Whenever Philip Larkin,
in his role as a critic, came up against
a critically immovable jazz object,
such as the latest free form racket
from spaced-out sax men, he habitually
employed the word "challenging"
to describe the result. There were times,
it’s true, when the word came to my
mind, as the sawing, thwacking, and
chundering sonorities produced by HOT3
activated thoughts best described as
hostile. But that would be to underestimate
the range and reach of some of these
works and the inventive and imaginative
juxtapositions of instrumental sounds
involved.
That said I’m afraid
I can’t reconcile myself to Anders Hultqvist’s
Rain and After/Composition
No. 6, written in 2002. Though the
plasticity of the flute works well as
a contrastive device against the imposingly
violent thwacking of the opening (it
is remarkable how big a sound this trio
can produce) I’m afraid the result was
too vituperative for me. I liked the
glint and flutter of Kay Holmquist’s
Crepuscular Radiation for Flute,
Viola and 10-stringed Guitar and
the notes do actually tell us what the
title means (it’s a phenomenon of the
light after sundown, should you want
to get your binoculars out). In the
notes each piece is prefaced by a poetic
paragraph. I had high hopes for Rolf
Martinsson, whose Tics sounded
a promising title. The flute writing
is high lying, the guitar chords or
plays single string scurries and the
viola remains withdrawn. The work then
shifts slightly on its axis becoming
slow and refractive. No idea why it’s
called Tics.
André Chini’s
Eté3 takes as its theme
the idea of three stages of an experience;
wish, reality and memory. Chini is French
so he’s doubtless been musing about
these ideas since he lay in the crib
but his ten-minute piece is altogether
a superior one. Reflective, colouristic,
pensive with more abrasive material
used as highlighting sections and not,
as frequently elsewhere on this disc
as a means in itself, this is consistently
the most impressive work here. It has
power of concision and breadth of imagination
and it’s a work that demands and deserves
wider hearing. Arne Mellnäs’ Like
Raindrops, Pearls on Velvet has
a still, rather eerie feel to it and
is suffused with subtle colour and a
sense of time. Lindwall’s Wire is one
of the few that explicitly balances
fractious playfulness with plenty of
opportunities for moments of discord
and stasis – well judged ones. Fredrik
Österling’s Nine – The Esoteric
Charm of Austerity (great
title, sounds like a Bruñuel)
is initially stern – or is it austere?
– but gradually contains itself despite
some active things going on. The effect
is rather compelling and hypnotic, though
this has nothing to do with minimalist
hypnotism (which is called falling asleep).
Finally there is the longest work on
the disc, Olofsson’s Parceas Cordes.
There’s a welcome sense of continuum
here, from the slow introduction and
the Allegro-type scurry; intriguing
sonorities co-exist with bell chimes
and sustained chords. There is here
a sense of journeying – and of arrival.
So in the end most
of the challenges proved fruitful if
not always very likeable. At least two
of these works however are strongly
persuasive ones and thanks to the Trio
con forza they have gained almost immediate
discographic currency.
Jonathan Woolf