Harpsichordist, organiser as well as composer, Jukka Tiensuu is
a highly versatile musician. As so many Finnish composers of younger
generations, he studied with Paavo Heininen before studying further
with Brian Ferneyhough and Klaus Huber. He also spent some time
in various leading electronic studios all over the world. Such
background may explain the overtly modernist trends to be heard
in his music, be they spectral harmonies, electronics, micro-intervals
and aleatorics, to name but a few. His attitude toward composing
is pretty single-minded in that he once declared that “in our
age every single work has to have a specific reason for being
created” (quoted in Kimmo Korhonen’s book Inventing Finnish
Music). He is also a very secretive composer who never comments
on his own music, preferring to leave it to the listener’s imagination.
Last of all, he considers his music as partaking “in the age-old
vision of music as the shortest route to the highest spiritual
spheres”. So, one is left with a number of works bearing titles
that could “provide telling indicators to the worlds which they
inhabit and are as a rule deliberately ambiguous” (Kimmo
Korhonen, but my emphasis). All right then, but what are we to
do with the title of the impressive, Xenakis-like orchestral work
MXPZKL (1977) or of M (1980 – harpsichord,
strings and percussion), to name but two?
Tiensuu composed
three works sharing the title Alma, i.e. Alma I: Himo
(orchestra and tape), Alma II: Lumo and Alma
III: Soma, both for orchestra and sampler. Alma
III: Soma for orchestra and sampler opens
with bright, repeated chords out of which instrumental episodes
emerge with bubbling woodwind, growling brass and tinkling percussion.
Massive brass chords interrupt the flow of the music but a forceful
restatement of the opening chords launch a new section of restless
energy in which a massive hocket-like chiming from brass and
percussion takes the lead alternating with softer chiming. A
gong stroke leads into a somewhat more ambiguous section although
the opening chords are still there, but dominated by echoing
fanfares. This brightly coloured work concludes with an affirmative
tutti. By the way, “soma” means “pretty” which is fairly in
tune with this colourful work that might prove quite popular,
were it heard more often.
Tiensuu’s piano
concerto Mind is in four movements. The first
movement (Earth – Reflection) opens in a deceptively simple
way, viz. a single repeated note that is progressively added
to, thus creating a more complex rhythmic pattern leading to
the first entry of the orchestral strings. A colourful, crystalline
dialogue between piano and string ensues leading into a cadenza
of some sort, accompanied later by string glissandos and woodwind.
Brass intervene in a more animated section that eventually die
away. The second movement (Air – Play) opens in much the same
way as the first movement while making it quite clear that this
is a Scherzo of sorts, full of capricious flights of fancy,
sometimes of dance-like, almost jazzy character. The music peters
out lightly at the end. The third movement (Water – Dream) comes
the closest to a slow movement. Mysterious glissandos and what
sounds to me as playing on the piano strings create an eerie,
dreamlike atmosphere interrupted by a somewhat darker section
in which the piano explores its low register before launching
into another lightly coloured episode suggesting a gamelan.
It ends with a final meditation over string clusters, resonating
gong-like chords and a final bell. The opening of the fourth
movement (Fire – Passion) again recalls that of the first and
second movements, but is bluntly interrupted by the orchestra
propelling what is a final Toccata in all but the name, full
of restless energy, fantasy and imagination, the whole ending
with an assertive orchestral gesture.
Mood
is scored for smaller instrumental forces than the other works
in this release. Its subtitle “Stereophonic Music”) most likely
suggest that the chamber orchestra is laid-out into two or more
instrumental groups. The scoring displays some considerable
lightness of touch and subtlety while the music is fairly playful
in its own way, sometimes with a pinch of irony. Melodic and
rhythmic fragments are tossed to and fro from one group to another,
and the piece unfolds uninterrupted towards the music’s final
disintegration.
The very opening
of Alma II : Lumo suggests some “music of the
dawn”, at once clear and mysterious. The music, however, soon
gathers momentum when it transforms into a massive chiming gesture.
A low pedal point is then followed by a new, brightly coloured
episode: woodwind in close dialogue. A distant chime, first
in harmonics, later in soft metal percussion follows a short
pause. A more animated section swells-up from the depths of
the orchestra, soon taken-up by the higher strings and other
instruments in a wave-like motion. The work ends with a final
upwards surge capped by a final high note. By the way, “lumo”
means “charm” (Kimmo Korhonen).
Another example
of Tiensuu’s enigmatically titled works nemo is
scored for ensemble, sampler and live electronics. This is “nemo”
with small “s” (“nobody” in Latin). Is it to be read backwards
as “omen”? Does it really matter? The work opens in a lively
way. The music then slows down while still moving on in some
indeterminacy creating some unsettling mood. A brief restatement
of the opening leads into an eerie section climaxing in an ambiguous
episode coloured by micro-intervals, still more unsettling,
followed by a lighter, shimmering section. The music then pauses
in a long cluster in which the players’ voices join in. Another
varied restatement of the opening leads into a new, rhythmically
alert section slowly falling apart. Fragments then attempt at
regaining some coherence, but micro-intervals stand in the way.
Further unsettling, cluster-like harmonies are eventually brushed
away by a brilliant varied reprise of the opening finally dissolving
into thin air.
There is hardly
a contemporary Finnish work for clarinet that has not been written
for and/or first performed by Kari Kriikku. This is the case
of Tiensuu’s clarinet concerto Puro (i.e. “pure”
in Italian but also “stream” in Finnish) that he recorded several
years ago with the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted
by Jukka-Pekka Saraste (on Finlandia FACD 402, later re-issued
on Ondine ODE 778-2). This is a brilliant, virtuosic work, but
the music also allows for more reflective and playful episodes.
The solo part is quite taxing and makes use of many modern playing
techniques such as multiphonics. Puro is a complex
but ultimately quite rewarding work and, no doubt about it,
one of Tiensuu’s best known works.
The title of the
work, Spiriti, and of the individual movements
may give some hint of what the music is about, but again much
is left to the listener’s imagination. The first movement opens
with a forceful call to arms, and mainly functions as a prologue.
The second movement is rather subdued and meditative as well
as often lightly scored whereas the third movement is a rather
devilish Scherzo of some sort in which the high register of
the accordion competes against rumbles from the orchestral lower
instruments. The fourth movement opens with a questioning motif
from the ensemble that later combines with the accordion’s answers.
The mood is rather foreboding and ominous, although the soloist
attempts at brightening the picture. The final movement is mostly
fast and furious, full of contrasts, characterised by the accordion’s
mighty, at times aggressive outbursts. The soloist’s attempts
at melody are brought to nothing and he too indulges in crushing,
violent chords rushing the work to its hectic conclusion.
Jukka Tiensuu’s
highly personal sound world is superbly served by excellent,
strongly committed performances in superb recorded sound. I
listened to these hybrid SACDs on a “normal” CD player without
any loss in sound’s quality and directness. Performances and
recording superbly respond to Tiensuu’s remarkable orchestral
and instrumental palette. “Minds and Moods” (ABCD 224) is to
my mind the best possible introduction to Tiensuu’s distinctive
sound-world for it presents four engaging and attractive scores
that are readily enjoyable and rewarding, whereas the works
on the other disc are rather tougher nuts to crack (though well
worth cracking) that will appeal to those who have already some
acquaintance with this composer’s music. I cannot recommend
these records too strongly for the often thought-provoking experience
that these gripping and beautiful works have to offer.
Hubert Culot
see also Review
by Rob Barnett
ALBA ABCD224 
[65:19] 
