Veljo Tormis
Reminiscentiae

Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir
Tallinn Chamber Orchestra
Tõnu Kaljuste conductor
Veiko Tubin reciter
Annika Lõhmus, Triin Sakermaa soprano
Maria Valdmaa soprano
Iris Oja mezzo-soprano
Indrek Vau trumpet
Madis Metsamart percussion
Linda Vood flute
Recorded October/November 2020 at Methodist Church, Tallinn
Engineer: Tammo Sumera
Cover photo: Mari Kaljuste
Executive producer: Manfred Eicher
Release date: September 8, 2023

“I do not use folk song. It is folk song that uses me.”

The above words, famously spoken by Veljo Tormis (1930-2017), ring truer than ever in Reminiscentiae, the first album under conductor Tõnu Kaljuste devoted to the Estonian composer since his passing. The program guides listeners through a chain of foundational works, many of which receive their world premiere recordings here. None speaks to the ethos at hand quite like Tornikell minu külas (The Tower Bell in My Village). Scored for choir, two sopranos, reciter, and bell, it is the result of a commission by Kaljuste in 1978, who noted that many church bells were silent in Soviet Estonia, rendering houses of worship little more than empty shells. Because the tower bell signaled to all, regardless of age or creed, to take pause and know that the divine was watching over them, it was anathema to a self-interested secular government. And so, Tormis incorporated native folk songs to amplify the voice of the people, along with verses by Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa, whose evocations (spoken here in Estonian by reciter Veiko Tubin) set a profound precedent: “I can see as much of the universe from my village as can be seen from anywhere on earth.” Through the tolling bell dotting the music as it unfolds, this sentiment reveals an underlying philosophical refrain that teeters between the sacred and the profane. As it continues to resound, only the soul can sing in return without fear of being heard by the wrong ears.

Mure murrab meele (Worry Breaks the Spirit) for choir and orchestra (1972/2020) is among a handful of works arranged by Kaljuste that also include Helletused (Herding Calls) for choir, soprano, and orchestra (1982/2020) and Hamleti laul I (Hamlet’s Song I) for choir and orchestra (1965/2020). Whereas the former intertwines memories of childhood with rural traditions, the latter sets the work of Estonian poet Paul-Eerik Rummo. This dark and brooding piece finds Hamlet confronted with discomforting repetitions and images he would much rather escape in favor of a self-sufficient world. As time and tide march on without him, he is left in stasis, pacing circles around his regrets.

Longtime listeners will rejoice to hear “Lauliku lapsepõli” (The Singer’s Childhood), reprised from 1999’s Litany To Thunder, in the full context of Kurvameelsed laulud (Melancholy Songs) for mezzo-soprano and orchestra (1979). This tripartite work cuts into the night like a knife into dark wood, leaving behind a distinct array of melodic shapes. It mixes youthful naivety with geriatric wisdom, while the orchestra adds selective commentary along the way.

All of these songs are spokes to the hub of the Reminiscentiae for orchestra. Composed between 1962 and 1969, they represent a cycle of all four seasons in a series of vignettes, of which Sügismaastikud (Autumn Landscapes) is the most cinematic. Of particular note are “Üle taeva jooksevad pilved” (Clouds Racing Across the Sky), which sweeps us up in its delicate urgency, and “Tuul kõnnumaa kohal” (Wind Along the Heath), with its tense drama. I dare say either would fit perfectly into a Hayao Miyazaki film. Talvemustrid (Winter Patterns) slows its heartbeat to the rhythm of hibernation. It rewards us with a view of the Northern Lights, while a trumpet resounds below in appreciation. The wind returns in Kevadkillud (Spring Sketches), only much smoother and more accommodating to changes in direction. As flora make themselves known in “Lehtivad pungad” (Buds Leafing Out), we feel the shift in the air before dances leap across the landscape, resting in the cuckoo’s call. Suvemotiivid (Summer Motifs) moves from arid climates, through a thunderstorm, toward a tender evening. Also included in the cycle is Kolm mul oli kaunist sõna (Three I Had Those Words of Beauty), which features Lina Vood on flute. It is a pastoral masterpiece that, along with the rest, allows us to appreciate Tormis anew through an instrumental lens.

Although Tormis’s music was rarely heard outside his native land until ECM opened the door, now that it has become a part of the global landscape, how privileged we are to sit at its feet and contemplate its observations at a time when people and places are burning at the stake. If anything, this is the album’s purpose: to unfold our memories until they are big enough to fit more of our thoughts, musings, and written words. Like time itself, it holds only as much as it is given.