{"id":12449,"date":"2017-07-01T13:55:12","date_gmt":"2017-07-01T10:55:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/efk.epcc.ee\/?p=12449\/"},"modified":"2017-07-17T14:02:28","modified_gmt":"2017-07-17T11:02:28","slug":"estonia-focus-weekend-new-estonian-choral-music-tonu-korvits-moorland-elegies-galina-grigorjeva-nature-morte","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/efk.epcc.ee\/en\/2017\/07\/estonia-focus-weekend-new-estonian-choral-music-tonu-korvits-moorland-elegies-galina-grigorjeva-nature-morte\/","title":{"rendered":"Estonia in Focus weekend: New Estonian Choral Music. T\u00f5nu K\u00f5rvits – Moorland Elegies, Galina Grigorjeva – Nature Morte"},"content":{"rendered":"

To bring this first Estonia in Focus weekend to a close, some excellent CDs of Estonian contemporary choral music have been released in the last few months.\u00a0Together they admirably demonstrate the considerable range and richness of compositional thought typical of the country\u2019s new music scene. For a broad but in-depth overview of this scene, there\u2019s a superb new anthology released by the\u00a0Estonian Music Information Centre<\/a>, the primary and superbly supportive outlet for the country\u2019s musical output (at present, the disc only appears to be available directly from there). It contains music by no fewer than ten composers, works all written within the last 15 years.<\/span><\/p>\n

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Folksong, whether clearly invoked or implied, is an influence in several of the pieces. Most obviously in\u00a0Kristo Matson<\/strong>\u2018s\u00a0Three Estonian Folk Songs<\/em>, a strangely-structured work \u2013 the middle \u2018song\u2019 is so blink-and-you\u2019ll-miss-it that it hardly counts \u2013 and perhaps a little too simplistic for its own good, but with some pretty moments, particularly in the opening song.\u00a0Piret Rips-Laul<\/strong>\u2018s\u00a0Paradisi Gloria<\/em>\u00a0is similarly simple, and regarding the album as a whole feels like the odd one out, more redolent of the sugary choral styles so prevalent in the US, tapping into a harmonic world not unlike Morten Lauridsen\u2019s but without the scrunchy diatonics. Also with a folk sensibility, but greater invention and beauty, is\u00a0Maria K\u00f5rvits<\/strong>\u2018 work for female choir\u00a0Haned-luiged<\/em>\u00a0(Geese-Swans), essentially homophonic but here and there enriched with sustained chords behind, while\u00a0Mariliis Valkonen<\/strong>\u2018s\u00a0Usalduse j\u00f5gi<\/em>\u00a0(River of Trust) widens the scope of such simplicity, combining relatively rigid underpinning (via drones) with a mixture of unified declamation and bursts of more textural music. Many of the works on this disc have love as a central theme. In\u00a0Near<\/em>\u00a0by\u00a0Evelin Seppar<\/strong>, setting texts by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, it\u2019s implicit rather than stated (Seppar\u2019s partner conducts the choir for whom it was written), though the work\u2019s strong upward movements that coalesce around the phrase \u201cmystic shape\u201d, and the overwhelmingly passionate outpouring heard later, answered by a soft, heartfelt conclusion, make the subtext abundantly clear. Born in 1958,\u00a0Toivo Tulev<\/strong>\u00a0is the elder statesman here, and not simply in terms of age: Tulev has acted in the role of composition teacher for four of the other featured composers. Though the two movements from his 2007 vocal cycle\u00a0Sonnets<\/em>\u00a0are unfortunately marred by an imperfect recording (afflicted with a low hum), the stirring melancholy that Tulev wrings from Dante\u2019s\u00a0La vita nuova<\/em>\u00a0is crystal clear. First the choir laments and consoles itself as a kind of close-knit support group, before turning outwards in a more emotionally raw episode that benefits from sounding intuitive, the contrast between loud, high outbursts and sustained softer passages making this arguably the most direct music on the disc.<\/p>\n

Four pieces are outstanding and deserve special mention.\u00a0T\u00f5nu K\u00f5rvits<\/strong>\u2018 setting of portions from the Song of Solomon \u2013 given the wonderfully tongue-twisting title\u00a0Laulud laulude laulust<\/em>(Songs of Song of Songs) \u2013 embraces folk trappings while attaining quantities of both solemnity and ecstasy that perfectly capture the ardent love in the text, punctuated by some lovely cadential moments acting as short pauses for reflection, or simply an occasion to bathe in feeling.\u00a0\u00a0I Am A River<\/em>, by\u00a0Helena Tulve<\/strong>\u00a0\u2013 another major figure in Estonia\u2019s new music scene, who has also mentored several of these composers \u2013 is the longest work on the disc, and it\u2019s more experimental in terms of both the deployment of voices as well as its harmonic palette. The tonal ambiguities and complicated textures in her setting of words by\u00a0Rumi<\/a>\u00a0come across as more emotionally potent due to these same complications and ambiguities, given some clarity in the glorious eruptions and, later, quiet meditative music that all combine to convey a kind of sustained rapture. Gorgeous.\u00a0Mirjam Tally<\/strong>\u2018s astounding\u00a0Sinu vari<\/em>\u00a0(Your Shadow) employs a restrained electronic part of miasmic drones and gentle singing bowl sounds as a backdrop for what is essentially a piece of choral ambient music, which in conjunction with the choir\u2019s sporadic phrases and exhalations establishes a tone of zen-like stillness that\u2019s both peaceful and cathartic. For me, though, the most impressive and memorable work on the disc returns to the kind of folk-like simplicity i mentioned before.\u00a0K\u00e4rt Johanson<\/strong>\u2018s\u00a0\u00d5htu ilu<\/em>\u00a0(Beauty of the Evening) takes a fragment of overheard melody and turns it into a cycling mantra \u2013 somewhat like Taiz\u00e9 chant \u2013 continually re-harmonised and -coloured by the choir. Passing through a wide variety of degrees of intensity, there\u2019s something genuinely magical about this piece; one senses it could go on forever, as inwardly enthralled as it is outwardly mesmerising. Amazing music.<\/p>\n

Not only does this disc testify to the imagination of the composers, but also to the singing quality of the eight different choirs involved, all of which display levels of accuracy and subtlety that go way beyond being merely impressive. As i\u2019ve stated previously, choral music is arguably the idiom for which Estonia should be most loudly lauded, and this disc makes it abundantly clear why that\u2019s the case.<\/p>\n

On a new release from Ondine,\u00a0T\u00f5nu K\u00f5rvits<\/strong>\u00a0gets a disc all to himself, showcasing his large-scale work for choir and strings,\u00a0Moorland Elegies<\/em><\/a>.\u00a0K\u00f5rvits has turned to the poetry of Emily Bront\u00eb in order to create what he describes as \u201ca journey into the darkest, most mysterious corners of loneliness: to where one doesn\u2019t bare to peek twice\u201d. His approach is neither to construct an over-arching narrative nor to explore a vast, multi-faceted soundscape. Instead,\u00a0K\u00f5rvits creates a world that\u2019s fittingly en, not exactly claustrophobic but nonetheless with very definite limits on both its purview and mode of expression. i\u2019m not sure i\u2019ve ever heard anything quite like it. The opening movement, \u2018Come, Walk With Me\u2019, is a paradigm of the work as a whole: there\u2019s seemingly something conventionally neo-romantic, even rather cheesy, at the heart of this music, yet sufficiently (dis-)coloured and distorted that it becomes weird and unsettling, all the more so due to the lilting triple metre that makes it feel like a lush yet haunted dance. An extended string epilogue reinforces the weirdness, the intimacy of Bront\u00eb\u2019s text made to feel as though directed to a memory or a ghost.<\/p>\n

This sets the tone marvellously for the rest of the work, which exhibits this same unsettling blend of light, cheerful and uplifted material continually and fundamentally troubled, blanched and turned on its side. It works heavily in the music\u2019s favour that K\u00f5rvits hasn\u2019t set out to create music that aspires to the stuff of real gothic nightmares; the work is much more nuanced and subtle than that, and while on numerous occasions one senses a filmic quality to the music, in this instance it surely says more about the ways film scores borrow from contemporary musical experimentation than the other way round. Comfortable harmonies and a sense of unity are militated against by soft collapses into clusters in \u2018The night is darkening round me\u2019 (featuring a lovely solo from alto Marianne P\u00e4rna), whereas \u2018She dried her tears and they did smile\u2019 is set like a relatively simple song that\u2019s surrounded by forces alien and threatening, both in terms of material and behaviour, leading to a network of final overlapping \u201coh\u201ds that constitute one of\u00a0Moorland Elegies<\/em>\u2018 most truly spine-chilling moments. There\u2019s a return to the world of eerie dance allusions in \u2018The starry night shall tidings bring\u2019, the choir initially stuck on a single pitch as though quasi-catatonic, to the accompaniment of an undulating sequence of string swells (with faint echoes of Jerry Goldsmith); despite later developments,\u00a0K\u00f5rvits keeps the harmonies essentially fixed and static, creating a kind of stupified, psychologically-deluded version of the imaginary ride through the air in Richard Strauss\u2019\u00a0Don Quixote<\/em>. At last, everything breaks down in the final movement (\u2018Month after month, year after year\u2019), in which the clarity of melody and the obfuscation of cluster directly collide; the result, though extremely beautiful, is bleak and full of the profoundest melancholy, which continues to poke and prod away at the music despite attempts (as at first) to present something of a brighter nostalgic hue. The ending is judged to perfection, the choir coming to \u2018rest\u2019 (if that\u2019s the right word) in a way riven with uncertainty: happy? sad? quietly unhinged? Most likely all three.<\/p>\n

Moorland Elegies<\/em>\u00a0is treated to a marvellously vivid rendition in this recording by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir and the Tallinn Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Risto Joost. Its continual fluctuating between comfort and disquiet is highly stimulating, undermining the music\u2019s superficial beauty in order to project something very much more intimately personal and damaged. Highly impressive.<\/p>\n

When\u00a0i wrote yesterday<\/a>\u00a0that\u00a0Galina Grigorjeva<\/strong>\u00a0had composed some of the best choral music i\u2019d ever heard, it was this disc i was thinking of. Released a few months back, also on Ondine and again featuring the\u00a0Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, directed here by Paul Hillier,\u00a0Nature Morte<\/em><\/a>\u00a0brings together six works by\u00a0Grigorjeva, all but one for chamber choir. As noted above, the influence of folk music is evident here too. In the six movements of\u00a0Svjatki<\/em>\u00a0it\u2019s channelled to create, among other things, a fanfare (\u2018Slava!\u2019, \u201cGlory!\u201d), a convoluted circling around a single point (\u2018Svjatii Vecher\u2019, \u201cHoly Evening\u201d) and a boisterous choral crowd where the singers keep falling over each other (\u2018Khristu Rozdj\u00ebnnomu\u2019, \u201cTo the Newborn Christ\u201d). More involving are \u2018Oy Kalyudka!\u2019 (\u201cO, Kalyudka!\u201d), in which bustling mass activity creates underlying turbulence that manifests on the surface in exuberant gestures, shaped into lengthy chant-like progressions \u2013 and leading to a thrilling final climax \u2013 and the delicate tenderness of \u2018Chto Nastanet Vesna\u2019 (\u201cSpring Is Coming\u201d), a lyrical melody soliloquising over a drone, spawning a multitude of subsidiary imitative lines, the wondrous combined effect as though reflected in a hall of mirrors. Elsewhere, in the\u00a0Diptych<\/em>\u00a0for male choir and her setting of\u00a0In paradisum<\/em>,\u00a0Grigorjeva opts for a kind of rich, solemn joy, the latter informed by an interested tendency towards roaming harmonies, the former concerned with near-stasis (clearly informed by Orthodox music), explored in a slow-burning, stately way that along the way generates great intensity. As a nicely incongruous touch, the disc includes\u00a0Grigorjeva\u2019s solo recorder piece\u00a0Lament<\/em>, which in the large acoustic of Tallinn\u2019s Niguliste Church sounds magnificent, moving from plangent outpourings to frantic repetitive sputterings, driven on by necessity but not remotely stable. The instrument comes to resemble a will-o\u2019-the-wisp, disappearing into the shadows leaving echoes as its only trace.<\/p>\n

All very fine pieces, but two others, the 2013\u00a0Salve Regina<\/em>\u00a0for vocal quartet and string quartet and the title piece,\u00a0Nature Morte<\/em>\u00a0for mixed choir (2008), are yet more outstanding. In the\u00a0Salve Regina<\/em>\u00a0(performed here by Theatre of Voices and Yxus Quartet), Grigorjeva creates a series of harmonic \u2018rooms\u2019 that the music moves through. On the one hand, it betrays some qualities of chant, but sufficiently sublimated that the music is liberated from the trappings of a liturgical text, soaring in a way that packs a potent emotional wallop.\u00a0Nature Morte<\/em>, setting a text in English by Joseph Brodsky, goes even further in this respect, fully abandoning all trappings of religious solemnity. The opening movement is carried along on a texture of\u00a0burbling individual voices (perhaps reflecting the \u2018passers-by\u2019 in the text), Brodsky\u2019s words all but swallowed up in the mayhem, even more so in the enormous dissonant climax that cuts through its centre. The words are then swallowed up in a different way, erased in a blur of humming and a chilling loud exhalation, embellished with unidentifiable rustlings. This is followed by what is, to date, Grigorjeva\u2019s greatest achievement, \u2018The Butterfly\u2019, an utterly electrifying expression of bliss and agony in contemplation of the existence and ephemerality of life. A delicate melody is continually unwound, passed gingerly from singer to singer, borne upon a cushion of sustained chords. Considering that neither the poet nor the composer are English, the immense immediacy and emotional depth and transparency of the words in this movement is simply\u00a0extraordinary. The work ends with \u2018Who are you?\u2019, a text imagining Mary introspectively contemplating the nature of Jesus in the wake of his execution. Grigorjeva has here created her most broodingly heavy music, personal and laboured; nonetheless, she finds a way to enable the piece to blaze with an impossible brightness at its apex, before closing in serene tenderness, encapsulating the duality of Brodsky\u2019s text, the music embodying both the mortal and the divine. An unequivocal masterpiece, it\u2019s the high point of a fantastic disc that proves Arvo P\u00e4rt really shouldn\u2019t keep getting all the glory.<\/p>\n

All three of these discs, in fact, testify to what\u2019s really going on in choral music in Estonia. It\u2019s music we should all be taking seriously and start getting to know a lot better.<\/p>\n

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Estonia in Focus weekend: New Estonian Choral Music; T\u00f5nu K\u00f5rvits – Moorland Elegies; Galina Grigorjeva – Nature Morte<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n