Jan Järvlepp: Sonix and other Tonix
Navona Records

A cellist for fifty-two years and a member of the Ottawa Symphony Orchestra for thirty-eight, Jan Järvlepp recently retired from performance to dedicate himself fully to composing. By his account, bidding adieu to the daily regimen of practicing scales, octaves, arpeggios, and thumb positions has not only been freeing, it's also engendered a revitalized creative flow he's now channeling into his writing. The varied chamber works on Sonix and other Tonix are recent products of that redirection and argue strongly on behalf of Järvlepp's gifts as a composer. As is often the case when Navona releases a collection of a composer's works, the material on the set is performed by different ensembles, in this case Trio Casals, Benda Quartet, and Nishikawa Ensemble; only one of the six pieces is performed by a single musician, Insect Dance by Trio Casals pianist Anna Kislitsyna.

Järvlepp's distinctive voice as a composer is a natural outgrowth of his education, interests, and experiences. As a teenager, he took up cello, guitar, bass, and harmonica before majoring in composition at university and further developing his cello-playing abilities. Yet even as he was earning his doctorate in composition and twentieth century music at the University of California, San Diego, he felt that his vision didn't align with the avant-garde music covered in the academic realm. Consequently, after exiting that environment, he developed his own style, a relatively listener-friendly one rooted in neo-tonality, melody, and rhythm. It's formally classical but also amenable to the influence of rock, electronic, jazz, and world music styles. No one will mistake Järvlepp for Webern or Boulez, in other words.

The opening Sonix—composed for the Ónix Ensamble of Mexico but performed here by Trio Casals (violinist Alexandr Kislitsyn, cellist Ovidiu Marinescu, and Kislitsyna), flutist Chelsea Meynig, and clarinetist Antonello DiMatteo—offers a striking illustration of Järvlepp's style. Hearing swirling woodwinds alternating with insistent strings-and-piano patterns makes for gripping listening, and, testifying to the composer's sponge-like sensibility, a smidgen of the theme from the ‘60s TV show Batman even finds its way into the piece. The super-charged, syncopated thrust one finds in many a Järvlepp composition surfaces here, as do arresting passages for solo violin, flute, and clarinet.

As mentioned, many of the pieces are reflections of his personal experiences and attitudes. Some are responses to disquieting societal phenomena, while others are tied directly to life events, the passing of his brother from cancer an affecting example. A protest-like piece Järvlepp calls “a trio for our times,” Trio No. 3 was written in 2013 as an embittered comment on the growing encroachment of surveillance and governmental control. Delivered with kinetic fury by Trio Casals, the three-part piece advances from the ominous, piano-driven creep of “Surveillance Cameras Everywhere” to the even more foreboding, spider-like crawl of “Constant Telephone and Internet Surveillance” and high-velocity relentlessness of “Drones.” Along similar lines is Trio No. 5 (2021-22), which expresses the composer's disappointment over the meek compliance of citizens to pandemic-associated lockdown protocols. In two parts, the work is performed by Benda Quartet violinist Jakub Cernohorský, violist Petr Benda, and cellist Tomáš Svozil (the group's second violinist, Petr Grabovský, sits out). Anguished, rather Mahler-like strings animate the otherwise plaintive, folk-tinged “Strength in the Face of Adversity,” after which the unsettling tension of the first part's exchanged for the freewheeling exuberance of “Freedom.”

March 2024