RECORDING OF THE MONTH
Jesús RUEDA (b. 1961)
Symphony No. 3 Light (Luz) (2004-2007) [42:45]
Imaginary Journey (Viaje imaginario) (1998) [8:41]
Asturias Symphony Orchestra (OSPA)/Maximiano Valdés
rec. Sala Principal del Auditorio Principe Felipe, Oviedo, Asturias, Spain,
21 November, 2008.
NAXOS 8.572417 [51:26]
One quote from Spanish composer Jesús Rueda says more about his Symphony
No. 3 than the rest of my review can: “I must admit, I like large
orchestral forces, a sort of orgy of sound with multiple lines at play together;
I’m attracted by dense and dazzling textures filled with colour and
dynamism, rhythmic proliferations, and sound limits that lead to the edge
of the abyss.”
One can get a good idea about whether or not Rueda is likely to appeal from
that statement. Perhaps I can elaborate a little more by saying that Rueda
is something like a European cousin to American composer John Adams: a post-minimalist
composer of tonal music, though extended tonalities and free use of dissonance
for expressive purposes are strongly present. Or one could say that Rueda
stands in relation to Philip Glass-style minimalism as Richard Strauss stood
to Mendelssohn’s romanticism. In both cases the latter composer took
the basic style and exponentially increased all its elements, in every direction.
Rueda’s Symphony No. 3 is subtitled “Luz”
(“Light”), not so much as a focus but rather as a catalyst. The
first four movements freely depict the traditional four elements, but Rueda
evokes how light interacts with them. The first movement, “El fuego”
(“Fire”), starts with massive mounds of brass chords, with strings
and glockenspiel furiously flickering in sparks. Lest that sound like a description
of Wagner’s “Magic Fire Music” from The Ring, rest
assured that Rueda’s canvas is so visceral that Wagner’s depiction
seems quaint, almost dainty in comparison. And even John Adams rarely approaches
the layered density Rueda explores.
In the second movement, “El agua” (“Water”), the tempo
slightly relaxes, though remaining quick, and diatonic melodic strands show
up, though in a very pointillistic, glistening orchestral garb. The sense
of light playing on constantly changing watery surfaces is ever-present, like
a modern day descendant of Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,
yet the composer’s layering means that there are also ominous happenings
down in the depths, giving this music more than just dazzling surface allure.
The movement is a set of variations ending with an astonishing passage for
a brace of wood blocks and timpani glissandos, sounding for all the world
like a shower of water droplets in a cave.
“La tierra” (“Earth”) takes off with fast, motoric
patterns in the strings. The precision demanded here by the composer is extreme,
and the strings of the Asturias Symphony may have a few ragged edges, but
what is far more important is that conductor Maximiano Valdés declines
to slow down and play it safe. This performance takes risks, thus capturing
the edgy feel Rueda requires. After reaching a glittering peak, the movement
avalanches with long, slow trombone glissandos and even a siren (shades of
Varèse!) into the calm of the fourth movement, “El aire”
(“Air”). This is the first slow movement thus far in the work,
mercifully offering some respite from the frenetic activity of the first three
movements before building to its own exultant peak.
The play of light on the elements help point where this symphony is going,
namely, “Hacia la luz” (“Toward the light”). Played
continuous like the other movements, this finale opens with a sudden dizzying
sense of space, with woodwinds offering keening, birdlike cries over an abyss.
Slowly but surely, we begin to fall through layers of atmosphere with strange,
colorful densities, until the exhilarating music pushes back up to a vertiginous
climax, dissolving into a quiet resolution of string harmonics at the end.
Truly a pulse-pounding voyage from Rueda, and one that deserves to be heard
worldwide.
The makeweight for this still rather short disc is Rueda’s earlier Viaje
imaginario (“Imaginary Voyage”), subtitled ‘Francisco
Guerrero in memoriam,’ in honor of Rueda’s teacher. Rueda wrote
the somber piece in 1998, almost ten years before finishing the symphony.
For all its evident craft and sincerity, this Rueda voyage comes across as
generic modernism when compared with the startling originality of the symphony.
Perhaps a better filler would have been for someone to orchestrate Scriabin’s
obsessive piano tone poem Vers la flamme (“Toward the Flame”),
which would fit nicely on a program with this symphony.
The Asturias Symphony’s brass can have a few intonational strains, and
the strings can get a shade wiry in places, but in music of such rude vitality,
silky refinement would sound ludicrous. This impression of rough edges also
comes in part from the detail disclosed by the aggressive, close-up recording.
But the extra color is worth it. The all-consuming vision of Rueda’s
symphony is cathartic, and Valdés and his orchestra exult in it, making
this another important release in the Spanish Classics series from Naxos.
Mark Sebastian Jordan
Dazzling, cathartic music in an exultant performance.