© Music and Vision (01/2004) — Rex Harley
Let it be said at the outset that any criticisms I have of this CD have nothing to do with performance or, for that matter, the quality of the recording. My reservations relate solely to the programming and therefore, inevitably to the intrinsic worth of the pieces on offer.
None of which applies to the opening work, Pärt's famous Tabula Rasa, written back in the late seventies for violinists Gidon Kramer and Tatiana Grindenko. The original recording, on ECM, is still arguably the best, although, listening to it again I find myself increasingly irritated by the occasional coughs and splutters of the audience: the piece was recorded live for German Radio. This is less noticeable during the first movement, Ludus, but ironically obvious during the second, Silencium.
The violinists in this recording —Leslie Hatfield and Rebecca Hirsch— are entirely sympathetic performers. The piece takes at least two minutes less in their hands than with the original performers, but the performance feels in no way cramped. There is all the air and spaciousness one needs, and a genuine sense of the spirituality which informs Pärt's writing. The string section of the Ulster Orchestra is equally impressive, as is the player of the prepared piano who, unfairly, remains anonymous.
The remaining items on this disc are two earlier pieces: Collage über BACH and Symphony No. 3. Now, in one way this is a bold move. Rather than being offered well-known works in a similar style to Tabula Rasa, we are given the chance to explore further; to retrace the steps that the composer himself took on his long, and often discouraging musical journey.
Collage über BACH sees him emerging from his serialist period, and the piece sounds what it is: an experiment —a necessary piece in the jigsaw of his development. It could be a minor work by Lutoslawski. It could be, and indeed is, a minor work by Arvo Pärt. Symphony No. 3 is a more expansive, more fully developed piece which emerged from a protracted period of study of chant and early polyphony. Pärt himself has referred to it as a "joyous piece of music" but not "the end of my despair and my search", and it certainly has its moments. However, even at its best this symphony feels like a thoughtful and imaginative pastiche of its sources: a rather grander version of something like Poulenc's take on Arbeau's dances from Orchesographie. And, at its least successful, timpani bang away bombastically and the music starts to sound like the sound-track of a pseudo-mediaeval film, complete with Tony Curtis in a tin suit of armour. The best moments are those given to the brass, which take the role of the human voice, raised in praise.
And that's it. Three pieces, the best at the beginning; and the whole thing adding up to just over fifty minutes' music —a notably abstemious piece of programming for the usually generous Naxos. The booklet notes too are short, and also dry and over-technical. These may seem carping criticisms; after all, you don't have to part with much money. But the whole thing seems to me to be a piece of well-intentioned misjudgment. Somehow the didactic has overwhelmed the aesthetic. It may be a good idea to educate us, so we understand more of Pärt's musical development, but I suspect that those who want to listen to Tabula Rasa will find the other pieces unsatisfying. They are, in a sense, juvenilia, whatever the composer's chronological age when writing them; curiosity pieces to play your friends as part of a quiz.
That said, you may wish to sample early Pärt. And even if you don't, at its bargain price I have to admit that this CD could well be worth the getting for Tabula Rasa alone.
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