Saint Christopher's Orchestra in Druskomanija 2017

It was that time of year again, where Donatas Katkus and his band of merry string players perform contemporary pieces and perform premieres of students from the Lithuanian Academy of Music. Once again this year the concert was held in the National Gallery, staring out at the river and riverbank, in the sunny evening sun. 

After the usual introductory spiel, came Ieva Budriunaite's Genau. The composer noted her inspiration from Switzerland as well as discussing the multiple motifs that led to the construction of the work. My heart did sink when I saw the names of the listed bands she had taken quotations from; which included Florence and the Machine, Coldplay, Chopin, David Lang, and Doves to name a few. But this being said my fears were dumbfounded. Oh frabjous day, calloh callay! The opening was still and serene, with every entry being surprisingly delicate and crystalline. As the work grew the variety of motifs were handled with increasing skill and nuance, and above all else, amazingly tastefully. Overall the work was modest and rather content in and of itself. Yes, the timbral palette could have been extended some what, and the harmonic language despite showing real ingenuity within tonal language, could have been made more interesting by broadening it. This being said, the work was simply self sustaining. Despite the areas that could have been improved the work, worked. The motifs were handled perfectly and Ieva managed to overcome the nightmarish problem of interacting with the 'pop world'. So well done, and I am curious to see how she continues to grow as a composer.

Following a bit of shuffling, and stern words from Donatas Katkus to the nearby restaurant/cafe area, came the second piece Lietuvos liaudies muzika (1990) by Mindaugas Urbaitis. This work very simply does what it says on the tin. It builds a huge collage or web of varying Dzuku folk melodies and watches how they interact with each other. The whole atmosphere of the piece is very curious indeed. The string orchestra were able to come out of their shell a bit, and every single player managed to make their own melodies sound like the most important part of the piece thus giving a much greater life to the work as a whole. 

Then came Monika Sokaite's Sigitas. The three movement work was dedicated to the Lithuanian cultural figure of legend Sigitas Geda. Without knowing how personally Geda influenced Monika, it is very easy to see why he could be a source of inspiration. The three movements draw reference to quotations from various works by the poet and musically everything interacts with them. The first movement opened with harmonies gathering slowly, as if like clouds in a storm. As the energy built within the movement, it was very clear to hear something has clicked within Monika's work. There was a sensation that she has thrown everything she has got at the piece, and it has ultimately paid off. The gesturing, the harmonic contrasts and colours, combined with moments of modesty serenity really show she was desperate to say something in the work. The gesturing and harmonic language throughout the three movements reminded me somewhat of Dobrinka Tabakova or early works of Erkki-Sven Tuur. I always like it when composers surprise me as much at this. There is no need to say much more other than very well done Monika, this was a glorious piece indeed.

The finale came in the form of Perskelta Tyla (2004) by Arvydas Malcys. The huge work for strings really shows off the full strength and fragility of a string ensemble, and Katkus was definitely the man to bring this work to life again. The power and modesty were handled with equal brilliance, and the orchestra constantly showed their dedication to making this work sing. With the finale being what it was, I must congratulate the festival on such a well rounded programme. It is surprisingly rare to see a concert of contemporary music stand so neatly and give a sensation of narrative across the four works. Thinking back to the early incident, a nod or at least a note must be given about Donatas Katkus. With the noise coming from the eating area, many performers would have just carried on begrudgingly, not Katkus. His sheer fervour and dedication to performance really shone when he corrected the situation, before continuing with the wonderful concert. There is definitely only one Donatas Katkus in this world, and what a musician he is.

Twenty Fingers, plus another ten

And so Druskomanija Festival finds itself in the Gothic Hall of the art academy. The quiet, modest, arched hall has been a wonderful place for concerts in the past due simply to its curious intimacy and atmosphere. Last night's concert saw a variety of pieces, from a variety of nations written for violin, cello, and percussion. Each rather distinctly different from each other, and each desperate to address the native varieties in colour and timbre in the ensemble. 

After walking in about 10 minutes before the concert started, we were greeted to electronic noises and glitches muttering away to themselves. At first it was a curious and enigmatic scene to be presented with, but it grew tiresome after a while; especially as I was more eager to see the musicians. 

First came the work Past,Present, Future by Maryana Lysenko. I was particularly curious to hear her work, as my knowledge and awareness of the current scene in Russia is rather limited and seems to gravitate solely to Elena Rykova and Anna Romashkova; so I was indeed curious to see how Maryana compared and contrasted to these two gems. The piece started with the trio circled around the vibraphone, each bowing separate elements of the instrument; either producing glistening rings of the bar, or clicks and clattering sounds from striking the body with the bows or mallets. As time progressed the violinist moved to behind the mirror (which sadly from where I was sitting didn't hide her) where she bowed stroke exploratory gestures. The cellist eventually accompanied to, to much the same affect. Overall the work was curious as it was fascinating to observe. What we experienced was a surreal dance of ritualistic gestures amongst the members of the ensemble.The sensation through felt as if we were dealing with a wild animal which was somehow pretending to be tame and mild; and it all simply ring around the basic premise of discovery. The feeling was akin to seeing creatures trying to come to terms with a new object in their cage, trying to come to understand it by doing everything they possibly could to it. Admittedly, this wasn't the first time a composer has attempted this, however the composer's gesture and intent were thoroughly clear, so all the musicality was necessary throughout. So I am definitely fascinated to hear more of her work.

Following this, and the traditional elements of inter-piece shuffling came Considerations of Friday by Tadas Dailyda. From the little I had heard prior to this, I sincerely hoped this work would change my opinion for the better. However once being presented with the programme notes, I instantly began to worry. The programmatic description was somewhat akin to high school imaginings and oddly it felt like reciting the programme notes would take longer than the piece itself. But still I wanted to be proved wrong. I so desperately wanted to be proven wrong. However. The instance it started I could have wept. The click of the beat given by the drummer before the piece started made my heart sink. The sustained chord of the strings, against the pulse of the drums, made it sink further and harder than a brick in quicksand. I've grown up on metal and punk a lot longer than I have grown up on classical music. Writing classical music in a 'rock' style will always be like a parent trying to be 'down with the kids, yo!' it simply makes everyone uncomfortable. If you are going to commit to it, look to Zappa, look to Fausto Romitelli, look to Apocalyptica, or just throw away classical settings; but don't just write pulsing rhythms and 'riffs' for violin and cello. Metal is filthy and uninstitutionalised. It is not built for classic concerts, with good reason, it is built for people to scream, shout, throw bottles, getting hammered, and simply going apeshit. If your 'rock' inspired piece of contemporary music doesn't make the listener do that. You are doing it wrong. The worst sensation about it all was simply the fact, when the composer closed the piece with a gesture of him popping open a bottle and presenting it to the ensemble; I was simply unaffected by it. A gesture like that would normally annoy me to no end, but I was just so sick and numbed through sheer boredom and banality that I was just unmoved by it. 

Thankfully the following piece was a refreshing change. Monika Zenkeviciute has often been an interesting composer to observe, so I was of course excited to hear her trio. The work Little bit was described as being inspired by HPS (highly sensitive person); as according to the Sensory Processing Sensitivity as coined by Elaine and Arthur Aron. The piece had startling contrasts, starting with screaming violin and cello before leading to extremely timid quietness. The full exploration of the trio's palette was very well done and overall the piece made for fascinating listening. However I had two hang ups about the work. Firstly the link to HPS wasn't particularly clear, unless you were trying to test how 'sensitive' the audience were. Secondly it is a fine line creating art inspired by psychological traits and conditions, and ultimately if you aren't someone with the condition or trait; you are most likely fetishising the condition itself; which tends to be most harmful or derogatory to the people who have said condition. I haven't had a chance to ask the composer if she is HPS, if so; I obviously cannot tell her how life is with said trait. However, if she doesn't she has to tread carefully with such works, simply out of respect to those under those circumstances. 

Then, as if in a speedy flash, we were thrown into Bozena Ciurlioniene's Senoviniai sokiai. The work draws inspiration from rhythmic motifs from pre-renaissance Lithuania and trys to build a dance which tries to connect the ancient past with the present. A fascinating endeavour, and one that has been done by many composers within Lithuania, so I was curious how she'd fare with it. The writing for the ensemble was fine, and the balance worked, and there was a fair amount of interaction between the instruments. However the harmonic language was simply naive, as were the rhythmic motifs. The ancient rhythms should have been the building blocks, not finished elements. There is so much that can be done with rhythm and still connect quite obviously to its source material. A part of me felt like it was an attempt to 'rebel' against complexity, but would have been her alternative? The whole thing just felt underbaked as a piece. The composer has craft, she just needs to use more of it with more intent. 

The finale of the concert was Robert Thorpe's Living with Bears. The work started with a hammering of dampened strings being strummed to within an inch of its life; the sensation was rather wild and interesting, it did grip me rather instantly. However the first violin melody instantly splintered the work. The melodic elements bared no relation or connection to the intense and powerful drive of the strumming. From there, the work simply unfolded. More of this 'melody' appeared and grew into something else. The largest 'melodic' element was extremely akin to Michael Nyman, a composer I thought I had escaped when I had moved to Lithuania. So overall it just felt disjunct. If it were in two movements, with the fiery rhythms in one, and the melodic elements in the other I probably would have been more accepting of the piece. Shame really.

This being said, the ensemble did quite well tackling such a variety of pieces, especially as a group that doesn't traditionally play as a trio; so well done to them. In future however, when performing contemporary music, they need to look more into what 'they' are saying with the piece, and thus avoid becoming performing machines of performing monkeys for composers. I imagine if the trio had clear visions of what they were saying with all the pieces the concert could have taken a very different turn. Admittedly a skill like this comes with time, so the future looks bright for Lora Kmieliauskaite, Arna Kmieliauskas, and the birthday boy Dziugas Daugirda.

Druskomanija takes over LMTA

Its that time of year again, Druskomanija Festival is up and running with lots of music being displayed. Sadly I had missed the opener but, this definitely felt like an interesting concert to set off my week of new music. Based in the great hall of the Lithuanian music academy, the concert gave focus to students from within the academy itself. Considering the traditional competitive forms of entry for the other concerts, this was definitely a rather dignified and diplomatic way of allowing younger composers into the fray. 

After the usual chitter-chatter and preconcert shuffling, the night began with a work for solo tuba and electronics by Jura Elena Sedyte simply titled Apnea. When I saw this on the programme, I was overjoyed. I always admire students for wanting to write for low brass. As a former member of the clan, it is nice to composers giving the instruments much needed repertoire. The combination of electronics gave the opportunity for a really great sense of depth too. However the work wasn't the usual intensity I have come to know and love from the composer. There was a strange timidity to it, this could have simply been because of the lack of security in writing for one lone tuba, however it was a shame to not see this composer shine in the manner I have become accustomed. The work had its merits, of course, but I imagine if she had threw caution to the wind we could have seen a more fascinating work.

Then came some more shuffling before our first string quartet of the night was performed. Seeing Styginiu kvartetas Nr. 2 by Bozena Ciurlioniene written on the programme, I had mixed feelings, one of interest due to this young composer having written a second string quartet; but I also had a feeling of worry, mostly due to the question of whether the work actually sparred with the historic weight of a 'string quartet'. The work opened with a chordal progression of two notes, which instantly vanished for something else; it was hard to see if this was an attempt to write something in an almost Stravinskian blocked manner, or was an attempt to sound 'modern' and 'unpredictable'. As the work progressed this 'random' gesture didn't really reappear, but what followed was an oddly traditional sounding string quartet. I say this for the simple reason the string quartet sounded curiously 'English' the sound, the counterpoint, the harmonic leaning was remarkably similar to Vaughan-Williams or Holst. A curious surprise indeed. The work, as time progressed, began to lose itself and the dialogue in the quartet wasn't particularly explored. I also felt the attempt to respond to history simply didn't happen, so if Ciurlioniene writes a third quartet, I really hope she wrestles with this predicament.

After even more shuffling came Pasakojimai apie Bacha for piano and electronics by Marija Paskeviciute. This was one of two pieces I was particularly familiar with before the concert, so I was curious to see how it fared in a concert setting. The work quite simply is a musical dialogue built up of quotations from Bach's prelude and fugue in C# minor and the prelude and fugue in Eb and layered over many, many, many midi piano parts. Listening to the purely electronic version has a curious experience and the work has an odd charm to it. However this charm is kinda lost in the concert setting. I think this is due to the fact the living pianist almost appears to add nothing to the proceedings, I imagine if the piano part was more 'intensive' or more involved I could have been more impressed by the work, but sadly it was lacking today. 

Following more shuffling, came the one and only wind quintet of the night Penkiu hidrojauciu laukas by Modestas Rinkevicius. This piece was an instant contrast to the two preceding pieces. The work was extremely focused and the harmonic language was suitably self sustaining. There were moments where the rhythmic gestures caught me by surprise adding more to the easy charm of the work. Even though the work wasn't attempting to be 'new' or 'unique' there was a solidity of composition, form, and craft on display which has to be congratulated. A well written work, and I shall keep my eyes open for more from Modestas in the future. 

Following even more shuffling, came the second string quartet of the night. Clementina by Gabrielius Vagelis. The work was a bit overdone. Ultimately the whole musical shape and construction was okay, but didn't have the intensity and variety to justify the overtly sweet bits. The sensation was akin to drowning in treacle. Music dialogue was okay, and the composer showed a sense of craft which has the potential to improve vastly, if he explores and challenges himself, sadly I was just left a little bored by the whole proceedings.

Following more shuffling, came the largest, and most curious ensemble setup. Four female singers, four violin, and wine glasses. Vilte Zakeviciute has been on the periphery of my vision for a while, and I have long contested that there is a lot of potential within her. A strong part of me felt last night was strong and striking move towards something profound. Giesme laukiniam medziui started with a gentle whimper from the glasses before dropping deep into this colour and hypnotic landscape. The shape was well conceived and the musical gestures continued to hit me hard. In short, the work was as striking as it was modest. Vilte had managed to turn the text setting into a blank slate forcing us to make our own opinion of what we had heard and in turn she simply gave us the space to ponder. Single handed this was the piece of the night. Nothing quite matched or could be compared to it. What was ultimately remarkable, is despite the moments of naivete from the composer, the gestures felt mandatory for the piece. It takes a lot of bravery to write things because the piece needs it and just simply allowing yourself what you want to say. I have contested there is a lot of promise in Vilte Zakeviciute, she is definitely heading towards something else. All she seems to need is time.

After more shuffling came Dainora Aleksaite and her work Dvylikos menesiu ciklas fortepijonui 'Du nulis sesiolika'. As a first year composer, this work shows a lot of promise in the composer. From what appears to be her first sincere attempt at constructing in a serial manner, Dainora seemed to dive in headfirst. The work was striking and brutal at times and never really gave anyone a chance to rest. I think in future she could produce some curious works indeed. Time will simply tell.

Then came a clarinet quartet by Beata Juchnevic. Its always nice to see this ensemble at play, because it has a wonderful charm and expansive palette to it. The work Vitrazo atspindziai was an attempt to mash 12-tone thinking with a more 'romantic' idiom. I always shudder a bit when I hear this, simply because Schoenberg, Webern, and Berg were such romantics at heart they saw their music as a way to be freely expressive; so it often feels the composers show a misunderstanding of this circumstance. Beata's work started sporadic gestures, and the dialogue between the clarinet and strings was at times curious, but also at times rather predictable. There were also some interesting harmonies produced due, but overall I felt this came out of the oven too soon. If Beata explores 12-tone music more and especially considers the works of Peter Schat she could produce something interesting indeed.

Then came our third and final string quartet by Adam Farnlof. 5c does was it says on the tin. Obsession with fifths and three sections. Nice straight forward thinking. However the result wasn't as straight forward and refreshing. The opening hits on a unison pitch came off a little lackluster, when I imagine the composer desperately wanted more in it. This being said, there was a curious energy to this opening movement which must be merited. The second movement killed the piece entirely. The movement focused on variations of glissandi and started from a high point and ended low. It was extremely predictable and almost ignored how predictable it was. If it sped through it like the start of a Grand Prix the result would have been startling and fascinating due to the complexity produced by a simple form. Alternatively, if the movement was a stand alone piece lasting an hour, or maybe even three, it would have in turn been fascinating for almost opposite reasons. As it took a clear gesture beyond our traditional understanding, thus abstracting it into something otherworldly, it would have been mind-bending. Sadly neither situation occurred, and we were left with a rather dull, uninspiring movement. The energy, and witty brevity of the finale was destroyed by the preceding movement. So sadly I didn't enjoy it for what would have been quite a charming finale. 

The finale came in the form of Dominykas Digimas's walking through the three points a work for piano trio, which coincidentally had been performed last year in the festival. I don't want to reiterate what I said in the previous rendition, especially as my discussions tonight have primarily been about premieres. However do feel free to read it here. The performance was done well, and the coordination with the visuals was also well achieved. However I felt after the preceding work, the work wasn't quite the antidote we needed. However, this does in no way detract from the pieces aforementioned merits.

I am glad to see the festival is back in full swing! And it must be noted the dedication of a big pool of players to perform in these pieces. Now there is only one thing left to say bring on more concerts! Let's hope Druskomanija 2017 continues to be a fascinating festival!

My week of Arvo Part - also starring Goeyvaerts

For the past week I have been chucked in the deep end, well and truly. I have been spending my week in New York, primarily in Fordham University where I have been attending the Arvo Part: Sounding the Sacred conference. The conference, which was heavily supported by the university, the Arvo Part Project, and the Sacred Arts Initiative to name just a few.

As can be guessed from the title, the week has been dedicated to the great composer. A conference of 4 days which has shown us a huge variety of stances and disciplinary viewpoints of the composer and his connection to the world around him. There were many fascinating discussions all of which have really challenged my understanding and broadened my sensibilities.

The real highlight of the whole conference was last night's concert in the Holy Trinity Church. The concert was overflowing with audience members and after a moment of hush the concert started. The opening came in the form of Trivium (1976) for organ. Andrew Shenton really showed his nuance and understanding of the piece bringing out all of the wonderful character and charm of the work, as well as the ethereal extra the often comes with Part's music. A real joy and a great way to open the concert.

Following a brief moment of shuffling amidst the stunned 'silence' of the creaking pews, the next work that followed was De Profundis (1980). It is always hard to witness performances of this work for me. Having grown up with the almost intense perfection of the Hilliard Ensemble's recording  its hard to find other interpretations match it. The four singers had a wonderful tone and the interaction between the quartet and the organ was elegant. The percussive sounds could have been performed with a bit more mystery, but were still very effective. Despite the many merits of the performance, I just wish they sang it slower to really wallow in the depths.

Then, after even more shuffling, coughing, and spluttering, came the awe-inspiring Sarah was Ninety Years Old (1976/89). The broad powerful opening of the percussion combined with the beautiful lilting tenors were completely mesmerising. I am always stunned by the work, one because of the sheer power of it, but also because of the sheer oddness of it. The blocks of the sections are intensely static, but almost have no impact on the next, but you feel a building intense and dramatic dialogue. The entrance of the organ always stuns too, but I felt the dialogue between the organ and soprano didn't have the same fluidity of gesture that the Hilliard's recording managed to achieve. 

The finale of the concert came in the form of something truly astounding. The string trio Goeyvaerts combined with three astounding singers performed Part's Stabat Mater (1985). A truly inspiring piece, but last night's performance had one more intense nuance. The ensemble had performed the entire work in Just Intonation. For those unfamiliar with the term, just intonation is a tuning system where in short everything is tuned in relation to a point, instead of by 'equal' intervals we are used to in well-tempered tuning. What this did was give a truly unique power and colour to Part's music that has never been opened up before. The rolling lines moved along and the sextet had a truly exquisite sweetness to it. The colours of the three singers; Maria Valdmaa (soprano), Alex Chance (countertenor), and Tore Denys (tenor), was always complimentary and divine. The ability of the singers to adapt to the refined tunings and the new 'field' built up made for a truly profound moment. Not since seeing the British premiere of Adam's Lament was I struck by such a freshness in Arvo Part's music. I had to buy the recording the trio made of the work so I can continue to obsess and indulge myself in it. Goeyvaerts were astouning. No other way to put it. What a magnificent trio that I hope to hear again in the future.

It has been a lot of fun being in the conference and I hope this isn't the last time I have the pleasure of discussing Arvo Part or to witness a concert quite like this. 

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.