Controversial 
                  or not, one can certainly claim that classical music is in danger 
                  of becoming totally irrelevant as an independent art form. The 
                  most successful programs in symphonic literature are those that 
                  highlight music that is more than a century old. Many instrumentalists 
                  have turned to rock and pop music for recording purposes, making 
                  piano or string ensemble versions of Radiohead, Police, Beatles 
                  and Metallica songs. While these efforts are interesting and 
                  generate some revenue, there is nothing groundbreaking about 
                  them and certainly nothing that will save symphonic music from 
                  being relegated to background music in television shows and 
                  movies.
                Against 
                  this backdrop Roman Mints’ new album is an exciting experiment. 
                  It seems that he is attempting to find a polymorphic music drawing 
                  down from classical traditions, avant-garde musique concrète, 
                  ambient electronica, and the soundtracks to movies and video 
                  games. The result is a collection of dark soundscapes that are 
                  listenable for a broad audience while still innovative and experimental. 
                  
                There 
                  are moments on this album that are so moody that the lights 
                  in the room seem to darken and the air to fill with a misty 
                  smoke. The effect is eerie and takes the most emotive sounds 
                  of the violin reinventing the sonic world that a classical violinist 
                  normally inhabits. On the other hand, Mints never strays so 
                  far that he loses the thread amid a chaos of sound effects and 
                  electronica.
                The 
                  opening track, Sometimes It Rains, is a collection of 
                  samples taken from Mints’ own violin, a flute together with 
                  a few words and natural sounds that have been heavily processed. 
                  Layered into that mix is the performed violin with a signal 
                  input that makes it sound more akin to an ehru than anything 
                  else. The composer claims that he was attempting to make this 
                  music visible, like a short film without words. It certainly 
                  seems tangible in a way that most music is not. It can elicit 
                  a nearly tactile response in places, as if you could feel the 
                  misty rain that the sounds imply.
                Story 
                  1, which follows, is less obviously electronic. It could almost be performed 
                  with violin and percussion, though some of the sounds are truly 
                  synthetic in nature. In terms of structure, this work would 
                  not be foreign to anyone familiar with works from the expressionist 
                  school of composition. It is even largely tonal, though with 
                  the non-pitched nature of the accompaniments the tonality is 
                  often ambiguous. The attempt, according to the composer Adam 
                  Vassiliev, is to evoke moods from literature, though what literature 
                  this references is totally undefined. The music instead seems 
                  to hearken to the trumpet melody in Charles Ives’ The Unanswered 
                  Question more than any particular works of any particular 
                  literary authors. This, of course, does not detract from the 
                  piece in any way. It only leaves the listener wondering what 
                  Vassiliev reads.
                Following 
                  Story 1, Criptophonic Piece by Alexander Raikhelson is 
                  a true violin duet with added electroacoustics. This was debuted 
                  in live performance in January 2000, and has the feel of a work 
                  by Alban Berg accompanied by the sound effects from Star 
                  Trek: The Next Generation. The music is atonal, though not 
                  serial, and occasionally abruptly changes character. The two 
                  violins are used to create long, intense dissonances that the 
                  electroacoustic instruments can then enhance with effects similar 
                  to whale song or to nails scratching on a blackboard. The whole 
                  thing is intriguing, though it definitely is not what you would 
                  put on as pleasant background music.
                String 
                  Factory starts with electronic effects 
                  straight out of a Dr. Who episode, shortly thereafter 
                  coupled with the music of the violin. The composer Ed Bennett 
                  claims that, much like in Sometimes It Rains, he took 
                  the source sounds from Roman Mints’ violin, which he then disassembled 
                  and reassembled to create a collection of complementary sounds. 
                  The work is a study in layered sound and contrasts, interrupted 
                  by abruptly changing electronic effects which then set up a 
                  new sound palette. The resulting work is the most episodic of 
                  this collection, and while the mood is not a constant fog like 
                  Sometimes It Rains, it is relentlessly innovative. 
                The 
                  next work is Largo Recitare by Taras Beuvsky. The notes 
                  for this work contain only a poem by the composer where he discusses 
                  the loneliness of man. The work is stark and the electronic 
                  accompaniment is extremely slow moving and minimal, then theoretically 
                  static while suggesting turbulent movement. The piece is starkly 
                  beautiful and intensely listenable in its simplicity.
                Finally 
                  the title track appears. Game Over is supposed to be 
                  a combination of the mechanical and the natural, where the electronic 
                  slowly overtakes the analog, then suddenly stops. As an observation 
                  on the nature of society or man, this is a fairly trite and 
                  pedantic statement. As a framework for a quartet between violin, 
                  oboe, piano and electronic music it is quite compelling. The 
                  opening is almost Baroque in nature, especially once the full 
                  acoustic trio is performing together. This does not last long 
                  though, as the music becomes more minimalist for a couple of 
                  minutes, then mutates again. Once the electronics enter, they 
                  start by imitating earlier thematic material from the piano, 
                  and then starts slowly to introduce new elements that the oboe 
                  and piano imitate. Throughout, each section melts into the next 
                  with new sonic elements and theoretical structures borrowing 
                  from previous ones or replacing older styles with newer ones. 
                  The work is seamless and truly invigorating. It might have been 
                  a more appropriate theme for this piece if the composer would 
                  have claimed that it was a synopsis of popular music dating 
                  back to the beginning of written music and continuing to the 
                  present. Of course that would not have adequately described 
                  the work either, as that would have been far too ambitious in 
                  scope for a mere ten minutes.
                Thus 
                  the program explores an entire new genre of chamber music, borrowing 
                  from traditions as old as written music as well as from the 
                  most recent of technical innovations. 
                Barring 
                  the headshot of the artist himself inexplicably trying to look 
                  like James Hetfield even the packaging is well done. Each song 
                  is given a paragraph or two of description written by the composer 
                  accompanied with complete recording notes, as the album was 
                  recorded at several locations at different times with a variety 
                  of performers. There is a conspicuous lack of dates in the notes, 
                  both composers’ dates and recording dates, but one can assume. 
                  through other information given. that these recordings were 
                  made some time between 2000 and 2003. Perhaps it doesn’t add 
                  much to the enjoyment of a recording knowing exactly when it 
                  was played, but it does help contextualize the grand scheme 
                  of a career evolving through one album after another.
                That 
                  being said, this is a really good album. The music is moody, 
                  but not overly so. It is experimental while staying approachable. 
                  It is not for those listeners who like their Bach, Beethoven 
                  and Brahms and wish that Stravinsky was a bit less adventurous, 
                  but can be stomached in moderation. It should appeal to a broad 
                  variety of listeners. The generation raised on video games, 
                  movies and television will find this a brand of instrumental 
                  music that seems relevant to today’s world. It is, quite possibly, 
                  a harbinger of the future of classical music.
                Patrick 
                  Gary