Author: Tyran Grillo

Bobo Stenson Trio: Sphere (ECM 2775)

| Tyran Grillo

Bobo Stenson Trio
Sphere

Bobo Stenson piano
Anders Jormin double bass
Jon Fält drums
Recorded April 2022 at Auditorio Studio Molo RSI, Lugano
Engineer: Stefano Amerio
Cover photo: Woong Chul An
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: March 17, 2023

For this fourth ECM outing from pianist Bobo Stenson, bassist Anders Jormin, and drummer Jon Fält, one of the most formidable yet humble jazz trios on the planet explores mostly Scandinavian material. And what more logical place than with the simple act of “You shall plant a tree,” courtesy of Per Nørgård. The present rendition unfolds itself into the creased map of its inner self—proof that this trio, nearly 20 years in fellowship, is committed to a spirit that values emotions like oxygen. As the title indicates, each branch contributes equally to the shape of the whole. Two tunes by Sven-Erik Bäck expand upon this hymnody. The crystalline thaw of “Spring” and the deconstructions of “Communion psalm” reveal a grander instrument at play.

Jormin throws two coins of his own into this font. Where “Unquestioned answer – Charles Ives in memoriam” shimmers like a distant sun, weaving a naked language for the illumination of the ears, “Kingdom of coldness” (last heard on Pasado en claro in starkly different form) has its own story to tell. Between Jormin’s arco helix, Fält’s mineral-rich percussion, and Stenson’s streetlit chord changes, we get a slice of time laid out in physical form.

“Ky and beautiful madame Ky” by Alfred Janson takes a more observational turn. The way in which the musicians are never settled yet somehow cohere shows their deference to wherever the sound wants to go. Jean Sibelius’s “Valsette op. 40/1” paints in subtler shades, snaking through the landscape into the depths of a home built by time. This is childhood coming full circle in old age.

An especially notable piece of the puzzle is “The red flower” by Jung-Hee Woo. Shrouded in late-night jazz club vibes, it begs us to close our eyes, hear the rustle of whispered conversation, and inhale the tang of dry martinis.

The set ends with a variation of “You shall plant a tree.” What was once the trunk is now the seed, looking ever inward to the genesis of all things.

If anything is certain about the ethos of this trio, it’s that nothing is.

Wolfgang Muthspiel: Dance of the Elders (ECM 2772)

| Tyran Grillo

Wolfgang Muthspiel
Dance of the Elders

Wolfgang Muthspiel guitars
Scott Colley double bass
Brian Blade drums
Recorded February 2022 at 25th Street Recording, Oakland, California
Engineer: Jeff Cressman
Mixing: Gérard de Haro (engineer), Manfred Eicher, and Wolfgang Muthspiel
Studios La Buissonne
Cover photo: Woong Chul An
Album produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: September 29, 2023

After clearing a giant swath of land throughout 2020’s Angular Blues, guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel, bassist Scott Colley, and drummer Brian Blade now construct a series of interlocking structures across it. With “Invocation,” we find ourselves immersed in a sound that is both familiar and forward-seeking. As the mist of spider-webbed guitar and glistening chimes resolves to reveal Colley’s blessing, the trio’s meditations offer glimpses of parallel dimensions before Muthspiel dips into a chord-slung melody, allowing us some oxygen in a suffocating world.

While we might expect a groove from this seeking spirit, more slow building awaits in “Prelude to Bach.” This vaporous studio improvisation surrounds us with memories, each unable to be captured for long before the next takes its place. Before we know it, we’ve morphed into the Bach choral “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” which holds together like a fresco and touches the soul with equal lucidity. As inevitable as it was unplanned, it cups a candle whose flame has stood the test of time.

Muthspiel has a natural ability to twist the blinds to let in a different configuration of light at every turn. The polyrhythmic title track likewise changes faces as fluidly as one’s reflection in a disturbed pond’s surface. The acoustic guitar speaks with sagacity and love. Before the final act, Muthspiel and Colley recede into hand claps while Blade applies gold foil to the frame.

“Liebeslied” is one of two cover songs (this from Kurt Weill’s The Threepenny Opera). Muthspiel draws a tessellated swing from within the tune’s many-chambered heart. Colley renders his solo in charcoal while the guitarist sketches in quieter pencil in the background before switching to pastel for a final say.

“Folksong” takes inspiration from Keith Jarrett’s vamp-prone improvisations in the pianist’s Belonging period, exploring a chord progression to the point of melodic bursting, with Americana touches and hints of countless side quests. Muthspiel’s acoustic shows its breadth and cohesion, so much so that Colley’s gestures feel like an extension of the same instrument, giving us that sunlit joy of the mid-1970s when Jarrett was at his most exploratory. “Cantus Bradus” pays homage to pianist Brad Mehldau, last heard with Muthspiel on 2018’s Where The River Goes, and whose chromatism shines as a guiding light through spectral improvisations.

Not a single note feels wasted at Muthspiel’s fingertips. Whether caught up in a dance or bearing down directly on a virtuosic motif, he stands at the edge of a proverbial cliff without ever feeling the need to jump. Instead, he takes in the view and shares it with us all. This is nowhere so clear as in his rendition of Joni Mitchell’s “Amelia,” which closes the set with minimal expansion. Even absent of words, it speaks to the heart. The electric guitar is the softer brush in his artistic toolkit, allowing every bristle to sing. Colley and Blade are his tender allies, each a bearer of melodic and atmospheric truths for posterity.

Thomas Strønen: Relations (ECM 2771)

| Tyran Grillo

Thomas Strønen
Relations

Thomas Strønen drums, percussion
Craig Taborn piano
Chris Potter soprano and tenor saxophones
Sinikka Langeland kantele, voice
Jorge Rossy piano
This album was recorded and assembled between 2018 and 2022, with Thomas Strønen, the project’s initiator, inviting the featured musicians to join him from different locations across Europe and the US.
Thomas Strønen, Lugano
Craig Taborn, New York
Chris Potter, New York
Sinikka Langeland, Oslo
Jorge Rossy, Basel
Engineers: Lara Persia, Martin Abrahamsen, and Patrik Zosso
Mixed February 2023 by Manfred Eicher, Thomas Strønen, and Michael Hinreiner (engineer)
at Bavaria Musikstudios, Munich
Photo: Dániel Vass
Album produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: November 29, 2024

Four years in the making, Thomas Strønen’s Relations locates the drummer in virtual duets with Craig Taborn and Jorge Rossy on piano, Chris Potter on soprano and tenor saxophones, and Sinikka Langeland on kantele and voice. After recording Bayou, producer Manfred Eicher invited Strønen to play solo percussion for the remaining studio time. Taking a decidedly classical approach (one might easily recognize shades of Edgard Varèse in here), and already being in the Lugano space where the Orchestra della Svizzera italiana is based, he was able to expand his usual drum kit with a variety of instruments—the only stipulation being that he could not have worked with them before. In response to the pandemic, he sent tracks to other musicians for long-distance collaboration. After a final mix, the result was an album of striking intimacy, timely messaging, and understated humanity.

We open with “Confronting Silence,” one of two tracks featuring Strønen alone (the other being the more sparkling “Arc For Drums”). The initiatory gong sounds nothing like the kickstart of commerce, the welcoming of royalty, or even the peace of meditation. It sings for no other reason than to be a vibration for all creation. Meanwhile, the gran casa rumbles within the soul of things.

Following this is “The Axiom Of Equality,” for which he is virtually joined by Taborn (as also in the diurnal “Pentagonal Garden”). The cellular metamorphosis between them is astonishing for being rendered from opposite sides of the pond, each motif a love letter to the ether.

Because Strønen often leaves moments of pause, letting others dialogue with him and populate the gaps with complementary grammar feels effortless. This is especially true of the tracks with Potter, whose tenor is a voice in the night in “Weaving Loom,” while in “Ephemeral,” he expresses himself internally despite the extroverted and free-wheeling playing, diving with humility into every moment for all it’s worth.

The more we immerse ourselves in the unique sound of this record, the more we settle into the illusion that every duo configuration is in the same room. Strønen’s three dances with Langeland are especially vivid in this regard. In “Koyasan,” the kantele is somehow not an extension of the percussion but the other way around, while in “Beginners Guide To Simplicity,” Langeland’s voice is a call to heart. And in “Nemesis,” brushed drums added an earthy texture that perfectly matches the aural surroundings.

Rossy also joins for three outings, examining linguistic morphologies in “Nonduality” and dropping stones into the waters of “Ishi.” Last is “KMJ,” the most melodic of the set. Every gesture between them is as clear as one’s reflection in a newly polished mirror, and Strønen’s heightened awareness leaves palpable traces behind for us to cross-hatch with the instrument of our listening.

2022 Generation Black: The Future Is Past

| Tyran Grillo

Drawing inspiration from a trip to Qatar in 2012, perfumer Stephane Humbert Lucas imagined a symphony of tinctures representing the city’s bridging of ancestral traditions and modern deconstructions one decade later. The result is 2022 Generation Black, a fragrance that lives boldly between these realms of cultural expression: on the one hand, safe and familiar, while on the other, daring and forward-looking. Such is the energy he brings to one of the most stimulating scents I’ve ever put my nose on.

The fragrance is a spiral of self-reflection with distinctly extroverted qualities. At first, this might seem contradictory, but upon further wearing, it settles into the skin’s natural chemistry, taking on the unique signatures of warmth and coolness as it seesaws between the two. Despite never harmonizing completely (assuming they were ever meant to), they speak of the self’s contradictory nature, at once physical and metaphysical.

When describing this fragrance, the initial flash of yuzu zest, black currant, and mint means that brightness lives at the tip of the tongue. The combination is so rich with life that one can hardly articulate the breadth of its embrace. There is an almost metallic sheen to it as if one were digging into the heart of the soil and tasting the very ore within. This is the outward dimension, fresh and inviting in its spectrum of flavors. But beyond that, there is a feeling that this isn’t just fun and games. Rather, there is a serious, even contemplative underpinning to it all waiting to be known.

Thus, it transforms itself to reveal a heart of Cambodian oud, where some inexorable truth makes itself known in an ongoing exhalation of sensual touch. Just knowing it’s there is enough to take comfort in every inhalation we offer in balance. Going one layer deeper reveals a darker nest of precious oud (a blend of agarwood, rose, and other florals), spices, and balsamic notes. It is here where we find rest as this olfactory journey comes to an end. Although not the longest-lasting of its kind, there’s something special about the ephemerality of its intensity that begs repeat wearings—and fresh discoveries.

Vox Clamantis: Music by Henrik Ødegaard (ECM New Series 2767)

| Tyran Grillo

Vox Clamantis
Music by Henrik Ødegaard

Vox Clamantis
Jaan-Eik Tulve conductor
Recorded March 2021 at St. Nicholas Dome Church, Haapsalu
Engineer: Margo Kõlar
Recording supervision: Helena Tulve
Cover photo: Jan Kricke
Executive producer: Manfred Eicher
Release date: June 2, 2023

O sing unto the LORD a new song: sing unto the LORD, all the earth.
– Psalm 96:1

Gregorian chant was the experimental music of the medieval era. Here, filtered through the work of Norwegian organist, choir conductor, and composer Henrik Ødegaard (b. 1955), it blends into the folk music of his own country, all tied together by a contemporary classical idiom that takes two steps back for each one forward. In the throats of Vox Clamantis under the direction of Jaan-Eik Tulve, his sound feels as inevitable as the faith that binds it at the molecular level.

The Genesis of this musical Bible is Jesu, dulcis memoria (2014/15). Its dialogue of darkness and light draws from the liturgy of the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus to establish the grandest of all dichotomies. As a drone appears underneath, followed by shifting chords, it opens itself to new shades of the text. Such is Ødegaard’s respectful approach to spiritual building, leading to an interwoven “amen.” From here, we get an even deeper dialogue in the inner heart work of Alleluia, Pascha nostrum. Its tender monophony speaks of Christ’s death, while O filii et filiæ(2015/21) offers Ødegaard’s examination of the resurrection. At its core is a 15th-century paschal hymn, building polyphonically through its refrain. Men’s and women’s voices make contact and separate, each a flock of birds gracing the sky with its murmurations. The Gregorian section concludes with a Kyrie and a Pater noster, the latter from a 13th-century Madrid codex, containing some surprising friction and sound colors.

Antiphons from a Scandinavian manuscript of the same century are the basis of the eight-part Meditations Over St. Mary Magdalene’s Feast in Nidaros (2017), which occupies the album’s largest portion. In her liner notes, Kristina Kõrver writes of the work, “It is as if the composer were literally sitting in front of a fragmentary manuscript, filling in the gaps and adding the missing lines, not as a scholar-restorer, but as a poet, a co-creator.” Whether working in tension or harmony with his sources, Ødegaard always seems to be exploring the material as one might repair a piece of old furniture, knowing that even the most seamless integrations will reveal themselves with subtle differences in hue, texture, and quality. The first and last sections are the most personal, revealing the composer’s penchant for unsettled yet cohesive harmonies. Their flow is always restrained so that our ears might be directed inward and our eyes upward.

When encountering Psalm 62 in the antiphonal “Mini osculum non desisti,” we find ourselves not torn but made whole, as if two parts of ourselves walking away from each other have turned around to meet in fellowship. Meanwhile, Canticum Trium Puerorum emerges organically from the chant of “Oleo caput meum non unxisti” as steam from boiling water. As Ødegaard continues to open our hearts to these possibilities, they begin to feel as natural as the souls rendering them. The choir shapes these with such grace as to be stilling in effect. In the setting of Psalms 148-150, a shushing sound feels like the rasp of pages being turned from the pulpit: a reminder that the Word was indeed made flesh. The deepest font is in the Magnificat, merging with “O, Maria, mater pia.” The resulting flow is so alluring that anything floating upon its waters would seem out of place. And that it does—at first. But something transformative happens as the women’s and men’s choirs align to illustrate the gospel’s power to seek, find, and restore unity.

If I were to compare the Meditations to a stained glass window, it would be analogous to the solder that holds together the panels rather than the panels of color themselves. It is a skeleton enshrouded by centuries of worship, made animate by the power of the lungs and the breath of life that fills them with the oxygen of salvation.

Nicolas Masson: Renaissance (ECM 2846)

| Tyran Grillo

Nicolas Masson
Renaissance

Nicolas Masson soprano and tenor saxophones
Colin Vallon piano
Patrice Moret double bass
Lionel Friedli drums
Recorded November 2023 at Studios La Buissonne
Engineer: Gérard de Haro
Mastering: Nicolas Baillard
Cover photo: Nicolas Masson
An ECM Production
Release date: March 14, 2025

A quiet sparkle, a pebble thrown into the water, and a band that regards every ripple with their art—so begins “Tremolo,” the first of 10 new tunes from saxophonist Nicolas Masson. With partners Colin Vallon on piano, Patrice Moret on double bass, and Lionel Friedli on drums, he crafts melodic prose poetry that opens its borders to the freedom of in-the-moment interpretation. His tenor has the quality of a dream struggling to maintain its form in the face of impending wakefulness. The tension between the two is where so much of this music lives: at once allied with the night while yearning for daybreak. Stretching its neck from the opposite direction is the title track. Speaking as much in the idiomatic language of feet that walk as in that of hands that create, it conveys its autobiography in linked verse. All the more appropriate that his previous album with these fine musicians should be called Travelers, for they all contribute their own stamps to this passport.

What makes the group’s interplay so endearing is the grace of their seeking spirit. In “Anemona,” for instance, they give themselves to the flow of Masson’s organic writing selflessly and not without a significant quotient of charm that lets childlike impulses come to the fore. In “Tumbleweeds,” the free improvisational bonus that follows, we encounter the deepest expression of their atmospheric capabilities. Like the equally brief “Moving On,” which finds Masson and Moret duetting in the half-light, it embraces uncertainty. That said, even in the more artful punctuations of “Subversive Dreamers” (a highlight for its under-the-skin them), we are never coerced into experiencing something outside the realm of lived experience. Such comforts are harder to come by in a world caged by division. And how can one not feel like a messenger bird with a broken wing, mended and set free by the soprano saxophone-driven “Forever Gone”? Tied to our foot is the message ciphered in “Practicing The Unknown,” where hope reigns. At the risk of belaboring the analogy, I wonder whether “Basel” isn’t the terminus of our flight. Its percussive tracery, soaring piano, and unforced sopranism show us the quartet’s heart.

If all the above is the body, then “Spirits” is the blood working its way through the veins. But despite the intimations of kinetic energy that it whispers, it all points to the conclusion in “Langsam,” which challenges the listener to find a better word to describe the mood of what we’ve just experienced.

When listening to Renaissance, it becomes obvious why songs on an album are called “tracks.” It’s because each leaves something physical that we can touch and follow, knowing the journey will be its own reward.

Nils Økland/Sigbjørn Apeland: Glimmer (ECM 2762)

| Tyran Grillo

Nils Økland
Sigbjørn Apeland
Glimmer

Nils Økland Hardanger fiddle, violin
Sigbjørn Apeland harmonium
Recorded January and March 2021 at ABC Studio, Etne, Norway
Engineer: Kjetil Illand
Mixed January 2023 at Bavaria Tonstudio, Munich
by Manfred Eicher and Michael Hinreiner (engineer)
Cover drawing: Lars Hertervig, Sailing Boat, 1858
Album produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: June 16, 2023

Representing nearly three decades of collaboration and exploring a repertoire that spans the gamut from traditional to improvised music (if not one and the same), fiddler Nils Økland and harmonium player Sigbjørn Apeland present Glimmer. The program takes inspiration from their native Western Norway, where Apeland has spent years collecting folk songs preserved by local singers. The duo also includes originals inspired by Lars Hertervig (1830-1902), whose drawing graces the album’s cover.

Most of the tunes survive in the living archive of their homeland, starting with “Skynd deg, skynd deg,” the melody of which melts like ice in the first dawn of spring. In this and its successor, “Gråt ikke søte pike,” Økland’s bow is a root plucked from the ground. The fiddle pulses with life beneath it, strands of potential others sprouting from its central branch, while the harmonium is the sunlight giving it sustenance. After this is “Valevåg,” the first of only two by Apeland (the second being the harmonium-only pulse of “Myr”). Dedicated to Norway’s first atonal composer, Fartein Valen (1887-1952), it is a snaking and mysterious piece that evacuates every mold it creates. This serves as a surreal prelude to “O du min Immanuel,” in which moments of far-reaching breadth wield navigational instruments of great intimacy. Such vacillations are what make the album so compelling.

Much of Økland’s writing favors the brief and the introspectional. Whether in the crystalline beauty of the title track or the haunting, rounded tone of “Dempar,” he draws with a potent pen across thickly fibered paper. And in “Rullestadjuvet,” for which he shares credit with Apeland, he brings forth an understated drama. With so much evocation practically dripping from their palette, they render every contour in three dimensions.

Among the traditionals that flesh out this curation, highlights include “Hvor er det godt å lande” for its dreamy splendor, “Se solens skjønne lys og prakt” for its cinematic charge and magical harmonics, and “Nu solen går ned” for reaching farther than it seems two instruments can. All of these are hymns to something, somewhere.

This is one of those special combinations of instruments that belongs in the same category as Inventio or Ojos Negros, resulting in music that leaves its shadow behind as a reminder of where it has yet to roam.

Billy Hart Quartet: Just (ECM 2748)

| Tyran Grillo

Billy Hart Quartet
Just

Mark Turner tenor saxophone
Ethan Iverson piano
Ben Street double bass
Billy Hart drums
Recorded December 2021
Sound On Sound Studios, NY
Engineer: Roy Hendrickson
Mixing: Gérard de Haro
Supervision: Thomas Herr
Cover photo: Thomas Wunsch
An ECM Production
Release date: February 28, 2025

Saxophonist Mark Turner, pianist Ethan Iverson, and bassist Ben Street join forces with drummer Billy Hart for a flight of 10 in-house originals. These experienced souls, each distinct in their own way, mesh without losing their sense of individuality. If anything, they strengthen it by allowing voices to be heard, listening to be spoken, and legacies to be honored.

Iverson contributes four tunes, including “Showdown,” which opens the set with a somber kiss. If this album is a city, here are its outskirts, where a certain lucidity immediately distinguishes the quartet’s unforced hands. Turner’s soloing is fluid, embracing the affections that compel it to survive adversity. The chord changes get under the skin, letting us go only when it is safe to land. And speaking of landing, “Aviation” throws its paper airplane high and far. Basking in fresh flavors with a swinging aftertaste, Turner digs deep into his roots to pull out some robust bulbs of inspiration. “Chamber Music” establishes a darker, more intimate sound, beautifully cross-pollinated by piano and bass. “South Hampton” is another evocative gem with nothing to hide. Delicate yet raunchy, it finds Hart matching Iverson tit for tat.

The classic “Layla Joy” is the first of three from the bandleader, loosely rendered. The composer’s malleted drums chart a tender undercurrent while his allies fold one cellular piece of origami after another until an abstract whole is revealed. Iverson’s scratching of the piano strings and Street’s downward spiral give plenty of ink for Turner’s pen. The title track is a nostalgic tune that lays down its royal flush one well-worn card at a time. Like a burnished handle on the outer door of an old walkup, it bears the traces of decades of contact and human stories. “Naaj” is another nod to the Hart songbook. The drumming is as detailed as the reedwork is raw.

The saxophonist himself offers three tunes of his own. “Billy’s Waltz” glides on ice and is a highlight for its flexibility, seamless construction, and organic development. Iverson’s solo is pure gold. “Bo Brussels” is the freest tune, giving way to improvisational splendor. Rounding out the session is “Top of the Middle.” Turner weaves between the traffic of this urban groove without batting an eyelash. The sheer naturalness of the band’s collective sound is a splash of cold water in the face on a hot summer day.

Each musician is a star in a sky of ancient constellations. Turner carries much of the melodic weight. Meanwhile, Iverson casts the widest net. Despite not contributing any tunes, Street is an equal composer in the sound. And Hart is ever the chameleon, roaming wide while always keeping home within sight.

Thomas Larcher: The living Mountain (ECM New Series 2723)

| Tyran Grillo

Thomas Larcher
The Living Mountain

Sarah Aristidou soprano
Alisa Weilerstein violoncello
Aaron Pilsan piano
Luka Juhart accordion
André Schuen baritone
Daniel Heide piano
Münchener Kammerorchester
Clemens Schuldt conductor
The Living Mountain / Ouroboros
recorded June 2021
Bavaria Musikstudios, München
Unerzählt
recorded May 2022
Gemeindezentrum Weerberg
Engineer: Christoph Franke
Cover photo: Awoiska van der Molen
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: October 6, 2023

“At first, mad to recover the tang of height, I made always for
the summits, and would not take time to explore the recesses.”
–Nan Shepherd

The Living Mountain is the fourth ECM New Series album dedicated to the work of Thomas Larcher, whose previous programs have proven the Austrian composer to be, much like his mentor Heinz Holliger, a human magnifying glass. His attention to detail grows only more precise as his instrumental forces increase. Meanwhile, the chamber works unfurl in grand (but never grandiose) imaginings of times and places that we would never experience except through the filter of his awareness of the past. The eponymous song cycle for soprano and ensemble is a particularly vibrant example. Composed between 2019 and 2020, it sets selections from the memoir by Scottish poet Nan Shepherd, whose own penchant for highlighting the intimate in the vast suits Larcher’s sensibilities hand in glove.

From an introductory heartbeat, the landscape pulses with the music of blood flow, visceral and true. Larcher articulates this anatomy with surgical precision on his way to Part II, where we feel ourselves on the verge of falling over. That sense of vertigo—at once glorious and terrifying—sweeps through every crevice. Singer Sarah Aristidou expresses Shepherd’s words as if they were her own. Whether in brief expulsions of accordion breath or the hammering of piano strings, the diurnal reigns supreme. The final movement’s evocation of snow, as sparkling and wind-roused as it is blinding, runs down the text’s spinal cord.

At the other end of this proverbial tunnel is another song cycle, Unerzählt (2019-20), this one for baritone and piano based on the poetry of W.G. Sebald. These vignettes turn stills into moving pictures. Moods range from the programmatic (e.g., “Die roten Flecken,” which evokes the red spots on Jupiter in dramatic fashion, and the prepared piano rattlings of “Wenn die Blitze herabfuhren”) and the morose (“Am 8.Mai 1927”) to the contemplative (“Gleich einem Hund”) and painterly (“Blaues Gras”). One highlight is “Es heißt daß Napoleon,” from which we get this wry piece of historical revisionism:

They say
that Napoleon
was colorblind
& blood for him
was as green as
grass

The delicacy of Larcher’s setting brilliantly toes the line between mockery and empathy. Another standout is the final song, “So wird, wenn der Sehnerv zeerreißt”:

And so, when the optic nerve
is torn, the silent airspace
turns as white as the snow
on the Alps.

Thus reconnected to the snowy expanse in which we began, we can take strange comfort in its inhospitable nature—which, in the end, makes us all the more human. Pianist André Schuen and baritone Daniel Heide mesh beautifully, allowing bell-like sonorities to percolate through deeper gravel.

Stretching out the darkness between these is Ouroboros (2015). Cellist Alisa Weilerstein and the Munich Chamber Orchestra navigate three movements, opening with a dance of slow-motion detections. Despite the nominal instrumentation, the piano plays a vital moderating role in this relationship. Neither call nor response, theirs is a symbiosis that implies an eternal path to nothingness. The tempestuous middle movement deals in fear with a squealing, unrelenting grind. The conclusion reveals an ethereal balancing act, Weilerstein reaching the most pristine high notes I’ve heard on a cello in a long time before a frenzied crackle of fire and ash consumes itself. As the flame goes out, it moans one last time, just before comprehension and death become one and the same.