Altazor. Music of Hilda Paredes. Ensemble Aventure; Nicholas Reed, conductor; Guillermo Anzorena, baritone. Wergo (WER 74162). Total time: 55:00
DIGITAL REVIEW — Born and raised in Mexico, composer Hilda Paredes is a longtime resident of London. She does not see boundaries separating world cultures. She seems determined to meld the musics of early Latin America with those of latter-day Europe, with a backdrop of cutting-edge electronics. The album Altazor presents the world-premiere recording of three of Paredes’ works.
Freiburg-based Ensemble Aventure, now in its 40th year and led by percussionist Nicholas Reed, prides itself on a willingness to “set out into unknown sonic and imaginative realms.” Paredes’ unique global and temporal cross-referencing fits well with the mandate of this highly skilled chamber group.
To open the album, the instrumentalists are joined by Argentine baritone Guillermo Anzorena, who sings a fascinating monodrama called Altazor. Paredes, 69, has set a 1931 poem by Vicente Huidobro (1893-1948), one of Chile’s most important writers. Huidobro was the founder of the Creacionismo movement of poetry, seeing each poetic work as a newly made thing that need not either relate to anything else or exist to be understood; it’s similar to Surrealism.
Paredes takes that philosophy as a canvas on which to daub the hues of Meso-American tradition — not by quoting from tunes but by imitating the culture’s tone colors and the composer’s impressions of that era’s visual arts — to enhance the imagery in the language.
Since it’s impossible to explain what the poem is about in any mundane sense, here is a (perhaps) useful description from Rolf W. Stoll’s booklet essay: “In the poem, Huidobro describes a parachute jump from a great height, in the course of which consciousness becomes clouded and the ability to articulate language is lost.” Beyond that Surrealist scenario, there are references to the racial inequity that has plagued Latin America for centuries.
The 25-minute work, composed in 2011, calls for accompaniment by eight instrumental soloists and electronics. Timeless, ethereal tones, both acoustic and electronic, introduce a text that begins with similar ancientness, immediately broaching a profound human conflict:
I am Altazor
Trapped in the cage of his fate
My eyes opened in the century
When Christianity was dying
Writhing on its agonizing cross.
The vocal writing is atonal, with flips up to arching falsetto notes, moments of exaggerated rolled R’s, rapid-fire glottal stops, sustained vocal “fry,” and other textural techniques. Sometimes cello tremolos, electronic hisses, and breathy flute tones are muddled by layered vocal muttering. There’s a darkness yet also a whimsy about the text and music; “Altazor” is a name invented by Huidobro, combining the words for “altitude” and “surprised.” At all times, despite the many musical surprises, Anzoreno is entirely in command of both his voice and his expression.
The other two pieces on the album are instrumental. Siphonophorae is an example of art imitating art imitating nature: Paredes was inspired in 2016 by a sculpture by Thomas Glassford, which in turn was inspired by a type of marine colony comprising thousands of tiny polyps swimming as one.
To illustrate this concept, Paredes has the instruments create the tiniest fragments of sound: bows bouncing on strings, flutter-tongued flute, broken multi-octave chords on the piano. The sounds get faster and faster, swirling into each other, then separating. The ensemble’s playing is full of unpredictable motion, an illusory offhandedness surely created through extreme exactitute, as they shape each complex idea yet never let the vibrant energy dissipate.
Epitafio, a work for flute/bass flute, clarinet/bass clarinet, violin, cello, piano, percussion, and electronics, concludes the recording. Paredes wrote it as a memorial to her mother, who died in 2021. All the instruments are fed through electronics, widening the textural palette. A state-of-the-art method called granular synthesis breaks sounds into microsounds (a digital measurement) and then recombines them into entirely new sonic amalgams.
The sounds of the acoustic instruments are established first. The piece opens with quietude — not so much mournful as contemplative — with microtonal exploration. But soon that is replaced by faster motion, new and not-quite-identifiable sounds (a cat? the rain forest? a straw sucking up the last of a drink? — almost, but not exactly, all of those) mixing with the known sonic universe. Despite these mesmerizing experiments, the live, human aspect of the music remains essential: Sometimes the wind players are required to position themselves in certain places, or to move around on- or offstage, helping to create the desired effect. Again, Aventure’s playing makes the unfamiliar seem second nature and therefore completely believable.
As it wanders through its emotional and musical possibilities, Epitafio comes across as a celebration of a wonderful life. The same could be said of every moment of this refreshingly original and joyous album.
