Livia Teodorescu-Ciocănea (b.1959)
Archimedes Symphony (2006-11)
Rite for Enchanting the Air, Concerto for flute(s) and orchestra (1998)
Mysterium Tremendum, Cantata for mezzo soprano and orchestra (2016)
Pierre-Yves Artaud (flute)
Antonela Barnat (mezzo-soprano)
Romanian Radio National Orchestra/Valentin Doni, Alan Tongue
Radio Romania Chamber Orchestra/Christian Orașanu
rec. live 2002-16, Mihail Jora Concert Hall of the Romanian Radio Broadcasting Company, Bucharest
Reviewed as a digital download from a press preview
Toccata Classics TOCC0668 [84]
The music of Romanian composer, Livia Teodorescu-Ciocănea, reflects that mixture of the traditional and the experimental that marks out many of the composers of the late Communist era such as Gubaidulina or Schnittke. What was presumably a curse on the composers at the time has largely turned into a longer term blessing since it left behind some of the most enduring music of the second half of the last century and into the current one.
This mixture of the traditional and the experimental is most marked in the opening work in this disc devoted to her orchestral music, the Archimedes Symphony. The piece is structured around a recurring high B flat on the piccolo which for some reason the composer has decided represents a circle. For those fearing the musical equivalent of a geometry lesson, the very loose programme of the symphony relates to the Greek mathematician’s death at the hands of the Romans during the siege of Syracuse. The first movement, for example, evokes the siege itself in suitably rebarbative music whereas the ethereal second shows Archimedes absorbed in contemplating circles even as the Romans are invading. This mood is brutally interrupted by music deploying what the composer terms Bartok pizzicatos to vividly describe the sword blows that ended the mathematician’s life.
That second movement is an obvious highlight of a symphony brimming with striking ideas. Teodorescu-Ciocănea clearly has a real affinity for the flute – further witnessed by the next work in the programme being a concerto for the instrument- and much of the music shimmers with an agreeably mystical light. She also always keeps within touching distance of more traditional musical virtues such as melody, harmonic and symphonic form which help anchor the novice listener for her more exploratory discursions.
The flute concerto moves the dial more decisively toward the modernist. It is, the composer claims, preoccupied by the space between vibrating air and sound. In her notes, Teodorescu- Ciocanea outlines three types of sounds explored by the soloist: the sounds of breath, the sounds of an approximate pitch and finally the sounds of a clear, precise pitch. Underlying these explorations are what she calls ‘fundamentals’ which act like pedal points in the bass held over long durations.
I won’t pretend to understand what the composer refers to as ‘hypertimbralism’ other than it having something to do with a preoccupation with instrumental timbre beyond just being a coloristic effect. As so often with contemporary composers, contrary to expectations raised by programme notes, all the enterprising listener needs is inquisitive ears and not a Masters in advanced music theory. In practice hypertimbralism means a most attractive array of enchanting orchestral effects centring around the range of sounds possible on every type of flute from bass to piccolo. There is something of the pick and mix of Schnittke’s Concerti Grosso but without the quotations and allusions.
The piece traces a leisurely circle from and back to the opening breath sounds and, programmatically, is intended to enact a kind of spiritual benediction. As its title ‘Rite for enchanting the air” suggests, the composer intends it to bless that element in much the same way as water is blessed in Church rituals. It is an attractive idea that reminds us, in a world in which music is increasingly ubiquitous and commercialised, that sound is something precious to be cherished. Rather like Gubaidulina, Teodorescu-Ciocănea uses strange and wonderful combinations of sound to remind us of the overlooked yet humanly vital nature of sound and of music that we often take too much for granted.
The third – and in my opinion best – work that completes the collection is a powerful religious cantata for mezzo soprano and orchestra. Entitled Mysterium Tremendum, it sets out to evoke the terror but also the fascination of God’s might. It sets a mix of texts in Romanian, English and Latin – the latter being sections from the Dies Irae section of the Requiem mass. This allows Teodorescu-Ciocănea to show her more dramatic side and it is a highly effective and accessible score. The writing for voice is largely declamatory rather than experimental- think of the soprano writing in Szymanowski’s Stabat Mater. Antonela Barnat sings it with suitably Sibylline majesty. The composer’s devotion to original orchestral effects is again much in evidence and, as with all the works included on this release, there is never any sense of this as a tough listen. If sometimes the two purely orchestral works, the symphony and the concerto, are inclined to ramble a little, the text seems to encourage Teodorescu-Ciocănea to greater focus and formal concision. It needs to be said that even when the opening two works do meander a little another delectable passage of instrumental ingenuity is always just around the corner.
This new release deserves to enhance Teodorescu-Ciocănea’s reputation and bring it before a wider public. The Mysterium, in particular, would be a striking addition to any concert season. The recording quality is first rate and the performances whilst hardly spectacular do an efficient job of bringing these imaginative scores to life.
David McDade
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