You Haven’t Been; Me to We; The Current Agenda; Love in 6 Stages
Frank Horvat
Iam who Iam Records LTLP05 - LTLP08 (frankhorvat.com)

Frank Horvat is one of the most inventive songwriters to come out of the contemporary scene in Canada. Although not a full-blooded minimalist, his music is frequently spare-sounding, unmistakable, with its repetitions of cell-like phrases, often built on brightly coloured piano sounds, sometimes enhanced by bright horns and mallet percussion, soothing strings and vocals. Best of all, Horvat’s work is exquisitely eventful and almost insidiously effective. Horvat has also recently found another way in which music can be organized: around rhythmic ideas instead of around structure, where rhythm forms the structural basis of the music instead of merely being a necessary ornament. Moreover, Horvat’s ideas are suspended in a kind of bohemian dynamic and come alive in their thrilling combinations of trademark repetitions and overlappings with an almost ceremonial theatrical grandeur.

His recent work comprises You Haven’t Been, music for solo piano; Me to We, which is music written for duo and trio settings, The Current Agenda, which is a dark record of music featuring solo, duo, trio and quartet music, intensely socialist in nature, and Love in 6 Stages, a work where minimalism meets art song and where the two milieus collide in the visceral physicality and psychology of love. Clearly it appears time for Frank Horvat to take the gloves off musically and declare that he is free to roam as he pleases, wherever the music beckons. In return for such dramatic freedom, he returns the favour by recording the events of this long and difficult expedition in deeply personal and profoundly beautiful music.

Of the four recordings recently released, Me to We and You Haven’t Been are so deeply personal that listening to the music on each requires an intrusive mindset. In the former recording the probing duos appear to tear through the composer’s innards not simply to discover his heart, but to gather its myriad pieces and bind them back together again. This is done, at Horvat’s urging, through dark, warm sounds that evoke healing, through music that is mysterious and exotic as well as long-limbed and almost aria-like without the vocals.

On The Current Agenda Horvat focuses his outward vision and glares at the world in all its nakedness. What he sees results in music filled with anger, a mesmeric and hypnotic visual account of a world gone mad. Portentous piano and deep, chanting voices meld with floating, reflective moments (as in the solo piano of Lac-Mégantic), which return eventually into haunting music, tumbling to earth once again. Love in 6 Stages is the most elevating of the four recordings. Between Horvat’s piano (and its soporific arpeggios) and Laura Swankey’s rich, peachy vocals, the six aspects of love turn into something superbly aerodynamic.

Tomorrow’s Air – Contemporary Works for Orchestra & Large Ensemble
Various Artists
Navona Records NV6108
(navonarecords.com)

Here is a go-to music release for anyone in love with dramatic, expressive orchestral music with lyrical string melodies and dense harmonies, as six composers take a compositional approach to what the future may bring.

Each work is a unique personal musical exposé. Hilary Tann’s Anecdote is inspired by Wallace Stevens’ poem Anecdote of the Jar. Lush orchestral harmonies support the mournful yet positive solo cello lines, which span a wide pitch range with glorious low tones. Hans Bakker’s Cantus is equally expressive, with a driving rhythm pitted against an uplifting happy string melody. Inspired by William Blake’s poetic ode, Daniel Perttu’s To Spring – An Overture is another majestic lyrical work, with an especially gratifying, almost chromatic melody in the middle section. My highlight is Canadian composer Jan Järvlepp’s moving In Memoriam in memory of his late brother. Drawing on more original atonal harmonies, his grief is aurally depicted by high and low strings in the emotional conversational contrapuntal sections, and the heart-wrenching final repeated notes. The lush strings, clarinet and piano of Pierre Schroeder’s Late Harvest create a film-score-reminiscent sound that swells with simultaneous sadness and hope. Flute and piccolo perform lyrical and tricky melodic lines against energetic percussion in Paul Osterfield’s Silver Fantasy. Love the playful, almost marching band section at the end.

Excellent performances drive the music, especially the four works with the Moravian Philharmonic Orchestra. Tomorrow should be perfect if the music here is any indication!

Dreamsville
Cory Weeds & The Jeff Hamilton Trio
Cellar Live CL072216 (cellarlive.com)

Dreamsville, the latest recording from Vancouverite Cory Weeds, pairs the soulful saxophonist with drummer Jeff Hamilton’s trio for a set of fine jazz loosely framed around the work of the late American film composer, Henry Mancini. While Weeds and company (pianist Tamir Hendelman, bassist Christoph Luty and Hamilton) are all unique soloists and ensemble players with individualized approaches to the music, the overarching shared quartet values of infectious swing, purity of instrumental tone and good taste rudder this recording to a satisfying place that should find it included on many year-end “best of” lists. This, the second pairing of Weeds and the Hamilton trio, again demonstrates that there is much creativity to be mined from this classic jazz horn/rhythm section format, when master musicians coalesce to collectively elevate the music to a higher plane than can be achieved by one individual. Jazz is a social and participatory music and Weeds – as his impressive discography exhibits – is skilled at seeking outside musicians who share this attitude, choosing or writing music that encourages creative collaboration and setting up a relaxed environment for musical joy to flourish. Accordingly, Dreamsville bounces along with an effervescent pulse that showcases all parties in a most swinging and flattering light. This is a set of happy music (case in point: How Do You Like Them Apples?) and yet another accomplishment for Weeds, who as saxophonist, booking agent, label owner, composer and concert promoter, continues to be a going concern on the Canadian jazz scene.

Coldwater Stories
Florian Hoefner
Origin Records 82740 (originarts.com)

The songs of Coldwater Stories by pianist Florian Hoefner seem to run one into the other, and despite the sometimes pronounced silences which form part of the music, the sound is continuous. This is just like the icy waters of the Atlantic Sea off the coast of Newfoundland, “tumbling in harness,” as Dylan Thomas once said singing from the Welsh coast. Wearing his profoundly lyrical skin comfortably, Hoefner’s own poetry can also be chameleonic as he invents new harmonies and chords that are tantamount to reinventing tonality itself, as in Iceberg 1 and Iceberg 2.

There, as elsewhere on his Coldwater Stories, the pianist begins to explore a compositional/improvisational process that avoids conventional thematic development, instead moving its material through constantly-shifting harmonic backgrounds – impression seeming to matter more than direction. A great example of this celebrated vagueness is heard in the sophistication of The Way of Water. Meanwhile, Sunrise Bay is sublimely evocative music and is at times played at such perfect pianissimo that it comes closest to being hammerless piano.

But Hoefner never completely renounces traditional tonality and form, even as he cultivates an utterly contemporary pianistic persona. His songs – for they are such works – The Great Auk and Green Gardens are shimmering and seductive and come from the moment of reconciliation. Hoefner is in his element here, revelling in the opulence of new songs of the sea, performed on the piano in all of its orchestral sonorities.

Ajivtal
Janis Steprans Quintet
Effendi Records FND145
(effendirecords.com)

The album title, Ajivtal, is Latvija (Latvia) spelled backwards and is inspired not only by the music of Janis Steprans’ ancestors who came from there but also by Sonny Rollins’ Airegin, which is Nigeria spelled backwards. Steprans’ own sense of melodic sense, though, is more rooted in the lyrical leaping of Charlie Parker. You won’t find any of the 1.2 million Latvian texts or any of the 30,000 melodies that still survive in the Baltic state’s traditional music. However, in the high and lonesome melodic, almost mystical hum of Steprans’ soprano and alto saxophones, the low throaty rasp of his tenor and even the voluptuous, woody bleat of his clarinet there are indeed faint echoes of the lyrical dainas, the drone vocal styles, and even a hint of Baltic psaltery.

The textural and rhythmic tightness of Steprans’ writing and the intensity of his playing give the performance of this repertoire a compressed timbre, which, despite digital technology, makes it sound like something fulsome and almost analogue. Compositionally as well as in terms of performance – especially in group dynamics – there is a knitted pattern that emerges as the music unfolds its undulating melodies in the saxophone-guitar-piano contrapuntal progressions. Flowing rhythms inform the exquisite Ajivtal and Chambre No.5. Meanwhile, the pulsing bass throughout and the climbing reed and wind lines bloom in Suite de Thèmes Lettons, and in Un Autre Original there is a glorious headlong celebration of instrumental virtuosity.

Lessons and Fairytales
Simon Millerd
Songlines SGL 1622-2 (songlines.com)

Canada has produced some particularly lyrical trumpeters, most notably the late Kenny Wheeler and the distinguished BC native, Ingrid Jensen. Simon Millerd is a young Montrealer whose pensive lines and subtle expressiveness seem particularly indebted to Wheeler at this point in his career, as well as to the Norwegian trumpeter Arve Henriksen, another musician whose work is filled with a clear, Northern light.

Millerd’s primary support here comes from a German group, the Pablo Held Trio, a group he first played with in 2011 and which includes pianist Held, bassist Robert Landfermann and drummer Jonas Burgwinkel. It’s a spare and lucid group, effectively setting off Millerd’s quietly intense horn. Millerd plays regularly in the band Nomad, consisting of McGill University jazz program graduates, and other members appear here in effective guest spots, the most notable contributions coming from tenor saxophonist Mike Bjella, whose engaging force is an effective counterfoil to Millerd’s approach.

Millerd acted as his own producer and he may have tried to do too much, from adding thickening synthesizer on one track to working his way through nine tunes in 44 minutes. He also employs the (mostly) wordless vocals of Emma Frank on five tracks, a device just too derivative of Wheeler’s distinguished work with Norma Winstone. Millerd’s best moment is the concluding Tale of Jonas and the Dragon, a sprightly seven-minute outing for just Millerd and the trio, with fine upwardly spiralling trumpet lines.

Cub(an)ism
Aruán Ortiz
Intakt Records CD 290/2017 (intaktrec.ch)

Aruán Ortiz is a mid-40s pianist who plays contemporary improvised music – alright, jazz – in traditions that are at once folkloric and modernist, rooted in an Afro-Haitian, Cuban tradition that has then mingled with several significant cultural transformations: his acknowledgements include Toussaint Louverture, who 200 years ago led the first successful slave uprising in the Western hemisphere (jazz buffs might fact-check the birth name of trumpeter Donald Byrd); cubist painters Picasso and Braque; the Cuban musicologist and novelist of genius, Alejo Carpentier; pianist-composers Cage, Nancarrow and Cowell; and free jazz icons like Roscoe Mitchell and Andrew Cyrille.

That’s a lot to say, let alone carry, but Ortiz does it with determined grace, welling passion and taut execution. He plays ten original compositions here, many informed by polyrhythms and counterpoint, complex patterns that move insistently to new ground. The longest work, Cuban Cubism, is a suite of contrasting parts; Monochrome (Yubá) matches contrasting keyboard patterns, one part prepared, the other customary; the brief Dominant Force is a charging polyrhythmic pattern that links jazz piano from Fats Waller to Andrew Hill in a singular gesture.

Cuban jazz piano often emphasizes the island’s historical and cultural links to 19th-century European Romanticism, opting for a decorative, even glib style. Ortiz is different, matching the primal energies of Chano Pozo and the radical fictions of Charpentier with the revolutionary visions afoot in 20th-century European and American cultures. In the process, he creates heady, invigorating music.

Les Malcommodes invitent …
Les Malcommodes
Effendi Records FND147
(effendirecords.com)

In 2010, Montreal pianist/composer Félix Stüssi created the jazz trio Les Malcommodes, comprising himself, bassist Daniel Lessard and drummer Pierre Tanguay. When Stüssi turned 50 he decided to start a new project and added other players to the mix – Sonia Johnson, Ray Anderson, Jean Derome, André Leroux and Jacques Kuba Séguin. Though they had not really played together before, Stüssi admired these musicians. The resulting 2016 music recorded here is exciting, happy, tight-ensemble playing which, though mainly based in tonal jazz sounds, also leaps into other musical styles with ease and musicality.

Stüssi sets the musical stage with his piano stylings in the opening track Fore-Bley, a tribute to the late, great Canadian jazz pianist Paul Bley. The following Bley On! features short unaccompanied solos by each musician interspersed with full band sections. This is followed by more sonic explorations in duets and band sections. Especially noteworthy is Derome’s brilliant flute playing against Tanguay’s witty drums, and Johnson’s rich vocal tone in Debout Au Bout du Bout-Du-Banc. Great Lessard bass solo in the opening of I Can See Your Rainbow. Way too much listening fun in the two-minute Jungle Chat where the musicians hang up their jazz hats briefly to squawk and tweet like jungle beasts until they break into the more toe-tapping melodies and grooves of Anderson’s Monkey Talk.

Recording quality is great. Jam-packed with jazzy musical sounds, this is smart music performed by even smarter musicians.

ERR Guitar
Elliott Sharp with Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot
Intakt CD 281 (intaktrec.ch)

Composer, bandleader, multi-instrumentalist, Elliott Sharp is a musician hard to classify, with equal proficiency in blues-rock, improvisation and new music. Here he concentrates on his main instrument, the guitar, on a dozen solos, duos and a trio with fellow pickers Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot. Oddly enough, Sharp and Ribot, who specialize in more agitated sounds, both turn almost folksy in duets on Wobbly, Sinistre and Oronym. Although their chess game-like moves are both subtle and spiky on Sinistre, it’s the last track which is most distinctive. Here, one guitarist’s legato finger-picking tries to surmount the other’s canine yapping-like plucked onslaughts, until relaxed string undulations are replaced by a multiplicity of crying buzzes. Blanketing drones dominate the three Halvorson duets, with the strokes on Shredding Light so thin they break into electronic flanges. Slurred fingering and guitar-neck taps enliven both parts of Sequola, although a blanket of buzzes can’t disguise intricate dual connections.

Sharp’s solo work, however, is the most representative. Nektone for instance swiftly unites Delta bottleneck picking and outer-space-like multiphonics without fissure. Meanwhile, Kernel Panic knits together so many passing chords that it’s almost opaque. Then suddenly, with no hint of overdubbing, there seem to be two guitar lines travelling in opposite directions – one with rumbling organ-like ostinato, the other snapping out arena-sized distortion. That he manages to tame these opposites into a reassuring ending that is true to narrative, logical and conclusive, is another tribute to Sharp’s multi-talents.

A Square Meal
Atrito-Afeito
Atrito-Afeito 007 (atrito-afeito.com)

As the equivalent of topping gooey Québécois poutine with piquant Portuguese sausage, this square meal is hard-edged and free-form, combining the talents of Montrealers, pianist Karoline Leblanc and drummer Paul J. Ferreira Lopes with Lisbon residents, trumpeter Luís Vicente and Hugo Antunes. Throughout, the quartet members function as master chefs for whom cooking Iberian-Canadian fare is commonplace.

With A Square Meal’s flavoursome main courses, spiky extended feasts, and sonic appetizers and desserts of the same quality, the tracks are spiced with slick piano glissandi, sifted trumpet whinnies, rounded double-bass plops and drums hammered with the efficiency of a meat tenderizer. Although infused with extended techniques, these splintered and kinetic courses also have a base of rib-sticking home cooking, since melodic slices are present throughout. Leblanc, for instance, may appear to be cramming too many notes into a tremolo outpouring, but like a seasoned cook that output fits succulently. The quartet’s replication of agile line cooking is most apparent on the 23-minute Creature Comforts. Open-ended with welcoming piano chords and a languid shuffle beat from the drummer, the narrative is swiftly shaded and sharpened with aggressive, double-tongued brass rasps, paced by string crackles from the bassist and active drum smacks. Just when it appears that Vicente can’t slur any more dissonant tones from his instrument, Leblanc’s steady comping pushes the trumpeter to mid-range blowing and joins him to return to the near-romantic theme of the beginning. A Square Meal may be unusual fare, but it’s undoubtedly musically nourishing.

The Edge of Time – Paleolithic Bone Flutes of France & Germany
Anna Friederike Potengowski; Georg Wiland Wagner
Delphian DCD34185
(delphianrecords.co.uk)

Toward the end of the last Ice Age modern humans began to settle Europe. From fragmentary cave finds and a few complete instruments, it appears that as early as 40,000 years ago these people made and played flutes of various kinds, primarily fashioned from hollow bird bones. These prehistoric flutes could well be the oldest known musical instruments fashioned by human hands. As such they represent the oldest evidence of music production, so closely associated with our species, on our blue planet.

Reconstructing these ancient flutes, and re-imagining their music, is problematic at its core, yet this contested terrain is precisely where the 16 tracks on The Edge of Time – Paleolithic Bone Flutes of France and Germany takes a stand. Classically trained German flutist Anna Friederike Potengowski began to study the four reconstructed bone flutes used on this album and their possible playing techniques in 2010 and formed VentOs with percussionist and composer Georg Wieland Wagner.

Their program of compositions and improvisations reflects an aesthetic deeply rooted in European classical music, the heritage of the two performer/composers. It’s seen in the choices of music vocabulary, extended instrumental techniques, breathing, phrasing and general performance practice. No surprise then that the flutes as played by Potengowski generally closely adhere to tones in the modern standard 12-tones-per-octave scheme, pitched at A=440 Hz.

Make no mistake however; Potengowski gives virtuoso performances on her instruments. Echoing melodies (the original flutes were all found stashed in caves), bird-like calls and breathy nature sounds are sometimes performed solo, but in most cases are accompanied by Wagner splashing water against stones, rustling grasses, chanting and playing marimba arpeggios and bombastic tympani rhythms. The longest, and for me the most successful, complete work is a performance of John Cage’s Ryoanji (1983-85) score, a haunting study of breathy glissandi by all four bone flutes and two insistent, though asymmetrically beating, stone flints. Yet I still wonder how the music played on these flutes might have sounded in the hands of their Ice Age creators.

Ruckus
Beyond the Pale
Borealis Records BCD245 (borealisrecords.com)

The acoustic Eurofolk ensemble, Beyond the Pale, has been an important voice on the world music scene in Toronto for nearly 20 years. Known for their ability to blend genres in interesting ways, the group continues on that path with their fourth release, Ruckus, their first in eight years.

Instrumental mastery is a hallmark of the album but it comes through in the musicians’ – Bret Higgins (bass), Aleksandar Gajic (violin), Milos Popovic (accordion), Eric Stein (mandolin), Martin van de Ven (clarinets) and Bogdan Djukic and Max Sennit (percussion) – heartfelt and cohesive playing rather than a lot of show-offy, lightning speed runs. That said, there are some displays of virtuosity here and there that really dazzle.

The disc contains a mix of traditional and original compositions, with most of the band members contributing originals in true ensemble fashion. The songs alternate between plaintive ballads and rousing dance and celebration songs. Being a sucker for a low clarinet, the opening track, Atlas Revolt, grabbed me right off the bat. Ruckus in Ralja with its evocation of dance halls of Eastern Europe and the moody restraint of Andale are other standouts.

The instrumentation is essentially the same throughout and although using a variety of techniques and approaches brings some distinctiveness, I have to say that about halfway through the album the songs started to sound somewhat the same. But fans of this style of music will no doubt find plenty to enjoy and will revel in the soundscape of the “Old World,” in the hands of inventive “New World” musicians.

An Dàn – Gaelic Songs for a Modern World
Mary Ann Kennedy
ARC Music EUCD 2737 (arcmusic.co.uk)

On this inspired recording, Glasgow gal Mary Ann Kennedy wears a number of exquisite hats, including vocalist, pianist, composer, arranger, lyricist and co-executive producer. The CD title, An Dàn, translates as A Song or perhaps the more apropos A Destiny. The project is comprised of 11 brilliantly arranged songs – some ancient, some contemporary – and all rendered in flawless Scots-Gaelic, with an array of traditional instruments and thrilling vocals in tow. It’s not necessary to be a Gaelic speaker to appreciate this collection, as the sheer musicality and emotional depth of the project transcend any cultural or linguistic barriers. An Dàn is a marvelous affirmation of the survival of Gaelic languages – even in the face of the most oppressive 19th-century imperialism and near cultural genocide.

The opening track, Seinn, Horo, Seinn (Sing!) is rife with gorgeous string lines as well as Kennedy’s lovely, diaphanous, pitch-pure, soaring soprano. Next up is Óran do dh’lain Dómhnallach (Song for John MacDonald) which features a poem by the 20th-century Gaelic literary giant, Irig MacDonald. Gaels have a real poetic tradition of both eulogy and elegy, and nowhere on the CD is this more evident than on this composition. A tribal, male chorus adds to the track, reflecting MacDonald’s postwar life in Ghana and South Africa. Kennedy wrote the song in that tradition, and she also utilizes a sample of a vocal sequence from the Tswana and Sotho Voices.

Dàn Ur do Fhlóraidh NicNill (A New Song for Flora MacNeil) is arranged with sophistication and dissonance, and invokes ancient, Iron Age musical motifs. Finlay Wells’ light and clear guitar work is enhanced by Jarlath Henderson’s pipes – and with the addition of the strings, a sort of Celtic wall of sound is created. Two other standouts include Grádh Geal Mo Chridhe (My True Love) – a complex and masterfully produced track featuring superb choral segments and Air Leathad Slèibhe (On a Hill-land Slope) with lyrics by another 20th-century Gaelic literary giant, George Campbell Hay. This heady tune conjures up a vision of ancient Celtic settlements enveloped in mist and magic, as well as deeply-rooted spiritual connections to Mother Earth and reverence for her cycles.

Marketing considerations aside, how best can a musician mark an important milestone or significant creativity? With recorded music the result is usually multiple discs. In honor of French bassist Joëlle Léandre’s recent 60th birthday for instance, there’s A Woman’s Work … (NotTwo MW950-2 notwo.com), an eight-disc boxed set. Almost six hours of music, the 42 tracks were recorded between 2005 and 2016, comprising one solo disc and the rest intense interaction with such associates as trumpeter Jean-Luc Cappozzo, tenor saxophonist Evan Parker, violist Mat Maneri, guitarist Fred Frith, percussionist Zlatko Kaučič, pianists Agustí Fernández or Irène Schweizer and vocalists Lauren Newton or Maggie Nicols. With improvisers from six different countries working alongside, the bassist’s charm, humor, vigour and adaptability are highlighted.

Solo on CD 6 from 2005, Léandre’s improvisations are as mesmerizing as they are mystifying. Consisting of bow slaps resonating with woody ballast, her circular attack is solipsistic enough to confirm its singularity, but so alive with twists that she sometimes seems pleasantly taken aback by what’s produced. As she plucks or saws her strings, at points she could be two bull fiddlers working in counterpoint. The climax is reached on the final track when, like a marathoner getting an energy boost, she extends still further, working some romantic beauty into her arco splays, while at the same time mocking it with vocalizing ranging from guttural growls to bel-canto gurgles. As unlike as a chocolate chip sundae and a tofu pudding, the bassist’s two 2016 vocal duets are equally valid. Eight performances with the American Newton on CD3 are the most traditional. With silky voice, the singer hopscotches among scat, lullabies, octave jumps and keening cries, as Léandre’s mischievous side appears. Besides sharpened slices that create spiccato echoes, she verbalizes an ironic obbligato to Newton’s singing. Under her breath, Léandre bawls out unexpected noises that are sly without being disruptive. Léandre, the Swiss Schweizer and the Scot Nicols have been Les Diaboliques for more than 25 years, and their performance on CD1 is cohesive, since Léandre’s disruptive tendencies can’t dominate when the others are textural dissectors as well. The showdown is mostly Léandre-Nicols, with the bull fiddler mumbling and projecting mercurial string buzzes as a divergent sideshow to the vocalist. More stream of consciousness than self-involved, Nicols could be playing all parts in a radio play, encompassing crone cackling, infant cries, feline purrs and canine yelps. Sliding from brouhaha to babble, she opens up the performance enough for instrumental virtuosity to make her vocal gymnastics stand out. More concentrated levels of instrumental dexterity are the main thrusts of Léandre’s 2011 meeting with Maneri on CD2; her match-up with Frith in 2016 on CD5; her 2015 tête-à-tête with Cappozzo (CD4); and the meeting of minds with Kaučič from 2015 (CDs 7 and 8). Frith’s alt-rock background makes that duo the most distinctive, if not the most frustrating. Committed to knob twisting, Frith sashays among rock, country and outer-space-like tones. Léandre’s acoustically dynamic thrusts almost dare him to use his mechanized equipment to gain the upper hand, then volley back any pattern he emits. More simpatico, Maneri’s mastery of the viola means that both he and the bassist can challenge one other while emphasizing the woodiness of their instruments. The result coordinates improvisational freedom, pre-modern string shading, and 20th-century aleatory patterns. So relaxed that he almost limits his contributions to cymbals, Kaučič’s dances a pas de deux with the bassist, matching her mercurial stops and inventive guitar-like twangs with bell-like resonation plus supple metal slides. From that same date, when Fernández and Parker join the drummer and bassist, jazz-oriented intersections are glimpsed, palimpsest-like, along with free improvisation. The saxophonist builds up to a staccato narrative, which Léandre hurries along with tremolo buzzes and arco strokes. Fernández’s piano pressure is so dense that he could be playing boogie-woogie. Illuminatingly, Léandre’s most satisfied improvising is alongside Cappozzo. With jazz-like allusions, the warmth communicated by intertwining brass and string textures allows the two to switch forefront and backing roles from one to the other without breaches, making room for Arcadian and ambulatory motions. Outputting chromatic expositions in graceful arcs, Cappozzo’s self-possessed playing calms the bassist’s frenetic instrumental and verbal asides, creating a cumulative sound that is profound and polished.

Brazilian tenor saxophonist Ivo Perelman takes a different route. If Léandre has built a single dwelling, Perelman is more like a developer putting different styles of edifices in designated areas. With frenetic bites of Free Jazz extravagance, Perelman presents his rhapsodic interface with American pianist Matthew Shipp in seven volumes titled The Art of Perelman-Shipp (leorecords.com),Vol. 1 – Titan (CD LR 794); Vol. 2 – Tarvos (CD LR 795); Vol. 3 – Pandora (CD LR 796); Vol. 4 – Hyperion (CD LR 797); Vol. 5 – Rhea (CD LR 798); Vol. 6 – Saturn (CD LR 786) and Vol. 7– Dione (CD LR 799). Only Saturn is a duo, with the others featuring the two plus, on different discs, bassists William Parker or Michael Bisio, and drummers Andrew Cyrille, Bobby Kapp or Whit Dickey.

To get a handle on the Perelman-Shipp discs recorded between August and November 2016, first consider Saturn. The result of more than 20 years of musical cross-fertilization, the untitled improvisations show the duo’s comfort level, with Perelman at times eschewing his usual altissimo ladder-climbing for a breathy tone and burlesquing avant-garde solemnity by shoehorning a quote from Heart and Soul into his solo on track one. While the reedist’s unique mixture of whining split tones, intense triple tonguing and theatricality at the climax stays intact, it’s framed by whimsical comping from Shipp, which calmly advances while showcasing skills like suddenly pedalling into the piano’s darker regions or maintaining a steadying pace, as Perelman wrings every extension from each reed outburst. Titan, which adds Parker to the duo and Hyperion, where Bisio completes the trio, feature similar communication, since Bisio is part of the pianist’s band, while Parker and Shipp are longtime collaborators. Parker creates a percussive undertow that expands the saxophonist’s expression, as he follows him through pitch variations and unexpected quickening and decelerating of the narratives. Vigour distinguishes the nearly 20-minute final track as Parker’s vibrant arco pumping surrounds the others’ explorations. At times Shipp creates a stream of high-frequency key-clipping in tandem with Perelman’s overt overblowing, while elsewhere the saxophonist and bassist bond, allowing each pattern suggested by one to be completed and improved on by the other. If Parker’s work is the stuff of high drama, then Bisio’s style is playful enough to be sitcom-ready. The bassist’s peppy interface is used in a connective fashion, though he also steps forward with tonal variations. His bowing on Part 8 adds to tremolo piano lines and high reed pitches to cement a moderate and mystical theme, while his pizzicato sluices on Part 9 push the action along so that the saxophonist’s squeals resemble cowboy yodels.

Cyrille on Dione and Kapp on Tarvos possess contrasting drum philosophies. Cyrille brings a staccato drive to his accompaniment, where unruffled, positioned beats unite the others’ emotional excesses into a logical narrative. This is obvious on Part 6 when beside jerky piano runs, intermittent percussion clip-clops push reed squeaks from altissimo to moderato. On Part 8, the drummer’s motivating shuffle is such that what begins as a keyboard gallop turns to straight-ahead swing, with even the saxophonist’s tone balladic. Hard-toned and sharp where Cyrille is restrained, Kapp is upfront with his crackling strategies as early as Tarvos’ first track. By the final tune, his textural prodding, encompassing bass drum chopping and cymbal reverb, creates a situation swinging enough to make Shipp’s keyboard-blurring cross tones and Perelman’s peeps and dribbling smears bond animatedly.

Culmination of this musical equivalent of Lawrence Durrell’s The Alexandria Quartet, where situations change shadings depending on the book, are Pandora and Rhea. Dickey makes a quartet with Perelman, Shipp and Parker on the first disc and with Perelman-Shipp-Bisio on the second. The Parker-Dickey team helps maintain the tumultuous level of action that is Perelman-Shipp’s specialty. This framing on tunes like Track 6 means that Perelman’s consistent altissimo exploration and narrowing yelps fit perfectly. He even shoves a lick from Cherokee into his descending slurs. Freed from the rhythmic function, Shipp has space to indulge in impressionistic reprises, as on Track 3 where the reedist’s exposition spends more time in lower-case description than showy tongue smears. Rhea’s tracks intersect even more notably. At over 16 minutes in length, the first track could be a suite in itself. Backed by double bass thumps and the pianist’s tempo-defining runs, Perelman’s introduction is thematic and descriptive. He recaps the head with elevated power in the final sequence atop an assembly line of drum accents.

Projects like these are reminiscent of the fact that whether you buy chocolates by the box or individually you can only savour one at a time. For maximum appreciation, this parsimony in consumption should be applied to both the boxed set and the CD series. 

“It was no longer piano playing, it was music, released from all earthly weight, music in its purest form, in a harmony that can be imported only by one who was no longer of this world.”

That quote is from conductor Herbert von Karajan speaking of Dinu Lipatti, universally regarded as one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century.

Constantin “Dinu” Lipatti was born in Bucharest, Romania in 1917. His father, who had studied with Pablo de Sarasate and Carl Flesch, played the violin and his mother was an accomplished pianist. His godfather was the esteemed violinist and composer George Enescu, for whom, as fate would have it, Lipatti was to become a future partner in concerts and recordings. Lipatti’s mother is quoted as saying that Dinu (as she affectionately called him) “could play the piano before he had learned to smile.” Reportedly, he played a minuet by Mozart at his own belated baptism. At the age of four he gave concerts for charity and began to compose. He studied with Florica Musicescu at the Bucharest Conservatoire. In June 1930 at a concert in the Bucharest Opera given by the best pupils from the Conservatoire, he performed the Grieg Piano Concerto to an enthusiastic audience. Two years later he won prizes for his own compositions, a Sonatina for piano and a Sonatina for violin and piano. In the same year he was awarded a Grand Prize for a symphonic suite, Les Tziganes. In 1933 he finished second at the Vienna International Piano Competition. The controversial decision led jurist Alfred Cortot to resign in protest. In Paris he studied with Cortot and, who else but Nadia Boulanger. At his first public concert in May 1935, a few days after the death of his friend and teacher Paul Dukas, Lipatti opened the program with the Myra Hess transcription of Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, as his very first public performance of any piece as an adult.

Dinu Lipatti, the 100th Anniversary Edition (Profil PH17011, 12 CDs) contains his entire published EMI recordings, for whom he was an exclusive artist, together with a few rarities from the BBC, Bucharest and elsewhere. Profil has set out the recordings – solos, duets, concertos, etc. – chronologically, starting from the Paris sessions in 1936 through to his final concert in Besançon in 1950. Included are works of Bach, Bartók, Brahms, Chopin, Fauré, Grieg, Lipatti, Liszt, Mozart, Ravel, Scarlatti and Schumann. Colleagues appearing with him include George Enescu, Ernest Ansermet, Eduard van Beinum, Herbert von Karajan, Alceo Galliera, Nadia Boulanger, Hans von Benda and Otto Ackermann. Note the absence of Beethoven, whose works were in his repertoire. As a matter of interest, he was asked to record the Emperor Concerto and he declined because he felt that he was not ready… stating that he required four years of preparation time! The ninth disc contains the Mozart Piano Concerto No.21, with Lipatti playing the cadenzas that he had composed in 1945. It was recorded live in Lucerne on August 23, 1950, conducted by Karajan with the Festival Orchestra. From February 22 of the same fateful year there is a live performance of the Schumann Piano Concerto from Geneva, with Ansermet and the Suisse Romande. His interpretation is very different from the celebrated 1948 recording with Karajan, particularly his introspection in the first movement.

The 12th disc is devoted to his final recital on September 16, 1950 at the Besançon International Music Festival. He was in extremely poor condition, severely weakened from chronic suffering from Hodgkin’s disease, with which he was finally diagnosed in 1947. Against the advice of his wife Madeleine and his doctor, he insisted on playing. He played Bach’s Partita No.1, BWV825, Mozart’s Piano Sonata No.8, K310 and Schubert Impromptus D899 Nos.2 and 3. Last on the program were the 14 Chopin Waltzes. He was simply too weak to play the final Waltz, Op.34, No.1 but played instead Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, which was not, however, recorded. The beautiful irony was that the last piece he was to play was the first piece in his first concert. For this disc, the 13 waltzes are followed by his prior recording of Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. Dinu Lipatti died three months later in Geneva, aged 33.

There was nothing routine about Lipatti’s playing. He filled the notes with life, evidenced by these exemplary performances that graced the catalogues over the years, all mono of course, and hearing them again re-ignited the initial enthusiasm. Sensitive newcomers who pay attention should be equally impressed.

Footnote: If you are interested, a set from Archiphon, Dinu Lipatti – Les Inédits (ARC-112-113, 2CDs) contains some choice and rare performances from several sources including the BBC. There is also a unique performance of his Symphonie Concertante for two pianos and orchestra. Recorded in concert in Geneva on September 14, 1951, one year after his death, it is played by his widow Madeleine Lipatti and Béla Siki, with the orchestra of the Suisse Romande conducted by Ansermet. This tape was from Siki’s private collection.

There is now a DVD of the celebrated 1978 performance of Il Trovatore recorded live in the Vienna State Opera (Arthaus Musik 109334). The opera was a great favorite of Herbert von Karajan who, in this case, not only conducted but, as was his want, was responsible for the stage direction. This performance is “steeped in scandal.” There are many different accounts of the following incident but according to the liner notes: “Franco Bonisolli was originally cast in the role of Manrico but abandoned the company during a rehearsal where the public had been admitted entry, and, after throwing his sword at the conductor, left the stage in a fury, to be later replaced by Plácido Domingo.” The rest of the outstanding cast are Piero Cappuccilli (Il Conte di Luna), Raina Kabaivanska (Leonora), Fiorenza Cossotto (Azucena), José van Dam (Ferrando), Maria Venuti (Inez), Heinz Zednik (Ruiz), Karl Caslavsky (an old gypsy) and Ewald Aichberger (a messenger). Domingo is in full control of his scenes; Kabaivanska was a Karajan favourite at the time and one can clearly hear why. In truth, every soloist named above is perfectly cast and exemplary in their roles.

Watching the plot unfold is quite a different experience from only hearing it. The sets were designed by Teo Otto, and the costumes by Georges Wakhewitsch. Some, in fact a lot, of credit for what we see must go to the late Günther Schneider-Siemssen, who edited the ORF video for TV. Schneider-Siemssen was responsible for opulent, realistic sets that were seen in opera houses around the world. It was he who created the unforgettable sets for the Met’s Ring Cycles (available on DVD) that played every four years through the 1980s. However, for this production he acted only as editor. He died in 2015 at the age of 88. I must assume that he could not edit out the singers stepping right out of character and taking a bow after what seems like every big duet. Was that the custom of the day? Bottom line: this is an outstanding performance and, distracting bows notwithstanding, a no-complaints video.