This is, OgreOgress’
web-site tells us, the sixth in a series
of discs featuring previously unrecorded
works by well-known composers. The product
design, it has to be said, leaves something
to be desired. The notes (perfectly
acceptable in themselves) are printed
in white on a variety of eye-paining,
headache-inducing colours. There is
no catalogue number to be seen anywhere
on the (flimsy cardboard) slipcase,
nor on the disc itself. Only by going
to OgreOgress’ website (http://www.ogreogress.home-page.org)
and finding the relevant listing does
‘OO2003a’ turn up, and even then it
is not in the obvious place. Are they
deliberately trying to make it hard
to get hold of this disc?
As it happens, it is
of much value. It is fascinating to
meet the First Piano Sonata (track 1:
there was to be no Second …), which
dates from the close of the period of
Feldman’s studies with Wallingford Riegger.
Its dedication to Bartók is interesting,
and the slow movement of Bartók’s
own Sonata is given as the starting
point. Feldman’s gestures seem to stand
in opposition to each other (Feldman
being averse to developing any idea
in conventional ways). Silence plays
a big part in the work’s argument, although
there is a nicely agile section (c3’10-30).
A sudden glissando makes an impact,
like a spontaneous, yet brief, outburst.
The calmer Preludio makes explicit
reference to the Bach of the Two-Part
inventions, itself putting the Self-Portrait
into relief (the latter works to a positively
impassioned climax based on a four-note
descending motif).
The Three Dances
was premièred in 1950 by pianist
Edwin Hymovitz for Merle Marsicano’s
dance performance. The first is almost
as un-dancelike as you can get, in the
traditional sense of the word. An eerie
Cageian silence hangs over this (track
4). The spiky yet delicate second dance
seems to refer to Schoenberg’s Op. 19
Piano Pieces, while the sudden (unannounced)
introduction of percussion in to the
third (including a hammer on a small
anvil?), followed by tapping provides
a hypnotic conclusion.
For Cynthia
was written for Feldman’s first wife.
It is small and unashamedly cute.
The concluding Pieces
for Three Pianos are much larger
statements, and here the composer has
a chance to breathe. All three parts
are played by Petrina. She aims not
for a simulation of a live act, but
rather to provide an alternative listening
experience. The slow-moving, almost
processional first piece (track 8).
Two of the piano parts are written for
chords to be held until they fade away;
the third is precisely temporally notated.
The end result is initially disorientating,
but one slowly becomes dragged into
the piece’s aesthetic. For the second
piece, as one piano fades, another enters
in an attempt at contiguity. In both
pieces, time ceases to operate for the
listener in a ‘normal’ way (in as much
as time ever can!), and perception becomes
ever heightened. There appears to be
a high-pitched squeal towards the end
of the piece on my review copy that
sounds like a recording fault (it starts
around 13’40).
Not to worry. Petrina
herself plays with complete commitment.
She holds an impressive CV, having studied
at Padua, Ljubljana and Budapest (see
http://musicianmp3.com/artist/DeboraPetrina/)
and her performances, which are bound
together by the utmost concentration,
bear out her abilities. This is a fascinating
document, invaluable for all students/followers
of Feldman.
Colin Clarke
Debora Petrina (piano).
