The Spanish Trio Arbós presents here a contemporary
chamber music collection. The works are modern yet accessible;
they gratify on both emotional and cerebral levels. The liner-note
explains that the musicians deliberately built the program in
the concert style, going from slow to fast - and then adding
an encore.
Slow Dance starts with a sparse, apathetic introduction.
We gaze at the base of the fabric, the grey canvas. Then beautiful
red lines and strokes begin to appear on the canvas - flowers
and leaves, faces and curly locks. The pictures come to life
- but in the spectral way that memories do. There is pain in
this joy, and joy in this pain, like in a reminiscence that
was good but gone. Again we see the barren canvas in front of
us, cold and lifeless. I feel a parallel with the Valse triste
of Sibelius, though here the emotional voltage is not brought
in by increased tempo, but by thickening of the texture.
The tripartite work Scales of Joy and Sorrow, in the
minimalistic style which was made popular by Philip Glass, is
based on simple arpeggios and scale runs. Like Glass’s
music, it fascinates the first time you hear it, but do not
listen to it too often, for it quickly palls. The opening Slow-fast
starts wide and bittersweet; this is the “joy” part
of the title, warm and viscous. It is very Glass-like, with
superimposition of movement and stasis, the regular rhythm of
running scales and arpeggios over static harmonies, with very
simple harmonic changes. The music gradually becomes more intense,
speeds up, and we enter the second, “sorrow” part
of this movement: the anxious running up and down the scales,
stressed yet concentrated. The music commiserates with the runner.
The middle movement, entitled Arabesque, is surprisingly
Schumanesque for a minimalistic piece - a love song in scales,
improvisation-style, going from tenderness to ecstatic tremor
and back. Fast and Slow transposes the first and second
halves of the opening movement, which really works nicely as
a structural device. After the break of the Arabesque,
the anguished, desperate running of the Fast music
seems even more intense. Then, like an apparition of celestial
beauty, comes the glowing music of the Slow, closing
the structural brackets. All calms down in serene tranquility.
A Walk Across Adolescence is a glance back in time, romanticizing
the experiences and feelings of the adolescent. One idea is
the rough, independent stride, where the pizzicato cello realistically
assumes the role of the jazz bass. I don’t know the composer’s
intention, but I see here the young man’s striving for
independence, the wish to be big and decisive, the squinted
stare and the cocky posture. It starts strong, but then is covered
by another theme, sweet and pure like first love. It sounds
artless and a little awkward - but that’s how our first
loves are. The first rough theme lurks in the foundation, deep
under the surface, but gradually disappears. Moonriver-like
love music occupies most of the work’s span. Love transfigures
the person or so it seems to me.
Calliope Dreaming is an unusual tribute to Haydn - more
in spirit than in letter, although it is based on motifs from
his Mourning Symphony (No.44). This symphony is typical
of Haydn’s Sturm und Drang period, and so it’s
not all cheer and fun, but has some cold and dark stuff as well.
The work combines features of toccata and passacaglia, with
a lot of variational development. It is for the most part a
fast, agitated run, with several visits from a lyrical theme,
and some folk-dance roughness. There is a feeling of unease
and pressure, yet there is also a feeling of “active happiness”,
despite all that happens. This is happiness under stress, in
all circumstances, happiness coming from the inside of the character.
This will to be happy is so Haydnesque. The musical fabric is
actually rather heavy, but as the piece is not long, it does
not become a bother or a burden.
We dive head-first into Paul Schoenfield’s Café
Music, whose popularity, in my opinion, is well deserved.
It is shamelessly populist, but I never get tired of this music;
every time it fascinates me. The first movement is a gritty
ragtime, with an irresistible jazzy drive, and a rainbow of
musical colors and textures - a Gershwinesque kaleidoscope,
arrogant and bold. The bittersweet slow movement is a consoling
lullaby, ranging from sentimental to pure melodramatic. It has
something in common with Papa, can you hear me? from
Yentl. The finale is a fiery, over-the-top rondo. It
has an infectious Gypsy drive, though it is based more on quickstep
moves.
At the end of this quasi-concert program, following a plausible
assumption of hearty applause, the musicians add an encore,
or, more precisely, an Addendum. This is unmistakable
Chick Corea. One would guess the author just by the harmony
and his signature dancing figurations on the piano. The music
is light and airy as a dance in the meadow, sonorous and optimistic,
an amalgam of the Latin bounce with the Celtic spirit.
So, a very attractive collection of modern yet accessible works.
The performances are devoted. In the hands of the Arbós
the music comes alive; each note is in breathing motion. Their
rubato and dynamics are very natural, and if they push the sound
sometimes, it’s all due to the Romantic qualities of the
music. The lyrical moments throb, the quiet tip-toe, the loud
are explosive. The rhythms are gripping. The performers do not
spread the music too thin: it is compact and energetic. I’d
prefer more improvisatory flavor in Café Music:
this reading is too “regular”; the slow movement
becomes march-like, the finale almost a polka. Overall these
are enthusiastic performances, as irresistible as this music
deserves.
The sound quality is excellent; the recording is very clear,
deep and resonant. The booklet tells us about the composers
and the works, and a little about the trio, in Spanish and English.
The disc is called “Play It Again”, and I definitely
will.
Oleg Ledeniov
Trio Arbós (Miguel Borrego (violin), José Miguel Gómez
(cello), Juan Carlos Garvayo (piano)) 
[68:41] 