Lara Downes & Friends FOR LENNY

Could there be a more perfect pairing than Leonard Bernstein and Lara Downes? Each incarnates the American spirit in resplendent manner, the former in his magnificent writing and the latter in her captivating piano playing. True to her generous nature, Downes has shared the credit for her tribute to Bernstein on the occasion of his hundredth birthday with “friends,” four of who accompany her on four of the twenty-eight tracks. But said credit could be extended beyond those participants to the many composers, among them Stephen Sondheim, Marc Blitzstein, and Ned Rorem, whose own Bernstein tributes appear. One of the more surprising things about the release is that while a generous amount of his own material is included, world premieres written by others appear too. Selection details aside, two things in particular distinguish For Lenny, Downes's always exquisite playing, of course, but also the audacity of Bernstein's lyrical writing and his bountiful melodic sensibility. In her hands, his songs sing.

A mere scan of the set-list reveals one of the project's greatest strengths: rather than exclusively feature well-known Bernstein material, Downes instead chose less familiar pieces, seven of them “Anniversaries” he wrote for family and friends on their birthdays, Aaron Copland, Lukas Foss, and Sondheim among the latter. In an imaginative move, that gesture's returned in kind by figures such as John Corigliano, Daron Hagen, Shulamit Ran, Theo Bleckmann, and Eleonor Sandresky, whose personal Bernstein tributes were written in some cases during his lifetime and in others were newly composed for this project. Such an inspired programme is the kind of thing we've come to expect from Downes, a justly admired artist whose discography includes homages to another great American artist, Billie Holiday, as well as America itself.

As mentioned, four pieces feature guests: Kevin “K.O.” Olusola (a member of the a cappella group Pentatonix) beatboxing on “Something's Coming”; clarinet prodigy Javier Morales-Martinez (whom Downes discovered through the national Young Artists program she founded at the Mondavi Center, UC Davis) on “Cool”; and roots singer Rhiannon Giddens and baritone Thomas Hampson on “So Pretty” and “A Simple Song,” respectively. Each collaboration is memorable in its own way, Olusola's for the fresh spin his treatments bring to one of Bernstein's better-known songs and the vocalists' for the contrast their radiant presence adds to an otherwise instrumental collection. While all four pieces would no doubt have impressed had they been performed by Downes alone, the inclusion of the extra colours the guests provide is hardly objectionable.

Most of the twenty-eight pieces are miniatures (only three edge past the four-minute mark), but they never feel slight; Downes's urbane execution and bright articulation make even the most fleeting piece seem substantial. Bernstein's own material ranges from saloon-styled blues (“Big Stuff”) and playful reveries (“Anniversary for Craig Urquhart”) to chromatically adventurous explorations (“Anniversary for Nina”); the tributes likewise differ in tone, many of them, including those by Corigliano, Urquhart, Sandresky, and Sondheim heartfelt, tender, and wistful; the ones by Stephen Schwartz and Michael Abels, on the other hand, are declamatory, emblematic of Bernstein's high-spirited side (Abels's is even titled “Iconoclasm/for Lenny”).

Among the standouts are poignant renderings of justly beloved Bernstein settings such as “The Story of My Life” and “Some Other Time” and Ricky Ian Gordon's “What Shall We Remember?”; never is Downes's artistry more evident than during her debonair treatments of such elegiac fare. One would have to be hard-hearted indeed not to be inspired and galvanized by her example. At a historical moment when an abundance of ills makes despair a not unreasonable choice, her music-making symbolizes an unwavering belief that the world and its people have the capacity to make things better. Such an infectious and life-affirming stance makes resignation seem like a cowardly choice.(Textura / March 2018)

Forma Antiqva / Aarón Zapico ANTONIO VIVALDI The Four Seasons

The starting point of this recording is Vivaldi's sonnets, which describe in almost trivial seeming episodes the changing seasons. Caine and Bleckmann have set these sonnets to music like a delicate spring song, the summer turns into an electronic experiment. The autumn leaves come along in a poppy way, frosty the mystically recited winter. Afterwards the young wild ones of Forma Antiqva under the musical direction of Aarón Zapico may play the Vivaldi concertos. […] Their sound is clear and pure, but is also capable of sounding pretty dirty. Then it is pure Rock 'n' Roll. On this CD every flower, every bird, every snowflake breathes. A subtle and fierce Vivaldi in one recording, which shows that these Four Seasons are still far from being ultimately invented. (Radio NDR)

… the Four Seasons are of such enchanting, captivating, haunting and colourful vibrancy, that this can rightly be called a reference recording of historical performing practice: … Aarón Zapico and Forma Antiqva succeed in presenting an expressive, three-dimensional abundance of highest narrative strength, Aitor Hevia plays the violin in a vivid, present, virtuosic and variable style. […] Uri Caine and Theo Bleckmann dare to contribute their own versions of spring, summer, autumn and winter preceding every concerto, performed and … declaimed with the means of our days … It's more than music, an AudioFilm between baroque and contemporary music … (Jazzpodium)

It is a harsh, experimental approach to these famous pieces, highly virtuosic and full of suspense, interrupted by the sweet moments of the slow movements. But when the summer thunderstorm comes and unloads or the floating ice sheets crack under highest tension on the lagoon this is unheard of thus far ... [One of the most fascinating albums of the last months.] (Radio MDR Figaro)  

MEREDITH MONK Impermanence

In her album Impermanence, Meredith Monk succeeds in creating pieces that fit her theme well and much of this music does indeed seem ephemeral, fleeting. These works are not casually or routinely constructed, though; their apparent simplicity masks a psychological and musical sophistication that's evident in the way their carefully placed details contribute to their surprising impact. The prevailing mood of the album is melancholy, but not passive sadness; even the songs that deal most explicitly with loss, such as Last Song (which opens the album) and Liminal, are punctuated with astonishing, defiant gestural outbursts that make it clear that Monk has no intention of going gentle into that good night. One of the strengths of the album is the variety of its pieces; Monk is never repeating herself or just recycling ideas. Pieces such as Particular Dance, for voices and mixed ensemble, are lively and full of unpredictable humor, and Maybe 1, for eight pianos, is a quirky, minimalist-inspired bagatelle. The textural variety of the pieces is also appealing; almost all of them use voices in one way or another, but the voice is often used instrumentally or as accompaniment to the instruments. Monk and her ensemble perform with great delicacy and sensitivity to each other; this is clearly a group of singers and instrumentalists that knows how to listen, and each member is constantly calibrating his or her contribution with the sounds of the others, as in the best chamber music performances. ECM's sound is immaculate. The album is a significant addition to Monk's discography and should be of strong interest to fans of new vocal music that pushes the envelope but is still accessible and engaging.  (Stephen Eddins)

MEREDITH MONK Mercy

Ostensibly a response to watching a Palestinian father and son fall prey to crossfire on the Gaza Strip, mercy journeys beyond grieving or anger to a meditative state that hints at both but submits to neither. The style is coolly contrapuntal: the opening “braid” unfolds like a slow vocal fugue then grows more agitated around the twominute mark as the piano enters and a woman protests across the musical line. Or ist it protest? More voices join in and the mellifluous accompaniment helps turn the tables for what sounds more like celebration. This energetic ambiguity is typical of Monk. … mercy appears to reflect elements of Reich-style minimalism, Satie-style economy, early vocal music and rustic harmonic twists typical of Bartók, Janáĉek, Enescu and the like. The modest resources used – a handful of voices, clarinets, tuned percussion, synthesiser, melodica, violin, viola – meld or converse unpremeditated, much as they would in a folk group. mercy is an outgrowth both of Monk’s maturity and the maturing musical trends that surround her. Like its subject, it is very much of our time. I was very taken with it. (Rob Cowan / Gramophone)