Robert Honstein: An Economy of Means
New Focus Recordings

On his latest release, American classical composer Robert Honstein largely eschews the irreverence that came into play on his 2014 release, RE:you, whose track titles originated from messages erroneously cc'd to him by a popular online-dating site (sample title: “My friend I understand 100%. I have no girlfriend.”). An Economy of Means shifts the focus to single-performer works that while comparatively less irreverent are nevertheless playful and explorative. These two multi-part pieces appear to have concentrated Honstein's creative energies into maximizing the compositional and textural possibilities works for solo instruments afford. In this instance, the title piece is performed with consummate zeal by Doug Perkins, whereas the second, the Venice-inspired Grand Tour, is realized handsomely by pianist Karl Larson. While the range of instrumental resources is modest compared to RE:you, the hour-long An Economy of Means hardly suffers when Perkins, a member of the Meehan/ Perkins Duo and So Percussion, and Larson, a contemporary music specialist who's premiered works by David Lang, Scott Wollschleger, and others, engage with the material so fervently.

Certainly the ear is tickled by the brilliant flourishes with which Perkins begins the title work in “Filigree.” Once one has recovered from the dazzle of its trills, Honstein's identity as a post-minimalist composer begins to come into focus, and as the work advances through the subsequent five parts, one also comes to realize how much the composer treats each part as a vehicle for exploring a particular compositional strategy. After that effervescent opening, for example, Honstein applies vibrating material to the vibraphone in “Chorale,” resulting in a deepening of the material's quiet, hymn-like grandeur. The self-descriptive “Fast Notes, Long Tones” punctuates rapidly executed rhythm patterns with sustained single notes, the intricate patterning again suggesting a connection to minimalism in Honstein's writing, a connection, however, that he distances himself from by departing from strict repetition. His music also is considerably funkier than the classical norm, as shown by the body-rousing swing of “Cross Fit,” and for a work that's performed by a single instrument, there are surprisingly pronounced timbral contrasts, as shown by the mechano-styled sonorities presented in “Cross Fit” versus the smooth gleam emanating off of the instrument during “Broken Chords.”

In keeping with its title, Grand Tour is a travelogue of sorts that exposes the listener to various Venetian sights and scenes, whether it be palazzo or lagoon. Contrasts are as pronounced in this second setting as in the first, with the opening “Per,” for example, a ponderous single-note exercise, much different from the aggressive descending patterns that lend the second movement, “Strada Nuova,” kinetic drive (“Per” makes a return appearance at work's end, by the way, to impose a satisfying framing structure). “Cruise Ship” builds in conspicuously slow manner, with Larson assembling the structure, it seems, one piece at a time until the steady ascent culminates in a grand vision that suggests awe on the viewer's part when confronted by the immensity of the ship. “Lagoon,” on the other hand, sparkles from its first moment, with Larson's rippling cascades calling to mind the incessantly flowing waterways of Venice. If there's a standout movement among the seven, it's this one for being so expansive and dramatic.

July 2018