This
                    new compilation of works by the American composer Jeremy
                    Beck surveys a number of his pieces from the 1990s. At the
                same time he also samples an earlier work just to prove -
                    for the record, so to speak - that Beck was committed to
                    tonality and a recognizable musical vernacular long before
                    that became the hip bandwagon it is today. Indeed, though
                    there are traces of Copland, Ravel, Debussy and minimalism
                    here, the strongest impression is that of an original voice
                    celebrating music. Without self-consciousness, without paralyzing
                    abstraction, Beck reminds us that music is movement, physically
                    and emotionally.
                
                 
                
                
The
                    collection takes its title from a choral song Beck wrote
                    while teaching music in Russia in the early 1990s. Surprisingly,
                    it’s very short, just over two minutes, but clearly has significance
                    to the composer, who wrote the text himself. That text, inspired
                    by the composer’s people-watching in a St. Petersburg park,
                    grasps at that elusive moment between night and dawn, between
                    dream and wakefulness. This is the horizon that Beck’s music
                    is always traveling toward.
                 
                
The
                    disc leads off with a fine performance of a string quartet
                    titled “Shadows & Light.” The first movement digs into
                    an energizing strum not unlike the cutting-edge repertory
                    typically played by the Kronos Quartet or even Ethel, the
                    amplified quartet, though Beck’s piece is all acoustic. The
                    second movement of the work, three times longer than the
                    first, starts with slow, intense music, inspired by Russian
                    hymnody, though without using Russian melodies or modes.
                    The buildup of tension breaks into a syncopated presto, recalling
                    a few fragments of the first movement. The choral chords
                    keep undercutting the faster music, with which it struggles
                    and intertwines, including what the program booklet identifies
                    as some improvisational passages. With wrenching power, the
                    hymn pulls the music into a remote, peaceful ending. The
                    piece is given a committed performance by the Nevsky String
                    Quartet in good studio sound.
                 
                
Heather
                    Coltman plays the 
Four Piano Pieces very effectively,
                    though the recorded sound is a little closer than would be
                    ideal. The first piece, “Prelude,” is a thoughtful structure
                    of questioning melody and twisting arpeggios. “Dance” is
                    punchy and mechanical, almost like a Conlon Nancarrow player
                    piano piece, though without mathematical ratio to demonstrate.
                    The third piece, “Meditation,” is another study of ineffables,
                    using suspended tones to capture an elusive state. The set
                    ends with a “Toccata” not much shorter than the other three
                    combined. The piece is a restless, glittering flight of riffs
                    that only stops because it has to end somewhere.
                 
                
Russian
                    violinist Tatiana Razoumova, who was also the compelling
                    leader of the Nevsky Quartet in the above recording of “Shadows & Light,” returns
                    here to play Beck’s 
Sonata No. 2 with pianist Maria
                    Kolaiko. The first movement is a study of emotional (not
                    religious) “Rapture,” captured with lyric gestures and contrasting
                    droll wit. Interestingly, though this was written in Iowa
                    after the composer returned to teach in the U.S., it is the
                    most Russian-sounding of the works here. The movement builds
                    up to a long coda. The second movement, “Reminiscence,” looks
                    back at the first within the context of new, brighter, much
                    more American-sounding material. Intentional or not, it sounds
                    like the composer looking back at his return from Russia
                    to the United States with mixed emotions. Razoumova and Kolaiko
                    bring the music to life.
                 
                
The
                    eponymous choral song serves as a lodestone for these pieces,
                    with a searching melody underpinned by restless keyboard
                    patterns. The recorded sound is rather congested, putting
                    the chorus in close-up focus in what sounds like a small
                    room, though the University of Northern Iowa Concert Chorale
                    sings expressively.
                 
                
Beck’s 
Sonata for
                    flute and piano is the earliest work included here, dating
                    from 1981. Academic serialism still held sway at that point,
                    and I remember hearing the serialist composer Mel Powell
                    saying on a national radio broadcast around that time that
                    the battle between serialism and tonality was over and that
                    his camp had won for good. How arrogant and out-of-touch
                    that now seems, for while the giants of the academic genres
                    obliviously strutted about, neo-tonal composers like Beck
                    where springing up in a grassroots move to take back tonality.
                    One can certainly hear Beck staking out his claim here in
                    music both charming and striking, but it also lacks the clarity
                    and boldness of his more recent pieces, particularly “Shadows & Light.”
                 
                
The
                    disc closes with an exhilarating percussion work, “Kopeyia” (pronounced
                    ko-pay-YEE-ya), which was inspired by studies of West African
                    drumming, and takes its name from the village in Ghana where
                    Beck did his studies. It presents a glorious layering of
                    driving rhythms with one trance-like pause for a gentle swelling
                    and sinking of mallet-instrument washes of sound. But while
                    the idea for this exhilarating piece is African, Beck brings
                    his Euro-American melodic sense into it, as well. The Northern
                    Iowa Percussion Ensemble clearly relishes this music, playing
                    the rhythms with tremendous snap and pressing forward as
                    the music builds to a thumping end.
                 
                
With
                    the variation in recording venues, personnel and years, there
                    are some sonic ups-and-downs throughout this recording, but
                    that is to be expected for a compilation of this sort. And
                    were the music not so vitally enjoyable, I might carp about
                    the short overall timing for this disc. But the music is
                    well worth hearing and Innova deserves thanks for putting
                    another relevant voice in front of the public eye.
                 
                
                
Mark Sebastian Jordan
                 
                
                
                
                
                
                Also reviewed on Musicweb by Jeremy Beck on Innova:
 Pause and
                Feel and Hark