Branford Marsalis and the Orpheus Chamber
Orchestra: Creation
(Sony SK 89251. Thomas Maowrey, prod.; Charles
Harbutt, eng. DDD. TT: 68:36. Branford Marsalis, saxophone; Orpheus Chamber Orchestra.)
| Musical Performance |
 |
| Recording Quality |
|
| Overall Enjoyment |
|
 Note to Sony:
Whoever conceived of this project deserves a promotion. And a raise. And a free hand in
programming as many more releases as possible.
I find it interesting that, even as the major classical
labels are moaning about the death of classical music, they continue to offer us the same
old warhorses, freakish crossover notions, and bleeding chunks "inspired by"
best-selling self-improvement books. (Chicken soup, anyone?)
Feh! Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But here we have an inspired concept. Team Branford
Marsalis, an innovative jazz saxophonist who also happens to be a classical performer with
phenomenal technique, with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, the noted
"conductorless" small orchestra who have garnered an international reputation
for their groundbreaking performances of virtually everything they have attempted. Better
yet, turn 'em all loose on lyrical French compositions that feature both jazz inflections
and the saxophone (adding a few canny rearrangements that suit the performers). The result
is an album that is fresh and exciting -- and, I am happy to report, one that sports demo
quality sound as well.
Oh happy day.
First, the material. While Satie did not write for the sax
or borrow from jazz, jazz has borrowed from his deadpan lyricism for decades and Ronnie
Bauch's rearrangement of Gymnopédie No. 3 makes extraordinary use of Marsalis'
lovely soprano sax tone. This graceful reading eases us into the program like slipping
into a warm tub.
It is followed by another of the disc's arrangements, this
time Debussy's "The Little Shepherd" from The Children's Corner Suite.
Marsalis bites down on the mouthpiece and imparts an exotic, somewhat middle-eastern tinge
to the shepherd -- a far cry from the gamboling French lad of most piano interpretations
of the piece. It's a nice touch.
Pavane pour une infante défunte receives a lovely,
dreamy interpretation, and the interplay between Marsalis' mournful solo line and Orpheus'
gently pulsing support is a marvel of subtlety and tonal color. I suspect Debussy would be
charmed and delighted by this re-imagining of his piano piece.
The centerpiece of the disc -- its namesake -- is Milhaud's
La Création du monde, frequently hailed as the first classical work to incorporate
jazz, as well as the first to include the saxophone in an orchestral setting. Most of the
time, though, it's difficult for those of us raised on fine jazz to recognize either
element -- or perhaps I should say appreciate either element.
Let's take the sax first: Almost every recording of the
piece (including the one I participated in at the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival [STPH
0006 CD]) utilizes a classical saxophonist trying his damnedest to remove every ounce of
jazz sax tone from his sound. You end up with what one jazz scholar of my acquaintance
called "the whitest sounding sax this side of Guy Lombardo," which I personally
feel is far too unkind to Lombardo's band.
In addition, La Création is a very confused piece
of work. Yes, it does have jazz and, more specifically, African influences, but it also
has what sound like mariachi trumpets and a crazy Raymond Scott fugue in the middle.
Marsalis and Orpheus were born to sort this piece out, however. Marsalis, of course,
chooses an appropriate tone for the work, one that harks back to Ellington's jungle music
of the '20s and the ensemble tames the disparate sections of the piece with a masterful
reading that puts every other recording of the piece to shame. This is the new standard by
which the Milhaud will be judged.
It is followed by an arrangement of Fauré's Pie Jesu
that would make the angels weep, so pure and sweet is Marsalis' tone and so warm and
breath-like his reading.
The disc also receives equally compelling readings of two
relatively rarely recorded works -- Milhaud's Scaramouche for Saxophone and Orchestra
and Ibert's Concertino du camera -- fine full-blooded performances that are almost
certain not to duplicate anything you currently own.
The Orpheans get a chance to perform solo, as it were, on
four pieces from Milhaud's Saudades do Brasil. These pieces are great fun -- and
yes, they are sort of jazzy, but they're actually much more like musical postcards
capturing the sambas and night breezes of Brazil. What a great group this is. It seems
they can play anything and play it well.
The album closes with -- what else? -- a cakewalk. In this
case, that of Golliwogg by way of Debussy's Children's Corner Suite. Marsalis'
saxophone seems so natural, it's hard to conceive that I've never heard Golliwogg
done this way before. Marsalis and the Orpheans play with rhythm and dynamics in a most
delightful way. You may react differently, but it always makes me want to press play again
on my remote -- I imagine entire days could be wasted in this manner, but I'd certainly be
a most happy fella.
The sound is spectacularly natural and liquid. Marsalis'
saxophones are recorded with spectacular body -- his liquid, seamless tone is a joy,
whether on soprano, alto, or tenor. He has lots of bite and presence, but he's never
shrill. But don't get the impression that he's going too far towards a mellow non-jazzy
pure "classical" tone -- his control is total and he never panders to either the
jazz audience that knows him solely in that context or to the classical audience who might
be "scared off" by the slightest hint of jazziness. What we're left with is a
solid classical performance that treats the saxophone as one more unique instrument to be
exploited for its signature tonal colors.
The chamber orchestra and soloist are perfectly scaled to
one another, and the overall sound is detailed and full of air. This natural perspective
is one of the hardest tricks to pull off -- most contemporary concerto recordings screw it
up. This time out, however, it's awfully close to perfection.
Yep, this is the real thing: A great program of relatively
little-performed works or works re-imagined in a most enlightening way, played by some of
the finest musicians on the scene today and recorded with true-to-life, ungimmicky sound.
Somebody got it all so right this time out.
Like I said, give that man a raise.
...Wes Phillips
wes@onhifi.com
|
