Graham Fitkin: HURL
(1996)
Gabriel Erkoreka: Duduk II (2000)
Michael Finnissy: Selected Movements of
Great Masters (1996)
Mark-Anthony Turnage: Two Memorials
(1995-2000)
Gavin Bryars: Alaric I or II (1989)
Joe Cutler: Screaming 229a (1996)
Timothy McAllister, soprano saxophone
Michael Whitcombe, alto saxophone
Matthew Levy, tenor saxophone
Taimur Sullivan, bariton saxophone
In a
bracing recital, the deceptively decorous
Prism Quartet displayed the often-surprising
range of imagination deployed by some of today’s
best-known British composers, several of whom
must be virtually unknown to American audiences.
And for those who might be worrying that the
colors in an all-saxophone ensemble might
wear thin, let me assure you that there are
some highly creative compositional minds --
not to mention these superbly confident players
-- addressing the issue.
By happy
coincidence, Mr. Fitkin was in the audience,
and introduced his work by saying that the
title, HURL, "may or may not have
anything to do with the piece." It turned
out to be a luminous, tightly organized gem,
with extreme contrasts between its louder
and softer parts. The four players were immediately
impressive, coming out rock-solid and blending
beautifully in the theatre’s slightly dry
acoustic.
Although
born in Bilbao, Erkoreka is a young composer
who has studied with Finnissy at the Royal
Academy of Music, and seems similarly iconoclastic.
This work, whose title refers to an Armenian
oboe, seemed formed of slowly shifting plates
of sound, with the instruments as drones,
or in the composer’s words, "creating
the illusion of their presence." The
hazy atmosphere summoned up by the musicians
was marvelous.
I’ve
been listening to a lot of Finnissy’s music
lately, and this clever outing seemed yet
more evidence of his immense talents. Here
he conjures up something like a smoke-filled
jazz club, as if we’ve been admitted to a
secret room where several dance bands are
accompanying Sinatra, but simultaneously.
Creating clarity from dense, crowded harmonies,
the Prism excelled in getting the balances
right. The work requires some movement from
the players, who in turn stand up, wander
off, scratch their heads, or raise their legs
-- amusing gestures that further emphasize
the work’s laconic spirit.
The
two brief Turnage pieces were elegies written
for his mother, Meryl, and for Steve Trier,
his teacher and former saxophonist in the
London Philharmonic. In the only solo turn
of the evening, Timothy McAllister gave intense,
intelligent performances: mournful in the
first, exuberant in the second.
After
intermission came Gavin Bryars’ poetic Alaric
I or II, filled with waves of difficult
arpeggios (think Philip Glass), occasional
hymn-like sections, and a haunting fadeout
on a soft, vibrato-less chord. The evening
ended with the U.S. premiere of Joe Cutler’s
Screaming 229a, a reference to the
composer’s apartment in Warsaw. Filled with
opportunities for the four musicians to show
off, this nervous, agitated score had the
most obvious difficulties, with the constantly
pulsating texture interrupted by tricky, fast
phrases when the entire ensemble comes to
an abrupt halt. It was as if we had entered
a sober, unmarked Warsaw door, only to be
startled with a noisy, bumper-to-bumper traffic
intersection inside, with vehicles veering
madly out of control before finally skidding
to a stop. I loved it.
Bruce Hodges
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