“The planet’s hottest composer” (The Daily 
                  Telegraph) now has a third album out on the Decca label, the 
                  previous two having already been reviewed here. 
                  Moving on from choral repertoire, this programme gives us the 
                  attractive proposition of a number of chamber orchestra pieces, 
                  including a ‘concerto’ for violin soloist Thomas 
                  Gould, playing a six-string electric violin. 
                    
                  The first thing to say about this recording has to do with colour 
                  and transparency. Decca have managed to create something of 
                  a luminous masterpiece of the musical soundscape, despite the 
                  slightly ‘studio’ nature of the acoustic. This has 
                  to do with the excellent playing and the open quality of Nico 
                  Muhly’s instrumentation/orchestration, with few strings 
                  and single winds, but the sonorities and spectra created form 
                  a feast for the ear. 
                    
                  This is a nicely programmed and satisfyingly full disc and has 
                  plenty of good things to offer. Nico Muhly might perhaps be 
                  categorised as a softer version of Graham Fitkin or Steve Martland 
                  in the punchy, piano-led rhythms of Step Team, and this 
                  card-holding membership of a fairly recent kind of English ‘school’ 
                  is one of the attractions of his music. The influence of John 
                  Adams is also never quite further than a whiff away in this 
                  and other pieces, and the good ol’ US of A is even more 
                  strongly invoked via Steve Reich in the virtual homage which 
                  is the beginning of Motion. This isn’t minimalist 
                  or even ostinato based, but then, neither is Mr Reich these 
                  days. Echoes of Reich’s harmonies can be heard in the 
                  fragmented chorale which runs through the opening minutes, though 
                  the main extra-Muhly material comes via Orlando Gibbons’ 
                  This is the Record of John which creates some nice new/old 
                  juxtapositions within the work. 
                    
                  By All Means is a response to Webern’s Concerto 
                  Op.24, and reaches furthest into the realms of what one 
                  might call avant-garde in musical terms on this disc, though 
                  even here there are plenty of tonal clues to help you through 
                  the enigmatic textures of the opening and the more violent gestures 
                  later on. The music darts and veers with plenty of nervous intensity, 
                  and is something of a technical tour de force for the musicians. 
                  
                    
                  Each of Muhly’s own pieces is framed by an arrangement 
                  of works by William Byrd or Orlando Gibbons, and this creates 
                  both fine moments of repose, as well as spotlighting the relationships 
                  and affinities today’s music can have with that of 500 
                  years ago. The arrangements introduce one or two fairly innocuous 
                  interventions and variations; what Muhly describes as a “very 
                  liberal” treatment, which respects the material but moulds 
                  it a little here and there to highlight or stretch certain points. 
                  
                    
                  The title track, Seeing is Believing, is a stunning vehicle 
                  for soloist Thomas Gould and his six-string electric violin. 
                  This for the most part sounds like an amplified conventional 
                  violin, perhaps with some added acoustic effect, but by no means 
                  made to sound like a distortion rock-guitar or anything like 
                  that. The way the instrument can dip really low is highly impressive. 
                  The opening of the piece is a fascinating texture which see 
                  the lines of the soloist echo and weave amongst themselves whilst 
                  witty touches from the orchestra chip in, but this atmosphere 
                  is alas short-lived and never really develops, and before long 
                  we’re into Kronos-Quartet off-beat chugging and some fairly 
                  extended periods of rather nondescript meandering, which gradually 
                  builds towards energetic scrubbing. There are some very good 
                  things in this piece and the playing is superb, but with the 
                  material as used it would be better at an intense 10 minutes 
                  rather than a sometimes drippy 24. I won’t gripe on, but 
                  this is the kind of thing one of my old composition teachers 
                  would have called ‘sleeping on both sides of the blanket’, 
                  with a firm encouragement to make up my mind as to what I really 
                  wanted to say, and in which idiom. 
                    
                  Ignoring all the hype, this is an attractive disc which I have 
                  no doubt will please the fans. As Robert Schumann said, “To 
                  send light into the darkness of men’s hearts - such is 
                  the duty of the artist”, and in this regard Nico Muhly 
                  and the Aurora musicians can consider this a good job well done. 
                  Bob Schumann also said, “To compose music, all you have 
                  to do is remember a tune that nobody else has thought of”, 
                  and this is something I defy anyone to find on this album - 
                  a tune. We don’t always need or necessarily even want 
                  tunes, but it would be a moment of glorious relief if Muhly 
                  were to stop tiptoeing around John Adams and really come out 
                  with something with similar impact to the big “On the 
                  Dominant Divide” tune from his Grand Pianola Music. 
                  There aren’t any really sexy phwoaaar moments like 
                  that here, or even ones which elicit gasps of oooooh 
                  or aaaaah - though that promise is constantly held in 
                  front of us like a carrot on a stick. There is also very little 
                  in terms of any kind of actual ‘message’ per piece. 
                  We are entertained, diverted and stimulated, even affected at 
                  times, but we are never really moved or put through that transformative 
                  mill which has us emerge, sadder and wiser - or even stuffed 
                  fit to burst with joy - by the end of the great work. This is 
                  perhaps the nature of post-post-post-it-note modern music, so 
                  far immersed in eclecticism that we have to be grateful to have 
                  anything new at all. I don’t believe this has to be the 
                  case however. While we’re gathering quotes I think one 
                  of the great survivors of Nazism Karl Amadeus Hartmann was right 
                  to remark, “A man, and an artist in particular, is not 
                  allowed to live day in and day out without having had something 
                  to say.” In these fearsomely dangerous times, what is 
                  Nico Muhly actually saying? 
                    
                  Dominy Clements