As far back as the 
                mid-1960s and the mid-1970s, Erato recorded 
                a number of major works by Ohana. This 
                went on during the CD era, so that Ohana’s 
                music has been available in commercial 
                recordings fairly regularly. More recently 
                still, his discography has grown considerably 
                with several new recordings by several 
                record companies (Timpani, Calliope 
                and Opus 111), so that most of his major 
                works are now currently available. Some 
                of you may remember that I 
                reviewed three fairly recent Timpani 
                releases of his orchestral music some 
                time ago. A number of pieces still await 
                recording, either new ones or further 
                re-issues; in this respect I still hope 
                that Philips might re-issue their recording 
                of Les Trois contes de l’Honorable 
                Fleur, now long deleted. 
              
 
              
Ohana’s composing career 
                might roughly be split into three different 
                periods: an early ‘Spanish’ period culminating 
                in the guitar concerto Tres Graficos 
                (once recorded, but now no longer available), 
                Lanto por Ignacio Sánchez 
                Mejias and Cantigas; 
                a more radical and experimental middle 
                period that produced works such as Syllabaire 
                pour Phèdre (1966/7), 
                Signes (1965), Cris 
                (1968/9) and Chiffres 
                de clavecin (1968): and a final 
                period in which the mastery gained over 
                the preceding years allowed Ohana to 
                compose with complete freedom and perfectly 
                accomplished expression as is clearly 
                heard in his late masterpieces such 
                as Anneau du Tamarit (1976), 
                Livre des prodiges (1978/9), 
                the second cello concerto In dark 
                and blue or the Piano 
                Concerto (1981). 
              
 
              
Both Llanto 
                and Cantigas are the unquestionable 
                masterpieces of Ohana’s "Spanish" 
                period. These powerful scores are quintessentially 
                Spanish in tone and soul, though conspicuously 
                free from any all-too-easy picturesque 
                quality. The music goes straight to 
                the very heart of Spanish music as can 
                be experienced in cante jondo, 
                for example; and possesses a formidable, 
                often rugged energy, miles away from 
                the postcard clichés heard in 
                lesser, more superficial works. This 
                is sun-drenched Spain, not without some 
                latent violence or brutality (Llanto) 
                or with some forceful mysticism (Cantigas). 
                The present performances are remarkably 
                fine, although they inevitably have 
                to compete with some more recent recorded 
                performances : Cantigas 
                on Pierre Verany PV787032 and Llanto 
                on Calliope CAL 9877, both conducted 
                by Roland Hayrabedian who has steadfastly 
                championed Ohana’s music over the years, 
                mainly with the ensemble Musicatreize. 
              
Syllabaire pour 
                Phèdre (1966/7), Cris 
                (1968/9), Signes 
                (1965)and Chiffres de clavecin 
                (1968) date from Ohana’s middle period; 
                and are all rather more experimental 
                and complex in many respects, but never 
                gratuitously so, for Ohana always aims 
                at expression whereas the technical 
                aspects of the music are just possible 
                ways to achieve expression. True, most 
                pieces from this important period of 
                Ohana’s musical progress are quite demanding, 
                I mean, on the performers’ and the listeners’ 
                part; but – again – never intractably 
                so. Ohana’s aural imagination and vital 
                rhythms are such that these pieces never 
                sound as dry, matter-of-fact experiments. 
                Syllabaire pour Phèdre, 
                actually some sort of chamber opera, 
                exploits the many possibilities of the 
                human voice as a musical object; as 
                does the choral piece Cris 
                ("Shouts") composed immediately 
                after the so-called May 1968 events 
                that shattered France as never before 
                in this country’s history, i.e. after 
                the revolution of 1789. The instrumental 
                works also explore a wide range of techniques 
                such as aleatoric, extensive use of 
                percussion and micro-intervals (often 
                through the use of third-tone zither, 
                a favourite instrument that Ohana used 
                quite frequently throughout his career). 
                But, again, the difficulty and complexity 
                of these pieces are generously compensated 
                by some powerfully expressive strength. 
              
Messe 
                (1977), the first cello concerto Anneau 
                du Tamarit (1976) and the extraordinary 
                Livre des prodiges 
                (1978/9) are fully representative of 
                the output of Ohana’s full maturity. 
                He is now full master of his aims and 
                means, and able to compose in complete 
                freedom giving full rein to his imagination. 
                He also now allows exotic rhythms into 
                his music, that considerably enlarge 
                his rhythmic palette and that often 
                characterise his late works. The impressive 
                Livre des prodiges, 
                some sort of present-day comment on 
                The Rite of Spring, powerfully 
                conjures-up some ages-old and mysterious, 
                subterranean rituals in most vivid orchestral 
                terms without ever imitating Stravinsky’s 
                masterpiece. This is – as far as I am 
                concerned – one of Ohana’s masterpieces, 
                and one of his most accessible major 
                works. The Lorca-inspired Anneau 
                du Tamarit, too, clearly demonstrates 
                Ohana’s deeply felt lyricism without 
                compromise or sentimentality. It is 
                a most moving piece that never fails 
                to make its mark. Messe exists 
                in two versions, viz. one for concert 
                use (heard here) and one for liturgical 
                use. It perfectly illustrates Ohana’s 
                ability to write simpler, but immensely 
                rewarding music, again without writing-down 
                or compromising. 
              
 
              
This worthwhile and 
                most welcome compilation is completed 
                with some chamber works such as Sorôn-Ngô 
                for two pianos, three pieces for harpsichord 
                superlatively played by Elisabeth Chojnacka 
                (who else?) and the impressionistic 
                Sacral d’Ilx for oboe, 
                horn and harpsichord (i.e. the instrumental 
                combination that Debussy had planned 
                for his fourth sonata that he did not 
                live long enough to write). 
              
 
              
All performances are 
                consistently fine (many of these recordings 
                were made under the composer’s supervision), 
                played by musicians that had a long 
                association with the composer and his 
                music; and the recorded sound is still 
                admirable. 
              
 
              
Ohana’s music is not 
                easy, for sure; but it possesses a remarkable 
                power to impress, to question and – 
                more importantly – to communicate. He 
                was a highly personal, sincere and utterly 
                honest composer who painstakingly ploughed 
                his furrow regardless of any current 
                fashion, but who remained attentive 
                to what was going on around him as a 
                musician and as a man. This release 
                provides a fair introduction to Ohana’s 
                personal sound-world; and, as such, 
                is warmly recommended to anyone who 
                might like to explore this important 
                composer’s music at lesser expense. 
                My bargain of the month. 
              
 
              
Hubert Culot