Snarkattack

“The beginning is simple, almost comic – just a pulse … like a rusty squeeze box – and then suddenly, high above it … a single note hanging there, unwavering … sweetened … into a phrase of such delight…”

Although this quote is taken from the film Amadeus and is uttered by Salieri in reference to Mozart’s ‘Gran Partita’ Serenade for winds K 361, it is an equally fitting description of the beginning of Kurtág’s Kafka fragmente (‘Kafka fragments’), for soprano (Juliane Banse) and violin (András Keller). The violin begins with a folk-like opening as if to set the beat or lull the listener. The soprano comes in, singing lyrics of marching, of steps, of dancing.

Thus begins Kurtág’s cycle of phrases and sentences – snatched and strung together randomly – courtesy of the writer Franz Kafka’s diaries and letters. Kurtág’s music, with the aid of these fragments will take the listener to opposite ends of the human psyche and not always with a smooth transition between the extremes.

Briefly, György Kurtág was born in 1926. He was born in an area of eastern Europe that belonged to Rumania, and studied in Budapest and Paris under masters such as Milhaud and Messiaen. He heard Webern’s work for the first time and returned to Budapest, declaring that his own string quartet (opus 1, 1959) marked his severance from the past. In 2006, the year of his eightieth birthday, recording label ECM decided to release this work as a new recording in honour of this event.

Numerous prestigious appointments and positions have come his way as a composer and as a performance tutor. Kurtág has also received many music awards. In February 2006 the Budapest Music Centre held a festival in honour of their beloved citizen’s achievements.

For many years throughout his life Kurtág recorded small quotes from Kafka’s writings that struck his fancy in regards to their potential to be set to music. Eventually the chance came to him and he began to work on compositional sketches for the fragments, and his enduring fascination with the work led him to work on it seriously, rather than for his own enjoyment.

The fragments are not ordered according to its thematic content, or to construct some sort of narrative. The primary concern is musical, and the order of the pieces has changed many times – even after its 1987 premiere performance.

Because of the ‘pulse’ mentioned at the beginning, the music has a hypnotic quality when listened to. The melodies echo folk tunes of Kurtág’s native land at certain points, as well as continue the trends established in Western art music at the beginning of the twentieth century. It also hints at the Jewish ancestry that both he and Kafka share.

I personally find various musical phrases haunting for several days after hearing them, indeed as if a pulse is revived and then slips gently into the background of one’s mind. This song cycle commands to be listened to attentively and without disruption, devoid of other distractions.

After repeat listenings, I did eventually succumb to reading the text translations of Kafka’s fragments. They are definitely part of this piece’s continuing allure. They are rarely self-contained and leave one thinking: what on earth were they extracted from? A short story? Kafka’s diary? His correspondence? To whom, if so? They are equally as haunting and unresolved as the music.

Of course, the performers, soprano Juliane Banse and violinist András Keller, naturally have an awful lot to do with the success of this composition – not just this recording. Both artists worked very closely with the composer and are experienced in its performance and interpretation. Keller showed Kurtág the limitations of his instrument during the compositional process.

The performers give the impression of being intimately connected with Kurtág’s piece, and clearly revel in their musical relationship. Each performer is keenly attuned to their partner and as a result produce a recording that sounds effortless, pure and considered. This was most evident in parts where either performer would be playing or singing a simple musical phrase and then would suddenly launch into virtuosic contemporary music techniques, as a question-answer device. However, each musician had this occur in their own part so that effectively they would answer their own question, which is trickier than conversing with one another.

Though each musician has a highly demanding part to perform due to the extreme register changes, glissandi, and pitch fluctuations, the violinist’s limits are challenged the most. At certain points, the score dictates that the violinist adopt different string tunings as well as having to physically reposition himself (moving to either side of the soprano when indicated).

There is also a contrapuntal device in several songs, one musical part will be melodic, folk-like and very consonant whereas the second part will be dissonant, fragmented – a stark contrast to its self-contained partner. Again, this only enforces that the composer wants us to feel a juxtaposition of emotions – the earthiness of the folk tradition and the anorexic economy of its counterpart.

This is a work, and a recording, to be savoured over and over again. Anyone with an interest in classical music outside the canon, and in the performing arts generally should relish this release from ECM.

This article first appeared Blogcritics at http://blogcritics.org/archives/2006/09/16/102535.php viewable here.