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Jesús TORRES
(b.1965)
Manantial de luz (2007) [22:15]
Poética (2007) [12:49] *
Trio (2001) [11:59]
Presencias (2002) [15:29]
Decem (2006) [3:05]
Trio Arbós: Juan Carlos Garvayo (piano), Miguel Borrego (violin),
José Miguel Gómez (cello); Cécile Daroux (flute);
José Luis Estellés (clarinet), Paul Cortese (viola),
Juanjo Guillem (percussion)
rec. 7-9 July 2008, Teatro Auditorio de San Lorenzo en El Escorial,
Madrid; * 28-29 July, 2008, Sala de Cámara, Centro Cultural
‘Miguel Delibes’, Auditorio de Valladolid
KAIROS 0013012KA [66:18]
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A look through the catalogue of compositions by Jesús
Torres offers the immediate possibility of an insight into his
work. Alongside the compositions which bear the names of forms
and genres - like ‘Trio’ here, the Oboe Quartet
of 2009 or the Variations for Cello and Piano from 2004 - there
are many works with poetic titles. I do not use that adjective
loosely, given Torres’ well-documented interest in poetry.
Amongst such titles, images of light and water abound, in works
like ‘Aurora’ (2002) and ‘Wasserfall’
(2005), both for solo piano; chamber music such as ‘Crepuscular’
(2000), ‘Splendens’ (2002) and ‘El misterio
del agua’ (2007); and songs like the ‘Dos canciones
del mar’ (2007, setting texts by Rubén Darío)
and ‘Noche oscura’ (2006, a setting of a famous
poem by St. John of the Cross). On the present disc it is light
which is the more prominent, but for Torres the two (light and
water) are inextricably interconnected - as in ‘Manantial
de luz’ (which might be translated as ‘the spring
- or source - of light’), the third section of which carries
the direction ‘Torrencial, inundado de luz’. Light,
water, music - all have their wave-forms; In ‘El cántaro
roto’ (The Broken Waterjar) Octavio Paz writes of a moment
when ‘la luz canta con un rumor de agua’ (‘the
light is singing with a sound of water’). In Torres’
music one has, time and again, a sense of the rising and falling/setting
of water/light, of the figurative interconnections between sound,
light and water.
‘Manantial de luz’ is scored for solo piano, flute,
clarinet, violin, viola, cello and percussion though its closing
passage holds a surprise for the listener in this regard. The
writing alternates isolated sounds of great purity and altogether
‘dirtier’ sequences. The result is hypnotic, especially
in the opening section (marked ‘Onirico’) and the
sixth and last section (‘Intensamente dramático’).
It is here that the composer springs an instrumental surprise,
which is evidently - according to the booklet essay by Álvaro
Guibert - also a visual, theatrical surprise: ‘For this
CD’s listeners it may be of interest to know that the
performance of this work requires … a semicircle of gongs
and tam-tams, which are only heard at the end when the six instrumentalists
rise in an orderly fashion, each going to his or her gong. The
typical characteristics of the individual instruments recede
into the background and are replaced by a single, all-encompassing
sound. As soon as the music begins to fade away, the musicians
likewise retreat into themselves and bow their heads’.
That sense of the theatrical, even quasi-liturgical (the first
piece in ‘Prsencias’ is called ‘Liturgia’)
is inherent in some of the ways Torres’ music works, with
its constant cross-referencing of other artistic media and forms.
Thus ‘Poética’ takes the form of five pieces,
each ‘after’ a German poem - a number of them soaked
in the imagery of light or its absence - these being poems by
Novalis, Hölderlin, Rilke, Trakl and Celan. These are not
settings - there is no vocalist, the work is scored for clarinet
and piano trio. Nor are they merely programme music ‘illustrating’
their source poems; one might think of them as translations,
or rather imitations, in another ‘language’, that
of music. The texts are not provided, though the booklet notes
identify the relevant poems and it is worth taking the trouble
to find them as knowledge of them certainly enhances appreciation
of Torres’ work.
The musical language is, broadly speaking, in line of descent
from Messiaen, though far from being merely derivative. Torres
produces some ravishing and fascinating instrumental juxtapositions
and dialogues, the writing for clarinet being particularly inventive
and the playing of José Luis Estellés very impressive.
When we reach, at the end of the sequence, in the darkness of
Celan’s ‘Todesfuge’ (Death Fugue) with its
reiterated image of the ‘Schwarze Milch der Frühe’
(‘Black milk of daybreak’ as Michael Hamburger translates
it), the effect is profound, harrowing and beautiful.
The four pieces for solo piano which make up ‘Presencias’
I find rather less absorbing than either ‘Manantial de
luz’ or ‘Poética’. Without the range
of colours available to him in the group pieces, Torres’
ideas are not so consistently interesting and the pieces feel
somewhat less substantial as well as being rather less fully
individual, although ‘Yakarta’ written for the pianist
Ananda Sukarlan, the Indonesian-born pianist who has a well-deserved
reputation as an interpreter of Spanish music, is quite striking.
‘Trio’, written for and played by the excellent
Trío Arbós, is a fine work, growing from some
relatively brief phrases, exchanged between the instruments,
though the piano is initially dominant, through an intricate
middle section in which instrumental interplay and rhythmic
patterns set up a changing texture full both of insistent energy
and the occasional surprise. This then gradually falls away
to a relatively unimpassioned, retrospective conclusion which
remembers some of the phrases and gestures from the work’s
beginning. The subtlety of ‘Trio’ becomes more apparent
with repeated hearings. ‘Decem’ was apparently written
for Trío Arbós as an encore piece, and is fittingly
lively and engaging, not least in its fierce rhythms.
All in all, this is a thoroughly rewarding album of contemporary
chamber music for all with even mildly adventurous tastes.
Glyn Pursglove
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