Yu Kuwabara (b. 1984)
Sounded Voice, Voiced Sound
Works for solo instruments and ensembles
Marco Fusi (violin, viola d’amore), Hidejiro Honjoh (shamisen)
Awai-Za (ensemble)
rec. 2019 and 2023, locations in Belgium and Japan
Full tracklisting & recording details follow review
Kairos 0022202KAI [2 CDs: 93]
I suspect that readers who appreciate those works by Giacinto Scelsi touched by Zen Buddhist philosophy will find immediate kinship in the opening gestures of Yu Kuwabara’s dazzling, disarming solo violin workout Bai and Dharani. Yet they should be in no doubt whatsoever that Ms Kuwabara’s voice is decidedly her own. Notes bend and swoop. Threads of fluid melody criss-cross and intersect. One might ask just how much this music has been touched by the composer’s Japanese identity and long-standing interest in the local Buddhist music known as Shomyo on the one hand and wonder to what degree it’s been informed by maverick modernistic influences on the other. Reassuringly, despite (or possibly because of) an early curiosity for Debussy she is bold and confident enough to engage closely with the infinitely fecund genealogy of music in her own land as the basis for a style which seems both original and authentic. Kuwabara’s own background as a player of both violin and viola d’amore and her technical understanding of the singular possibilities each of these instruments offer is evident in this piece and elsewhere on this impressive monograph. Bai and Dharani is a diptych whose first part (Bai) alludes to a Shomyo chant (described as being ‘drawn’ as opposed to ‘chanted’), and whose second owes something to the Sanskrit incantation known as Dharani. I found the piece virtuosic, surprisingly understated and frequently beautiful. It is brilliantly played by Marco Fusi, whose intense performance betrays his obvious admiration for Kuwabara’s work.
Another solo violin piece, Mizu no Koe (Water Voice) follows. This is a very different confection in which the composer investigates the onomatopoeic variations of water sounds which can be suggested by the instrument. Faint threads of thin sound here resemble droplets of liquid forging a faltering yet spontaneous path down a windowpane, for example. Intermittent pizzicati suggest force, whilst the imaginative application of silence to demarcate each tiny gesture seems elegant and cool. About halfway through, Fusi ventures beneath the high tessitura which dominates the piece to forge an episode whereby his instrument grinds coarsely down the scales, to briefly imply something ominous; the moment passes swiftly and the sound literally evaporates. As it turns out, listeners will encounter this beguiling piece in a completely different iteration on disc two of this set.
Amongst the abundant joys of this album are three contrasting opportunities to appreciate the delights of the distinctive strummed instrument, the shamisen. Kuwabara writes amazingly for it. Throughout the substantial solo Falling Dusk one feels that whilst manipulating this singular device, Hidejiro Honjoh is instilling the instrument with a distinctive, almost human personality via the quasi-vocal timbres it produces. The shamisen comprises three plucked strings and a resonator which can radically alter the inflection and colour of the sound. The title Falling Dusk alludes to the mystical period at the darkest point of the night during which, according to Izumi Kyoka, whose stories have deeply touched the composer, something external to the world infiltrates it. The opening tiptoeing dialogue between the two strings effortlessly realises that idea – the abundance of colour and activity which follows in this 13 minute piece is dizzying and impressive.
Marco Fusi closes the first disc with the evocative Toward the Brink of Water Or the Verge of Dusk for solo viola da gamba. In her note, Kuwabara explains that ‘song’ is at the core of this piece, but not ‘song’ as the word is construed in Western culture. She again refers to Japanese chant and describes how notes in Shomyo and Noh are stretched to the point that consonants fall away completely to leave a sustained vowel sound. She further explains that for the purposes of this piece, the viola da gamba requires retuning to bring it more into line with the fragility and delicacy of Japanese chant. Fusi’s little strummings convey a pulse to underpin Kuwabara’s long-breathed flowing phrases, which can either pause for breath or yield to momentary shrillness. As was the case in both violin pieces, her harmonic language is strangely fascinating, but it’s the combination of an unfamiliar timbre and a narrative arc in permanent flux which cut through in this detailed and substantial solo. Apart from Fusi’s estimable playing, the Kairos production team have effected a perfect soundstage for the viola da gamba by providing an acoustic which leans towards a dryness which proves apt for the transmission of both intimacy and severity.
Whilst the first disc is given over to pieces for solo instruments, the second features the ensemble Awai-Za, whose core trio comprises violin, cello and shamisen and which features wholly or partially in four works for various ensembles. Guest instrumentalists have been recruited for three of these works, including the violist Ikune Yamagata for Three Voices, a brief but eventful string trio. In essence, Kuwabara attempts in this piece to translate the spirit of breath retention, maintenance and release as it occurs in Japanese chant into a form which a conventional string trio can produce. Barely audible clouds of string white noise rapidly gather strength and vitality before the work begins to oscillate between states of semi-inaudibility and cathartic release. Three Voices provides a stern technical challenge for these accomplished players (not least in terms of their listening strategies – the work frequently relies upon call and response devices) but collectively they are absolutely at one with Kuwabara’s idiom to the point that Three Voices flows inexorably and inevitably.
Lotus Pedestal, another trio with shamisen is next up which enables Awai-Za’s core configuration of Shungo Miso (violin), Seiko Takemoto (cello) and Hidejiro Honjoh to take the reins. The piece is an instrumental interpretation of the essence (as opposed to the narrative) of Hangonkō, an apparently renowned example of Rakugo, a form of comedic storytelling derived from the Edo tradition. Although the title Lotus Pedestal presumably refers to some kind of throne suitable for divine figures, I’m afraid I’m as completely ignorant as to its relevance to the story as I am to the story itself. My attempts at researching it for the purposes of this review have proved futile. As for the music, an abrupt percussive stamp heralds an enigmatic sequence of fragments, some of which seem to recur, demarcated by silences of varying length. Whilst the unmistakable Japanese colours of the shamisen dominate, the contributions of violin and cello meld local and contemporary Western stylings. There is an agreeable richness about this trio. Lotus Pedestal is at once mysterious and impactful, and intermittently unnerving. One wonders how literal the sounds are meant to be – it would be fascinating to learn something more about Hangonkō than is provided by the composer’s very brief note (and its somewhat sketchy translation). On the other hand, one wonders whether that is the point, given that Kuwabara has explicitly avoided telling the tale in music -perhaps the sounds are intended to speak purely for themselves.
This engrossing survey concludes with a pair of 13 minute concertante pieces, featuring solo violin and solo shamisen, respectively. Shadowless for solo violin and eight players (comprising flute doubling alto flute, clarinet doubling bass clarinet, trombone, percussion, violin, viola, cello and double-bass) incorporates the violin work Mizu no Koe (Water Voice) from the first disc which forms the virtuosic solo part. For this expansion Kuwabara has tailored a particular scordatura for the solo violin (in this performance the soloist is Shungo Mise from Awai-Za’s core trio) as well as for the four strings in the ensemble – together these re-tunings apparently form a chromatic scale. What an attractive piece Shadowless proves to be! Those gossamer strands that predominate in its solo violin iteration sound even more radiant with the accompaniment of this ‘orchestra’ of eight. Kuwabara proves to be an outstanding colourist where the larger ensemble is concerned, although that is something of a crude characterisation of what she’s up to here. In its 13-minute arc, the swatch of hues she draws from such a small group is remarkably vivid. The octet sighs, hisses, spits, growls and is silent. It is by turn antagonised and pacified by the solo violin. This is a live performance recorded in front of a small audience but their applause at the work’s conclusion is palpably heartfelt.
The allusion to the visual arts expressed in the title of Kuwabara’s concerto for shamisen and seven players may be a bit of a mouthful, but figure and ground, image and margin, obverse and reverse is as precise in its terms of reference as the placement of notes and markings in the composer’s score (a page of which is reproduced in the booklet). Of course, in concerto form, there is a wealth of opportunity to investigate these pairs of perceptual opposites in terms of the soloist and the ensemble (which in this case loses the trombone and double-bass but includes a piano in comparison with the configuration required for Shadowless). There is arguably a conceptual parallel in Shadowless, as one could perceive the pre-composed Mizu no Koe as the figure and the subsequently devised orchestral material as the ground. In her note the composer provides a helpful metaphor for listeners; she encourages them to imagine the solo instrument as a mountain range – our interpretation of such a feature will change depending on the time of day, the seasonal effects on the surrounding landscape, or perhaps the weather amongst other things. But the outline of the mountains remains sui generis, fixed and familiar in our conscious experience. This conceit works especially well here given that for many listeners the shamisen will be producing such a ‘different’, unusual sound – it retains that sense of ‘otherness’ regardless of what the ensemble throws at it. Again, I found Kuwabara’s music completely absorbing and utterly convincing – repeated listening has only reinforced my view that both these concertante works are newly minted treasures.
Performances throughout ooze total conviction on the parts of all the musicians concerned. I sense that the performers recognise the sonic originality and the conceptual imagination which leaps off the page in all these scores. The recordings render Kuwabara’s sounds with pointillistic precision. The booklet design and luminous artwork is in the tried and tested Kairos style – I’d have liked a better translation and a bit more detail in the analysis, but there is at least a complete lack of pretentiousness here. In my view, the pauses between the pieces on the first disc should have been far more substantial – at forty-odd minutes duration for each disc this would have been eminently feasible– Kuwabara’s music truly merits such attention to detail. On this initial acquaintance with her art she proves a worthy successor to the likes of Takemitsu and Hosokawa and offers a unique take on the fusing of past, present and possible future traditions. There is much that is beautiful here and I look forward to hearing much more of her work.
Richard Hanlon
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Tracklisting & recording details:
CD1
- Bai and Dharani for solo violin (2020-2021)
- Mizu no Koe (Water Voice) for solo violin (2014–2015/2019)
- Falling Dusk for solo shamisen (2014)
- Toward the Brink of Water Or the Verge of Dusk for solo viola d’amore (2020)
CD 2
- Three Voices for string trio (2016)
- Lotus Pedestal for shamisen, violin, and cello (2011/2018)
- Shadowless for solo violin and eight musicians (2017)
- figure and ground, image and margin, obverse and reverse for solo shamisen and seven musicians (2018)
CD1 tracks 1,2, and 4 – rec. 2023, Orpheus Instituut Concert Hall, Ghent, Belgium
CD1 track 3 and CD 2 tracks 1,2 – rec. 2023, Sound City Setagaya Studio, Tokyo, Japan
CD2 tracks 3 and 4 – rec. 2019, Tokyo Opera City Recital Hall, Tokyo, Japan
