Michael DAUGHERTY (b. 1954)
Trail of Tears, for flute and orchestra (2010)* [23:00]
Dreamachine, for solo percussion and orchestra (2014)* [34:20]
Reflections on the Mississippi, for tuba and orchestra (2013) [20:45]
Amy Porter (flute)
Dame Evelyn Glennie (percussion)
Carol Jantsch (tuba)
Albany Symphony/David Alan Miller
rec. 2015/16, EMPAC, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute & Troy Savings
Bank Music Hall,
Troy, NY
Reviewed as a 16-bit press download
Pdf booklet included
*World premiere recordings
NAXOS AMERICAN CLASSICS 8.559807
[77:24]
Michael Daugherty is one of the more engaging and imaginative composers now
operating in the US – or anywhere else, for that matter. He first piqued my
interest with Sunset Strip, which headlined a terrific BIS
collection,
American Spectrum.
After that came a couple of Naxos issues, among them
Mount Rushmore
and Tales of Hemingway. With their focus on landmarks and their
references to pop culture – superheroes, celebrities, the cinema – these
albums are most entertaining. And no, that’s not damning with faint praise
for the quality and range of Daugherty’s writing is never in doubt; all
these performances are pretty good, too.
What we have here are three spanking new concertos, for flute, solo
percussion and tuba respectively. Of the soloists, Dame Evelyn Glennie is
probably the best known. I last heard her in The Conjurer, an
extraordinary work by John Corigliano (Naxos). In a two-handed review, John Quinn and I agreed to make that a Recording
of the Month. Flautist Amy Porter, who premiered Trail of Tears in
2010, is new to me, as is Carol Jantsch, principal tuba with the
Philadelphia Orchestra since 2005. Ditto the Albany Symphony and their
conductor, David Alan Miller, so this really is an ‘innocent ear’
review.
In his booklet notes, Daugherty explains that Trail of Tears is a
‘musical journey’ that charts the removal of Native Americans living east
of the Mississippi, a process that began with the Indian Removal Act of
1830. This shameful period in American history saw the relocation of the
Cherokee, who were forced to march 800 miles to Oklahoma in the winter of
1839. Nearly 4,000 of them died during the five-month trek, which has
become known as the ‘Trail of Tears’. The composer writes movingly about
this event, which has powerful resonances with other times and places in
more recent history.
The title of the first movement is a poignant quote from the Native
American leaser, Geronimo: ‘I was born on the prairies where the wind blew
free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun.’ Porter’s opening
solo – mournful, yet strangely uplifting – is greeted by an expansive
orchestral riposte that speaks of big skies and wide horizons. It seems
Daugherty insists on every flute technique available, a challenge to which
this flautist responds with fluency and feeling. That said, she – and the
piece – wear their virtuosity quite lightly, so the deeply expressive
nature of this music is never compromised. As for the orchestral writing,
it’s both eloquent and forceful, and that creates a compelling soundscape.
In my review of The Conjurer, I commended Naxos for their exemplary
sonics, and I must do so here. This is a full, immensely dynamic recording
that ekes out every last detail of Porter’s performance – the calls and
cries of Incantation are especially well caught – not to mention the
weight and warmth of the orchestra in the jubilant Sun dance. Miller
directs it all with authority and insight. As so often with Daugherty, one
is subliminally aware of a much broader musical/cultural influences – the
work’s breath-taking vistas bring to mind the plains and rivers of
Virgil Thomson
and the unspoilt prairies of Aaron Copland – and yet his language is always
arresting and original.
Dame Evelyn was the soloist in the 2014 premiere of the second
concerto, with the WDR Rundfunkorchester Köln under Frank Strobel. Written
for a festival that focused on humans and machines, the piece starts with
Leonardo’s detailed sketches of bird and bat wings. The second delights in
the weird ‘contraptions’ of cartoonist-engineer Rube Goldberg, and the
third fixates on a surreal drawing by the artist-scientist Fritz Kahn. The
fourth deals with the constant battle between logic and emotion that
defines Mr Spock, the half-man, half-Vulcan from the iconic TV series, Star Trek.
As its conjoined title implies, Dreamachine is about fusions; in
fact, Glennie’s marvellous marimba playing in Da Vinci's Wings is
itself a hybrid, of forensic detail and undoubted feeling. As for the Goldberg
Variations – Rube’s cartoons featured bizarre combinations of man,
beast and machine – it demands quirky contributions from all concerned.
Just like the syndicated strips, this is a pleasant diversion, designed to
intrigue and amuse. Similarly, Kahn’s picture of a light bulb plugged into
an electric eel gives rise to some very unusual sounds. And Trekkies will
be thrilled by Daugherty’s rat-a-tat finale, which, tightly constructed,
includes a nod or three to Jerry Goldsmith’s sweeping score for the
original ST.
The third concerto, Reflections on the Mississippi, begins with a
darkly resonant solo that recalls Paul Robeson’s Old Man River.
Jantsch, who premiered the piece in 2013, is always full, firm and fearless
– not a given with this instrument – and she’s wonderfully nuanced in Mist. In complete contrast is Fury, a reminder of 1927’s
catastrophic floods; cue muscular writing and some highly virtuosic playing
from Jantsch, who modulates from turbulence to sudden tenderness with ease.
The pealing bells of Prayer are nicely done – the tuba part is
suitably hymn-like – and Steamboat celebrates the vessels that once
plied this great waterway. (As an aside, anyone interested in this bygone
age should read Tim Gautreaux’s epic novel, The Missing.)
This is a splendid addition to Daugherty’s growing discography. Superbly
played and very well engineered/edited by Silas Brown and Doron Schächter,
it doesn’t match the musical or technical excellence of The Conjurer; that said, it comes tantalisingly close. My review is based on a 16-bit
press download, although I did subsequently buy the 24-bit version from
Qobuz. I was disappointed to find the latter is sampled at the basic
44.1kHz; not only that, the presentation now seems brighter, perhaps even a
little hard edged. So, forget about the ‘high-res’ files and stick with the
‘CD quality’ ones, which are more than adequate here.
Daugherty at his inimitable and engaging best; don’t hesitate.
Dan Morgan
