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Clancy Newman and Natalie Zhu: From Method to Madness: The American Sound It would be easy to misconstrue the meaning behind the title of this fifty-minute recording by cellist Clancy Newman and pianist Natalie Zhu when its two parts are conjoined. From Method to Madness: The American Sound might suggest a gradual collapse in the coherence of American classical writing, but the first part is, in fact, the title of a piece written by Newman in 2008; the second part intimates that with their selections the two have tried to distill the essence of the American sound into a single statement. Even if such a goal's overly ambitious, in coupling the cellist's piece with ones by Samuel Barber, Lukas Foss, and Kenji Bunch, the two have covered a generous amount of the terrain associated with contemporary American composition. They're certainly equipped to do so. Longtime friends who've worked together since 1998, Newman and Zhu bring impressive credentials to the project. He took up the cello at the age of six, has received prestigious awards, and has garnered acclaim as a performer and composer. In addition to partnering with Zhu, Newman is a member of the Clarosa piano quartet and has lectured on the Golden Ratio Method, a method of composition he invented and which he applied to the writing of From Method to Madness. Like him, Zhu began studies on her instrument at six, has been the recipient of multiple awards, and has performed throughout the world as a soloist and chamber musician. When not playing with Newman, she might be found accompanying Hilary Hahn as the violinist's frequent recital partner or tending to her duties as Artistic Director of the Kingston Chamber Music Festival. Adding to the personal dimension of the recording, laid down in December 2021at the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall, is Bunch's Broken Music, which was written for Clancy and premiered by him at Lincoln Center in 2003. Of course, no such personal collection exists between the performers and Foss and Barber, their works—the former's Capriccio for Cello and Piano written in 1946 and Barber's Sonata for Cello and Piano in C Minor, Op. 6 begun in 1932—long preceding the production of the duo's album. Characteristic of a composer oft considered a maverick, Barber's work doesn't wholly sever ties to tradition but does depart from it harmonically in unexpected ways. Turbulence informs the work's opening minutes, but the tone eventually shifts when the attention moves to a lyrical theme voiced eloquently by Newman and sensitively supported by Zhu. In such a moment, the purity of the cellist's vibrato-enriched tone is vividly clear, but he and the pianist show themselves throughout to be in exemplary command of the material, regardless of the dramatic changes in character and dynamics that arise. The hush with which the opening allegro ends provides a perfect transition for the adagio, whose slow romantic expression proves even more affecting than the lyrical section preceding it. The concluding movement reprises the passion of the opening one, though this time the material's as marked by playfulness and mischief as turbulence. Foss composed his piece for cellist Gregor Piatigorsky, with whom he gave the premiere at Tanglewood in 1947. Buoyed by impish energy, the Capriccio possesses none of the darkness that in places creeps into Barber's sonata. In fact, Foss's piece almost hints at fiddle music in its rollicking countrified swing, and its good-time feel makes it easy to understand why it's one of the composer's most frequently performed works. It's not without distinguishing touches either, the incorporation of high harmonics generated by Newman playing close to the bridge an example. Bunch's four-part piece is called, strikingly, Broken Music, but multiple shadings of the title are explored in the piece. In its solemn tone, the plaintive first movement, “Broken Voice,” alludes to a voice breaking with emotion, and heartbreak is affectingly conveyed in the expressiveness of the duo's playing. Called a “dark scherzo” by the composer, “Broken Chord” includes pizzicato by Newman and dampening of piano strings by Zhu yet is arguably more memorable for the delicate rumination that emerges halfway through. “Broken Verse” takes its name from a doleful melodic sequence that can't seem to advance beyond its initial expression; again, however, the greater impression made by the movement has to do with a passionate climax at its centre and the stirring ache of the romantic episode that follows. Delivered at a rapid clip, the closing “Broken Music” exploits repetition to create the feeling of a broken record unleashing furious energy. Newman's From Method to Madness was written for a cello competition in accordance with specific guidelines: it had to be about five minutes long, be written for cello with piano accompaniment, and had to feature elements emblematic of the cello, including dazzling finger work. Opening cautiously, the material soon enough breaks free and plunges into a realm of frenetic activity until it takes an arresting detour into Latin-jazz territory. The frenzy with which the piece ends lives up to the madness promised by the title, but that's merely one facet of an album whose American sound is enriched by many layers and styles.September 2023 |