If you like contemporary flute, from Saariaho’s expressionist colourism to Montrealer James O’Callaghan’s avant-garde electro-tinged abstraction, by way of Gilles Tremblay’s poetic modernism and Toru Takemitsu’s Japanese-influenced modernist impressionism, you will certainly be delighted to give a careful listen to the album Airborne Solitudes by Montreal flautist Jeffrey Stonehouse. The album thus presents two Canadian composers (O’Callaghan and Tremblay) and three international ones (Saariaho, Takemitsu and Salvatore Sciarrino, represented by a bold arrangement for solo flute of Bach’sToccata and Fugue in D minor BWV 565 – Ouch!), in a very advantageous sound production by Redshift Records.
O’Callaghan gets the honour of two pieces on the album, two long tracks of some eleven minutes for flute and electronics. Doubt is a Way of Knowing and Into Sections are similar in terms of style. Both of O’Callaghan’s compositions plunge us into a bath of turbulent, highly contrasted sounds, in which the flute takes on a wide variety of textural guises, which rival those created electronically. Almost every extended technique is used. As for him, O’Callahan’s synthetic lutherie work is impressive in its colours and almost tactile multidimensionality. I don’t think I’m wrong in placing the Montrealer’s electronic language in the wake of that of Morton Subotnick, among others. Jeffrey Stonehouse is obviously very skilled at mastering his instrument. He navigates through the incessant rhythmic, dynamic, and timbral leaps with great ease.
After the scattered bursts of O’Callaghan’s two pieces, Kaaija Saariaho’s Terrestre almost shows a sense of classicism. In any case, it is not unpleasant to find a sort of “grounding” with this playful piece, rhythmic like an ancient and pagan ritual dance. O’Callaghan’s flute is accompanied by a violin, a cello, percussion, and a harp, in a light and swirling construction. In almost 12 minutes, Saariaho invents a small magical world very representative of her personal and general universe, equally shimmering with colours and dreamlike landscapes. Magnificent interpretation in a recording that captures all the depth and detailed richness of this score.
The Quebecer Gilles Tremblay, whom we don’t hear often enough given his musical importance, is represented by the piece Envol, for solo flute (1984). Here, too, there are athletic leaps in dynamics and register, as well as texture when the composer abruptly juxtaposes projected sounds with kinds of spun sounds, which seem to come from the wings. These are formidable demands on an instrumentalist, and once again Stonehouse is up to the challenge.
Like a contemplative solo meditation in a zen garden, Takemitsu’s piece Air explores the delicately suggestive abilities of the instrument and its performer. A vaguely pastoral soliloquy extends throughout the approximately seven minutes, inviting the listener to observe the surrounding world with placidity.
The finale is left to the good care of Salvatore Sciarrino, who dared to make a transcription for solo flute of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, originally for organ. An exercise that is a real challenge, as the two instruments are at opposite ends of the spectrum of polyphonic possibilities. If Sciarrino doesn’t quite square the circle here, he has nevertheless managed to give the flute a semblance of polyphonic prowess, by playing on resonances and other sound-projection strategies. Whatever you think of the value of this transcription, you can have no doubt about Jeffrey Stonehouse’s admirable virtuosity and expressive sense. There is a slight wince at the harshness of the extreme high notes at the end of the fugue, but we let it go, as everything else is so impressive.
An album to listen to carefully for all flautists worthy of the name, and all the others who like it.
