Rh’zoma
Anna Thorvaldsdottir
Innova 810
Rh’zoma, composer Anna
ThorvaldsdottirÕs
debut
album of recorded works, is steeped
in
the beautiful strangeness and exhilaration
of
that which is simultaneously
familiar
and unfamiliar. The uncanny
blurring
of ÒselfÓ and ÒotherÓ we find in
nature,
in people, in art, runs through the
collection
like a current, confronting us
at
every turn with both glacial inevitability
and
brilliant surprise, both overwhelming
power
and inviting intimacy.
Gathered
together here are three works
for
larger forces—the two smaller peaks
of
Hr’m and Streaming Arhythmia for
chamber
ensemble framing the larger
summit
of Dreaming for orchestra—embraced
by
the gentler immediacy of
Hidden for solo percussed piano, which
streams
through and around the larger
works
but springs from the same source,
the
same roots – roots of delicate sounds,
of
coalescence, of memory.
The
collection opens with Hr’m, in which independent minutia are
carefully woven
together
into rich textures, whirling around one another as unique entities and
occasionally
flowing together to create larger gestural shapes. The Icelandic title refers
to
the gradual growth of ice crystals, a notion paralleled in this piece not only
by the
frosty
shimmer of individual sounds, but also in the ways these sounds cling together:
as
clusters
of activity outlining moments of greater structural importance and as threads
of
memory
echoing throughout the workÕs duration. Listening is rooted in the discovery of
these
details while attending to their immediate and inevitable reverberations across
the
sonic
field of the ensemble and throughout the internal field of our own recollection
–
a kind of diffusion beautiful not only for its elegance but also for its
palpability.
Similar
trends are present in Hidden, the first two movements of
which—ÒInwardsÓ
and
ÒOurÓ—serve as delicate echoes to the more powerful currents of Hr’m.
Here
the
phantom resonances of memory give way to the real resonances of reverberating
piano
strings, which remain undampened throughout the work. Some of the gestures
that
arise from this gentle, murmuring ocean are more urgent than others, such as
the
singular attacks that instigate a series of brushings and scrapings approaching
the
halfway
point of ÒInwards.Ó Some create further-reaching trajectories, such as the
slow,
steady
glissandi of ÒOur.Ó Yet even while the energy and continuity of unfolding
moments might suggest a strong sense of motion, the overall sensation of
listening has much to do with the timelessness of resonance, in which we might
move back and forth between relating moments to one another—and to
ourselves—and simply being swept along by the intricacies and richness of
the sounds.
This
is true in a different way in Dreaming: here the abundance of
lush sonorities
and
vast array of textural variation both provide a comfortable stasis as well as
offer
a
compelling trajectory of experience. Even though the landscape is vast, the
diverse and
engaging
palette of sonic potential frames the workÕs gradual accumulations of energy
and
momentum in ways that are direct, even tangible. This is especially true in the
workÕs
extended opening and the incessant takeover of ÒnoiseÓ materials beginning in
the
eleventh minute. (Both of these examples function as types of experiential
summits,
albeit
with drastically different character.) Yet the consistency of sound—both
in regard
to
its timbral richness as well as its slow yet seemingly steady
transformations—is also
an
invitation to take the workÕs development for granted, to assign larger changes
in
the
sound world a kind of inevitability. This seeming familiarity, however, might
be
misleading,
because the piece—like a dream—is equally capable of floating
endlessly
amidst
a single thought as it is of changing quite suddenly – perhaps blooming
into
a
radiant moment of harmonic congruence, or giving way without warning to an
interchange
of percussion streams, or settling unexpectedly into the thematic stasis of its
hauntingly
beautiful central valley. Such moments of ÒothernessÓ remind us that—as
with
any
landscape—the beauty of this sonic environment is in a constant shifting
of focus
between
discovering the richness of detail and marveling at the splendor of the whole.
The
interplays between stasis and surprise, between power and intimacy, between the
familiar
and Òthe other,Ó also play out as we return to the more confined sound world
of
Hidden in the movements ÒStayÓ and ÒRain.Ó The materials here
present a divide
between
conventional pitch-based gestures and those which are rooted in explorations of
timbre—of
noise, even—except that the tables are turned somewhat in our perception
of
normal
and abnormal. The resounding fifths of ÒStayÓ easily stand apart from the wash
of
percussive
attacks on the strings, frame, and soundboard of the piano, and the interplay
between
single notes and glissandi in ÒRainÓ casts itself as a kind of counterpoint, as
though
emulating the music of some foreign past. Rather than acting as beacons of
familiarity,
however, these and similar moments seem lost in this watery landscape,
their
capacity as musical tokens stemming not from their current surroundings but
from
distant
memory. Meanwhile, the array of unconventional sounds provides a bedrock of
experiential
stability, constancy, power, even in the pieceÕs closeness and delicacy. The
fragments
of pitch materials—a mirror revealing the strangeness of our own projections
of
meaning—reach out from this foundation to whisper gently, yet forcefully,
in our ears.
Streaming Arhythmia returns
from the grand sweep of Dreaming and the personal
caress
of Hidden to a middle-ground that—like Hr’m—blurs
qualities of the two,
though
perhaps here the processes of transformation are buried deeper, coursing with less
speed but not necessarily less urgency beneath the beguiling surface of
drifting
gestures.
Here moments of larger coincidence—such as the gradual accumulation of
energy
leading to the percussion duo, the luscious harmonic language of the middle
section,
or the advent of recurring fragments running together into a stream of
disorientation—function
less as surprises than as inevitable shapes on the horizon,
blooming
slowly and carefully into the familiar and leaving us subject to the perception
of
time. Ultimately, the workÕs strikingly dramatic qualities might be experienced
not as
a
range of activity between coalescence and separation, but rather a range of
tangibility
in
our perception of time over timelessness. In this sense, the experiential peaks
of the
work
both rise successively from a plain of established material and solidify from
blurred
memories
– once-disparate instrumental sounds swirling into strange and beautiful
new
shapes
before dissipating back into the mist.
The
final movement of Hidden, ÒPast and Present,Ó also arises from
the familiar yet
unfamiliar
depths of memory – both in its reverberation of the delicate sound world
of
the internal piano as heard throughout Rh’zoma, and also in its
resonance with the
true
nature of listening: a simultaneous recognition and discovery deeply rooted in
the
essence
of being.
Daniel
Tacke
Credits:
Dreaming (2008)
for
orchestra
Performed
by
the
Iceland Symphony Orchestra
Conductor
Dan’el Bjarnason
Concertmaster
Sif Tulinius
Cello
solo Brynd’s Halla Gylfad—ttir
Recorded
at H‡sk—lab’—, Reykjav’k,
by
the Icelandic National
Broadcasting
Service (RòV)
Tonmeister
Bjarni Rœnar Bjarnason
Recording
engineer Georg Magnœsson
Hr’m (2010) and
Streaming Arhythmia (2007)
for
chamber orchestra
Performed
by the CAPUT Ensemble
Conductor
Snorri Sigfœs Birgisson
Recorded
at Gu<eth>r’<eth>arkirkja, Reykjav’k
Tonmeister
Gu<eth>ni Franzson
Recording
engineer Georg Magnœsson
Hidden (2009)
for
percussionist on grand piano
Performed
by Justin DeHart
Recorded
at Warren Music Studios,
San
Diego
Tonmeister
Anna Thorvaldsdottir
Recording
engineer Martin Hiendl
Editing
and mixing:
Anna
Thorvaldsdottir
Sound
engineering and mastering:
Tom
Erbe
Graphic
design:
çrmann
Agnarsson
Liner
notes by Daniel Tacke
Innova
Director: Philip Blackburn
Operations
Manager: Chris Campbell
Innova
is supported by an endowment
from
the McKnight Foundation.
CAPUT Ensemble
Flute & Bass flute: Kolbeinn
Bjarnason Oboe & Cor Angles: Eyd’s Franzd—ttir
Clarinet: çrmann Helgason Bass Clarinet: Rœnar
îskarsson Contra Bassoon:
Snorri
Heimisson Horn: Emil Fri<eth>finnsson Trombone: Sigur<eth>ur
?orbergsson
Percussion: Frank Aarnink, Steef van Oosterhout
Piano: Valger<eth>ur AndrŽsd—ttir Violin:
Zbigniew
Dubik, Hildigunnur Halld—rsd—ttir Viola: Gu<eth>mundur
Kristmundsson, ?—runn
îsk
Marin—sd—ttir Cello: MargrŽt çrnad—ttir, Sigur<eth>ur Halld—rsson
Double Bass: H‡var<eth>ur Tryggvason, Richard
Korn.
Iceland Symphony Orchestra
1st Violin: Sif Tulinius, Andrzej Kleina,
Zbigniew Dubik, Jœl’ana El’n Kjartansd—ttir,
R—sa
Gu<eth>mundsd—ttir, Una Sveinbjarnard—ttir, Martin Frewer, P‡l’na
çrnad—ttir,
Mark
Reedman, Greta Sal—me Stef‡nsd—ttir, çgœsta Mar’a J—nsd—ttir
2nd Violin: Hildigunnur Halld—rsd—ttir, ?—rd’s
Stross, Kristj‡n Matth’asson,
Roland
Hartwell, Sigurlaug E<eth>valdsd—ttir, îlšf ?orvar<eth>sd—ttir,
Christian Diethard,
MargrŽt
?orsteinsd—ttir, D—ra Bjšrgvinsd—ttir, Helga Steinunn Torfad—ttir
Viola: Helga ?—rarinsd—ttir,
Gu<eth>rœn ?—rarinsd—ttir, Gu<eth>rœn Hrund Har<eth>ard—ttir,
Kathryn
Harrison, Svava Bernhar<eth>sd—ttir, Sesselja Halld—rsd—ttir
Cello: Brynd’s Halla Gylfad—ttir,
Sigur<eth>ur Bjarki Gunnarsson, îlšf Sesselja îskarsd—ttir,
Brynd’s
Bjšrgvinsd—ttir, MargrŽt çrnad—ttir, Hrafnkell Orri Egilsson,
Inga
R—s Ing—lfsd—ttir Double Bass: H‡var<eth>ur Tryggvason, P‡ll
Hannesson,
Gunnlaugur
Torfi Stef‡nsson, J—hannes Georgsson, Richard Korn, ?—rir J—hannsson
Flute: Hallfr’<eth>ur îlafsd—ttir,
çshildur Haraldsd—ttir, Martial Nardeau Oboe: Matth’as
Nardeau,
Peter Tompkins Clarinet: çrmann Helgason, Sigur<eth>ur I.
Snorrason, Rœnar
îskarsson
Bassoon: Rœnar Vilbergsson, Hafsteinn Gu<eth>mundsson, Brj‡nn
Ingason Horn:
Emil
Fri<eth>finnsson, ?orkell J—elsson, Lilja Valdimarsd—ttir, Anna
Sigurbjšrnsd—ttir
Trompet: Einar J—nsson, Eir’kur …rn P‡lsson Trombone:
Sigur<eth>ur ?orbergsson
Bass Trombone: David Bobroff Tuba: Lai Tak
Chun Harp: Katie Buckley
Celesta: Anna Gu<eth>ný
Gu<eth>mundsd—ttir Timpani: Eggert P‡lsson Percussion: Steef
van
Oosterhout,
Frank Aarnink, çrni çskelsson, Kjartan Gu<eth>nason.
1.
Hr’m 8:03
2.
Hidden – Inwards 3:58
3.
Hidden – Our 2:00
4.
Dreaming 17:25
5.
Hidden – Stay 3:50
6.
Hidden – Rain 2:40
7.
Streaming Arhythmia 19:32
8.
Hidden – Past and Present 1:50
Total
duration 60 minutes
Thanks
Kolbeinn
Bjarnason, Gu<eth>ni Franzson, Snorri Sigfœs Birgisson, CAPUT,
Justin
DeHart, Dan’el Bjarnason, everyone in the Iceland Symphony Orchestra,
çrmann
Agnarsson, Daniel Tacke, Georg Magnœsson, Tom Erbe, Berglind Mar’a
T—masd—ttir,
Daniel Shapira, Nicholas Deyoe, Sigfr’<eth>ur Bjšrnsd—ttir, Berglj—t
Haraldsd—ttir,
çrni Heimir Ing—lfsson, V’kingur Hei<eth>ar îlafsson, Flemming Madsen,
J—hann
çgœst J—hannsson, Kraumur Music Fund, the Icelandic Broadcasting Services
RòV,
Hla<eth>varpinn Cultural Fund, Iceland Music Information Centre
Philip
Blackburn and everyone at Innova Recordings
Everyone
who were part of this release in one way or another
My
family
My
friends
Hrafn,
for more than I can express