Øyvind Torvund (b. 1976)
A Walk into the Future
Sweet Pieces (2019)
Archaic Jam (2017)
Symphonic Poem No 1 – Forest Morning (2019)
A Walk into the Future (2019)
Øystein Moen (synthesiser); Håkon Stene (percussion, autoharp, harmonica); Jørgen Træen (guitar feedback)
Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra/Olari Elts
rec. 2023, Oslo Konserthus, Norway
Aurora ACD 5116 [57]

If, as Philip Larkin proposed in Annus Mirabilis the liberation and consummation of modern society did indeed begin in 1963 (“…between the end of the Chatterley ban/And the Beatles’ first LP.”) perhaps the twinkle in the eye that morphed into the Fab Four’s music can be dated to 1955. The generation growing up at that time would build their own record collections and by the time their own children emerged pop music was everything and for the majority of them ‘classical’ was best consigned to the museum. I am continually amazed that the bricks and mortar which constitute the cultural ‘Berlin Wall’ which has unheroically demarcated these particular ‘genres’ over seven decades has taken so long to crumble; I would argue that the inevitable and irrevocable cross-pollination between these forms has only really begun to bear satisfying and credible fruit since 2000. Notwithstanding bland ‘crossover’ projects and purely tokenistic conceits (Malcolm Arnold’s Concerto for Pop Group and Orchestra springs effortlessly to mind) true pioneers such as Thomas Adès, the Bang-On-a-Can collective, Anna Meredith, Bryce Dessner and Julia Holter (there are by now many more) have sought to ensure that the traffic flows in both directions and for one who has a foot in both camps the results have frequently been satisfying and occasionally truly affecting.

Part of the problem is an underlying perception that classical music is by definition serious or profound (and by extension long-winded and even boring). Five years ago I reviewed The Oscillating Revenge of the Background Instruments (ORBI), a sequence of prog rock staples in virtuosic arrangements for double-bass, bassoon(!), Hammond organ and percussion. Some of it didn’t work for me but most of this disc radiates pure joy – the virtuosity involved is astounding. It gets pretty close to the unadulterated optimism projected by the four pieces on A Walk into the Future, a monograph dedicated to the orchestral music of Norwegian maverick Øyvind Torvund. That he was born in 1976 somehow feels significant – some say it marked the death of prog and the birth of punk. His signature style seems to involve an unusual synthesis of prog electronica and orchestra; this is omnipresent throughout the disc but so is an insistent ‘Steampunk’ aesthetic, frequently amplified by an everchanging continuo of what are sometimes archaic synthetic sounds. The artwork for the project, big three-dimensional yellow letters on a bright red background is clever. It projects unconventional jollity and is the kind of thing one might encounter on the cover of a graphic novel It is more than a match for Torvund’s music.

The dozen Sweet Pieces which open the disc usefully showcase the strengths and limitations of Torvund’s style and sonic palette. Half are tiny timbral impressions lasting less than a minute; only the second and final numbers (six and four minutes respectively) demonstrate any real formal development. In her booklet note Jennifer Gersten alludes to the humour and ‘cuteness’ of comic-strip panels. From the outset Torvund drenches his ideas in lushness. In the first half this entails calorie-dense string sonorities and sea-birds (No 1), Tomita-esque electronic excess and cinemascopic marine allusion in No 2 – a meandering concoction which builds toward a superficially attractive surf-infused conclusion based upon a pair of oscillating chords. The Messiaenisms of No 3.seem overblown. To my ears the next seven Sweet Pieces are mere scraps – winsome instrumental doodles and little brass fanfares. It’s as though Torvund is trying stuff out, almost as if he’s demonstrating the possibilities of this new ‘language’ in his studio to some of his mates. At two minutes no 11 is a sultry little dance number whilst in the concluding Sweet Piece Torvund at least seeks to develop the sugary string idea which opened the first. On the one hand the sequence at least provides the uninitiated listener with a primer of this composer’s timbral vocabulary. On the other, however, I’m afraid I found its attractions short-lived and superficial. As I have discovered this Easter with a nascent addiction to white chocolate crème eggs, one can have too much of a good thing. I found this music cloying, even sickly, irrespective of its feel-good intentions. And in terms of Sweet Pieces’ structure the doodles at its core seem superfluous and unnecessary. But what do I know? Toyvund claimed the coveted Norwegian Edvard Prize for contemporary music in 2017 for this very work. Either way the performance and sonics are outstanding.

Archaic Jam convinces even less. By way of introduction, Jennifer Gersten poses the question “What if an orchestra, feedback guitar, and a sampler player were comperes in a postapocalyptic hippie jam session?” Presumably one would end up with this – 600 seconds of gestural posturing. There is certainly something frenzied and cartoonish about the faster music, not least in the phrases which are presented by orchestra and mirrored by the sampler and vice-versa (this also features some accomplished whistling from the members of the Oslo Philharmonic) but the juxtapositions and events that incorporate the whole seem utterly random. Again I’m certain that many MWI regulars would find Archaic Jam tremendous fun and possibly encourage your reviewer to lighten up (and ditch the crème eggs). Many of the colours Torvund produces in Archaic Jam are alluring and clever to be sure, but for me the conceit as a whole adds up to much less than the sum of its parts.

Fortunately the last two works on this Torvund conspectus hang together much more coherently. Several of the melodic and timbral devices already mentioned coalesce in Symphonic Poem No 1 – Forest Morning, a ten minute offering which seems more propulsive and goal-oriented than either of the previous works. Atmospheric woodwinds, slivers of string melody and unidentifiable synthetic (or field recorded) rustles and warblings meld in an approachable nature portrait which readily suggests forest life. A modest climax subsequently rises and fades to reveal harp-led activity and in due course to a bleary-eyed yet melodic representation of morning. Halfway along the trail the mood darkens mysteriously, and it’s noticeable here how the electronica provides a less obvious, more nuanced role. When the samples do emerge from the texture, as in the last couple of minutes when a variety of pre-recorded nature sounds accompany a plaintive solo oboe line the effect is both measured and magical.

I also enjoyed A Walk into the Future which similarly benefits from a leaner, less cluttered structure. It begins amiably with more whistling from the orchestral players over a side-drum tattoo; for me this somehow evoked a platoon of veteran home-guard volunteers exercising at dawn rather than anything especially futuristic. These two elements continue to dominate the piece until 60s sci-fi bleeps herald a mysterious central section built around a rather sad fanfare and a luminous, long-sustained string chord. Thereafter the textures open out to release two and three note melodic fragments distributed around the instruments. Torvund once more deploys the sampler with deft restraint in another aptly paced ten minute edifice which proves to be more restrained and touching than I might have anticipated during its opening bars.

I can’t help but wonder how I’d have felt about this disc had I encountered these four pieces in reverse order. Torvund evidently inhabits a somewhat unusual niche in terms of his orchestral instrumentarium but however appealing the contributions of autoharps, amplified rubber bands, harmonicas and the like might seem on the surface I was genuinely surprised how swiftly these effects palled during the first two works. He certainly has a sensitive ear and an unorthodox approach to sonority, but I do feel he substantially over-sugars the pudding in Sweet Pieces especially. Nor does that cycle’s diffuse constitution help my appreciation.

I repeat – I suspect many listeners will find Torvund’s music to be fresh, original and accessible. His cause is splendidly served by the Oslo Philharmonic under Olari Elts, and by the Aurora engineers’ expert production. Their masterly integration of the non-acoustic elements into the whole sound picture appears seamless. Notwithstanding my own caveats I cheerfully commend this unusual disc to readers who are seeking something off the beaten track that’s not too intellectually challenging.

Richard Hanlon

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