Fanfare (US) 5. Review
Five stars: A worthy celebration of Axel Borup-Jørgensen. One hopes it will lead listeners into more exploration
BORUP-JØRGENSEN Intrata, op. 149. Trio, op. 134. Ricostruzioni, op. 71. Malinconia, op. 68. Distichon, op. 67. Rapsodi, op. 114/3. Mikroorganismer, op. 20b Ÿ Esbjerg Ens Ÿ OUR RECORDINGS 8.226925 (65:58)
The Danish record label OUR Recordings’ devotion. to the composer Axel Borup-Jørgensen (1924-2012) is remarkable. This is the eighth album on that label of his music and its release date is significant: Borup-Jørgensen would have turned 100 on November 22, 2024.
It is brave to begin with a percussion-only piece: Intrada, op. 149.This piece is scored both for “traditional” percussion (bongos, marimba, vibraphone and so on), plus a number of found objects (glass bottle, anvil, glass) and a steel pan drum. The result is an individual universe of color, “individual” being the operative word. Unlike many solo percussion pieces, this is eminently listenable for non-percussionists. Borup-Jørgensen conjures up a vivid soundscape. Or at least co-composes one, as pats of the score allows for performer freedom. This is a place of much beauty. Much of the work is gentle and silvery. The end is on tenor drum, emphatic but certainly not overbearing. The performer, Christian Martinez works with it all effectively and brilliantly.
The ever so delicate opening to the Trio, op. 134 (1988-90) ushers in a piece of remarkable delicacy. Predominantly high-pitched (and scored for clarinet, violin, and piano), the Trio was initially entitled “Images of Solitude” (after an exhibition). The music speaks of other worlds. Although timbrally differentiated, the three musicians (Ron Chen-Zion, clarinet, Pau Cordina, cello and Kristoffer Hyldig, piano) act as one unit. Rare explosions of energy, where dissonances take on a more fearsome aspect, make a huge mark. The Trio only lasts around twelve minutes, but feels longer as it operates on a Feldman-like suspension/distortion of time
Scored for wind quintet (Kerstin Thiele, flute, Ron Chen-Zion, clarinet, Niklas Kallsoy Mauritsen, horn, David Daniel Dinu, oboe, Antti Salovaara, bassoon), Ricostruzioni of 1973/4 should be beter known. There are two available endings for this work, and the Esbjerg Ensemble opts for the shorter, earlier one. The piece begins with what sounds like a disjunct chorale (with intervening silences) but which also holds the seed for the work’s articulating gesture. Despite its slow unraveling, the piece holds many challenges of ensemble and indeed stamina. Most of all is the way the slowness of the music allows for an appreciation of the sheer beauty of Borup-Jorgensen's chordal structures.
Commissioned by the Carl Nielsen Quartet, Malinconia, op. 68 of 1972-74 lies in a line of pieces that include (and are referenced in the booklet note), Ysaÿe's movement of that name (from the Second Sonata for Solo Violin, one of that cycle of six sonata’s most poignant moments; try James Ehnes’ recording), and Sibelius’ Malnconia for cello and piano, op. 20 (Thorleif Thedéen and Folke Gräsbeck on BIS offer on a whole disc of Sibelius' music for cello and piano and make a great case for this magnificently fantastical work). Borup-Jørgensen's take on melancholy is for string quartet (Joel Bardolet, Bernat Prat Sabater, violins; Michel Camille, viola; Pau Cordina, cello). The score layout reflects the work’s impression, which is that of a sequence of glacial gestures in the wake of an initial pizzicato marked “ureksposionen:” (in the manner of a primeval explosion). The performers use their freedom wisely in this recording and as a result the work seems to search for something, perhaps its very own essence.
Scored for violin and piano and written in 1974, Distichon is fascinating. Given the relationship between the layout of the composer’s scores and what we hear (Borup-Jøgensen delves deeply into the vital aspect of notation), finding and following scores is very much recommended (the website www.borup-jorgensen.dk seems to hold some of them for free). Before a note is struck, the score gives the performers homework and tells us of an increased dynamic scale, which includes “mpp” (which sits between “pp” and “p”), for example. The clusters of the piano part and the predominance of minor seconds, minor ninths and major sevenths (and so on) speak of dissonant terrain, and Tim Crawford (violin) and Kristoffer Hyldig (piano) are superb in their visceral response There is space for play. in their realization, too. Intriguingly, Borup-Jørgensen writes the piano part only on one stave throughout, which visually gives it an equivalence to the violin’s own single stave. Each page of the score represents an “episode”. The intervallic basis of the violin part does not preclude lyricism, though: as with Webern, one could argue the lyric impulse is a vital part of this music’s success.
Influenced by Rilke (“O Bäume Lebens, o wann winterlich?”), Borup-Jøgensen's Rhapsodi (heard here in its 1994-96 version of the 1983 original) offers something of a viola elegy. The composer quotes an earlier Rilke-inspired song from his op. 19. Michelle Camille is a compelling soloist, and is recorded closely so one can hear each and every nuance. Thos interested in hearing more of Borup-Jørgensen's viola works should head over to the Dacapo label and Anette Slaatto's disc, which includes another of the composer’s settings of that Rilke, his op. 81 (1977) for mezzo and viola (Signe Asmussen is the singer). Like the Rhapsodi, the song is a mini-masterpiece and, characteristically for this composer, silence is used to heightened effect.
Finally, Mikroorganismer (Micro-organisms), op. 20b, a set of short pieces composed as a reaction to adverse criticism and audience reactions to earlier works. Pithy and gestural they certainly are but shot through with a fierce intensity as if the composer was purging his soul. The quartet’s reaction here (the same players, sneakily listed in a different order in the booklet presumably an indication of a quartet’s non-hierarchy) is hyper-attuned. Unafraid of unpleasant sounds, the effect is sometimes that of composed anger. The overall effect is markedly disjunct, a sequence of thoughts each of which could morph into something much greater (and in that, it differs in its brevity from Weberian concision; this music begs for organic growth).
A worthy celebration of Axel Borup-Jørgensen. One hopes it will lead listeners into more exploration of this composer's works: my reviews of MARIN (Fanfare 41:4), organ music (another OUR recording and one that made my Want List of 2017, also 40:4), recorder music (37:5), and guitar music (on the Paula label this time, 41:2, and another on OUR, 42:4) ae all positive and all hold treasures galore. Colin Clarke

Five stars: A worthy celebration of Axel Borup-Jørgensen. One hopes it will lead listeners into more exploration ...