Tüür’s Violin
Concerto, dedicated to the composer’s
father, is a substantial work in three
movements, although this is as far as
comparison with the traditional concerto
goes. The first – and, by far, the most
complex – movement must be unique. During
the first half of this long movement,
the violin’s figurations are constantly
interrupted and wildly imitated by the
orchestra, in a sort of surreal game.
Halfway through the movement, the soloist
manages to find his/her way out of the
apparent chaos that prevailed up to
that point. After a fiery climax, the
violin launches a sinuous melody, now
supported by the orchestra that – at
long last – seems to play the game in
a fair way. The first movement ends
with a huge sound-wave, out of which
divisi cellos and basses softly
emerge to introduce the slow movement.
The soloist spells out a deceptively
simple scalic phrase, quickly developing
into a warmly lyrical melody. At first
appeased and dreamy, the music gains
considerable momentum leading to a blazing
climax abruptly giving way to a restatement
of the opening section. It also glances
back briefly at the violin’s figurations
from the first movement. The final movement,
although rather unconventional, is a
lively, often brilliant Rondo displaying
formidable energy. In an interview printed
in the insert notes, the composer mentions
that he originally planned to have two
movements only (not surprisingly, however,
since both the Second and Third Symphonies
are also in two movements), but that
he eventually felt that he had to add
a third, brilliant final movement.
Aditus
was composed in memory of Tüür’s
mentor and friend the late Lepo Sumera.
The piece evokes Sumera’s ebullient
personality, and thus deliberately eschews
elegiac pathos, although it ends with
a tender, other-worldly coda.
A commission from the
CBSO, Exodus is a large-scale
symphonic movement of some considerable
substance. The title obliquely refers
to the Exodus episode from the Bible,
but also – on a more general level –
to each individual’s life journey, from
birth to death. The music is appropriately
on an epic scale, varied, going through
a wide range of emotions and conflicting
moods before dissolving into the void.
Exodus is an impressive
monolith of forceful energy, at times
verging on violence, displaying a remarkable
orchestral mastery as well as an irrepressible
sense of direction, which characterises
much of this composer’s music. In a
previous review, I compared Tüür
to Mark-Anthony Turnage whose Silent
Cities and Uninterrupted
Sorrow display a similar formal
and emotional outlook.
I will not repeat my
earlier comments about Tüür’s
music. These pieces, superbly played
and beautifully recorded, confirm this
composer’s growing status as the most
prominent Estonian composer of his generation.
Warmly recommended.
Hubert Culot
see contemporaneous
concert
Review by Christopher Thomas
Isabelle van Keulen (violin) 