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By Robert Everett-Green
Globe & Mail (Toronto)
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staying in: CD OF THE WEEK: CLASSICAL
Fred: Music of Frederic Rzewski ****
Disciplining a nonconformist
When I think of my few personal encounters with Frederic Rzewski, the word "jerk" comes
to mind, though I wouldn't describe him that way, especially given the state
of libel law in this country. Even if he were a jerk, that might be part of
what makes him such an interesting composer, since nobody makes extraordinary
art without the strength to override the ordinary rules of conduct that jerks
are continually challenging in their social relations.
In this sense, it's curious,
as well as apt, that Rzewski's music has been taken up by Eighth Blackbird.
This American sextet must be one of the most cohesive chamber ensembles on
the planet. Its performances of contemporary repertoire, usually done from
memory, exhibit a degree of sympathy and co-operation between the players
that would pretty much rule out any jerk-like behaviour. This discipline,
however, equips them to give full expression to works that stubbornly
refuse to conform to anyone's expectation.
Rzewski's beautiful Pocket
Symphony, which he wrote for the group
in 2000, shows a composer who enjoys virtuosity, complexity and showmanship,
but only if he can have them on his own terms. The six movements feature
cadenzas for each instrument, and transitions that continually question
the nature of what has come before. The splashy violin solo of the
second movement, for instance, sounds like a page out of Paganini,
till Rzewski follows it with a couple of twangs on a jaw harp, and
a patch of motivic meditation that wouldn't be out of place in a Bernard
Hermann film score. This is porous, questing music in which the main
road and the impulsive detour are of equal importance.
Les Moutons de Panurge turns a rapid 65-note melody into a
study of human error. Incremental group repetitions of this theme, with
one more note added or subtracted each time, eventually fall out of synch
(on this recording, just past the three-minute mark), and then everyone
is free to follow the tune, and each other, wherever that takes them.
The procedure is very much of its time, 1969, and still works as a musical
and political statement.
It's harder to engage with Coming Together,
Rzewski's 1970 minimalist contemplation of a scrap of text by an imprisoned
black activist, perhaps because its testimonial character seems to
require a live presentation. For that matter, none of these recorded
performances can match the thrill of hearing Eighth Blackbird live, but
they give a more than adequate idea of this group's sensational talents
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