Tiago Benzinho – Roses of Time I

March 10, 2012 • self-released

I've been skimping out on my modern classical lately, and I'm kicking myself for it; there's so much more new stuff out there than Arvo Pärt and whatnot just waiting for me to find it. I was recommended this album some time ago and only just now finally got around to finally hearing it. And, well, it's hitting that sweet spot I have for utterly heartbreaking music in just the right way.

I could describe it as the sort of minimalism that you might expect out of some super-dramatic artsy film, but that'd be doing Benzinho a huge disservice. It doesn't need visuals to express itself; it delivers its own tone perfectly—a devastatingly bleak mood with just the tiniest hopeful silver lining to it. The arrangements are very simple, mostly solo piano with the occasional droning strings and chromatic percussion (I believe a good deal of the album is electronically produced).

It's one of those albums that is incredibly difficult to write about, like a book or movie people say that you have to experience it for yourself to get the real gist of it. It feels cheap to write about it this way, but I feel like that applies here. I won't say it's an album for everyone; a lot of people are probably going to find it repetitive or lacking or dull or maybe even a bit sloppy at times. I wouldn't say they'd be wrong, but I would say they're missing the point. Roses of Time I is all about its own beauty, its own simplicity, and just writing a damn good piece of music. And it does that well.

Esmerine – La Lechuza

June 7, 2011 • Constellation Records

I don't have a clue how I found out about Esmerine—something to do with their association with Godspeed, I'd guess, but even ignoring that it's hard to find something bad on Constellation's roster. I'm a bit annoyed I haven't heard of this group sooner; out of every Godspeed side-project I've heard this one is by far the best, and yet they seem to be pretty unknown.

I don't really know the difference between minimalism and post-minimalism, but I'm pretty sure La Lechuza falls somewhere in there. Arrangements are sparse, focusing on a small handful of string instruments and various percussion, both chromatic and folky. It's almost like if early Godspeed was conducted by Arvo Pärt, and the result is somber, personal, introspective, bittersweet—in parts, anyway.

It's all about beauty in simplicity; just a basic chord progression on xylophone with cello and you're set. (It certainly helps that they use a lot of what I'd consider "favorite" instruments, like the two I just mentioned, so the aesthetic already really appeals to me.) Other tracks take a more layered, complex approach that works equally well, just trying to do something a bit different. One part that particularly gets to me is "Trampolin"'s optimistic, childlike style, with a more upbeat rhythm and flowing melodies. It's a fantastic mix of moods on display in this album, and it's fortunately delivered in a way that really clicks.

If I had to complain (and of course I do) I'm not a huge fan of the vocals and to me they really take away from the experience that the instruments delivered just fine; fortunately they only appear on a couple tracks so it's not a huge deal.

Anyway. Esmerine makes some damn beautiful stuff, and it's absolutely worth listening to for anyone remotely into chamber music, minimalism, and post-rock-influenced music. Or even if you aren't. It's great either way.

8

An Introduction to Early Music

1992 • Naxos

I'm becoming more and more fascinated by classical music every day, and compilations like this one are great listens for anyone wanting to know more about some of the earliest music ever written. Ancient and medieval music is one of those styles that seems to be overlooked sadly too often; as this album shows, there is quite a bit of really interesting stuff from that period.

An Introduction to Early Music showcases several different styles, from Gregorian chants to instrumental ensemble pieces with surprisingly diverse arrangements (remember, this is coming from someone not very familiar with medieval music)—there's some lute, some organ, some drums and flutes and guitar... the list goes on. To me, it's really neat to see where a lot of later classical music comes from (even styles like modern minimalism). For instance, the Gregorian chants, while definitely ancient-sounding, still aren't too far off from a lot of recent choral music; it's also easy to see how baroque music developed from the medieval period.

But compared to later classical, the music is a bit less interesting (at least to me); a lot of it reminds me a bit too much of cheesy Renaissance festivals and the bad clichés of medieval times... I guess we have those clichés for a reason, though. Regardless, the players are all quite talented and perform well, and many of the pieces are quite interesting to listen to in their own right.

If nothing else, albums like this are certainly a good lesson for anyone remotely interested in music history. Unfortunately it's very difficult to say anything critical about this kind of music and give a rating simply because it's so old and being presented for historical reasons (especially since I'm very much an amateur when it comes to both this style of music and reviewing in general). But while this may not be the best album for casual listening, it still has many high points and is worth looking into.

6

Sigur Rós – Valtari

May 28, 2012 • Smekkleysa

I wasn't going to review this album at first, expecting more of a bland decline into sameness, but amittedly Valtari is a pleasant surprise. On Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust the band steered in a much poppier direction and I expected them to dully continue in the same vein. But this album is way on the other side of the spectrum with an incredibly somber ambient and classical sound, and almost no hint of their post-rock roots (save the first track). It's a pretty nice sound, and while not remotely original (as any Eluvium or Stars of the Lid fan can tell you) they do it quite well.

Sonically, Sigur Rós isn't doing anything new—you still have the same slow arrangements, lush strings and piano melodies, choirs, droning bass, warm vinyl crackle, music boxes, and the like. I think since the last couple albums the songwriting has definitely matured and, for the most part, Sigur Rós has gotten a bit better at writing tracks with these classical arrangements and they fit in neatly with the rockier bits, as usual.

Like most of their other albums, Valtari has one standout track, "Varúð", which is a typical strings-and-piano piece; what I particularly like about it is how the strings occasionally pull out these dissonant screeches and drones that sound like they're straight out of F#A#∞ (see around 2:00 in particular). Along with the tense pounding buildup, they give the track a really great atmosphere.

Not every track is as great as "Varúð" though, especially the third-quarter-ghetto tracks "Dauðalogn" and "Varðeldur" and the ambling, directionless closer "Fjögur píanó". Obviously the band often goes for a more texture-driven approach on this album but they don't always make it as interesting as it could be without resorting to their rock tendencies (as on "Ég anda" and "Varúð"). Sure, the more mellow tracks are definitely pretty, but they work better in the background.

But yeah, I'm liking it. Not as much as Ágætis byrjun or ( ) or Takk..., but it's rekindled my interest in the band. I'm wondering if Jónsi & Alex's Riceboy Sleeps wasn't merely a one-off experimentation but a portent of things to come from Sigur Rós while Jónsi makes his pop on the side. We'll see, I guess.

6

Olivier Messiaen – Turangalîla-Symphonie / Quatuor pour la fin du temps / Thème et Variations

July 22, 2008 • EMI Classics

I'm always hesitant to listen to anything labeled "modern classical". It's such a diverse label you could get anything—a work like Gustav Holst's The Planets (one of my all-time favorite works) is so far from something like Karlheinz Stockhausen: epic, romantic majesty vs. cold, impenetrable dissonance. Olivier Messiaen is a composer who I'm not very familiar with but, even aside from him sounding like a very interesting individual, his work holds up as some modern classical that I can definitely appreciate and enjoy. This particular compilation presents older recordings of three different works: Turangalîla-Symphonie, Quatuor pour la fin du temps (the famous "Quartet for the End of Time", the piece that attracted me to this album in the first place) and Thème et Variations for violin and piano.

Turangalîla-Symphonie somehow manages to straddle the position between the aforementioned Planets and Stockhausen album I reviewed; it's composed on a grand scale for a large group, with some very dramatic and distinctive melodies and motifs, although it often jumps into more chaotic and dissonant segments, giving it a very disorienting and anxious feel. Normally I'd probably hate this kind of thing, but here I think it actually works pretty well; Messiaen keeps things way more interesting than I thought at first and it's impossible to get bored listening to this piece (although its length—ten movements! the nerve!—can be a bit daunting, and that means it does drag a bit near the end). There are a lot of nods to romantic period music (one of my favorite styles), but it never gets too sappy or droll thanks to the overall variety the piece has.

It's a bit of a tough piece to get into, though, and on my first listen I found it pretty alienating. Fortunately it's grown quite a bit on me, and I think it's helped me understand the more experimental side of modern classical a bit more, since it helps to balance out its serialist-type segments with more melodic bits. And, of course, I just like it—it's simply a really neat piece overall (although the slide whistle is more than a bit silly).

Quatuor pour la fin du temps presents a different side of Messiaen. It was written during his time as a prisoner during World War II, which helps explain the odd selection of instruments—it was apparently the only selection of professional musicians in the prison at the time. Now knowing a bit of history about the piece has made me listen to it in an entirely different way, as I can tell that the music is entirely appropriate for the situation.

Like Turangalîla-Symphonie, the Quatuor employs a lot of dissonant melodies, but obviously with much more sparse instrumentation. This really lends itself well to the very thematic approach taken with the piece, which mostly evokes the apocalypse (the book of Revelation was inspiration). Therefore the suite isn't just "sad" in the typical sense: it conveys a feeling of utter despair throughout; the music is often very slow and reflective, and when it isn't slow it's to contrast the despair and make it that much more intense. A standout example is the third movement, "Abîme des oiseaux" for solo clarinet, which alternates between low, incredibly slow droning notes and flittering runs (inspired by birdsong, in Messiaen fashion) that conflict brilliantly. I also enjoy the use of unusual tempos: movement III is merely 22 beats per minute, and movement V is "infiniment lent"—"infinitely slow".

Thème et Variations is a bit more generic compared to the first two pieces on this release, and it sounds like a lot of the other serialism pieces I've heard. It's kind of a shame that it was included because it's pretty much impossible to follow up Quatuor pour la fin du temps, let alone outshine it, and the movements are very short and breeze by so fast that it's just not very memorable, making it very difficult to comment on. It would have been nice to hear these on their own release, one that could do them justice, perhaps alongside similar duets. It's certainly not bad, and the last movement is quite beautiful in its own right, but I can't help feeling like the whole piece simply shouldn't have been included.

Still, if you're looking for something to help ease you into either Messiaen's work or the more atonal side of modern classical in general, this is definitely a recording to pick up. Both Turangalîla-Symphonie and Quatuor pour la fin du temps are fantastic works that should not be missed; I'm definitely glad I finally heard them myself.

7

Karlheinz Stockhausen – Kontra-Punkte; Refrain; Zeitmasze; Schlagtrio [Ensemble Recherche]

2009 • Wergo

I first listened to this album with low expectations. Serialism has never been a genre I have enjoyed very much and I've always come away disappointed from albums like this. However, Stockhausen is a very well-known and highly-lauded composer in the genre so I was willing to give it another shot. I firmly believe that there is good music to be found in any genre; it's just that sometimes it may take a bit of digging to get to. But serialism and indeterminacy often, to me, just sound too random to be enjoyable—like trying to read a page of "lorem ipsum" and figuring out what it means. Perhaps it's a lack of understanding, as I'm still pretty new to the style, but despite my efforts it's still a very difficult type of music to get into.

One thing I do enjoy about this collection is the interesting different ensembles used to perform the pieces. Most serialism and indeterminacy I've heard (that I can think of now) was performed with very small ensembles, often just one or two instruments (like Cage's prepared piano pieces), probably to prevent it sounding too dissonant and random. But here we get a mix: in "Kontra-Punkt", ten players of various instruments; in "Refrain", piano, vibraphone, other unusual percussion, and odd vocalizing; in "Zeitmaße" woodwinds; in "Schlagtrio" piano and timpani. To me the pieces sound a bit more chaotic this way as opposed to the simple piano pieces I'm used to, although fortunately the sound never quite reaches the "orchestra warming up"-level because the compositions are all quite sparse, usually with only two or three instruments playing at once.

The composition still baffles me, though. I'm not unused to atonal or dissonant music but with these pieces I cannot understand the motivation behind their composition and performance. As far as I can tell, the musicians do a great job with the performance, but their skills aren't enough to make an enjoyable record. In the first two and last tracks, mostly, there seems to be zero structure and flow to the composition and they wind up sounding very random, like children timidly banging on the instruments to see what happens. "Zeitmaße", thankfully, has a bit more structure to it and the instruments actually play together at the beginning, although it frequently falls apart into dissonance throughout. This particular composition feels a bit more traditional; this is probably due to the instrumentation, but I find it easier to enjoy than the other three, if only a little bit.

I probably shouldn't be reviewing this album at all since, like I said, I don't know much about this style of music and after writing this review I am nowhere closer to understanding it. Enjoying it? Probably not. It's very complicated music, music which demands attention, otherwise it comes off as simply noise (and I know where to go to get good noise). Or maybe it's just not for me at all. There's clearly something Stockhausen and his fans are getting that I'm not; maybe one day I'll find out what it is.

4