On the album 'Reid' cellist Maya Fridman, the life partner of the owner of TRPTK, Brendon Heinst, plays the leading role. Not that she does it all alone, because apart from the adjacent electronics in 'Light is calling' and 'Hell I', harmonium and tape in 'Reid-Hagall-Bjorkan' there is the six-piece cello ensemble in 'Wake up.and That'.
Speaking of that trumpet, I've discussed this brilliant musician before, praising her for her great playing and her fascinating choice of repertoire, way off the beaten track. She has devoted herself with full energy and conviction to the modern and contemporary repertoire, whereby - this new album is proof of this - she does not shy away from crossover. Because she likes to work with living composers, her interpretations also carry a certain amount of authority in that sense.
It has become a colorful program, but that suits Fridman. She has undertaken a journey that introduces us to different landscapes and panoramas. A journey that also takes us through equally different styles and in which the boundaries between 'serious' and 'pop' have become blurred.
The alternating sighing and longing 'Hell I' by the Italian composer and cellist Giovanni Sollima evokes memories of a work like 'Schelomo', by Ernest Bloch. 'Wake up. and die', on the other hand, is based on the work of the same name for cello and orchestra by John Tavener (not to be confused with the mediaeval John Taverner). Although not a palindrome in the strict sense, the Brit regarded it as such from a musical point of view because 'waking and dying are like two sides of a piece of paper'. And: whoever awakens spiritually will die in everything that does not belong to God. It is music related to that of Arvo Pärt, deeply religious and rooted in the Renaissance, but with a contemporary touch. Michael Gordon wrote 'Light is calling', in response to 'Nine Eleven', still a 'grateful' subject in artist circles. After all, inspiration can also be drawn from a terrible catastrophe: 'the bell tolls'. Gordon lived near the 'Towers' on September 11, 2001. Fridman clearly believes in it, I less so. I hear too many templates in a meandering discourse. It is typical music in which relatively little happens, but which - and perhaps because of this - is able to hold many a listener in its grip, without becoming soporific.
'Reid-Hagall-Bjarkan' by the Canadian-Icelandic composer Fjóla Evans chose the runic script from the Far North in the time of the Vikings as a source of inspiration. 'Reid' means journey or journey, 'Hagall' interruption and 'Bjarkan' rebirth. It is often the case that the relationship between meaning and music does not become clear to the listener, but the result can nevertheless be enchanting. As in Gordon's piece, however, there is little progression - albeit between - the three parts. Unlike Fridman, however, I have not been able to discover the 'magic connotation' in it. Of course, that's on me and not on Fridman.
That Fridman is not only an eminent cellist but also can sing beautifully is again apparent in Lou Reed's 'Heroin', expertly arranged by David Lang. Reed's lyrics are referred to in the booklet as sadomasochistic, but despite the vocals, the lyrics should have been included in the booklet. It is typical Velvet Underground, in a fantasy-provoking atmosphere of menace and danger. The most impressive is not the piece, but Fridman's cello playing in combination with her pore-penetrating voice. When the music has died down, Fridman and the ensemble's 'Reid' has come to an end. It also marks the end of an undeniably far from everyday program in which, in addition to Fridman, there are also musicians (the cello ensemble is expressly included!