3F de Télérama

“Jardin féérique”, the Métaboles’ second album with NoMadMusic, is a true ode to nature. Infinite source of inspiration, it becomes an enchanted forest with Ravel, is the symbolical reflection of the soul’s tremors with Saint-Saëns, while Britten, in his Hymn to Saint Cecilia – patron of musicians – pays homage to the muse walking through a shady garden. Britten’s Flower Songs create a unique cycle like a musical herbarium… The figurative music of Murray Schafer (Miniwanka) – engaged composer and ecology-lover – develops the concept of a musical landscape: a fascinating conjunction of vocal gestures, percussion, onomatopeia, evocation of rituals which reveal the metaphysical dimension of the link between Nature and Mankind. © Nomadmusic

We asked for this as much as we cautiously anticipated its arrival… Anxious to ensure the return of the pianist, Sony Classical – goodbye Deutsch Grammophon – rolled out the red carpet for Ivo Pogorelich. Recorded in Schloss Elmau and the Raiding Concert Hall (Beethoven in the former and Rachmaninoff in the latter) this new album delivers a wide sound of measured reverberation and embraces Pogorelich’s rough playing style as well as some of his more tender nuances. Like an iron hand in a velvet glove. Ivo Pogorelich is not playing around. For Rachmaninoff, he has chosen the second Sonata in B flat minor, op. 36 in its original, full-length version in which numerous sections disorientate the listener as they lose themselves on a hallucinogenic journey with the musician. Pogorelich progressively eases us in and wins us over by beginning with two, rarely recorded but known, Beethoven works: his sonatas no.22 in F major, op.54 and no.24 en F sharp major, op.78. The chosen listing is intelligent (with two major figures), ambitious (with its demanding score), and generous (for reasons mentioned above). It would seem we’re in familiar territory, yet nothing is less certain when Pogorelich seems to literally grab the scores by their reigns and breathe into them a sense of puissant heroism. Nevertheless, Pogorelich remains an expressive musician, scrutinising the texts with as much malice as severity despite some slower tempos. It’s as if the listing is backlit by his own personal vision for the works. © Elsa Siffert/Qobuz

Composed by Stravinsky in 1933 in the wake of the French oratorio fashion whose figureheads are Milhaud (Les Choéphores) and Honegger (Le Roi David, Jeanne d’Arc au bûcher), and his own Oedipus Rex, Perséphone sanctifies the French period of the Russian composer, after he left Switzerland and before he settled definitely in the United States. Ordered by Ida Rubinstein, to whom music history already owed Debussy’s Martyre de Saint-Sébastien and Ravel’s Boléro, this melodrama, profane in its story and hybrid regarding its musical form, glorifies spring -without it being a new “Consecration” in its language) on a text by André Gide, thus prolonging the emotion created by the novel Si le grain ne meurt. The three acts of the work (Perséphone enlevée, Perséphone aux enfers, Perséphone renaissante) are close to human nature and psyche with an empathy reinforced by Stravinsky’s music. Conceived for a tenor (Eumolpe), a narrator, a mixed chorus, a chidren’s chorus and an orchestra, this work, so original in the production of its author, has however never found its audience. People long blamed Stravinsky for wringing the neck of the prosody of Gide’s text without understanding that it was however one of its more sensitive works, possessed with a melodic verve, a clear lyricism and a warmth for which he wasn’t known for. Under Esa-Pekka Salonen’s inspired and aerial baton, Perséphone finds here a second youth which might finally allow it to impose itself to a new generation of music lovers. This “strange profane mass” (as described by Marcel Marnat) is probably one of the most touching works of a composer that is always looking for new springs. © François Hudry/Qobuz

Like every great instrument blower, John Surman has a sound you’ll recognize from the first breath. A sound which is as much fed by the culture of his British motherland (local folklore is one of the components of his music) as by the culture from other countries. The saxophonist and clarinetist has crossed paths with pianist Nelson Ayres—well-known by the fans of Brazilian jazz for his work with Airto Moreira and Milton Nascimento—during a tour in South America. And it’s in Oslo that he met the American vibraphonist Rob Waring, an expat in Scandinavia… With Invisible Threads, the three men gathered to perform a programme mostly composed of Surman’s original pieces, recorded in Oslo in July 2017, under the artistic supervision of Mr. ECM, Manfred Eicher. This program is like an ode to melodies that transcend dialects. Once again, John Surman unfolds very singular and beautiful narrations, parcels of internal joys that are almost melancholic, at the heart of which the improvisations are drunk like divine elixirs. This jazz is of course different. And as the saxophonist has been a resident at ECM for decades, he’s also one of the components of the sound of the label from Munich, now more than ever. © MD/Qobuz

Kandace Springs' career started rolling when her father, session vocalist Scat Springs, handed a demo to Evan Rogers and Carl Sturken. Industry veterans of 30-plus years, from Shannon to Rihanna, the duo signed her to their production company, which led to an audition for Blue Note president Don Was. The Nashville native sang "I Can't Make You Love Me," popularized by Bonnie Raitt, whose recording just happened to be co-produced with Was. Blue Note deal secured, she uploaded a cover of Sam Smith's "Stay with Me" that prompted Prince to have her play at Paisley Park during the 30th anniversary celebration of Purple Rain. Springs made her recorded debut a couple months later. Co-written with the likes of Rogers, Sturken, and Pop & Oak, the self-titled EP of hip-hop soul primed her for placement in a class with similarly classic-meets-contemporary artists like Jazmine Sullivan and Elle Varner. It left Springs feeling that her sound should instead reflect her early jazz influences with stripped-down live instrumentation -- a view shared by continued supporter Prince. Soul Eyes achieves that objective. Produced by Larry Klein with a constant rhythm section of Vinnie Colaiuta and Dan Lutz -- with additional instrumentation from the likes of Dean Parks, Pete Kuzma, and Terence Blanchard -- it's all shaped to place Springs front and center. The approach is emphasized by the title song, a sensitive update of Mal Waldron's 60-year-old standard that showcases Springs' measured piano playing as much as it does her lithe, lightly fiery voice. Apart from that and a loose but succinct version of War's "The World Is a Ghetto" -- the second-oldest composition -- the reinterpreted songs are relatively modern, highlighted by Shelby Lynne's "Thought It Would Be Easier." Springs co-wrote three cuts, the best and most energetic of which is easily "Novocaine Heart." Due to its neatly serpentine groove and inquisitive, positive outlook, lovers of late-'70s/early-'80s crossover jazz could easily be forgiven for thinking it was first waxed by Judy Roberts or Googie & Tom Coppola. The album closes with the lone song Springs wrote by herself, a striking piano ballad. As natural as the album feels, Springs seems eager to impress her elders and stay true to her inspirations, rather than build from them -- like she's bottling some of her energy and individuality. Less straight-ahead, more distinctive releases are hopefully in her future. © Andy Kellman /TiVo

« Her performance has commitment, clarity and a Leonhardt-like care over note placement. » (Lindsay Kemp, Gramophone Magazine, april 2016)  

4 stars out of 5 -- "Balancing techno heft, classical flourishes and the springier end of Krautrock, the trio's second album is disciplined by always engagingly playful." © TiVo

After debuting in 2011 with the evocative If..., a largely orchestral, all-instrumental set inspired by author Italo Calvino's 1979 post-modernist novel If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, former Coral guitarist Bill Ryder-Jones seemed poised to go the film score route, which he had shown interest in shortly after leaving his flagship band. Instead, he released the lovely A Bad Wind Blows in My Heart, an equally evocative, yet more traditional collection of songs that suggest what Nick Drake might have sounded like had he emerged in the early aughts instead of the late '60s. Measured, melancholy, and mysterious, Jones' debut as a singer/songwriter is as subtle as it is striking, skillfully marrying the sedate melancholy of Elliott Smith with the sly, darkly comic lyricism of the National. Recorded in his old childhood bedroom in his mother's house in Liverpool, A Bad Wind Blows in My Heart can feel a bit like an exorcism, and there's an extra shade of intimacy to stand-out cuts like the sad and sensual "Hanging Song," the wry, Luke Haines-inspired "You're Getting Like Your Sister," and the impossibly lonesome "There's a World Between Us," the latter of which is one of a few songs that threatens to break into Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" at any moment, but it never feels like a self-absorbed, autobiographical bore, as Jones' is an enigmatic enough narrator and a gifted enough arranger that what initially seems like ephemera turns out to be surprisingly affecting. © James Christopher Monger /TiVo

Under the name Phosphorescent, indie country songwriter Matthew Houck has walked a drunken path, wobbling closer to the indie side on some records and slumping more toward the country side on others, with the best example being his 2009 collection of Willie Nelson covers, To Willie. With sixth album Muchacho, Houck returns to some of the experimental textures that marked his early breakthrough album Pride, weaving ambient tones and feral whoops throughout his sometimes shiny, sometimes grizzled Americana. The album is bookended by tracks "Sun, Arise!" and "Sun's Arising," meditative drones with multi-tracked layers of Houck harmonizing with himself, ushering the listener into and out of the record over arpeggiated synth tones and far-off-sounding instrumentation. There's more implementation of electronic instruments here than on most Phosphorescent's material that came before, with 808 drum patterns and dubby echoes in the forefront on some songs; but at no point does the songwriting surrender the starring role. Whether the tunes are piling on pedal steel and mariachi trumpet in the vein of Dylan's soundtrack work for Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, as on the honky tonk hoedown of "A Charm/A Blade," or finding some dreamy Will Oldham/early Animal Collective hybrid, as with the ghostly "The Quotidian Beasts," Houck's use of simplistic but haunting chord progressions and world-weary melodies always overrides any other sonic surroundings. The songs here are so strong, in fact, they're sometimes cluttered by excessive instrumentation or detail-burying production. While the atmospheric string loops and delay-doused bass plucks of "Song for Zula" help make it one of the best tracks on the album, one can't help but wonder what the effect would be if it were stripped down to Houck's damaged vocals and a simple guitar or piano figure. Throughout the album, lyrics peek through the waves like "I will not open myself up this way again" and "Hey can this kill me? I don't know, but I've sure been finding out," hinting at heartache and the possibility that Muchacho is some drunken-hearted breakup record, but it's never made abundantly clear. What is clear, even through the sometimes heavier-than-necessary arrangements, is that Muchacho has some of Houck's best songwriting since his early days, seemingly tapped into the grainy pain, hard-living tendencies, and wandering muse of his subconscious, with the most listenable results Phosphorescent has produced in years. © Fred Thomas /TiVo

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