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Classical Spin: Tigran Mansurian/Kim Kashkashian

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  • Classical Spin: Tigran Mansurian/Kim Kashkashian

    Georgia Straight, Canada
    Dec 16 2004

    Classical Spin: Tigran Mansurian/Kim Kashkashian

    By alexander varty

    Monodia (ECM New Series)

    According to Armenian composer Tigran Mansurian, interviewed in his
    new CD's liner notes, the essence of his country's music "reveals
    itself in an extreme frugality of expressive means. Whether
    intonation, rhythm or the shaping of tone colours--everything is
    employed very sparingly." Traditional Armenian melodies, he adds,
    "shift as slowly and laboriously as the search for fertile soil among
    the jagged Armenian rocks".

    We're lucky, then, that Mansurian is a modern Armenian, open to
    global influences and not bound by his culture's often tragic past.
    He's happy to take advantage of a variety of expressive
    means--Monodia's two CDs feature a violin concerto, a viola concerto,
    a duet for viola and soprano saxophone, and a piece for viola and
    four voices--and although some of his charts can be both jagged and
    rocky, they also move with the quicksilver speed of the information
    age.

    Typical of that is ...and then I was in time again, scored for
    Armenian-American violist Kim Kashkashian and the Münchener
    Kammerorchester. It's true that the overall pace of the work is more
    slow than not, and that its melodies have something of the keening
    quality typical of Armenian liturgical music. But emotionally, it can
    spin the listener from great heights of exaltation to bottomless
    despair in the course of a few short seconds. Though championed by
    Pierre Boulez, Mansurian does not share his Parisian mentor's
    technocratic bent; instead, he's concerned with finding sophisticated
    ways to project primal feelings of loss, sorrow, terror, and,
    occasionally, ecstatic peace.

    That's especially obvious on Lachrymae, a haunting duo for
    Kashkashian and saxophonist Jan Garbarek. Here the resources really
    are few and the melodic material plain, but Mansurian frames them up
    as a kind of dialogue between hope and foreboding. Again, the music
    manages to be both harsh and eloquent; those stony fields lie deep in
    Mansurian's soul, but so too does a great deal of urbane
    intelligence.

    --Boundary_(ID_UCgaVlj+2RjzOi2Ehem1eg)--
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