David DeBoor Canfield, Fanfare Magazine
It is always a pleasure to become acquainted with as-yet-unfamiliar works of Judith Lang Zaimont, a composer who has precipitated boundless enthusiasm from me since my first exposure to her music a good four decades ago. This is particularly true in the case of the present CD, wherein I got to know her Fourth Symphony, whetting my appetite to hear her other symphonies (I do have the Naxos recording that contains excerpts of her Second Symphony). Life on this earth is simply too short: If I had more time here, I’d travel to her residence and insist that she play for me every note she’d ever composed. So, I must content myself with what I have been able to hear thus far, and what future opportunities will provide.
The symphony is the major work on this disc, in both forces and duration, its five movements comprising almost three quarters of the playing time of the present disc. Many composers have musically treated water in its various manifestations, but perhaps none so comprehensively as Zaimont has done in the work featured here. She explores this mysterious, life-giving substance in many of its states, and so there are consequently movements devoted to its flowing (in rivers), its solidity (in ice), its falling as drops of rain, its stillness (as in a tarn), and its ability to form mighty waves and torrents (as in the ocean). These aspects of water have resonated with the composer since her childhood, and she describes this symphony as “a piece from the heart.” By that, she means to draw attention to the chronic water shortages that plague many portions of our planet, a concern fostered in her by her father, who was in the water management business. Zaimont’s residence in the water-challenged state of Arizona in recent years has reinforced her convictions about the precious nature of this essential commodity. (As an aside, my own brother-in-law has been a hydrologist in that same state for his entire career, and he and I have had many extended conversations on the subject of how water is located, conserved, and apportioned there. Certainly Fanfare readers rightfully expect to see mainly musical considerations in these pages, but the ongoing depletion of the aquifers in the U.S. will affect every single American sooner or later, making music seem pretty trivial if we do not better conserve this precious resource.)
A musical representation of the word water permeates this entire composition. Zaimont portrays the substance through a short-long motive, accented on the short note, similar to how the word is pronounced. The motive is expressed in various ways throughout the five movements, sometimes as a rising or falling motive, but at other times as a quickly repeated pair of notes. The opening “in a current” movement, meant to depict a river, opens quietly, but with less overt “flowing” activity than is found in, say, Smetana’s Moldau. The depiction that comes to my mind here is more of a majestic and meandering river, rather than one with torrents of rushing water. Part of this image is fostered by the meandering tonal centers that Zaimont employs, although these are not by any means directionless, but always forwardly focused. Certain solos given to instruments such as horn, bassoon, and clarinet help to convey a rather mysterious mood, but the maestoso quality of the music never is obscured for very long. This river is not without its eddies, however, and around the eight-minute mark, the rhythmic activity picks up a good bit to portray this typical characteristic of rivers.
The trio of shorter interior movements moves to other aspects of water, first to ice, with a movement characterized by angular rhythms and harmonies, much more piquant than those in the opening movement. Zaimont has an uncanny ability to capture iciness in music, something she also did in the first movement, “Cold,” of her Piano Trio No. 2, “Zones.” The third movement, depicting a rainfall, is scherzo-like, quite busy, and rich in untuned percussion effects and motoristic rhythms in various sections of the orchestra. Following is “Still,” a depiction of a tarn (a mountain lake), which is largely gentle, despite some assertive brass figures, and possessed of elegantly mysterious harmonies and a beautifully languid cello solo.
The symphony concludes with another long movement, titled “in waves and torrents,” a depiction of the grandeur of the ocean. Zaimont does this through intricate and busy counterpoint among the various sections of the orchestra, with the undercurrents of the ocean seemingly depicted in differing tempos of various musical lines. Throughout, the work splendidly demonstrates her compositional craft, and her gift for melody and exquisite harmony. This work stands very proudly in the company of other masterpieces by composers such as Debussy, Bridge, Britten, and Vaughan Williams devoted to the sea and other bodies of water, and certainly deserves to be widely performed and appreciated.
“Russian Summer,” Zaimont’s Piano Trio No. 1, was commissioned by the Skaneateles Summer Chamber Music Festival to celebrate the group’s 10th anniversary in 1989, but has become quite popular, receiving performances around the world. Although it is a three-movement work, the last two movements link together quite naturally as an entity themselves, and it is that truncated version that is heard here. This is a bit of a pity, since there would have been plenty of room to include the first movement on the present CD. The “Russian” in the title pays homage to the composer’s Eastern European roots from Russia, Poland, and Hungary. The first of the two movements heard herein is entitled “Nocturne,” and accordingly evokes the sounds of the night. Nevertheless, the effect of the piece is spellbinding, and although tonal, the work is firmly ensconced in Zaimont’s inimitable compositional voice. The final movement, “Romp,” starts off deceptively, as though it were a continuation of the “Nocturne,” but not very far into the movement, it shows its true colors in a dynamic and lively, well, romp—one that traverses various types of figuration and sonority. My ears tell me that the character of this trio is not so much Russian as it is Zaimontian, which is just as it should be.
Performances of these two masterworks are exemplary in all parameters, as is the recorded sound. Fanfare has its official “Not to be Missed” category, but I’ll make my own unofficial version, and put this CD firmly in the middle of it. Indeed, you will not want to miss this profoundly moving pair of works. This CD will almost certainly show up on my next Want List, so stay tuned.
Source:
It is always a pleasure to become acquainted with as-yet-unfamiliar works of Judith Lang Zaimont, a composer who has precipitated boundless enthusiasm from me since my first exposure to her music a good four decades ago. This is particularly true in the case of the present CD, wherein I got to know her Fourth Symphony, whetting my appetite to hear her other symphonies (I do have the Naxos recording that contains excerpts of her Second Symphony). Life on this earth is simply too short: If I had more time here, I’d travel to her residence and insist that she play for me every note she’d ever composed. So, I must content myself with what I have been able to hear thus far, and what future opportunities will provide.
The symphony is the major work on this disc, in both forces and duration, its five movements comprising almost three quarters of the playing time of the present disc. Many composers have musically treated water in its various manifestations, but perhaps none so comprehensively as Zaimont has done in the work featured here. She explores this mysterious, life-giving substance in many of its states, and so there are consequently movements devoted to its flowing (in rivers), its solidity (in ice), its falling as drops of rain, its stillness (as in a tarn), and its ability to form mighty waves and torrents (as in the ocean). These aspects of water have resonated with the composer since her childhood, and she describes this symphony as “a piece from the heart.” By that, she means to draw attention to the chronic water shortages that plague many portions of our planet, a concern fostered in her by her father, who was in the water management business. Zaimont’s residence in the water-challenged state of Arizona in recent years has reinforced her convictions about the precious nature of this essential commodity. (As an aside, my own brother-in-law has been a hydrologist in that same state for his entire career, and he and I have had many extended conversations on the subject of how water is located, conserved, and apportioned there. Certainly Fanfare readers rightfully expect to see mainly musical considerations in these pages, but the ongoing depletion of the aquifers in the U.S. will affect every single American sooner or later, making music seem pretty trivial if we do not better conserve this precious resource.)
A musical representation of the word water permeates this entire composition. Zaimont portrays the substance through a short-long motive, accented on the short note, similar to how the word is pronounced. The motive is expressed in various ways throughout the five movements, sometimes as a rising or falling motive, but at other times as a quickly repeated pair of notes. The opening “in a current” movement, meant to depict a river, opens quietly, but with less overt “flowing” activity than is found in, say, Smetana’s Moldau. The depiction that comes to my mind here is more of a majestic and meandering river, rather than one with torrents of rushing water. Part of this image is fostered by the meandering tonal centers that Zaimont employs, although these are not by any means directionless, but always forwardly focused. Certain solos given to instruments such as horn, bassoon, and clarinet help to convey a rather mysterious mood, but the maestoso quality of the music never is obscured for very long. This river is not without its eddies, however, and around the eight-minute mark, the rhythmic activity picks up a good bit to portray this typical characteristic of rivers.
The trio of shorter interior movements moves to other aspects of water, first to ice, with a movement characterized by angular rhythms and harmonies, much more piquant than those in the opening movement. Zaimont has an uncanny ability to capture iciness in music, something she also did in the first movement, “Cold,” of her Piano Trio No. 2, “Zones.” The third movement, depicting a rainfall, is scherzo-like, quite busy, and rich in untuned percussion effects and motoristic rhythms in various sections of the orchestra. Following is “Still,” a depiction of a tarn (a mountain lake), which is largely gentle, despite some assertive brass figures, and possessed of elegantly mysterious harmonies and a beautifully languid cello solo.
The symphony concludes with another long movement, titled “in waves and torrents,” a depiction of the grandeur of the ocean. Zaimont does this through intricate and busy counterpoint among the various sections of the orchestra, with the undercurrents of the ocean seemingly depicted in differing tempos of various musical lines. Throughout, the work splendidly demonstrates her compositional craft, and her gift for melody and exquisite harmony. This work stands very proudly in the company of other masterpieces by composers such as Debussy, Bridge, Britten, and Vaughan Williams devoted to the sea and other bodies of water, and certainly deserves to be widely performed and appreciated.
“Russian Summer,” Zaimont’s Piano Trio No. 1, was commissioned by the Skaneateles Summer Chamber Music Festival to celebrate the group’s 10th anniversary in 1989, but has become quite popular, receiving performances around the world. Although it is a three-movement work, the last two movements link together quite naturally as an entity themselves, and it is that truncated version that is heard here. This is a bit of a pity, since there would have been plenty of room to include the first movement on the present CD. The “Russian” in the title pays homage to the composer’s Eastern European roots from Russia, Poland, and Hungary. The first of the two movements heard herein is entitled “Nocturne,” and accordingly evokes the sounds of the night. Nevertheless, the effect of the piece is spellbinding, and although tonal, the work is firmly ensconced in Zaimont’s inimitable compositional voice. The final movement, “Romp,” starts off deceptively, as though it were a continuation of the “Nocturne,” but not very far into the movement, it shows its true colors in a dynamic and lively, well, romp—one that traverses various types of figuration and sonority. My ears tell me that the character of this trio is not so much Russian as it is Zaimontian, which is just as it should be.
Performances of these two masterworks are exemplary in all parameters, as is the recorded sound. Fanfare has its official “Not to be Missed” category, but I’ll make my own unofficial version, and put this CD firmly in the middle of it. Indeed, you will not want to miss this profoundly moving pair of works. This CD will almost certainly show up on my next Want List, so stay tuned.
Source: