Iceland Symphony Orchestra & Daníel Bjarnason: Atmospheriques
Sono Luminus

Anna Thorvaldsdottir: ARCHORA / AION
Sono Luminus

With the release of Atmospheriques and ARCHORA / AION, Sono Luminus continues its celebration of contemporary Icelandic music, the first offering a terrific overview of the general terrain and the second a superb portrait of Anna Thorvaldsdottir. She's naturally a part of Atmospheriques, the recording otherwise featuring material by Daníel Bjarnason, María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir, Bára Gísladóttir, and Missy Mazzoli. The latter's an obvious outlier for being American, but her music sits comfortably alongside the others. The Iceland Symphony Orchestra performs on both releases, with Bjarnason conducting on Atmospheriques and Eva Ollikainen the other. Boasting a formidable ensemble of ninety full-time musicians, Iceland's national orchestra is the perfect conduit for these composers's bold imaginings.

Atmospheriques is an apt title given how much its oft-ethereal material imposes itself. Melody is downplayed in favour of mood, texture, and presence, the latter qualities architecturally established in the form of grandiose blocks of sound. The music at times plays like the slow, heaving movements of an enormous geological mass. All five works are immersive and dynamic creations, yet there are critical differences between them, something Bjarnason emphasizes in asserting that each of the five is “as singular as hand-blown glass.” That said, one description applied to Thorvaldsdottir's music, that it's “an ecosystem of sounds, where materials continuously grow in and out of each other,” is one that could as easily be applied to some of the other works.

At twenty-one minutes, her CATAMORPHOSIS, first up on the hour-long release, is epic on purely temporal grounds, let alone structural. Such durational expanse grants her a huge canvas upon which to paint, which she does using flurries of glissando-swooping strings, rumbling sonorities, and orchestral micro-chatter. The music convulses and broods, but there are also lyrical episodes that allow for peaceful contemplation. As the piece advances towards its conclusion, it begins to suggest the disturbed sleep of some soon-to-be-awakened behemoth, with all the imminent activity that entails. CATAMORPHOSIS flows seamlessly into Mazzoli's Sinfonia (for Orbiting Spheres), whose shimmering strings and muted horns exude a starry-eyed quality that positions it far from the geological ruptures that ground Thorvaldsdottir's piece. Mystery permeates Sinfonia (for Orbiting Spheres) too, but in this case it's the kind of mystery one associates with ineffable extraterrestrial expanses. The ethereal character of her piece carries over into Bjarnason's From Space I Saw Earth, whose sweeping tonal masses are so toweringly large it seems as if they're extending from one planetary realm to another.

Sigfúsdóttir's reputation precedes her on the recording. In addition to establishing herself as a composer, she's a violinist well-known for her membership in the band amiina and for touring with Sigur Rós from 2000 to 2008. Compared to the other works, Clockworking for Orchestra is dramatic but also a tad less tumultuous; its keening strings are also explicitly grounded by chiming mallet patterns whose interlock lends the piece a stability less defined elsewhere. Like Sigfúsdóttir, the Copenhagen-based Bára Gísladóttir is a composer and musician, her instrument the double bass. Gísladóttir's contribution to the album, ÓS, picks up where her recent Sono Luminus album SILVA left off with a blistering textural exploration where strings swarm, horns groan in anguish, and percussive surfaces are violently battered. One of the more impressive things about Atmospheriques, music aside, involves sequencing. While there is a dramatic shift in tone and style from the penultimate piece to the closing one, the album generally advances smoothly from one setting to the next, which makes the recording register as a cohesive singular statement as opposed to a compilation of unrelated works.

Bjarnason hands off to Eva Ollikainen for the Thorvaldsdottir album, which pairs ARCHORA (2022) with the three-part AION (2018). Both composer and conductor have significant ties to the ISO: whereas she holds the title of Composer-in-Residence, he's the orchestra's Chief Conductor and Artistic Director, positions he assumed in 2020. According to the composer, the inspiration behind ARCHORA, which the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra and Ollikainen premiered in August 2022 at the BBC Proms, comes from the idea of primordial energy as well as “the idea of an omnipresent parallel realm—a world both familiar and strange, static and transforming, nowhere and everywhere at the same time.” Certainly that primordial character is felt during the ISO's twenty-one-minute rendering, which blossoms from its opening moments into a dense, enigmatic mass whose orchestral tendrils intricately entwine. Again, melody is more hinted at than explicitly stated, with fragments from different instruments coalescing into a whole ever threatening to combust. Glissandos sometimes punctuate the opaque clusters of strings, woodwinds, and horns that make up the ever-morphing mass. Despite the music's heaviness, mobility is very much present as the material moves fluidly through contrasting episodes of volume and mood, its unfolding rather akin to the unregulated flow of impressions coursing through consciousness.

As powerful as ARCHORA is, it's dwarfed, at least in terms of duration, by AION, whose three movements total forty-one minutes. Here, time—so critical a dimension of Thorvaldsdottir's music—expands and contracts as the music splinters, its movements less predicated on the conventional idea of one-directional development and more on the abstract concept of a centre that's collapsed and catapulting its parts into space. Epic rumblings and agitated, even violent activity surface during “Morphosis”; with ascending and descending flute patterns accenting string drones, the opening of “Transcension” suggests it'll be peaceful, but disturbance eventually emerges in the form of aggressive string plucks and thunderous drums. Harrowing at times too is “Entropia,” which works its way through disorienting passages of cyclonic swirl, percussive clatter, and blustery horns before exiting in a controlled blaze. Words like oceanic and engulfing help characterize the work's portentous soundworld, as well as Thorvaldsdottir's work in general.

August 2023