Normally I’m skeptical
of compositions with speech, since they
can be difficult to want to hear over
and over again. Although Copland’s A
Lincoln Portrait has its moments,
I feel that I’m hearing a lecture. Recently
I had the pleasure of hearing Esa-Pekka
Salonen’s tribute to the architect Frank
Gehry, Wing on Wing, a fascinating
work that incorporates fragments of
Gehry’s actual comments talking about
the new Disney Concert Hall. Steve Reich’s
early works such as Come Out
and It’s Gonna Rain are some
of the few I can recall in which words
actually cross over and are transformed
into music.
All this is to say
that, despite some initial skepticism,
I found this new recording unexpectedly
captivating. It is essentially the result
of a close collaboration between the
outstanding Paul Griffiths (former chief
music critic for The New York Times),
who did the words, contemporary cello
advocate Frances-Marie Uitti who composed
the music, and recording producer Manfred
Eicher, who apparently provided the
place and encouragement for all this
interaction to occur.
As a sample, here is
the first of the seventeen pieces, one
of the shorter ones. It is typical of
Griffiths’ quiet, sober introspective
outlook:
I cannot remember what hope I may have
held out that things would be other than
they are
I cannot remember what reason I could
have had for such a hope
I cannot remember that there was a reason
at all
I cannot remember what thoughts may have
been in my mind on this one of all
I first became acquainted
with Ms. Uitti’s talent back in the
1990s, in a New York recital of music
by Giacinto Scelsi, a haunting but extreme
composer whose explorations of single
notes and minute details are either
fascinating or maddening. (I usually
vote for the former.) Here Uitti produces
a lovely, warmly ingratiating sound
that gives these works every opportunity
to sit in the brain and be pondered
over. Mr. Griffiths recites these texts
with quiet, thoughtful expressiveness,
while Ms. Uitti’s passionate cello provides
an often more intense counterpoint.
For example, consider the second part,
think of that day, in which Griffiths’
voice becomes more calm and resolute,
while Uitti’s cello line simultaneously
ascends and grows ever more passionate,
almost piercingly so. Each of the pieces
uses calm, carefully placed syllables,
almost deadpan in delivery, interwoven
with Uitti’s often overwhelmingly emotional
playing. If at almost an hour, one’s
interest in the collaboration flags
a bit, this is still a worthwhile experiment
that will probably give pleasure to
either fans of the cellist or those
who enjoy Griffiths’ mellifluous voice.
The sound is exemplary
– clear and unforced, as is ECM’s bent.
The booklet is filled with ECM’s typically
beautiful layout and photographs, in
their serene house style.
Bruce Hodges
Paul Griffiths (speaker); Frances-Marie Uitti
(cello) 
