Rattle is a label from New Zealand which "specialises
in instrumental music produced by artists working with contemporary
styles", a typically modest self-description that hardly does justice
to the wealth and breadth of the musical experiences contained within
the handful of CDs (well, nine actually!) it has released in the last
decade or so. The emphasis is therefore very much on quality rather
than quantity and the artistic integrity and community feel is very
much of the kind that has made longer established bastions of ingenuity
and eclecticism, like ECM and New Albion, such a success. The four discs
reviewed here, as an introduction Rattle's recorded riches, include
no less than three New Zealand ‘Classical Album of the Year’
award winners (all in the last five years!) and a gold selling disc.
As far as this listener is concerned, these accolades are all fully
deserved. If you are intrigued and wish to purchase any of these albums,
the best way at the moment is via the website (www.rattle.co.nz)
although they should be directly available in the UK and Europe in the
near future. The discs covered here are Jack Body's CD of "classical"
transcriptions from the folk musics of the Pacific Rim and beyond, Dan
Poynton's seminal survey of New Zealand solo piano music, John Psathas'
rhythmically thrilling fusions of classical, jazz, rock and folk influences,
and Hirini Melbourne's and Richard Nunns' inspired rediscoveries of
traditional Maori instrumentation. Several of these releases, despite
their obvious diversity, are interrelated, illustrating the close working
relationships that exist between most of the Rattle composers/artists.
Rattle's most recent release and winner of the NZ 2002
Classical Album of the Year, is named after its most extended piece
(Pulse), and provides an excellent and definitive introduction
to the pioneering work of Jack Body, in thoroughly idiomatic performances.
It makes explicit Body's debt to the musics of various (not only pacific
rim) native cultures and, innovatively, also includes the source materials
for the transcriptions on a bonus disc. Imagine the impact of this happy
and inspired idea on releases of folk-derived/inspired music by, say,
Bartók or Vaughan Williams. Prior to obtaining this disc, I had
only encountered Body on the Kronos Quartet's Ancient Music miscellany
(Long-ge) and a disc of solo cello compositions by NZ/Australian
composers (Aeolian Harp) but my appetite had certainly been whetted.
Although the source materials are drawn from as far away as Bulgaria,
Greece and Madagascar, it seems reasonable to emphasise the Asia-Pacific
influences in particular (Rattle's publicity material credits Body with
"practically single-handedly introducing new Zealand audiences to the
sound" of that region), while acknowledging that he does have antecedents,
however fleeting, in this department (Debussy and Ravel's "orientalist"
works are well enough known but there has also been Britten (e.g Prince
of the Pagodas), the Canadian Colin McPhee and even Hindemith in
his gamelan inspired Sonata for Two Pianos. More recently the
brilliant Californian composer Lou Harrison has produced a substantial
body of music, e.g. Concerto In Slendro, heavily indebted to
the music of south-east Asia (albeit interwoven with medieval and minimalist
strands) not forgetting, of course, there his celebrated collaborator
John Cage. Anyway, I would say that Body's colourful music is, in general,
of a more accessible nature than anything listed above (Debussy, Ravel
and Harrison aside).
The three Melodies for Orchestra link pieces
inspired by Greek, Indonesian and Indian folk music. Interestingly,
they meld together rather well. The Greek first section, like the third
of the Three Transcriptions (of Bulgarian origin) for string
quartet, is not a million miles removed from the frantic but very listenable
soundworld of, say, Bartók's east European folk derived pieces.
Artists like Norway's Jan Garbarek have long since been convincing us
of the musical connections between the Indian subcontinent and the music
of Asia Minor (as was!) so it is not that surprising to find common
elements between the first and third pieces. The central section (based
on a West Sumatran flute solo) forms a subtle but telling contrast.
Throughout the piece as a whole, Body achieves a high degree of success
in his stated intention of using orchestration to "build coherence and
continuity" around the source materials which he has transcribed in
such a way as to make them "as literal as I could". Whatever the technicalities,
the spontaneity of the music makes for an eminently listenable fourteen
minutes.
Campur Sari ("mixed essence") attempts, successfully,
to blend Western string quartet writing with Indonesian gamelan instrumentation
and vocals, resulting in a haunting sequence, initiated by metalaphone,
which builds to a more intense climax in which drums, strings and vocals
all play a part.
The three pieces that comprise African Strings
provide a somewhat gentler listening experience. Only the latter two
are included in this version (as the first, Ramandrana, also
appears in Three Transcriptions) but they are expertly played
by the Japanese guitar duo and represent a centre of relative tranquillity
in what is an often intense, if tuneful sequence of works. Anyone especially
captivated by the combination of the West African kora (lute
harp) and "classical" traditions in Chedo might like to seek
out a copy of Tunde Jegede's underrated Lamentation CD which
makes similar musical connections.
Long-ge kicks off the Three Transcriptions
and the NZ Quartet's version stands up well against that of the celebrated
Kronos Quartet, with the Chinese folk music base slightly more apparent
in this version. The Madagascan bamboo zither inspired the central movement
and an off kilter Balkan dance completes the sequence. Once again, Body
makes clear the similarities between apparently unconnected folk cultures
while placing them in the context of a more universal musical language.
Pulse itself is based on the Bainang Fire Dance
of East New Britain. This piece is a tour de force that not only brings
the spectacle of the ceremony that inspired it vividly to life but also
manages to involve Beethoven, Berlioz and Stravinsky, as keepers of
the rhythmic musical flame at various stages in (relatively) recent
"western" musical tradition. By turns primal and highly entertaining,
this work demonstrates, beyond doubt, Jack Body's various abilities
as orchestrator, melodicist and, I suppose, it has to be said, iconoclast.
There is, however, it should be stated, absolutely nothing difficult
or unapproachable about any of the music on this disc. Anyone who has
any interest in Antipodean/pacific rim music ought to hear it (Body's
work is no less important than that of Peter Sculthorpe) and, for that
matter, anyone who professes an interest in contemporary music (including
those for whom "melody" and "folk music" represent, wrongly in my opinion,
outdated notions!). In addition to the composers already mentioned,
I would expect admirers of the Kevin Volans of, say, White Man Sleeps
and Leo Brouwer's orchestral pieces (especially his marvellously eclectic
Concerto di Toronto) to find a great deal to interest them here.
Performances and production are of a high standard and the booklet notes
are informative without being over-detailed or over-technical. It is
useful and indeed illuminating to have the disc of source materials,
although personally I am unlikely to listen to it as often as the main
disc. Recommended.
John Psathas is a young New Zealand composer of Greek
extraction whose musical star is definitely in the ascendent. His music
was featured in the gala concert for the recent Commonwealth Games and
he has worked extensively with renowned percussionist Evelyn Glennie.
The latter devoted almost half of her debut New York performance to
Psathas' music and recorded his Matre's Dance on her Drumming
CD as far back as 1996. Percussion, as one might expect from someone
who draws on jazz and rock influences, plays a large part in the Psathas
scheme of things and his Drum Dance, also commissioned by Glennie
and included on Rhythm Spike, is "well on the way to becoming
standard repertoire". The rest of his CD, the 2000 NZ Classical Album
of the Year, presents a good cross-section of Psathas' music and, as
such, utilises various combinations of instruments, from Dan Poynton's
simple and affecting solo piano on Waiting for the Aeroplane
(a piece grounded in, among other things, "the emotion of farewells")
to the complex interplay of percussion, piano, bass, guitars and electronics
on the most overtly rock and jazz influenced work, Stream 3.3.
Mentor Jack Body describes some of this music as "a frantic roller-coaster
ride" but I also found some of the gentler, more contemplative passages
very affecting. I have know idea of the provenance of the title of the
string quartet (Abhisheka) but its haunting sonorities suggest
influences originating somewhere in the Caucasus. It wouldn't have sat
uncomfortably on the Kronos Quartet Night Prayers CD alongside
Giya Kancheli et al. Likewise, the extended single movement piano
duet Motet finds "a profound sense of space and distance" (Body),
separating two four part pieces, the unsettling Calenture (for
piano, guitar and percussion) and the exuberant Drum Dances.
Some of the more upbeat works, e.g. Spike, show some affinity
with contemporary British composers like Fitkin and minimalism is a
word that occasionally surfaces in one's thoughts. Ultimately, however,
this music is far more involved, both emotionally and artistically,
for such a bland label to stick. The closing Stream 3.3 aligns
Psathas the most with popular (jazz, rock, jazz-rock?) idioms. It demands
and, in this case, receives a high level of virtuosity from its performers
and yet, for all its energy and excitement, like most of this composer's
music, has moments of quiet, peaceful beauty. While this record bears
little resemblance to a typical "mainstream" classical release (both
in content and presentation), I have no doubt that we shall be hearing
a lot more from the composer it so effectively showcases.
Dan Poynton's record is simply superb and has to be
the best mixed recital disc, featuring (mainly) contemporary music,
I have heard since Elena Riu's lovely Piano Icons (Linn, 2000).
It begins as it means to go on with John Psathas' sublime Waiting
for the Aeroplane, seven and a half minutes of melodic but highly
distilled musical emotion. It is also included on the Psathas disc reviewed
above and is a stand out track on both CDs. Jack Body's Five Melodies
include explorations of "a melody within a melody" and music inspired
by bagpipes and the thegu-qin, an ancient Chinese zither. They
are much more minimalistic and pared-down than his orchestral works
and, while the melodies are there for all to hear, they seem quite astringent
after the unambiguous poetry of the Psathas piece. I hear echoes of
both Bartok and John Cage in the various movements but, as usual, Body
is very much his own man, and the delicately scored final section is
quite exquisite. Philip Dadson previously released a CD on Rattle with
his ensemble From Scratch and their "hand-made melodic percussion instruments"
and Sisters Dance, written for his daughters, also allows Dan
Poynton to play both melodically and percussively. Its interpolation
of jazzy, upbeat sections with quieter, more moody passages is highly
reminiscent, to these ears at least, of some of Samuel Barber's superlative
piano music, especially Excursions. Gillian Whitehead's Lullaby
for Matthew, a celebration of the birth of her nephew, is far removed
from the soundworld of the few pieces I already know her for (e.g. Resurgences,
The Journey of Matuku Moana) in that it shows a much more introspective,
lyrical side. By definition a minor piece but poignantly beautiful for
its four minute duration. I was very pleased to see, on receiving this
disc, that it contained a work by Lilburn. I am very much a convert
to this composer's orchestral work but have heard next to nothing of
his other music. The Sonatina #2 was written the year after the
Third Symphony and shares some of that work's darker, more ambiguous
traits. Anyone looking here for the composer of Aotearoa or the
first two symphonies may be disappointed but this is still classic Lilburn.
The booklet notes speak of its inspirations in nature ("sea, wind, clay,
the browns and grays of the rugged Wellington coastline") and, in the
first movement, traditional Maori chant. Lilburn's economy with his
material and the tautness of structure, which characterise most of his
music, are definitely there in the austere beauty of the Sonatina.
The penultimate piece, Nga Iwi E, was written by Poynton himself
and is something of a touchstone, both for him personally and for Rattle
as a label. It is based on and celebrates a song by Hirini Melbourne
(more of whom below) and also draws on Bach, Beethoven, Maori chant
and even jazz pianist Keith Jarrett as influences. Poynton describes
it as being "written out of admiration for the music of diverse peoples"
and this could accurately describe all the music being produced by Rattle
and its associated composers and artists. The piece itself starts off
percussively before a delicate and memorable melody (originally written
by a Maori princess) makes its entrance. While not quite as intense
as, say, Peter Sculthorpe's Djilile, this short essay in cultural
cross-fertilisation is one of the many highlights of the record. It
would have formed an effective conclusion to the CD but there is still
sixteen minutes of Annea Lockwood's substantial, single movement Red
Mesa, inspired not by New Zealand but by the unique landscapes of
the US south-west, to come. Although not particularly heavy going, by
its length and the fact it is often very quiet, it requires somewhat
greater concentration than the rest of the CD (and maybe several hearings)
to fully reveal its secrets. The recording is excellent, the playing
both poetic and searching, and the booklet notes informative but accessible;
it is no surprise that this disc gained Dan Poynton the 1998 NZ Classical
CD of the year award. I would strongly urge you to make its acquaintance.
"Maori say that the creation of sound in all its forms
preceded human existence. The sounds on Te Ku Te Whe are old, traditional
sounds of bone stone, wood, shell and voice. The music weaves these
sounds into a whariki (mat). Traditionally, at birth a whariki
was ritually laid…. At death it was rolled up again…." The first paragraph
of the booklet notes makes crystal clear the ambition and scope of this
project. It is an epic undertaking featuring only traditional Maori
instruments, rediscovered over a period of twenty five years(!) by its
creators, and a lone voice. Hirini Melbourne is an ex-schoolteacher
who has been pivotal in the revival of the Maori cultural inheritance,
whereas Richard Nunns comes from a brass, jazz and improvised background
(he has collaborated with, among others, avant luminaries Marilyn Crispell
and Evan Parker), and they interact (and have been doing since 1989)
brilliantly to produce some of the most unusual but genuine music I
have heard for a long time. As the disc tells us a story (of life),
it really needs to be listened to in a single sitting - it hangs together
very well, as one might expect from such an organic, naturally evolving
undertaking - and doesn't make anything like the same impact if dipped
into (many of the tracks are very short but are vital parts of a greater
whole). It also seems a little pointless to describe each track in separate
detail - the booklet notes do this excellently, focussing in on the
key instruments (e.g. the pukuea - a long, wooden trumpet used
during war and peace; the putatara - a conch shell used, among
other things, to announce a birth). We are also told that "the sound
images have been chosen to evoke the closeness of Maori music to the
land, the sea and the wind", and Hirini Melbourne's haunting, often
half-whispered vocals confirm this as much as any of the often astonishing
instrumentation.
How easy the music itself is to assimilate will probably
depend on the listener's musical background but also openness of mind.
It is magnificently performed and recorded and anyone au fait with
the more world music oriented areas of improv (e.g. ECM's Paul Giger,
Pierre Favre, Stephen Micus, even Jan Garbarek in his more experimental
works) or the organic side of modern electronica (e.g. Japanese sound
sculptor Koji Marutani, Chris Watson's marvellously atmospheric field
recordings) will have little difficulty in appreciating the Te Ku Te
Whe. Those of a more conventional musical bent may take more time to
penetrate the often austere but always gripping soundworld. Astonishingly,
at times, Melbourne's singing almost recalls Irish sean nos and
even the blues (especially in Ororuarangi), set of course against
the context of his own and Nunns' extraordinary and original soundscapes,
and this album could well be a revelation to anyone who values the folk
and traditional musics from around the world (and their naturalistic
origins and (hopefully) living traditions in which they continue to
evolve). So, this is in no sense an easy listening experience (it will
repay repeated hearing) but what is evident from the start, from the
booklet notes and presentation to the production and performance values,
is that this is truly a recording straight from the hearts of these
artists. They clearly live and breathe this music with a passion and
New Zealand and the wider world is certainly in their debt for making
it available, by committing it to CD, to the widest possible audience.
Neil Horner
RATTLE RAT-D009
[69.27+48.30]