The story behind the composition of Aho’s
Symphonic Dances is almost as fascinating
as the music itself.... read full review above/
Symphonic Dances
.... The result is an extraordinary
achievement. A magical fusion of Klami’s own
language, coloured and refracted through Aho’s
compositional mind. I use the word coloured
quite literally, for Aho is a born colourist
and orchestral painter who also happens to
write with astonishing facility. Although
in four movements the final instalment, Dance
of the Winds and Fires is by a margin
the most substantial as well as being the
only movement in which Aho employs electronic
colour. The opening Prelude commences
with an ascending figure also evident at the
close of the entire piece, before the material
expands to frame a central dream like sequence
that gains animation only to close once again
in quiet mystery.
The Return of the Flames
and Dance grows from its initial
flickering, gradually gathering momentum until
the flames dance with ever increasing energy
to a final explosion of sound.
| The Return of the
Flames and Dance here
|
Grotesque Dance begins
in lugubrious fashion with timpani and sluggish
bassoons until all manner of strange beings
and animals emerge from the forest in reference
to the original Kalevala story. Listen out
for the astonishing tuba solo, Aho’s depiction
of the Devil’s Elk!
In the final panel the east,
west, south and north winds blow in turn,
the sound of the wind created electronically
whilst the music passes through a gradually
emerging waltz passage, ultimately culminating
in a huge, appropriately whirling climax of
almost apocalyptic proportions as the winds
all blow simultaneously. From the chaos emerges
a final hymn of consolation in the middle
strings, an affirmation of belief in the future
that subsides to silence.
| Dance of the Winds
and Fires here
|
Symphony 11
Cast in three movements of roughly similar
proportions the first begins in veiled shadows
with instrumental textures appearing through
the mists. Gradually the music gathers rhythmic
energy until an extraordinary central percussion
cadenza in which all six percussionists take
up castanets.
The music that emerges changes character
completely, the tempo now fast, the material
mercurial and fleet of foot before subsiding
into silence.
The central movement is effectively one huge
accelerando, progressing from the initial
soulful melody played by heckelphone to rhythmically
driven material in which various drums propel
the momentum to a final manic percussive tremolo.
In total contrast the final Tranquillo
rarely rises above a piano dynamic, a hypnotically
haunting movement, the music taking on what
the composer describes as an almost ritual
quality. Here the percussionists are dispersed
around the concert hall, eventually leaving
the stage one by one, each playing antique
cymbals. It’s worth listening out for the
atmospheric sound of six ten-stringed kanteles
that are employed around two thirds of the
way through the movement.
Reviewer
Christopher Thomas