Technology has become advanced and accessible
enough that many artists can release their own performances
and recordings of their own works without the need for a major
label. They either work with much smaller recording houses or
have set up vanity labels that are used primarily as a public
outlet for their work. Of these, there are quite a few discs
being released lately that contain new music that would certainly
see greater success if they gained more stage time.
Peter Blauvelt, a Frenchman by birth and
a German in his formative years, came to the United States to
continue his studies in 1975. Since the 1980s he has been based
in the Tampa area of Florida, where these performances were made.
Blauvelt also has another disc through Zimbel
of two symphonies and a cello sonata . On to the piano works in
question …
From the outset one can hear what for
me was one of the main disappointments of the disc: the recording
aesthetic is a bit compressed. Unfortunately the piano could
also have benefited from a bit more fine-tuning before the recording
session. This is especially evident in the Ninth Sonata that
opens the disc, The performance of it is, however, tenacious.
The work has an assured and confident voice. The opening theme
recalls a sort of melding of Hindemith and Prokofiev — a gritty
lyricism. The work is more or less arranged in the traditional
manner of a piano sonata, with thematic development. The second
movement takes the first theme of the first movement and carries
it along in a perpetual motion interlude in octaves that cover
a wide range of the keyboard. A crashing chord leads into the
menacing calm of the third movement, which, as appears to be
a theme with Blauvelt, are merely numbered, without tempo or
playing indication. This quiet movement is particularly effective,
with an overall sound that stems from the musical avant-garde
composers of Russia and France — especially Lourié. The last
movement moves in abrupt octaves in a fashion that brings Prokofiev
immediately to mind. Blauvelt shakes this off with a section
of tense quietude as elements of earlier movements and themes
reappear.
Recorded eight years earlier, the Visions
for Piano of 1988-89 are pensive and at times have the randomness
of Berg or of Scriabin at the time of his late sonatas. The
recording is rather muffled, which muddies the sound especially
in the left hand, which at times moves precipitately into the
lower registers.
The Four Quiet Piano Pieces of
2001 have a certain despondency and stasis about them. Indeed,
the composer mentions that these were written at a difficult
time in his life. The title is a tad misleading in that the
pieces, while contemplative, are not always on the piano
side of the dynamic scale. These still fit quite well into
the aesthetic of 1920s and 1930s avant-garde. Overall, for fans
of the music of this period, these works will certainly be of
interest. Of particular beauty are the Berceuse which
quietly ponders its dissonances like a Mossolov nocturne, and
the third piece, the Elegie, which generally keeps the
left hand in the deepest area of the piano’s range, over which
the right hand throws its terse chords.
The earlier work, Rituals, is a
suite of sorts, with six numbered movements, the second of which
shatters the pensive mood with an obsessive rhythm and relentlessness.
The third movement begins with a continually repeated note,
such as with the Prokofiev Toccata, to which it bears a passing
resemblance. It is less of an outgoing piece, instead being
more of an exploration of various chordal changes that can be
made from that main note. All of these pieces have this central
focus on repetition and limited movement within a certain system.
Indeed, this is surely the meaning of the title of this work,
with a continual ritual obsessive quality running through each
of the movements.
The closing work is the Third Piano Sonata,
another relatively early work, which was also Blauvelt’s doctoral
dissertation. The earliest recording here on this disc, it is
also the least pleasing sonically, though again, the performance
and the writing of the piece will likely have immediate appeal
to general listeners. It begins rather randomly, with broken
gestures covering the expanse of the keyboard before moving
more viciously into the meat of the material.
Overall, we have here a well-performed
anthology that should hold interest for people who are fans
of the Russian and French Avant-garde of the early part of the
last century. It is my wish that these see wider attention,
with other performances that more clearly show the sonority
of these pieces. The sound quality isn’t particularly distracting,
but in listening to this disc on a high-end system, one does
find oneself wishing for more.
David Blomenberg
