Rattle (NZ)

“In C”, by David Harrow

In C is, of course, the rather famous composition by Terry Riley that has likely never been played in the same way twice since its origin in 1964. A series of melodic fragments held together by “the pulse”, for an indefinite number of musicians to play. Riley suggests a group of 35, but here we have only David Harrow - and it works perfectly. In C is a minimalist piece after all, and it doesn’t get more minimal than being played by just one musician. The directions are fairly simple. Of the 53 phrases that make up C, any can be played (though they must be played in order), for an arbitrary length of time. Each player has control over which phrases they play, and for long. In C thus has no set duration, and so can last for minutes or for hours.

I wasn’t entirely convinced I was going to enjoy listening to David Harrow’s In C in one go, as it effectively provides four different variations (two sides of a piece originally intended for 12” vinyl, a fast, and a slow version). But, just wow! Not only did I never get bored or tired of the music, but the final piece (the slow version) was the absolute highlight. Rather than lose interest, my attention grew toward the end of the album. I also particularly enjoyed the 12” Side B piece. It’s hard to describe how such a repetitive and patterned performance can be so affective, but rest assured it is. Given the slow version is 70 minutes long, it’s effectively an album in itself, and if it were the only performance offered, this release would still be well worth investing in. For me the additional 12” sides and fast version are merely icing on the cake. An absolute treat, and a great way to start Rattle’s Five-In-Five campaign!

”In C”, by David Harrow

It would take something quite special to follow, let alone top, the last two offerings, as both David Harrow and the Tania Giannouli Trio albums are top notch, but this third offering on a hump day is definitely no slump. We receive our first truly native recording of the Five-in-Five from Rattle, with this absolutely stunning album from Ariana Tikao and Al Fraser. Whether it’s because I hail from Aotearoa, I’m never sure, but I’m a real sucker for taonga pūoro (the traditional musical instruments of the Māori). Ruby Solly’s album, Pōneke, released earlier this year and full of glorious and gorgeous taonga pūoro, remains one of my favourite releases of this year. I love the cover image, as it perfectly portrays what I will hear from any taonga pūoro music: something deep, mysterious and immersive. It’s entitled “Te Korowai o Tangaroa” - the cloak of Tangaroa (god of the sea and fish), and that also makes sense. There’s something remarkably intimate and sensitive about the music of taonga puoro that doesn’t just sound natural, but at one with nature.

The multitude of sounds from the various instruments played provides a quite beautiful tapestry of different textures and tones. Deep thrums, breathy whistles, birdsong, and more; the expressive voices of taonga pūoro would all be quite beautiful without further adornment. But there’s no denying that the vocals of Ariana Tikao add yet another colour to the palette, and another layer of depth (to keep to the watery theme that the cover art inspires). Indeed, midway through the album is a track called “Te reo o te wai”. Now my knowledge of Māori is rudimentary at best, but even I can recognise that immediately as “the language of the water”, and it’s exactly as you might expect it to sound. This is an album I can see myself retuning to time and time again.

“Nau Mai e Kā Hua”, by Ariana Tikao and Al Fraser

This is a beautiful album, but at first I really did wish that Rattle had started their week with this one, as I felt it did suffer slightly in comparison to what preceded it. But it’s subtle charms soon won me over. Matthew Marshall is an acclaimed New Zealand classical guitarist, and here performs four guitar duos by New Zealand composers. The first is Philip Norman’s six-part Tense Melodies for guitar and flute (played here by Carol Hohauser), and it’s very pretty, but underwhelming if listened to too soon after something more bombastic or majestic. It’s amazing how much different it feels to come to it afresh, without having listened to anything prior. The following Autumn Moods, by Anthony Ritchie for guitar and cello (played here by Heleen du Plessis) has no such worries, though, and is my absolute favourite of the four pieces. The cello has such a beautiful and resonant sound, and is played beautifully here. The interplay with the guitar is simply fantastic.

Autumn Moods is perfectly followed up by Kenneth Young’s three-piece Suite for guitar and violin (played here by Tessa Petersen), and it almost sounds written to come after Autumn Moods, so naturally does it seem to follow. It’s a quite delicate sounding suite, yet in parts quite dramatic despite remaining closer to a whisper than a roar. I love when musicians are able to convey heaviness without resorting to volume. Definitely my next favourite after Autumn Moods. The album concludes with It’s Love, Isn’t It?, a 15-part work by Philip Norman featuring poetry by Alistair Te Ariki Campbell and Meg Campbell, recited by Sir Jon Trimmer and Dame Kate Harcourt. This proved the hardest for me to swallow. The guitar parts are gorgeous, but as much as I like the spoken word also (particularly that from Sir John), I still find this piece a struggle to listen to. I am actually quite a fan of spoken word in music, but this is more spoken word and music. The two are separated, and it makes (for me) a quite disjointed listen. A frustrating end to an otherwise lovely album, and even more so when it is essentially not just the end of one album, but five.

“Brighter Than Blue”, by Matthew Marshall