Avet Rubeni TERTERIAN (1929-1994)
Symphony No. 3 (1975) [28:34]
Symphony No. 4 (1976 rev 1984) [26:09]
KOMITAS (Soghomon Soghomonian) (1869-1935)
Shoger jan [1:29]
Traditional
Noobar-Noobar [2:25]
Tigran Aleksanyan, Vahe Hovanesian (duduk and zurna)
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra/Kirill Karabits
rec: The Lighthouse, Poole, Dorset, 2019
CHANDOS CHSA5241 SACD [58:56]
I have some difficulty with the music on this disk, and it is almost entirely due to the composer’s tendency to rely on disparate percussion and wind instruments to construct a fragmented musical argument. This lack of any organic growth, which would make the sudden violent interjections of instruments less surprising, adds to my worries. I cannot deny his aural imagination, which is evidently of a high order, but it does make for difficult, even startling listening at times. Terterian is recognised at home in Armenia as the founding proponent of the nation’s progressive school of music.
I have listened to this disk on an SACD player, and it is imperative that I point out the absolutely stunning quality of Chandos’ recording. I have only been able to listen to it in stereo, and it may be that in surround sound the considerable impact of the music would be even greater. Only one minor reservation applies to it, and that is the enormous dynamic range encompassed by the recording. This means that the abrupt shifts in dynamics that seem to be the composer’s trademark, result in a domestic listening experience where one sets the percussion volume to a decent level, only to find that quiet music is almost too quiet. Generally speaking, I am in favour of this sort of attempt to give the listener the full experience of a concert hall, and were it not for the fact that my speakers almost rose from their stands at some of the dynamic onslaughts, I would not have been at all critical.
The 3rd symphony of 1975 begins with dramatic drum sequences, sometimes accompanied by rattling noises. After this initial onslaught, silence or near silence descends - faint droning noises produced by two trombones, sometimes muted and always pianissimo take up the next five minutes or so of the movement, with occasional gentle percussive interruptions. There is no melody that I can discern, and the quietness is eventually broken by sudden piercing whistling or blaring noises produced by the zurnas, which leads to more drum and rattle onslaughts.
The slow movement relates to a voghb, an Armenian lamentation. For the whole of its length a low drone is present, played on the duduks. It struck me that the player must have superhuman breathing capabilities to produce a continuous smooth tone for nearly nine minutes. In fact, there are two players, and the second uses a technique of circular breathing whereby a note can be played perpetually, whereas the first plays a slowly expanding sequence of notes, starting with just three. The composer describes this as a threnody, and it is the nearest the piece gets to a tune.
The last movement is heavily percussive, with a piano added to the sonic mix. The composer compared the music to this “crazy world…hysterical quality of contemporary times”. Well, we get long held chords on trombones, shrieking clarinets, string clusters and glissandi, as wailing zurnas and horns steal the pitch. The momentum is ferocious, before a recall of the first movement trombones and duduk lead to a quiet ending.
The next two very short pieces are improvisations by the two duduk players on two Armenian melodies, the first composed by Komitas and the second a folk tune. Both are in praise of women, Shogar and Noobar. They demonstrate the abilities of the instrument, which is widely used in the east, and their use of melody sets them apart from the two symphonies.
The CD ends with Terterian’s 4th symphony, composed the year after the third, but revised in 1984. It was composed following the death of his brother, and is an examination of loss and mourning. As in the 3rd symphony, the composer delights in extreme contrasts of volume. There are no movements as such, and the work opens with the sounds of a solitary bell and then a harpsichord joins in. Assorted instruments slowly come together, and a muffled percussive blast follows the entrance of the violins with the glockenspiel joining the fray. This is a lead up to an enormous percussion and brass-dominated climax, which sounds almost aleatoric to my ears.
Brass and wind instruments then fall silent leaving celesta, harpsichord and piano to improvise on small melodic fragments. Another climax occurs with the lash of whips and cymbals. The composer is searching for new aural landscapes to add to the mix, and the strings tap their bows to add a clicking sound. The music fades leaving only the rippling harpsichord playing. This is the midpoint of the symphony, and it slowly leads to the final pages of the work, where a stamping, lumbering rhythm is joined by woodwind playing in a manner that is entirely unsynchronised with the marching rhythm. The final instrument to join in is the organ. Very slowly the din subsides, with gestures from the bass clarinet and contrabassoon. The music come full circle with the sounds of the opening brass bell.
I have no doubt that in performance, the work has tremendous aural impact.
As is always the case with Chandos disks, the presentation is superb, with fully descriptive notes and essays on the ethnic instruments employed. In addition, the conductor, Kirill Karabits has written a short essay in which he describes the events which have led to him wanting to perform Terterian’s works.
Jim Westhead
Previous review: Richard Hanlon
