Johnny Greenwood / Bryce Dessner
St. Carolyn by the Sea / Suite From There Will Be Blood
Deutsche Grammophon; 2014
7.8
ARTISTS:
Jonny Greenwood Bryce Dessner
Orchestral works by rock stars were once accorded the same level of basic dignity as Baby Mozart compilations or “Classical Relaxation” checkout counter CDs: They were the classical-music industry’s green-mile walks, grist for the mill. This handsomely appointed Deutsche Grammophon release of recordings by Bryce Dessner, guitarist for the National, and Jonny Greenwood, guitarist for Radiohead, is one sign, among many, of shifting cultural tides. “Rock star” is an altogether more genteel occupation in this century than it was in the last—Dessner and Greenwood in particular enjoy a middlebrow cultural cachet somewhere between “TED Fellow” and “HBO show runner.” And the classical music industry is relieved to have modern cultural ambassadors that won’t make them feel foolish or craven.
Dessner and Greenwood have thus built up enviable composing careers for themselves. Their works are programmed by tony, first-class institutions, and positioned next to other contemporary composers, not consigned to the Friday-night concert that serves drinks. Greenwood has a head start on Dessner—his suite for There Will Be Blood, from 2007, enjoys a robust performance life and Popcorn Superhet Receiver, from which portions of this work were taken has been recorded already. Dessner, however, is catching up; last year, none other than the Kronos Quartet devoted a full album to his compositions. Now, whenever a prominent contemporary music festival is scheduled—such as this spring’s Big Ears Festival in Knoxville, which also features Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche—Dessner and Greenwood are included.
It helps that their compositions do as much work as their names. Greenwood’s There Will Be Blood suite is foreboding and inky-black, a work whose extended quotes of Penderecki and Ligeti do nothing to obscure the thumbprint of Greenwood’s sensibility. The leaping, fiendish, cello line will forever be associated with Daniel Plainview, and the glinting blue eyes in Daniel Day-Lewis’s soot-covered face as he proclaims his disgust for “these…people.” The slow-fall-in-free-space glissandi that punctuate the “Henry Plainview” movement, the most obvious Ligeti touch, break open into plangent, lovely string writing, a push-pull between furtive remorse and throbbing evil keeps the piece from curdling.
Dessner’s surprisingly mordant sensibility is a match for Greenwood’s. On his “St. Carolyn By the Sea”, moaning tremolos pass like a fever chill through the orchestra and show up in the guitars a few minutes later, goose flesh prickling the music’s surface. There are guitars in the work, but they are twinkling and demure, and often feel like they are murmuring to quiet the upheaval of the shuddering beast that is the full orchestra. The work builds to a martial tattoo of an ending and cuts off, leaving its sharp outline visible in our minds.
Dessner’s ear for string writing is particularly rich. The chords that move through the beginning of “Lachrimae” carry some Barber in their DNA, an impression that gets upset later when a cello bows out hoarse-voiced harmonics high up near the bridge. “Raphael”, builds from wispy tendrils of sound into a super-saturated moment of full orchestral color, a blazing sunrise burning fog off of a river. The work stretches majestically over 17 minutes, maintaining a slow build that might feel familiar to the muscle-memories of post-rock fans. It is glacial, patiently ecstatic, and further evidence that Dessner’s vision could support some large-scale works. Whoever wants to commission his first symphony would probably be rewarded with something fantastic.
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