Lara Downes: This Land
Pentatone

In her inimitable fashion, pianist Lara Downes captures the soul of America in this embracing celebration of her homeland. The deep affection she feels for its people and places oozes from every pore of the recording, but she also doesn't shy away from acknowledging the dark sides of her country's history. This Land is an honest portrait, in other words, one that champions the country's many virtues whilst also recognizing the work-in-progress's flaws and failings. It is also a tremendous addition to a discography that over time has grown ever more distinguished.

Anyone familiar with her career trajectory knows about the contributions she's made as a recording artist but also activist, trailblazer, and all-around inspiration. It's telling that her earlier homage America Again was described by The Boston Globe as “a balm for a country riven by disunion.” Among the many projects she's created to help deliver her message is the NPR Music series ‘AMPLIFY with Lara Downes,' which features her in conversation with visionary artists and cultural leaders. She's collaborated with artists such as the Miró Quartet and Rhiannon Giddens and also supported young up-and-comers by including them as guests on her albums.

The word for This Land truly is kaleidoscopic for its breadth of ideas and musical material. On the one hand, there's a quietly majestic treatment of Paul Simon's “America,” on the other a thought-provoking set of variations on Woody Guthrie's “This Land is Your Land”; haunting settings by Joseph C. Phillips, Jr. (founder of the ensemble Numinous) and Jake Heggie (composer of the opera Dead Man Walking) frame a ruminative one by jazz trumpeter Arturo O'Farrill. Towering over the others, however, is Puerto Rican composer Edmar Colón's audacious reimagining of Rhapsody in Blue. Over the course of the work's twenty-eight minutes, Colón folds into George Gershwin's familiar fabric Afro-Caribbean rhythms and the strains of a Chinese orchestra, such gestures symbolizing the proud melting-pot that is America. With percussionists Jeriel Sanjurjo and John Santos, the SFCM and Great Wall Chinese Orchestras, and even Colón himself on soprano saxophone joining the pianist, the inspired treatment boldly reimagines the 1924 classic without relinquishing its essential character. The iconic clarinet glissando with which it opens remains, and its signature melodies and rousing rhythms are present too, if sometimes newly refracted by Colón. Downes acquits herself admirably throughout but also happily shares the spotlight in this striking update. It's probably safe to assume it's the first time erhu and pipa have appeared in a presentation of the work.

Downes sets the stage for the Gershwin piece with a rendition of William Benton Overstreet's “There'll Be Some Changes Made” that recalls in its treatment 1991's Haunted Heart by Charlie Haden's Quartet West. On that album, three songs segue from quartet performances to earlier recordings such that, in the case of the title song, the quartet's beautiful rendering moves to the one featuring Jo Stafford from 1947. In Downes's case, her haunting, blues-tinged solo piano performance gives way to the scratchy sound of Ethel Waters singing the song in 1921 on a Black Swan label release.

Subtly tinted with field recordings of bird calls gathered by the composer in Arizona, Michael Begay's Adéihozhdílzin / Know Who You Are dramatically reflects on the American Southwest where he was born and the Navajo Nation in Northern Arizona where he grew up. In the Navajo language, Adéihozhdílzin means, in Downes's words, “knowing yourself, feeling the strength of your roots, and honouring your origins,” and that sense of self-understanding resonates through Begay's plaintive meditation and the pianist's nuanced presentation. The variations Iranian-American composer Kian Ravaei fashioned for “This Land is Your Land” progress from versions that range from playful to jovial to gradually darkening ones that evoke the country's current state of malaise and division. Optimism prevails, however, when the setting ends with a gentle, lyrical statement. No instrument is more American than a banjo, which makes the coupling of Dave McKeon and Downes on the traditional folk railroad song “900 Miles” so irresistible (“Now if this train run me right / I'll be home tomorrow night / ‘Cause I'm nine hundred miles from my home”).

September 2024