Anu Tali and the Nordic Symphony Scale Tüür
Mary Ellyn Hutton
Posted: May 6, 2011 - 12:47:37 PM in
reviews_2011
Strata, Estonian composer Erkki-Sven Tüür's fourth and latest
disc for the ECM New Series label, packs a punch. Performed with spirit
and virtuosity by Anu Tali and the Nordic Symphony Orchestra in their
ECM New Series debuts, it bends, intrigues and fills the ear. Paired
here are Tüür's
Symphony No. 6, subtitled
Strata (2007) and
Noesis
(2005), a concerto for clarinet, violin and orchestra. Soloists in the
concerto are clarinetist Jörg Widmann and violinist Carolinn Widmann.
Strata was commissioned by the Nordic Symphony Orchestra,
Noesis by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra and the Philharmonia Orchestra of London.
Tüür began his musical career as a progressive rock artist with his own band,
In Spe,
in his native country. He is a master of instrumental color. For him,
sound is a structural element, replacing thematic development and
harmonic design. He utilizes what he calls a "vectorial" method of
composition, using a "source code" of intervallic relationships to
impart structure. His music draws upon the vast resources of the late
romantic orchestra and an unlimited variety of musical languages.
The word "strata" means "layers" and I can think of no better analogy for his 32-minute
Sixth Symphony
than a cave, where time has laid down layers of rock through the action
of water filtering through them. The grandeur of the work carries the
same connotation in an emotional sense, i.e. of immensity and awe. The
movements flow into one another without a break (Tüür dislikes
interruptions to avoid extraneous noise). It begins vigorously, with a
percussive thud followed by a big decrescendo, as if one's eyes were
growing accustomed to the darkness in a cave.
What presents itself is a fluttering of strings, bowed vibraphone and a
big sizzle of cymbal. Dynamics play an important role, as the volume
waxes and wanes. There is a bubbling up of harp and piano. Woodwind
swirls induce a vertiginous feel.
The activity levels off at the beginning of the next movement with a
lovely snatch of melody in the strings (perhaps a layer of crystal
encountered in the cave). The strings proceed as if reaching for the
same pitch, before the full orchestra, led by pounding timpani, returns
to the scene. After a big buildup, the strings retreat, haloed by the
winds, and there is a bubbling up of vibraphone and piano (compare the
first movement). The final movement introduces fragments of an Estonian
folk song, first heard in the lower strings. This becomes an
ostinato
of sorts that resolves once again in that mysterious bubbling,
spreading effect. There is a brightening of brass, followed by big
timpani strokes and a climax before the music dissolves into a haze of
strings and percussion for a soft, ethereal effect.
"Noesis" means "cognition," or to put it more simply in the context of
this concerto, "getting to know you." That is the feeling one gets from
Tüür's treatment of the clarinet and violin. The orchestra introduces
the soloists (brother and sister), who perform separately at first, the
violin in quasi-cadenza style, which the clarinet imitates. In the next
movement, the instruments spar against a very lively orchestral
background. Eventually they twine around each other and reach a state of
(almost) harmony. The final section is jazzy and dance-like, with the
orchestra joining in the jubilation. The clarinet asserts itself as it
had at the beginning before the concerto ends with the two soloists
sounding a soft, diminished interval.
(first published at
www.concertonet.com)