 |
| Track list: 1. Verses 2. Piano Sonata No.3: Largo 3. Nocturne in C Sharp Minor 4. Reminiscence 5. Nocturne in G Minor 6. Eyes Shut - Nocturne in C Minor 7. Written In Stone 8. Letters Of A Traveller 9. Prélude in D Flat Major ("Raindrop") Running time: 45 minutes Released: 2015 |
Ólafur Arnalds is the reason I bought this. I remember thinking at the time that I would get to it soon - I had been doing this blogging exercise for a few months at the time. Now, more than 2 years later I finally get to it, not having listened to any of the tracks even once. Arnalds' compositions have moved me in the past, and whilst I don't exactly have a lot of classical music - not knowledge of, not possession of, not real interest in - I am certainly not anti-classical. It will sound trite to many to compare the classics of our forebears to soundtrack artists, but it is through soundtracks - TV, film and games - that I explore more "classical" sounds - vocal-less melodies with traditional instruments or elements. I know little of Chopin, though I seem to recall that my mother is a fan; I wonder what Arnalds adds to the underlying work, and how he combines with Ott, the pianist, to deliver that to us.
As I start the album playing, I am surprised to find Arnalds listed as the composer for a small majority of the tracks. I am not familiar enough with Chopin to reconcile that. Verses wraps us in a blanket woven of strings, a pleasant cocoon of soothing sounds, its central theme repeating through many octaves, winding down to the close. When this tune completes, we get the first blast of Ott's piano, a strong opening that relaxes back into a more sedate melody. The road outside wants to set this to car horns, very out of place in this sleepy sonata, but it persists with sirens adding to the incongruous mix. There is an echo-y, fishbowl like quality to the sound which must be a deliberate artefact of the recording. Every so often that contrasts with a wonderfully deft flick of the fingers, producing a trill that skips away over the airwaves, gone almost before it registers.
Too much of the tune is one handed though, the depth of sound and interest are unfortunately short of something vital for large stretches. I found the richer tapestry of strings on Verses far more inviting, enveloping and rewarding. As much as I can see why tunes like this appeal, I find it less soothing because it is too slow, too sparse and the rhythm of the piece, constructed entirely from the piano, is too irregular to fall into pattern recognition and familiarity. My train of thought is interrupted by high pitched sounds. I thought woodwind at first because there was a breathy quality to the initial piercing, but as the tune moves forward it resolves that it is clearly strings. The track has ticked over and the Nocturne is keeping me at arms length, its mournful minor tones consisting of drawn out, paper thin high notes which screech into my ears in a demanding fashion.
I think the tune has improved, come to life, but in fact we have moved on again, a melody breaks out - still mournful in tone but more structured, rooted by a simple stepping bass that helps me build a connection with the piece - titled appropriately as Reminiscence. This reminds me a lot of Arnalds' work on ... And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness, and I find myself really, really liking it, my appreciation growing with each new swell of the string section. I find the end of the tune comes on rather suddenly and it lessens the overall impact a bit but that is picking nits.
It is Good Friday, start of a busy Easter weekend; plans in some form every day except Sunday - on top of a week of busy evenings. I have my nephew's birthday party tomorrow, his bedsheet-wrapped present is sitting on my dining table ready for the journey down. The odd wrapping makes perfect sense in context of the gift, but I am sure that I'll get some funny looks! Meanwhile a track that was heavy on environmental effects has passed, with what sounded like waves rolling up a beach overlayed on the music - an affectation that persists to some degree into the following number, too - though it becomes more like a constant rustling wind by that time. A fuzziness on the microphone, a blurred edge to the sound. Trying to artificially recreate some of the impurities of early recording, perhaps? Interestingly the effect drops out mid-way through Eyes Shut - conveniently times with a particular change in focus in the piano part. I was wondering before the listen what Arnalds in would add to a recording of established classical pieces and whether I would even notice; I guess in this particular piece I did.
I should mention that I really like the way Eyes Shut is this nice piano melody sandwiched between bleaker, more abstract sounds, too. Possibly another affectation, then - embedding Chopin's piece in novel composition? I would need to know more of the original work to be sure (or I could, y'know, Google it - but that holds no charm).
The idea that not knowing is sometimes better than knowing is a strange one, yet also undeniably a real thing.
I mentioned soundtracks in my introduction to this post, and Written in Stone sounds like it could be one.
I let my mind wander a bit.
I rather like this.
Looking back at that second piece with the perspective of the rest, it seems like a complete and utter trough, a low that sits out of place, undeserving of being alongside the rest of these. Not as interesting, not as captivating. I have reached the closing number now, and it has a familiarity to me that suggests it is a piece that my mum used to play. We had a grand piano in the house - she still does, though she has resolved to sell; particularly as a teenager, and again when I moved back in after university I was frequently frustrated by her sitting down to play, loudly, late in the evening when I was trying to sleep. I recognise less of the tune as it progresses though, so it may in fact be that the opening refrains have been used elsewhere and seeped into my consciousness through other media.
When I heard about The Chopin Project I didn't hesitate to buy it; I thought I would probably enjoy it or find some interest within. I did, however, hesitate to listen to it. This was the first time through; I don't think it will be the last.
As I start the album playing, I am surprised to find Arnalds listed as the composer for a small majority of the tracks. I am not familiar enough with Chopin to reconcile that. Verses wraps us in a blanket woven of strings, a pleasant cocoon of soothing sounds, its central theme repeating through many octaves, winding down to the close. When this tune completes, we get the first blast of Ott's piano, a strong opening that relaxes back into a more sedate melody. The road outside wants to set this to car horns, very out of place in this sleepy sonata, but it persists with sirens adding to the incongruous mix. There is an echo-y, fishbowl like quality to the sound which must be a deliberate artefact of the recording. Every so often that contrasts with a wonderfully deft flick of the fingers, producing a trill that skips away over the airwaves, gone almost before it registers.
Too much of the tune is one handed though, the depth of sound and interest are unfortunately short of something vital for large stretches. I found the richer tapestry of strings on Verses far more inviting, enveloping and rewarding. As much as I can see why tunes like this appeal, I find it less soothing because it is too slow, too sparse and the rhythm of the piece, constructed entirely from the piano, is too irregular to fall into pattern recognition and familiarity. My train of thought is interrupted by high pitched sounds. I thought woodwind at first because there was a breathy quality to the initial piercing, but as the tune moves forward it resolves that it is clearly strings. The track has ticked over and the Nocturne is keeping me at arms length, its mournful minor tones consisting of drawn out, paper thin high notes which screech into my ears in a demanding fashion.
I think the tune has improved, come to life, but in fact we have moved on again, a melody breaks out - still mournful in tone but more structured, rooted by a simple stepping bass that helps me build a connection with the piece - titled appropriately as Reminiscence. This reminds me a lot of Arnalds' work on ... And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness, and I find myself really, really liking it, my appreciation growing with each new swell of the string section. I find the end of the tune comes on rather suddenly and it lessens the overall impact a bit but that is picking nits.
It is Good Friday, start of a busy Easter weekend; plans in some form every day except Sunday - on top of a week of busy evenings. I have my nephew's birthday party tomorrow, his bedsheet-wrapped present is sitting on my dining table ready for the journey down. The odd wrapping makes perfect sense in context of the gift, but I am sure that I'll get some funny looks! Meanwhile a track that was heavy on environmental effects has passed, with what sounded like waves rolling up a beach overlayed on the music - an affectation that persists to some degree into the following number, too - though it becomes more like a constant rustling wind by that time. A fuzziness on the microphone, a blurred edge to the sound. Trying to artificially recreate some of the impurities of early recording, perhaps? Interestingly the effect drops out mid-way through Eyes Shut - conveniently times with a particular change in focus in the piano part. I was wondering before the listen what Arnalds in would add to a recording of established classical pieces and whether I would even notice; I guess in this particular piece I did.
I should mention that I really like the way Eyes Shut is this nice piano melody sandwiched between bleaker, more abstract sounds, too. Possibly another affectation, then - embedding Chopin's piece in novel composition? I would need to know more of the original work to be sure (or I could, y'know, Google it - but that holds no charm).
The idea that not knowing is sometimes better than knowing is a strange one, yet also undeniably a real thing.
I mentioned soundtracks in my introduction to this post, and Written in Stone sounds like it could be one.
I let my mind wander a bit.
I rather like this.
Looking back at that second piece with the perspective of the rest, it seems like a complete and utter trough, a low that sits out of place, undeserving of being alongside the rest of these. Not as interesting, not as captivating. I have reached the closing number now, and it has a familiarity to me that suggests it is a piece that my mum used to play. We had a grand piano in the house - she still does, though she has resolved to sell; particularly as a teenager, and again when I moved back in after university I was frequently frustrated by her sitting down to play, loudly, late in the evening when I was trying to sleep. I recognise less of the tune as it progresses though, so it may in fact be that the opening refrains have been used elsewhere and seeped into my consciousness through other media.
When I heard about The Chopin Project I didn't hesitate to buy it; I thought I would probably enjoy it or find some interest within. I did, however, hesitate to listen to it. This was the first time through; I don't think it will be the last.
No comments:
Post a Comment