To describe Judith
Lang Zaimont as an ‘academic composer’
is fair and accurate provided that one
intends the epithet to function simply
as a means of pointing to the fact that
she has been employed in academia throughout
most of her working life. Raised in
New York, she and her sister, Doris
Lang Kosloff, gave piano-duo recitals,
making their Carnegie Hall debut in
1965 and worked as a duo until 1967.
Zaimont studied at Queens College, the
Long Island Institute of Music and Columbia
University. She went on to teach at
the New York Community College, Adelphi
University, Queens College, the Peabody
Conservatory of Music and Hunter College,
before being appointed Professor of
Composition at the University of Minnesota
in 1992, a post she held until her retirement
in 2005. Indeed, the majority of the
pieces recorded here were written for
colleagues at the University of Minnesota
and many of these performances are given
by the artists responsible for the premieres
of these compositions.
It would be quite wrong,
however, to use the phrase ‘academic
composer’ if, by its use, one intended
that any of its pejorative associations
should apply to Zaimont’s music. There
is nothing dry or pedantic about her
work; there is no sense that her compositions
are technical exercises or that they
exist merely for teaching purposes or
as demonstrations of one or another
theoretical concept. In fact her music
– as I have already discovered when
listening to a Naxos CD of work by her
(see review)
and a CD of her songs (see review)
– is various and undogmatic, inventive
and readily approachable, even if it
also reveals her extensive technical
knowledge.
The earliest work here,
the 1975 Valse Romantique for
solo flute is a relatively slight piece,
though it has charm and elegance. It
gets an expressive performance from
Immanuel Davis, and the excellent recorded
sound does full justice to the colours
of his instrument, an 1866 Louis Lot
#888. Played on a French-made instrument,
and with a French title, Valse Romantique
is more redolent of the salons of
Paris than of the lecture halls of Minnesota!
The next piece, chronologically
speaking, was written a full quarter
of a century later – the ‘Tanya’
Poems of 1999. These paired works
for solo cello were written for Tanya
Remenikova, and here receive performances
of some grandeur and power from their
dedicatee. The two pieces take their
titles from verse forms. The first is
called ‘Couplet’ and is, unsurprisingly,
constructed in a dualistic ‘rhyming’
fashion, with long held notes juxtaposed
to triple-stop sonorities; the resulting
dialogue is finely articulated by Remenikova.
The second piece, Sestina, is
in six sections, and is technically
demanding – though its complexities
clearly present no problems to Remenikova,
who plays with great authority throughout,
while also showing herself well able
to respond to Sestina’s relatively
light-hearted conclusion. It is hard
to imagine that the composer could have
hoped for any better performance than
this.
‘Bubble-Up’ Rag,
for flute and piano, is one of several
‘classical’ versions of the rag that
Zaimont has written over the years –
following on, for example, from the
piano pieces Reflective Rag and
Judy’s Rag (both 1974; a flute
and piano arrangement of Reflective
Rag was also made in 2001), and
(also for piano) Hesitation Rag (1998).
‘Bubble-Up’ Rag is a delightful
jeux d’esprit, a fitting contrast
to the heavier emotions of the ‘Tanya’
Poems which precede it and a thoroughly
fitting conclusion to the programme.
It is interesting to read in the composer’s
notes that the piece was written "during
the morning and evening rush-hours (!),
with its original tempo clocked up to
the car’s turn-signal beat"! Zaimont’s
music is often characterised by the
vivaciousness of her rhythms and this
piece is wonderfully light but urgent
in its rhythms. It deserves a place
in the received canon of pieces for
this combination of instruments.
The soprano Wendy Zaro-Mullins
and the mezzo Jean del Santo, ably supported
by pianist Timothy Lovelace, give a
forceful and entertaining - if occasionally
slightly strident - performance of Judith
Lang Zaimont’s two settings of words
by the Mississippian writer Eudora Welty,
from her short-story collection The
Golden Apples (1949) – a source
not made altogether clear by the booklet
notes - nor are texts provided, unfortunately.
The first setting interweaves the two
voices quite beautifully in music of
considerable poignancy, the second is
splendidly comic and alert as the words
relate Virgie Rainey’s struggles with
the piano, with which she has a decidedly
troubled relationship – there are some
mock-clumsy evocations of Beethoven
and some fine moments engagingly poised
on the boundary between the comic and
the melodramatic.
Wizards, subtitled
Three Magic Masters has a non-musical
programme – picturing three different
Wizards – but I am inclined to regard
it more as something that was useful
to the composer than as something about
which the listener need bother himself
or herself very much. For the listener
what perhaps matters more is the music’s
fusion of passion and consideration,
its simultaneous appeal to mind and
heart. From the opening, largely chordal
section, to the arpeggios of its central
section and the furious hammer-blows
of the third, Wizards has a persuasive
logic – both structural and emotional
– which needs little support from its
non-musical programme, especially when
played with the utter assurance and
conviction which Young-Ah Tak brings
to it and when recorded as clearly and
vividly as it is here. Wizards was
originally commissioned as a required
piece for the San Antonio International
Piano Competition in 2003. But it is
much more than ‘just’ a test piece,
and deserved to find more performers
and audiences.
Astral has a
numerological-cum-new age programme
that leaves me rather cold, but I like
the music, a kind of extended exploration,
an arc from low to high, but with assorted
asides and digressions, through what
the composer well describes as a "slow
registral upcurve uncovering the clarinet’s
registers one by one". Again the
rhythms are compelling and the way the
work milks chromatic tensions produces
some exquisite effects. It gets a fine
performance from its dedicatee, John
Anderson.
This is a rewarding
fifty-five minutes’ worth of music varied
in instrumentation and idiom, but consistently
inventive and accomplished, the work
of a composer who deserves to be more
widely known in Europe.
Glyn Pursglove