definitely recommend everyone gets hold of a copy of the CD to make their own decision on the matter. 

Erkki-Sven Tuur: Piano Sonata

After a few manic weeks filled with a wedding, a 60th birthday, and a crazy number of hours in varying forms of transport I am back to being to write on the good ol' blog. So give to my cognitive muscles the chance to warm up again, and to look at something I have loved for a very long time, I decided to look at Erkki-Sven Tuur's piano sonata.

For the dedicated followers of this page, you will know I covered Erkki-Sven Tuur's string quartet about a year ago. For those curious, I definitely following this link to check it out. It is interesting to return to Erkki-Sven Tuur with this particular work, the piano sonata was written at almost the exact time as his string quartet and has many similarities in musical stance as his string quartet. There are, however, nuances that really make the sonata stand out as something rather remarkable.


The work was dedicated to Anne Tuur and was premiered in Tartu in 1986 by Kalle Randalu and within it the overall sonata shows a composer with a really unique ability to draw upon tradition and build something unique with it. Firstly the three contrasting movements have elements of the traditional piano sonata within them; the declamatory first movement which lays the foundations of the whole work, the still mysterious middle movement, and flying finale. But the connection goes much further than mere moods.

Within the first movement, we see the rolling harmonies building up gathering momentum before introducing a wildly contrasting still gesture. The two musical entities function as the A and B subject in the sonata, however Tuur takes it further than merely contrasting the opposing forces. The ultimate result is an extremely fluid juxtaposition where each gesture appears briefly before flitting off somewhere. The harmonic language and voice leadings ultimately clarify the nature of the different areas, as the mood of the whole sonata is extremely succinct upon itself. Like in the string quartet, this work has many similarities to minimalist music, but the brilliance of sound and repetitive gestures I believe are merely just a wonderful element of Tuur's music, regardless of the world around him. As the first movement moves along, the elements grow and lead to fascinating musical discourses between themselves, before calmly coming to a close in a rather serene manner. 

The second movement, is where the elements of genius begin to shine. The slow movement firstly begins by hammering out motivic fragments from the previous movement and allowing the resonance of the overtones to define the response. The musical material within the second movement are completely connected with each other simply by exploring the capacity of one modal area. The result is mesmerising, but for me what is of particular curiosity is the wonderfully Beethovian nature of the sonata. It begins to show itself within this movement, as upon listening you can instantly feel its connection to the first movement. From this we can also draw other comparisons, mostly through the connection of harmonic evolution and motivic composition. 

The finale flies. The rolling arpeggios, contrasted by the flourishes and fragments within the left hand produce an extremely intensive and powerful dialogue. The fluidity of the gestures continues from previous movements producing a truly liberating musical landscape. As the movement progresses the material evolves further and further, exploring whole new regions which previously had not been visited. The sheer might of the piano writing begins to come to the fore with the growing power of the material. The result is a truly magnificent finale. 


Overall the sonata is simply fantastic. There is a sheer brilliance to it which few other composers can muster. Erkki-Sven Tuur takes it all within his stride. The sonata has a wonderful ability to tap into the fertile ingenuity of the tradition, but managed to bring his own personal spin to it, in the only way Erkki-Sven Tuur can. Having looked on his website it is uplifting to see so many professional recordings of the sonata, because the work is a truly glorious work and really needs to become connected with the canon. You can listen to the work below. So sit back relax, and I'll be back with more soon.

 

Santa Ratniece - Piano Concerto

Another week has passed and I have managed to absorb more Latvian music. This time I am looking at something far more recent. Its not very often you hear a piece and are simply dumbfounded by it, this ultimately becomes rarer the longer you work within contemporary music; the more you know the harder it is to be surprised. But this being said, today's composer is definitely a joyous surprise.


Born in 1977, Santa Ratniece, like many Latvians, worked her way through the Jazep Vitols Music Academy in Riga. After her studies there, she studied with David Rowland in Holland, then finally studying with Helena Tulve in Tallinn. She has ultimately done what is now very common practice within the Baltic, internationalising yourself by travelling to where you want to grow and to be able to throw yourself deep into the world of other composers and musics. Already Santa has seen some wonderful international success having won the UNESCO International Composers Rostrum in 2004 and working with ensembles across the globe, including the Kronos Quartet. Her music is extremely hard to define, but does stand to emulate what many composers in the Baltic are striving for these days. A music drawing on modern colours and gestures but still somehow deeply connected to the past, or at least never totally throwing it away. The result, especially in Santa's case is just divine. 

The particular work I want to focus on is her piano concerto, written in 2014 and premiered by the Liepaja Symphony Orchestra, with Vestard Shimkus as the soloist. Opening with a slow gathering shimmer of whistles, voices enter slowly providing a glistening backdrop for the soloist to pronounce himself. The texture is incredibly fragile, but just strong enough to allow the pianist to really explore the gorgeous harmonies. The building landscape is simply seductive and dizzying. You can feel yourself being sucked into this world and just being consumed by its dazzling splendour. The texture always evolves allowing different instruments to discuss with the soloist who is always dictating and discussing ideas with the orchestra. The sensation feels weirdly democratic, with every voice of the orchestra having a real influence in the musical discourse, as well as becoming part of the backdrop to support the soloist and the other instrument interacting with them. 

As the work progresses, the piano lines become more and more flamboyant, but never feel like virtuosic showing off. But eventually leads to a moment of crystalline calm. Where the piano is left with just percussion instruments. The moment slowly builds to an almost cadenza-like passage, or even a recitative, with the percussion simply laying a music framework to respond to. The passage is extremely extended, but is mystifying. Then as if the weather was changing, all of a sudden the full orchestra return, rolling in. Like a slowly rising flood, the orchestra builds, and grows, but somehow the soloist stays afloat. Despite the growing strength and might of the orchestra, the sensation always feels powerful, but never violent. Then when you think the soloist is going to be completely consumed, the orchestra disappears like a breeze. 


The concluding moments are just as magical as the rest of the concerto. It is a curious sensation, you feel like you have gone on a massive journey; but equally feel like you have stayed put the entire time. Almost like an outer body experience, or a rather peaceful LSD trip. The glistening colours and beauty of it all, while staying in a very familiar territory. The work could have a parallel drawn between it and Faure's Requiem. Requiem's traditional instill all the powers of fire and brimstone gospel, but Faure managed to simply meditate on the idea of life and death. What Santa Ratniece has done in her piano concerto, is taken a form which usually demands a 'conflict' or at least some virtuosic magic, and replaced it with a musical platform for the soloist to just be. Allowing the soloist and the listener to consider many angles and viewpoints, consider different ideas, but never becoming threatened or chastised in anyway. But merely allowing yourself to grow with your ideas and finding the real strength, majesty, and power within such a modest approach. I am simply dumbfounded. Anything I say now is just repeating myself nonsensically, so all I suggest is have a listen for yourself. 

Adolfs Skulte - Symphony No. 5

After a few weeks to gather myself, I am finally in a position to start excitably wittering about new discoveries I made during my 24 hours in Riga. So I ultimately wanted to start with a rather wonderfully hidden gem from the generation that worked almost entirely during the Soviet Era. Adolfs Skulte (1909-2000) stands as a rather significant figure within the Latvian classical tradition, one due to writing a rather prolific body of work, but also due to the sheer weight and magnitude of his orchestral works.


A pupil of Jazep Vitols (1863-1948), Skulte's musical language is an obvious continuation of his tutor, as well as tapping into the influence of composers like Arthur Honnegger or Karol Szymanowski. Skulte's symphonies stand as a significant body of his overall orchestral output, having produced a total of nine symphonies (the curse caught another great). Despite the obvious connection to romanticism, Skulte's music has a richness which keeps it sounding vivid and colourful. The connections to 'tradition' are never the result of 'conservatism' or purely the result of Soviet influences, listening to his music, it is apparent, the connection to the past merely builds Skulte a foundation to grow from.


As Adolfs Skulte was born the generation he was, he was ultimately composing for the majority of his lifetime during the Soviet era. Which for many, especially during the years immediately after the Second World War, meant treading carefully to avoid censorship or harsher consequences. Skulte's first symphony was definitively a work to keep himself in a kinder light, with its 'personable' title for peace. Despite the strengths and weaknesses of the work, it did show Skulte had a wonderful knack for writing 'his' music as well as adapting it enough to allow him to function despite the censorship. This adeptness lead Skulte winning multiple prizes including the U.S.S.R State Prize as well as achieving the title of 'People's Artist of Latvian S.S.R'. Now it can be argued that this was selling out, or just getting cosy with the Soviets. But the reality is, these were hoops composers had to jump through, not necessarily because any slight shift out of line was instant death and suffering for each individual artist, but more if you wanted to work as a composer these were the things you needed to do. It could be argued now with composers working in the free market, are having to sell out or become good promoters just so they can work. There are ultimately harsh realities wherever you are working, and hopefully those sacrifices pay off. In the case of Adolfs Skulte it did.


By 1970, as Skulte had an impeccable record,which meant he was completely free to composer whatever he wanted. This combined with Gorbachev's supposed 'Socialism with a human face', granted many freedoms to artists which ultimately lead to Skulte reaching a truly profound moment within his own music. This 'last' period of the composer shows him really striding with a real swagger. The fifth symphony is the first work of this period, and it really shows him in a fantastic light.

The three movement work, has the connection to traditional symphonic forms, but is extended with a fantastical and beautiful brutality. The opening Lento is calm, slowly biding its time, building, growing, and making profound use of its darkness. The orchestral palette is vast and really shows a composer throwing everything he has now he has the freedom to do so. The gorgeous melodic sweeps in the strings juxtaposed against dark monolithic chords in the brass makes the experience intensive. Parallels to Honnegger are particularly accurate, the similarities between this symphony and Honnegger's Symphonie Liturgique are there, but never in a pastiche manner.

The Allegro con brio flies. There is no other word for it. The sheer energy and drive in the work never really stops. Its a surprise the conductor doesn't get a stitch or repetitive strain from this fly by. However it does end in probably the cheekiest manner you could imagine.

The finale, Lento - Vivo, is rich and powerful. It stands as the largest movement of the work, but could also be seen as two movement rammed together as the conductor noted that the Lento and Vivo should be played without interruption. This second Lento starts with a glorious haze of colour. The build up of the chord is reminiscent of Berg's violin concerto, but in its own manner is equally thick and yummy; like truly masterful hot chocolate. The saxophone solo is haunting and just divine. The build up is intense and just glorious things for the ears to bear witness to. The moment the tubular bell strikes is magnificent and the responding harmonies just stun me. The Vivo starts in a fugal manner, with voices entering one by one, and like the Allegro con brio they fly. Skulte has a magnificent ability at writing fast music, an art which has disappeared in the last century. The finale has a real sensation of a rondo form, with its returning segments and the way the movement elegantly dances between them all is simply masterful. And the recapitulation of the melody at the climax of the movement is as glorious as it is terrifying.


The symphony is simply magnificent, there is no question. The sheer breadth and magnitude within one symphonic work is astounding, let alone the other eight symphonies. This is a composer who simply needs to be heard more. Enjoy the symphony below!

Algirdas Martinaitis - Birds of Eden

As today marks 27 years since the Lithuania separated from the Soviet Union, I thought it would be a nice opportunity to focus on a Lithuanian composer I haven't had the chance to mention yet. Admittedly this also gives me more time to digest the pile of recordings I gathered while in Riga, so win win for me, and Latvian composers will be mentioned soon; I promise. Because of the seismic importance of the event, I thought it was necessary to discuss a figure composing around the time of the split and to mildly highlight the local desires of the people vying for nationhood. 

Algirdas Martinaitis (1950*) feels like a suitable person to mention within this framework. A pupil of Eduardas Balsys, Martinaitis came to prominence rather quickly after graduating from his studies at the end of the 1970s. Like his fellow 'neo-romantics', his music is obsessed with nostalgia, namely in the form of pining for something lost, rather than thinking 'weren't things better in the good ol' days'. This led him to build a rather curious personal musical landscape. The ability to have music with the deepest sincerity then to smash it with boisterous sarcasm or even sheer vulgarity, makes his music rather surprising. My first encounter with the composer was hearing his Serenade for Miss Europe which in its brief extent as a piece, shamelessly and hilariously quotes and smashes European classics into the listener's ear in the most inane or crude manner possible. It is an occasion which has stuck with me to this day.


The piece I wanted to focus on today, is a significantly shorter work; Birds of Eden (1981) for cello and tape. The work stands as one of the composer's most seminal pieces and clearly demonstrates a lot of thinking in the wider society at the time. A work with a title of Birds of Eden is extremely typical of a romantic composer, with its reflection of nature and pastoral ponderings; but the use of electronics instantly distorts and challenges this. Mostly on the basic level that there is no 'life' in electronics. Electronic music is the result of machines, so how can it artistically reflect wildlife? This simple gesture of instrumentation, throws up a lot of ideological posturing, which I am sure is intentional on the composer's half. The lack of life in the electronics combined with the nostalgic or just sheer romanticism of nature in the title can easily be a heavy handed gesture mourning the loss of something inherently native. 

The music itself is as hypnotic as it is energised. The cello lilts on melodic figures which are reminiscent of bird song, which in turn are layered on itself over and over again. The result is a rather magical dialogue between many birds. The electronics serve an interesting but very clear function within this piece, the use of electronic, or natural, noise subverts the musicality; functioning as a dissonance to destabilise the natural proceedings of life. The to and fro between the natural sounds of the cello and the electronics produces a fascinating dialogue. The repetitive nature of the melodic fragments adds to the intensity, it is almost as if the birds themselves are trapped within the machine, with nothing in their power except to keep singing. The short piece, lasting about 8 minutes, really builds a lot of ground and potential of presenting many ideological ideas; which cannot be surprising when you consider the piece was written in the last decade of the Soviet Union's control of the region. 


This being said, this could all just be me romanticising the romantic. The piece on a purely musical level is just as fascinating and really should be in the solo cello repertoire. It is intense and powerful but just allows you to digest its gesturing and elegance. It is definitely one of the composer's finest works. Many of his works play around with romantic ideals of nature as well as contemplating tradition; and almost every single time his responses to these always challenge me on some level. This could be on the sheer musical level, on the dramatic level, or on the more ephemeral levels of ideology. 

All that is left to do is listen to the piece and decide for yourself. 

Kurybos tiltai - Tada, Dabar

This evening was my first concert in Vilnius in quite some time and boy was it an intriguing event. In short, the concert was a performance of all the composers within the third year of undergraduate studies. However, the intriguing catch was the inclusion of pieces by them from either at the beginning or just before they started studying within the Academy. Its a particularly brave gesture as logic would dictate, the younger works would be naive, and relying mostly on the potential of the composer more than necessarily base craftmanship at that point. Having these works paired with newer pieces is interesting, as it instantly and very clearly depicts their trajectory and development as composers. 

The four 'early' works by the four composers were very characteristic of young applicants, mostly owing a lot to the music they themselves performed with some personal twists added into the mix. All four pieces really showed the potential the staff in the academy saw, and in that light were charming and interesting works. I won't go into depth on these pieces, mostly because there's a fine line between criticism and harrassing teenagers. However, the one piece out of the group was Jura Elena Sedyte's Azuolelis (2014) as it shows a composer who has thrown caution to the wind and just wants to explore. So it definitely had the most character without question.

The second half of the concert was built up of purely newer works. Starting with an electronic piece by Goda Marija Guzauskaite called Makabriskos atostogos (2014). The electronics were generally quite simple, but the necessity for them was apparrant quite quickly. The manic piano sounds were extremely reminiscent of Conlon Nancarrow, especially his cheekier pieces like his Boogie Woogie Suite. However in contrast, this work was far more minimalistic in tone too, baring a huge resemblence to works by Rytis Mazulis. The form was clear, but I felt that more could have been done with the electronics in someway, mostly to avoid the piece just being a matter of fact.

The following piece RVCNYP (2017) by Aleksej Kalinin for mixed ensemble of flute, piano, electric guitar, cello, and voice. The work was instantly more 'experimental' with its raw potent use of distortion and crunchy piano sounds. The work shows Aleksej is still exploring and finding his feet, which is a noble and worthwhile task indeed, and he has definitely come on a long way. However, some elements really need to devloped, namely the more 'peaceful' gestures were often very naive tonal harmonies which made the whole performance feel more like a naff prog-rock jam session instead of some hardcore experimental happening. I also felt the flute was just a tad tame in it. I imagine if there was a screaming piccolo flying above the chaos or a bass flute smashing out some juicy multiphonics it would be a more striking use of flute. A big nod has to be handed to the singer Dalia Krapavicikaite who, despite the devilish and terrifying nature of the vocal part within its surroundings, managed to perform it with great precision and control.

Then something more modest followed. Vilte Zakeviciute's Laumiu suvartai (2017) for two accordions was a fascinating filler and departure from her surroundings. The two accordionists proudly walked out, and after some confused shuffling from stage manangement, sat and performed quite a remarkable duo. The work had a crystalline clarity and every gesture felt necessary and purposeful. The overall effect was an almost symphonic piece for an underused instrumental combination. She managed to avoid many cliches of the instrument, and just quietly stated her point. The interplay of ideas was curious and charming, the lively sections were full of bustling potential and the still segments were able to sit calmly allowing everyone to breath. It was simply remarkable, bravo Vilte, and bravi Raimonds Ungurs and Agne Rimgailaite who gave such a well delivered premiere.

After some more shuffling came a larger work by Jura Elena Sedyte. Unlike her compatriots, there was not the same drastic distance between her piece in the first half and her new work. Somnus de Somno (2017) for vocal trio, piano, and electric guitar was in a similar, but more elaborate vein of thought as her earlier Azuolelis. The use of extended techniques, and vocal gestures shows a composer still eager to explore the whole world of sound available to her. With her greater understanding, the musical gestures had a greater sense of dramatic intent, as opposed to just sounding 'edgy'. The vocal writing was extensive, and to be honest was always strongest when it was to the extreme end of vocal sounds. The 'chorale' section felt a bit lackluster, mostly because it did not have the same profundity in construction as her experimental gestures, but the constrast was striking. As a composer she is definitely growing, and I would love her to continue pushing the boat out, and really throwing caution to the wind. 

The finale came in the form of an even newer electronic work by Goda Marija Guzauskaite. Garso Link (2017), was an interesting interplay of instrumental sounds, flowing freely within the playground that is electronic sound. The architecture was solid, and has been in all of the works we heard this evening by Goda, she is quite naturally built for these kinds of things. The musicality was also at its strongest in this piece I felt, but for me the issue lies in the fact there is so much further you can go with electronics, and Goda really needs to dive head first into this cavern to truly make the most of it. There is no question of her knowledge of capabilities, she just simply needs to jump into it, and then she'll be writing truly astounding things.

The concert was a lovely event indeed. My two favourites which stood out for me were Vilte's Laumiu suvartai and Jura's Somnus de Somno. Both Aleksej and Goda are really developing indeed, and it is only a matter of time I imagine before the write something which truly stuns me. I feel an extra nod needs to go out to Dalia Krapavickaite for her wonderful performing, out of all the performers this evening she was definitely thrown the deepest down the well and she evidently took it in her stride. A truly glorious perform indeed. All of them, except Vilte, are on soundcloud, I definitely recommend you have a listen for yourselves.

*The whole concert can be heard here: