Avner Dorman: Siklòn
BMOP/sound

Lee Hoiby: The Italian Lesson
BMOP/sound

Anthony De Ritis: Chang'E and the Elixir of Immortality
BMOP/sound

Three recent releases by the Boston Modern Orchestra Project (BMOP) and conductor Gil Rose testify to the company's fearless nature and uphold its appetite for unusual projects. Rather than issue recordings of standard repertoire material, the orchestra emphasizes new works by ascendant living composers and obscure material by composers no longer with us. In this case, the trio includes a release presenting five pieces by Avner Dorman, another featuring operatic settings by Lee Hoiby, and finally a collection of five works for traditional Chinese instruments and symphony orchestra by Anthony De Ritis. No other large-scale classical ensemble is more intrepid than Rose's BMOP.

The Italian Lesson (1982), which has to be one of the oddest releases in the BMOP catalogue, features two pieces by the Madison, Wisconsin-born Hoiby (1926-2011), Bon Appétit! (1989) and the title work. Originally written for actress Jean Stapleton (Edith Bunker from All in the Family), the works are treated to ravishing performances by mezzo-sopranos Vanessa Schukis and Janna Baty, respectively. Hoiby gained recognition for operas such as A Month in the Country and settings of Tennessee Williams's Summer and Smoke and Shakespeare's The Tempest as well as significant contributions to the choral and art song repertoires.

Styled as a comic monodrama and based on a 1925 monologue by the comic actress Ruth Draper, The Italian Lesson recounts a busy morning in the life of a Park Avenue matron of the 1920s played with consummate zest by Baty. Though the work opens with the arrival of the Italian teacher, Signorina, into the socialite's home, it's the latter only who speaks/sings throughout the forty-seven-minute piece (Mark Shulgasser's libretto is so packed, the mezzo-soprano might have wished she'd been paid by the word). Numerous interruptions and asides derail the lesson, be it the gossipy call the wealthy matron must immediately make to her friend, the entrance of her cook, or a call from her husband regarding golf plans. Chaos, distraction, and mayhem permeate the work as the woman flits from one thing to another, the lesson proper never advancing beyond a line or two of Dante.

As described by Colleen Gray in the release booklet, Hoiby was an unrepentant tonal composer who punctuated lyric, flowing melodies with word-painting and dashes of chromaticism. The musical writing often follows the rhythms and inflections of speech, the two works presented here excellent illustrations of the approach. In The Italian Lesson, for example, Baty's delivery is largely spoken, though a close monitoring of the performance shows her adhering precisely to the melodic trajectory of the score. The instruments—flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn, harp, piano, and strings—partner with the singer closely as they provide ongoing commentary to the text. As appealing as the musical score is, it's secondary to the theatrical vocal component, which can't help but dominate when it's so full. That said, there's no shortage of imaginative orchestral writing, from stately woodwinds interplay and word-painting to the clever associations Hoiby creates for the characters. Note the fluctuations in musical character that occur as the woman switches her attention from her gossipy phone calls and instructions to the cook to her talk with her son's math teacher Miss Pounder. Memorable too are the gleefulness of the puppy and Camilla episodes and the romantic tone that informs the late episode involving the matron's lover.

Featuring a libretto Shulgasser adapted from two episodes of Julia Child's cooking show The French Chef, Bon Appétit! is presented in a television show-like format, with Schukis excelling in the role of Child and ably supported by flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn, harp, piano, and string quartet. At twenty minutes, it's shorter than The Italian Lesson but no less memorable. As before, the instrumental writing comments on the text, which the mezzo-soprano delivers with an enthusiasm equal to Baty's. As Child, Schukis waxes rhapsodically over the baking of her chocolate cake (“This is the rich buttery brown batter for Le Gâteau au Chocolat l'Eminence Brune!”). There's cheekiness in Hoiby's writing too, as indicated by quotes from the French national anthem “La Marseillaise” and “America the Beautiful” (“When you're going to do a cake, you really have to have a battle plan” for the former, “And these are United States grade A large eggs” the latter). The pace is a little less frenetic in Bon Appétit! than in the other piece, as Child methodically lays out the step-by-step process involved in the baking production, and with the work slightly less densely packed with words, the orchestral score acquires a more noticeable presence. Word-painting's present also (see the musical flourish accompanying her “a scooping motion... rather fast... up and over…”). Similar to the way The Italian Lesson concludes, Bon Appétit! ends on a lyrical note with luscious orchestral writing and a triumphant sense of a task successfully completed (“See that lovely soft texture, almost like a soufflé, and it's nicer than a soufflé, because it doesn't fall”). Of course, the two pieces presented by the BMOP are but a small portion of Hoiby's total output, but they nonetheless offer a solid sampling of his endearing music. What recommends the release most, however, are the performances by the BMOP, Schukis, and, most especially, Baty for her wildly entertaining personification of the matron.

Spanning two decades, Siklòn offers an excellent introduction to the music of Avner Dorman (b. 1975). With one exception, the sixty-six-minute release is presented in reverse chronological order, beginning with the 2015 title work and ending with the four-part Ellef Symphony (2000). In between are Astrolatry (2011) and Uriah: The Man the King Wanted Dead (2009), with After Brahms (2015) in the penultimate position. Differences aside, all five pieces reflect the composer's deft integration of Western modernism and Middle Eastern folk materials, not to mention a high level of craft and command of orchestral colour. In addition to the sampling of works performed by the BMOP, Dorman's written concertos for piano, cello, mandolin, percussion, and guitar (sometimes in combination) and composed an opera for children and a film score. Dorman, who studied composition with Josef Bardanashvili (at Tel Aviv University) and John Corigliano and earned his doctorate in composition at Juilliard, is currently an associate professor at Pennsylvania's Gettysburg College in its Sunderman Conservatory of Music.

The Haitian Creole word for “hurricane," Siklòn was conceived by Dorman as a musical portrait of Miami and specifically the energy of the city and the violence of its hurricanes. Consistent with that, the single-movement work is effervescent, turbulent, and celebratory, a blustery ear-catcher and a natural choice of concert opener. The rhythmic vitality that's so much a part of Dorman's material is a key component of Siklòn, in this case a drive that almost feels on the verge of going out of control. A hint of American minimalism surfaces in the form of repeating patterns, but the piece is marked most of all by its energy and triumphant resolution. Arriving after that super-charged into, the opening slow moment, “Celestial Revelations,” of Astrolatry isn't unwelcome. The phenomenon evoked is of stars gradually emerging in the night sky and the awe it engenders in its witnesses. To that end, a sense of mystery pervades, and one could be forgiven for thinking of Holst's The Planets at various moments. The music is often ethereal and hushed, but it's also tumultuous, as if Dorman wishes to remind us of the ineffable power of nature and the violence of which it's capable. Without pause, Astrolatry moves into its second movement, “The Worship of the Stars,” which exchanges the contemplative stillness of the first for pounding rhythms and rapid orchestral flourishes. With marimba, shakers, and piano at the helm, Dorman's muscular material powers towards its frenzied conclusion.

The saga of General Uriah the Hittite, whose death was arranged by King David in order to possess the soldier's wife, is recounted in a five-part orchestral tone poem titled, naturally, Uriah: The Man the King Wanted Dead. As old as the story is, Dorman uses it make a commentary on political corruption in general and the ruthless means by which ends are often achieved. After a dramatic “Andantino indignato,” the music softens for a lyrical, at times forlorn second (“Lento, dawn in the desert”) and energized, jazz-inflected third (“Presto barbaro”), its dissonant swirls of percussion and horns alluding to Uriah's death. Movement four, “The Song of the Angels,” briefly reinstates the hushed tone of the second before a dark, almost Bartók-like “Epilogue” brings the piece to a sobering close. With After Brahms: Three Intermezzi for Orchestra, Dorman pays direct homage to a precursor, the mood in this case nostalgic and reverential. A kind of neoclassical formality informs the writing of the opening movement, even if the chromatic movements of the strings lends the material a woozy quality. Whereas the stately second, marked “Delicatamente con molta espressione,” is delightfully warm and tender, the elegiac “Adagio espressivo” third proves to be the most Brahmsian of the three.

Begun when Dorman was twenty-four, Ellef Symphony was his first large piece for a symphonic ensemble and thus became a vehicle for exploring a variety of approaches. He wrote it for a festival celebrating the new millennium and in wanting to reflect on the previous one selected texts by Jewish poets as inspirations for the first three movements. “Fear” initiates the work on a brooding, even ominous note; “Slaughter” is, not surprisingly, violent and suggestive of war, with all the death it entails. “Elegy” gradually explodes in a strings-drenched outpouring of grief consistent with a poem that contends with a mother's sorrow over the loss of her son. The delicate closing part, “... (silence),” represents Dorman's hope that our current millennium might break the pattern and that differences between people might in some way be resolved without resorting to war and destruction. As powerful as his music is when it's blustery, “... (silence)” and the final two movements in After Brahms show that it can make as strong an impression when it's gentler. The wealth of emotional and stylistic expression captured in the five works suggests there's no limit to what he's capable of conjuring.

Like Dorman's, Anthony De Ritis's release features five works spanning two decades, the earliest 2000's Plum Blossoms and the most recent its title work, 2022's Chang'E and the Elixir of Immortality. Yet while both of the composers' releases see them fusing Western and non-Western elements, De Ritis's distances itself from his counterpart's in significant ways. First of all, his third BMOP/sound album augments the orchestra with eleven Chinese soloists, with pipa player Min Xiao-Fen, for example, featured on two works and percussionist Beibei Wang another; in addition, Zhongguo Pop is scored for Chinese quartet and string orchestra, and seven guests join the BMOP for the performance of the title work.

It's important to clarify immediately that De Ritis (b.1961) is no Chinese music dabbler. Yes, he is an American composer who's a professor and former Chair of the Music Department at Boston's Northeastern University; he's also someone who has deeply studied and absorbed the music of China: after first visiting China in the late ‘90s, De Ritis did research at the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing in 2011 and five years later was appointed a "Special Professor" in the China Conservatory of Music's "Beijing Advanced Innovation Center for Chinese National School of Music”; other engagements have seen him further his understanding of the musical instruments of East Asia. Rather than accuse him of cultural appropriation, one should rather characterize what he's doing as, in his words, “intercultural music-making inspired by China.” His statement in the release's liner notes, that composers, when writing material that incorporates instruments from another culture, “must learn their nuances and timbral specifics and do their best to honour the history and cultural background of an instrument's origin” says much about the integrity of his approach.

The beguiling opening setting, Zhongguo Pop, has evolved through multiple iterations, from its initial scoring as a solo pipa work to a later one for four Chinese instruments and the 2021 treatment presented here for Chinese quartet and string orchestra. The ear's tickled instantly by the combination of solo instruments and the BMOP strings, and all four soloists make their presence felt, from Min Xiao-Fen (her pipa the instrument most prominently featured) and Yazhi Guo (dizi) to He Tao (erhu) and Shin-Yi Yang (guzheng). Similar to Zhongguo Pop, the pipa concerto Ping-Pong exists in two versions, a 2004 arrangement fashioned for the Chinese National Orchestra and a re-orchestrated treatment created two years later for Western symphony instruments. The title derives from a 1979 attempt to establish diplomatic relations between the United States and the People's Republic of China that was preceded by cultural exchanges. The work's three movements reference this historical moment: the first, “Huangshan Mountains,” refers to the famous locale where Chinese leaders have pictures taken with visiting dignitaries; “Invitation (6 April 1971)” refers to the date when the table tennis delegation from the United States was formally invited to China; and the third, “Diplomacy,” references the official establishing of diplomatic relations between the countries on January 1, 1979. The majestic opening movement provides a terrific showcase for Min Xiao-Fen's pipa artistry, as does the ruminative second for beginning with an extended unaccompanied solo. Patiently developing, the central movement also includes a ponderous solo harp episode, a dazzling pipa cadenza, and dramatic orchestral passages. In contrast to the general solemnity of the second part, the third, “Diplomacy,” is radiant, its uplifting tone suggestive of hope for relations between the countries. Xiao-Fen also excels on Plum Blossoms, the seventy-one-minute release's second pipa-centred piece. This one separates itself from the other, however, in coupling live playing by the pipa with the instrument in a pre-recorded and electronically treated form. An adventurous and original exploration results when the pipa's treated as something more than a centuries-old traditional instrument.

August 2023