Gidon Kremer, Tatjana Grindenko - Nono: La lontananza, Hay que caminar (2003)

×

Gidon Kremer, Tatjana Grindenko - Nono: La lontananza, Hay que caminar (2003)

Close

This disc is a reissue in DG's 20/201 Echo series, with recordings of Nono's last two finished works from December of 1990, first released in 1992. Nono died in May 1990, and "La lontananza" had been written for and with Gidon Kremer in 1988 and 1989. Nono taped Kremer playing a variety of pre-arranged sounds on violin, and then electronically altered them – the final piece results from Kremer playing solo, responding to taped sequences. As 8 tapes are triggered, Kremer walks among 8 music stands and plays the scores in whatever order he chooses. The taped altered material does not provide the basis for a clearly enunciated duet, and the result, as you might imagine, is quite indeterminate – Cage-like, if it wasn't for Nono's powerful sensibility. Interestingly, Sofia Gubaidulina operates the tapes – this did not lead to a sideline in studio engineering work as far as I know. This is not among Nono's best works, in my opinion, but then I don't much care for Cage either – perhaps if you do you'll find it more compelling than I. Irvine Arditti subsequently recorded "La lontananza," which probably makes it the only Kremer/Arditti duet on record, but I haven't heard his rendition.
The second work, "Hay que caminar sondando" is a violin duet performed by Kremer and Tatiana Grindenko. It conveys a sense of confusion, puzzlement, and sadness at not being able to "find the path." This piece was written for Irvine Arditti and David Alberman, who recorded the orginal version in July of 1990 (which can be found on the Naive Montaigne disc with Nono's 1980 string quartet "Framente-Stille, An Diotima" – see my review). The original version is nearly 28 minutes long, while the Kremer version lasts "only" 20 minutes. The Arditti/Alberman version has more silence, more extreme dynamics, and conveys a sense of being utterly, existentially lost. You might say it emphasizes that there is "no path," while this version emphasizes that nonetheless "we must walk." Personally, I prefer the original version to this one.
This is an excellent addition to DG's 20/21 series, which includes a growing number of classic recordings of the late 20th century avant-garde. The packaging is high quality – relevant, of course, only if you suffer from commodity fetishism.
What Nono was exploring in his late period seems to have been the result of a crisis of faith – not religious faith, but humanist faith. The work was experimental, and not always totally successful, but always fascinating.