Madli Marje Gildemann (b. 1994)
Dream Sequence of an Ancient Forest
Three Studies on Plant Biology (2020–2022), for various ensembles
Nocturnal Migrants (2023), for violin, viola, violoncello, double bass, percussion and prepared piano
Dream Sequence of an Ancient Forest (2019), for two pianos and megaphones
AH-64 APACHE/Sumiseja, sumiseja… (2017), for overtone singer, throat singer, two violins, two double basses, percussion and piano
Ludensemble/Kaspar Mänd
Talvi Hunt, Kadri-Ann Sumera (pianos)
rec. 2024-2025, various locations in Laulasmaa and Tallinn, Estonia
Kairos 0022020KAI [67]

The recipient of the 2023 ISCM Young Composer Award (for Osmosis, the first of the Three Studies on Plant Biology which feature here), Madli Marge Gildemann writes music which frequently radiates tropospheric mystery and primordial depth. Whilst she seeks frequently to translate the inner workings of phenomena which may be beyond one’s conscious perception into instrumental timbre, the results seem pleasingly devoid of dry abstraction. She shares with composers as outwardly contrasting as Anna Thorvaldsdóttir and Arturo Fuentes a felicitous ability to conjure the ‘soul’ of things; like them she illuminates a pathway for the listener to completely inhabit apparently alien worlds and elicit emotional connections which seem surprisingly natural, even inevitable. A range of sources which pique Gildemann’s imagination are reflected on this album; her music certainly demonstrates a sensitive ear, an assured technique and evident joy in the application of discreetly pointillistic detail.

The Three Studies on Plant Biology are each substantial impressions of interrelated botanical processes. Once heard, even for those listeners (such as this reviewer) mildly confused by the terminological nature of their titles, I suspect for many they will seem unlikely to have been ‘about’ anything else. Their instrumental specifications may differ substantially but in an accessible and informative booklet note Johanna Mängel clarifies that each study was written for a particular ensemble and thus each can be performed individually.  However, experiencing the full triptych allows a comprehensive introduction to Gildemann’s distinctive and appealing stylistic fingerprints.

The first study, Osmosis is scored for prepared piano and string trio, and here Gildemann alludes to the transference of water molecules between tree and soil. Creepy isolated knockings emerge gradually from gossamer tendrils of high strings which flirt with inaudibility. As the density of this percussive activity increases a cello provides a low drone upon which the listener can anchor themselves and navigate the respiratory and rustling sounds from above. This underlying rumble weaves almost imperceptibly between timbres but its omnipresence is a reminder that the process is autonomic and continuous. Osmosis is expertly conceived for what is effectively an adapted piano quartet but which here sounds like a much larger group.

The largest scale piece, Transpiration, requires a string orchestra of eighteen players (54422) and forms the central panel. The process of transpiration involves the evaporation of water droplets from plant leaves. Gildemann again succeeds in characterising what must be an infinitesimally slow process in sonic terms, and managing to do so without ever seeming too literal or forced. Long-breathed low and middle range notes evolve gently but hover in the background, whilst slivers of high string texture coalesce into larger masses of sound which consume and contract. Pizzicato and sul ponticello effects evoke the trickling hyperactivity before the full string orchestra pulls itself into a luminous blanket of rich sound. For some listeners the sonic mass achieved around the 9:40 mark might recall Ligeti’s full orchestral work Lontano in its ideally paced increase in tension but the sheer novelty of the timbral blends Gildemann draws from a string orchestra of modest dimensions is both distinctive and impressive.

Whilst the sextet (two winds, three strings and prepared piano) in Photosynthesis, the concluding study, possibly provides Gildemann with more coloristic options it is already clear that this composer is most adept at eliciting constantly shifting tonal hues from whatever type of ensemble she is writing for, a gift which undoubtedly reinforces the cogency of experiencing these studies as a triptych. The initial impression of Photosynthesis might suggest seabirds rather than plants to some listeners, in what on the surface could strike one as diffuse amalgam of marine birdlife, subterranean breathing and gamelan-like pulsings from the prepared piano. But as Johanna Mängel points out, Gildemann’s lens is turned here toward “the poetics of light and energy”, and the spirit released from this panel is exceptionally airy and kinetic. Photosynthesis thus constitutes an apt conclusion to an impressive, absorbing and remarkably accessible cycle. 

Aspects of actual avian experience to which humans are not generally exposed do in fact inform the unusual concept behind Nocturnal Migrants, the piece which follows the studies (after an all-too-brief pause which the folk at Kairos might have been wise to extend). Here Gildemann’s ensemble incorporates a string trio plus double-bass, percussion and prepared piano. The tweetings and chirrupings which open the work clearly augur an imminently traumatic event, a night journey (characterised by crepuscular musings in piano and percussion) in which the migratory cues presented by the natural world (stars and magnetic forces) are fatally undermined by obstacles of human technology in the form of the disorienting cues such as urban lights and ultimately a lighthouse. Gildemann’s instrumental screenplay is skilfully framed by the chasm created by very high and very low sounds. That the tragic conclusion to the work is palpable even on first listening is testament to this composer’s considerable narrative skill, and offers yet more proof of a boundless sonic imagination.

This Kairos composer portrait disc borrows its title from the next item, Dream Sequence of an Ancient Forest, for two pianos and megaphones. Gildemann characterises the forest as a distinct living entity, a comprehensive ecosystem whose individual components are utterly interdependent. She imagines it as a spirit which cannot help but brood during slumber upon its own (pre)historical experience; the pianos meld together or call and respond in what evolves into a profound and unpredictable nocturne. At the same time the megaphones seem to amplify individual strings, pedals and even the bodies of the pianos to evoke the sounds of the distant creatures, plants, and the preternatural organisms which inhabit the forest’s subconscious. Precisely how the megaphones ‘work’ in this piece is not explained in the booklet; whatever they do, the effects are extraordinarily present and unfailingly atmospheric in this vivid Kairos recording.

In what is an elegant flip of the possibly anthropomorphic or phytomorphic implications of the previous works, this generous monograph concludes with AH-64 APACHE/Sumiseja, sumiseja… an almost unprecedented collage-like piece which chimes with the uniquely Estonian perspective of Maausk, which embodies the idea that even man-made objects (in this case a helicopter) can have a soul. I strongly suspect this is the first (and will ultimately be the only) work scored for an ensemble consisting of a throat singer, a pair each of violins and double basses and percussion. What sounds like ignition being switched on (and only tentatively responding) emerges over distant low and high drones before fading to subterranean rumbling, grotesque human yawning, piercing whistling sounds and several other bizarre vibrations and windings…– presumably the helicopter is awakening.  Human voices (some with US accents) projected over air comms fade in and out of the diffuse layers of sound before the monstrous yawning returns and a mysterious Latin prayer is invoked by the throat singer. Whilst AH-64 APACHE/Sumiseja, sumiseja… is intended as another dream evocation one cannot escape the feeling its likely interpretation by the listener is likely to be dramatically mediated by the particular zeitgeist in which they find themselves (for me it’s late March 2026 and an especially alarming international moment – this of course is completely outside the composer’s control) In any case, Gildemann’s novel creation proves colourful, fascinating, and disturbing in equal measure. 

This disc constitutes my first exposure to the Estonian group Ludensemble and their director Kaspar Mänd. In the last thirty-five years it has become something of a given here in the UK that contemporary music ensembles in Estonia are likely to be outstanding and these terrific musicians give Madli Marje Gildemann’s fresh and accessible music everything they’ve got. They are beautifully recorded too. Exactly the same can be said of the pianists Talvi Hunt and Kadri-Ann Sumera in the album’s titular work. I look forward to my next encounter with this group, and especially to hearing more from Madli Marje Gildemann. Much as I love the music of Arvo Pärt, Erkki-Sven Tüür, Lepo Sumera (Kadri-Ann’s father) and Tõnu Kõrvits It’s been a delight to immerse myself in Gildemann’s arguably more cutting-edge output. 

Richard Hanlon

Contents:
Three Studies on Plant Biology (2020–2022)
1. Osmosis (2020) for violin, viola, violoncello and prepared piano
2. Transpiration (2022) for string orchestra
(rec Viimsi St Jakob’s Church, Tallinn)
3. Photosynthesis (2022) for flute, bass clarinet, violin, viola, violoncello and prepared piano
4. Nocturnal Migrants (2023) for violin, viola, violoncello, double bass, percussion and prepared piano
5. Dream Sequence of an Ancient Forest (2019) for two pianos and megaphones
Talvi Hunt, Kadri-Ann Sumera (two pianos)
6. AH-64 APACHE/Sumiseja, sumiseja… (2017) for overtone singer, throat singer, two violins, two double basses, percussion and piano
(rec Tallinn College of Music and Ballet)
Tracks 1-4; 6 Ludensemble/Kaspar Mänd
Tracks 1, 3-5 recorded at Arvo Pärt Centre, Laulasmaa, Estonia