The Bridge label has done sterling work releasing the remarkable works of
George Crumb, but this is the first time I’ve come across his son David’s
music. It must be a blessing and possibly a curse to have a father renowned
in the same field as yourself, but with this programme of “all première
recordings, composed within a timespan of two decades” we are faced with a
voice whose individual character shines through, and whose creative path is
clearly distinctive and different to that of Crumb the elder.
Work on
September Elegy was started before the 9/11 tragedy in
the U.S., but the effect of such an event during its composition resulted in
an inevitable and appropriate dedication to the victims of the attack.
Framed by melancholy and lyrical moods, there is a “sudden dissolution” at
the centre of the piece which stands for violence and destruction. This all
leads to a moving final coda into which the spirit of J.S. Bach is invoked
through haunting quotes of a chorale as the notes reach out into
infinity.
Soundings for the unusual combination of clarinet, bassoon and
piano, opens with a trembling atmosphere which embraces the shadow of
Stravinsky, and not only in the higher register of the bassoon. The composer
admits to “a raw energy and level of excitement that might be expected from
a (relatively) young composer”, but this is superbly written for the
instruments, with both idiomatic and indeed at times virtuoso exploration of
timbre and individuality in the high registers. The occasional use of damped
piano strings is the only family ‘trademark’ sound here.
David Crumb describes
Red Desert Triptych as “arguably my most
ambitious work to date … a veritable ‘symphony’ for solo piano”, though each
movement is performable as a stand-alone piece. The work was initially
inspired by the same national parks of southern Utah which resulted in
Messiaen’s
Des canyons aux étoiles, and although there is no real
stylistic comparison there is a similarity of scale and vision in the slow
majesty of the first movement,
Rock Cathedrals Rising. Vast forms
and vistas are conjured through sustained and freely ringing piano strings,
the density of the chord progressions gathering together to create a
climactic section which continues to grow and climb and as in life, the real
summit always intangible and just beyond reach.
The second movement is
Dance of the Hoodoos, the title not
explained in the composer’s booklet notes but presumably indicating a move
away from America to the African continent. These movements are “not
intended to be depictive or programmatic”, but as a personal response to
nature this second is as potent a statement as the first. There is a greater
and more pulse-oriented energy here, though this melts into a vanishing
horizon before regaining rhythmic cohesion and drive, the coda once again
spreading out towards huge and awe-inspiring skies.
The final movement takes the F minor fugue subject from J.S. Bach’s famous
Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1, chosen as it uses 10 out of the 12
notes of the chromatic scale. This is no overblown Busoni-esque arrangement,
but takes the counterpoint-ready notes to create among other things a slowly
evolving passacaglia on which variations in canon are developed. This is
another vast and craggily inspiring piece and a virtuoso tour de force for
the pianist, powerfully rewarding but hard-won through a genuine thicket of
dense material, the final minutes releasing us from the turmoil of life with
the
Dies Irae.
Primordial Fantasy evokes in its title “the violent atmospheric
conditions and primordial ‘soup’ through to exist at Earth’s beginning”, and
there is certainly plenty of violence in the opening. This is a fascinating
‘spot the quote’ piece, with all kinds of references and citations flying
around. It’s certainly a spectacular concert work and cleverly pieced
together, but to my mind not the strongest piece in this programme. The
strings struggle against piano, winds and percussion and would be better
substituted for more winds, and the whole thing sounds a bit too ‘easy’ in
its segmented procession.
With very fine recordings and superb performances of some strikingly
effective and at times inspiringly powerful work, this is a release which
has plenty going for it. David Crumb is clearly a composer from whom we
should, indeed must hear more.
Dominy Clements
