The Vienna Wind Soloists

Side One
Ibert
Trois Pièces brèves
1. Allegro 2:10
2. Andante 1:33
3. Assez lent-allegro scherzando 2:45

Janáček
Mládí
1. Allegro 3:37
2. Andante sostenuto 4:52
3. Vivace 3:51
4. Allegro animato 4:56
with Horst Hajek (bass clarinet)

Side Two
Hindemith
Kleine Kammermusik, Op. 24, No. 2
1. Lustig. Mässig schnelle Viertel 2:50
2. Walzer. Durchweg sehr leise 1:42
3. Ruhig und einfach. Achtel 4:56
4. Schnelle Vierte
5. Sehr lebhaft 3:31

Ligeti
Ten Pieces for Wind Quintet 13:02
1. Molto sostenuto e calmo
2. Prestissimo minaccioso e burlesco
3. Lento
4. Prestissimo leggiero e virtuoso
5. Presto staccatissimo e leggiero
6. Presto staccatissimo e leggiero
7. Vivo. energico
8. Allegro con delicatezza
9. Sostenuto. stridente
10. Presto bizzarro e rubato, so schnell wie möglich

Wolfgang Schulz (flute) • Gerhard Turetschek (oboe) • Peter Schmidl (clarinet) • Volker Altman (horn) • Fritz Faltl (bassoon)

-- LINER NOTES --

Jacques Ibert (1890-1962) was born in Paris and held the posts of director of both the Academie de France in Rome and later the Paris Opera. In some ways Ibert might be regarded as an off-shoot of "Les Six," in his rejection of Debussian impressionism, favoring the simpler, more direct, often satirical language of Satie and his followers. The Trois Pièces brèves sparkle with wit and virtuosity. The first piece (Allegro) opens with an arresting ostinato figure which straight away leads into a lilting dance-like melody on the oboe. After a middle section in which the material is subjected to mild development, the oboe theme returns, jubilant, and the piece ends in a blaze of color. The Andante movement is similarly economic and to the point, consisting of a delicate two-part invention for flute and clarinet, the rest of the quintet entering only in the final bars forming a short codetta. The final movement, after a slow introduction, returns to the spirit of the dance featuring a parody of an Austrian ländler.

Leoš Janáček (1854-1928) made extensive studies into Moravian and Slavonic folksong, the influences of which are particularly evident in the first and third movements of the sextet Mládí (Youth) written in 1924. The first movement (Allegro) contrasts a folk-like modal melody on the oboe with a more four-square bassoon theme which has an almost martial accompaniment figure. Both are developed side by side, but it is the more robust music that eventually dominates. In the second movement (Andante sostenuto) one melodic unit--a phrase comprising the intervals of a descending second and third--permeates the whole piece, a kind of continuous variation structure. The third movement, the Scherzo of the suite, is typical of Janáček's more "rustic" mood, based on a lively modal tune in folksong style, accompanied by harmonically static ostinati, and with much exact repetition of sections. The final movement (Allegro animato), like the second, is basically the melodic metamorphosis of a single idea heard initially on the flute. As the piece gathers momentum and a climax is reached, the opening material of the first movement is restated and, together with fragments from the other movements, is integrated into the melodic continuum. The idiomatic writing for the wind instruments is characteristic of Janáček: the double-tonguing and flutter-tonguing, for example, in the finale, and the trills in the first movement. The addition of a bass clarinet to the normal quintet means that lower bass notes can be sustained very softly (as in the second movement), an effect difficult to bring off on the larger bassoon. Also by reinforcing the bass register, it releases the horn more frequently from the murky lower region of the compass where it is often forced to operate in many works in the quintet medium.

Paul Hindemith (1895-1963) composed the Kleine Kammermusik (Little Chamber Music) opus 24, number 2, in 1922. Like the Trois Pièces brèves it is essentially light in character but extremely refined, and was written during what might be labelled Hindemith's "neo-classical" period, before the opera Mathis der Maler. The forms of each of the five short movements are very clear cut and easily perceptible, the material well defined. Although not diatonic in the traditional sense, tonalities are nevertheless always inherent although rarely established, and constantly veiled by the superimposition of different keys.

György Ligeti (born 1923) was commissioned to write a work for the Stockholm Philharmonic Wind Quintet in 1968, and the Ten Pieces were first performed in Malmö the following year. The structure of the whole alternates tutti and concertante sections, so that pieces two, four, six, eight and ten, feature respectively clarinet, flute, oboe, horn and bassoon, whereas in the other movements all the instruments are of equal importance. Ligeti has described the work as a series of kaleidoscopic images. A limited number of musical ideas and techniques appear in constantly changing relationships and juxtapositions: sometimes expanded, sometimes compressed but never developing thematically in a traditional manner. Various new playing techniques are used: pitchless double-tonguing (in the case of the bassoon, with the reed taken out), and "muted" bassoon, with a cloth stuffed into the upper joint at the beginning of the eighth piece. The work ends abruptly, and here Ligeti quotes Lewis Carroll in the score:

" ... but-"
There was a long pause.
"Is that all?" Alice timidly asked.
"That's all," said Humpty Dumpty. "Good-bye."

-- David Sutton, February 1977

AGP 154

Ligeti's Artikulation Animated

There Will Be Nonsense

If you ever want to calibrate your critical bullshit meter, Peter Travers' comments about the soundtrack to There Will Be Blood are a great indication of where the top of the range lies.

This knob took it to 11 when he said, "....the score by Radiohead guitarist and composer Jonny Greenwood is revolutionary, a sonic explosion that reinvents what movie music can be."

On the next page, in his 'Memo to the Academy' vis-à-vis the Oscars, Travers ups the ante, "DON'T BE STUPID ABOUT ROCK MUSIC: ...Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood composed a landmark score for There Will Be Blood that revitalizes what music can mean to a movie. You'll want to dismiss it as weird, which is what you always do when something original comes along. That's ignorance--snap out of it."

Perhaps PT has never heard Bernard Herrmann or Ennio Morricone's work. Hell, maybe he never saw Paul Thomas Anderson's previous films where Jon Brion breaks genuine ground and set the tone which Greenwood ably mimicks in his score, which is fine enough.

However, it's telling that PTA turns to both Brahms and Pärt in key moments. Greenwood's music is all texture. There is a recurring string glissando which starts on all manner of notes and proceeds at apparently random down to a quavering unison, sounding like water swirling down the drain, and it's heard every time Daniel Day-Lewis' sanity is on shaky ground. A cute gimmick.

There is a lovely bit of col legno phasing which tips its hat to Ligeti's metronome chorus. But if Jack McCracken's name had been on the score, no one would hyperventilate over it the way so many have for Greenwood.

And while we're dispensing notes, here's one to PTA. Please stop attenuating your films. They're too far beyond what anyone else is doing to rely on a crutch like sustaining the threat of violence throughout (The first thing we see is the title, and the last thing we see is the blood). The brilliantly absurdist endings you love will still have the impact of a sledgehammer without constantly screwing up the tension. In fact, if you'd let this film breathe a little, the raves about Day-Lewis' landmark performance would be even more unanimous.

And that's no bullshit.