The works on Icelandic composer Anna Thorvaldsdottir’s debut RhÃzÅma are all mired in cavernous anxiety, countless tiny gestures sizzling with nervous energy, none of which is ever released. Each piece is like a tightly coiled spring which rather than explode slowly winds itself out, exhausting all energy, not through resignation but expiring through stress. There’s the subtlety and restraint of Morton Feldman but without the sureness of purpose, players shuffling their feet, sliding almost carelessly between notes, awaiting the gallows. Three larger works for chamber and orchestral groups are bracketed by five movements for prepared piano (played by percussionist Justin DeHart), and the mood throughout is remarkably consistent, unified in pace, colour and effect, marking Thorvaldsdottir as a considerable compositional talent.
In the opening ‘Hrim’ for orchestra, tiny zigzags of strings, winds and horns emerge gradually from silence, the latter sporadically erupting in understated blasts. Forces shift and slide, like tectonic plates, allowing glimpses of piano and tuned percussion to glisten along the surface. 2012 Nordic Council Music Prize winning ‘Dreaming’ takes the Takemitsu title and expands the Japanese composer’s soundworld both inward – through magnification of tiny glitch-like instrumental details – and outward, threatening to crush strings through sheer unresolved tension. ‘Streaming Arhythmia’ offers the boldest hues, repeated motifs reminiscent of a melancholic John Adams give way to almost comedic glissandi and brass farts, seemingly without focus or centre and thus evoking the title.
While for reduced forces ‘Hidden’ perhaps best realises Thorvaldsdottir’s ideals, as she reaches deep into the piano’s body to coax rich swathes of subterranean rumble and resonance, and with it a tactile love for the instrument that recalls the great piano composers from Scarlatti to Ligeti. Her most direct reference however is to Zeitkratzer leader and inside-piano virtuoso Reinhold Friedl, DeHart producing a similarly awe-inspiring range of sounds, although one more focused and downcast. As the title implies ‘Hidden: I. Inwards’ explores echo and reverberation, mapping changes in air pressure and density in an almost palpable way; ‘II. Our’ is all bent wood and creaking metal while ‘IV. Rain’ is liquid drizzle and downpour, harp-like and tinny. ‘V. Past and Present’s moves back towards silence, approached from faint echo and indistinct whisper, fading as beautifully out as ‘Hrim did in.
Joshua Meggitt
