This is definitely
one of those instances where one should
listen to the music first before attempting
the liner notes. Initial acquaintance
with the theoretical basis of Radulescu’s
compositional techniques is off-putting
enough and there are also mystical titles
to consider. Or perhaps not; Radulescu’s
religious/spiritual leanings are hardly
explained in the notes.
Starting, then, by
thinking of twentieth-century piano
music, and the place of these sonatas
within the canon, one finds a distinctive
sound-world akin to that of Messiaen,
especially in the 4th Sonata.
There is a distant relationship with
Scriabin and perhaps Ligeti at times.
Considering the apparently forbidding
nature of the theory, the music is surprisingly
simple, certainly far less complex than
that of those composers.
The trademarks of Radulescu’s
style in these piano sonatas are the
use of brightly dissonant intervals
derived from his trademark ‘musical
spectra’, themes based on folk-melodies,
widely-spaced writing and obsessive
repetition, all used in various combinations
and juxtapositions. Reluctant as I am
to go into the technicalities, it is
necessary to say that Radulescu’s spectra
are systems of pitches based on a fundamental
note and intervals constructed from
its harmonics. The argument is that
this returns music to its roots in acoustics
enabling a response to the physicality
of sound. To put this principle into
practice strictly requires instruments
that are able to play the pitches equivalent
to the harmonics of a given note, and
Radulescu has accordingly written pieces
for such combinations as nine orchestras
("Wild Incantesimo") and 40
flautists playing 72 flutes ("Byzantine
Bells"). A piano in equal temperament
doesn’t work in this way and Radulescu
has had to compromise to compose for
the instrument by constructing chords
approximating to the pitches of the
harmonic series.
Using the Third Sonata
as an example of the contrasts throughout,
the translucent, spectrally-based harmonies
of the first movement are followed by
sonorously funereal textures over repeated
notes in the bass. Considering the abstruse
theoretical basis of the compositional
technique, it is surprising how easy
it is to visualise images when listening;
this second movements conjures up Mussorgsky’s
ox-cart. The third movement is an example
of Radulescu’s use of folk tunes; a
twisting improvisatory melody in the
middle register is accompanied by fourths
above, the pedal creating a luminous
sound. The final two movements present
aspects of the technique in juxtaposition
rather than ensemble.
Radulescu’s sound-world,
expertly presented by the dedicatee
Ortwin Stürmer in some good engineering,
is certainly unique. From somewhat unpromising
beginnings, I was drawn into the music
as if on a voyage of discovery. The
exploration of each successive movement
was exciting, though I will wait a while
before returning to the CD. Although
the normally tuned piano is not entirely
compatible with Radulescu’s aims, the
experience of listening was enough to
encourage me to explore his more dedicated
works. Those 72 flutes beckon!
Roger Blackburn
Ortwin Stürmer (piano) 
