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Labyrinth - Khatia Buniatishvili
Posted by Jeffrey Lyons on January 28, 2022, 4:27 pm
Recent reviews of Labyrinth, the newest album release by the pianist Khatia Buniatishvili, seem to focus primarily on the eclectic choice of music presented including liberal use of music not traditionally considered to be classical as well as the lack of the usual background information on the pieces themselves, as being non sensical and a reason to dismiss the album as a trifle in the cannon of classic piano recordings.
As a listener who deeply appreciates the beauty and structure of this album, I wish to offer an alternate point of view.
In my view, the album can and should be taken as a work of art in totality. Seen through this lens, the story told by the musical selection and the accompanying poetry seem to be about the artist herself, her trials during the recent pandemic and the questioning of her own life goals with resolutions appearing at varying levels. Ms Buniatishvili began performing at the age of three. Some three decades of a performing life later, she is stopped dead in her tracks by forces outside of her control and she questions her life choices. Wouldn’t we all? Some self reflection is understandable in these times and musical compilations, like the cinema in fact, are almost always more about the current time than the time the works are taken from or the setting of the story.
The opening piece by Ennio Morricone signals this intention in my view. The piece is in fact sets the tone of the movie from which is taken thus sets the tone of the album itself. But the music is only part of the story. Ms Buniatishvili’s own narrative indicates already that she faces a challenging time. And when this album was likely composed, indeed this would have been when most performing musicians’ touring schedules would have been canceled completely. I think most artists felt quite devastated by this. Ms Buniatishvili turns to her art. The music itself speaks to isolation, that of a character in a story, that of an immigrant, all themes that may perhaps be familiar to her. But then, Mr Morricone himself passed away at the time of the early releases of the album. This was certainly a coincidence and indeed unfortunate, but it undoubtedly speaks to the mood of this work.
Subsequent pieces and accompanying poetry, written in three of the five languages in which Ms Buniatsihvili is fluent, speak of loss and loss of purpose. A questioning of her life itself. Gymnopédie brings a metaphoric quiet mist over the city of Paris, her adoptive home. If it is played somewhat differently here, perhaps more sombrely, I think it is because it may be infused with her feelings of being faced with the quiet solitude we all faced early in 2020. And indeed isn’t this piece meant to evoke a more peaceful side of the city of Paris not often experienced?
Chopin’s Prélude and Arc-en-Ciel bring us further into melancholy. It is at this point we begin to feel that there is something more than a simple selection of musical mood pieces here. There is a story being set out where places and experiences become characters in a story. The music carries us through this narrative and we ourselves are beginning to feel something. Perhaps we are feeling what the artist herself is feeling?
Certain forms of art, such as stone sculpting for instance, have a viscerally connective attribute to the artist. We can for example run our own fingers over the grooves and ridges of a carved statue and feel exactly what the artist felt when creating it. The piano, among all of the musical instruments with its grandiose polyphonic and multi-tonal qualities, comes closest to this in my view. A pianist who transcends the craft, the notes, the page, the progressions, to the point where they feel the music and its inherent structure begin, in some cases at least, to feel what the artist may have been feeling at the time they composed it. As strong emotions transmit more fluidly than words, we too then may feel what the performer is feeling. As philosophical as this may sound, isn’t this why we are all drawn toward art and the artist?
Badinerie is a choice which, for anyone who follows Ms Buniatishvili as a performer, would think of as entirely natural. She appears in her interviews and public presence to be very close to her family and performs on occasion with her older sister. The idea that an escape from the city during this time, a voyage likely taken with her sister, might be represented in the music as a duet seems so natural. And indeed the poetry of the album says as much.
With Air on the G String we pick up a theme carried through the rest of the album. It is the sense of nature, both in its bucolic sense as well as perhaps a new love in her life? The former is apparent here, in Air, Consolation, 4’33” (more on that later) and finally in Adagio. The latter feeling, that of love, is more explicit. What does one feel when they fall in love? One need look no further than poetry itself. One need look no further than Ms Buniatishvili’s own poetry in fact.
The music is not incidental though. La Javanaise could easily be taken as out of place on the album. But indeed, if one considers that the music itself, a French pop song from the 1960’s, was written in a free wheeling time, in Paris, in a single afternoon for Serge Gainsbourg’s own love Juliette Gréco, it makes complete sense. And as such, given the time period and Ms Buniatishvili’s own virtuosic capabilities on the piano, why not play it in a jazz style? This listener hears the improvisational style of Oscar Peterson in her playing. As he had in abundance, she also possess a fluidic and metronomic accuracy with exquisitely musical tonality. It would be easy to dismiss this as an unnecessary flourish if it weren’t so terribly difficult to achieve on the instrument. Masters always make their craft look easy, whatever the discipline. Of course it is hardly so.
But at its heart, La Javanaise is a love song, plain and simple. And this recording delivers something else, something almost imperceptible. Only the careful listener will pick it up. But when you hear it, what a treat indeed.
Valsa da Dor presents pain, again. Love is never simple is it? But interpreting Les Barricades Mystérieuses is even more complicated. Is it the pandemic? A return to the touring schedule and previously made commitments? A dedication to craft only an Olympic-level athlete might understand? Or is it simply herself, her own self-erected barriers? To say then that ‘connection is pain’ makes immediate sense in light of this confusion. After all, she has been connected to her instrument and her chosen craft exclusively for so long.
Intermezzo and its partner, Pari Intervallo, are a dual intermission in the story, pausing to reflect on the development of contrasting feelings - strong attraction and strong resistance. This is pain indeed. And it is the climax of any good story, cinematic or otherwise. Who among us have never felt pain and confusion in love? But what will the resolution of this denouement be?
Perhaps a break in the confinement allowed her to tour again, or at least that is what I sense from the story and certainly feel in the music. But it is no use. She finds that something is not the same as before. There were may false starts during this time, for all of us. But in this case, I feel what is encountered may be a change of feelings about her life.
Philip Glass’s music from The Hours seems to indicate a desire to return to motion and normality, a returning sense of purpose which I believe was evident in the movie, The Hours, at the point where the music was used. Air and Consolation let her give in to what appears to have been a permanent change in her life.
Can we know what it is? Perhaps we may never know, but hints abound. 4’33”, widely panned as a cheeky addition of silence to the album, is the biggest revelation in my view. Firstly, that silence is placed in this album, given the story presented thus far, if indeed you accept my interpretation, seems entirely in place. I believe Mr. Cage’s purpose was to force us to listen to the world around us, around the performance hall, around ourselves. And can I say this with confidence about its placement in this album? I offer you this. Again, for the very careful listener, at approximately half way through the piece, listen very closely. You may hear the answer. In my view, you are hearing Ms Buniatishvili’s answer. Listen carefully…. What a treat.
In the Adagio then, her poetry reveals more, the answer perhaps?
“Someone else’s Spring is also pleasant to watch.”
In my view, this is a magnificent work of a very personal nature to the artist herself and well beyond being worth the departure from classical music convention for the listener. And even if the listener never senses the same details which I believe are there, this album and the personal nature of Ms Buniatishvili's playing and writing draws one in at a deeply emotional level. Is this not the point of art? Would not the creators of the pieces themselves endorse such artistic compilation for the purpose of moving the audience, especially when played by such a careful and learned steward of the music as Ms Buniatishvili?
In this case, we need not guess what the cut grooves and smooth curves of her sculptured work might mean. This artist is present. And she has given herself to us in this work. It is a very brave act. This listener is moved indeed.
I too love this disc. Have you heard her Schubert CD? I have no idea if it is the best ever or the worst ever performance! It is quite extraordinary. I do like it though, perhaps with a guilty conscience?
Previous Message
Recent reviews of Labyrinth, the newest album release by the pianist Khatia Buniatishvili, seem to focus primarily on the eclectic choice of music presented including liberal use of music not traditionally considered to be classical as well as the lack of the usual background information on the pieces themselves, as being non sensical and a reason to dismiss the album as a trifle in the cannon of classic piano recordings.
As a listener who deeply appreciates the beauty and structure of this album, I wish to offer an alternate point of view.
In my view, the album can and should be taken as a work of art in totality. Seen through this lens, the story told by the musical selection and the accompanying poetry seem to be about the artist herself, her trials during the recent pandemic and the questioning of her own life goals with resolutions appearing at varying levels. Ms Buniatishvili began performing at the age of three. Some three decades of a performing life later, she is stopped dead in her tracks by forces outside of her control and she questions her life choices. Wouldn’t we all? Some self reflection is understandable in these times and musical compilations, like the cinema in fact, are almost always more about the current time than the time the works are taken from or the setting of the story.
The opening piece by Ennio Morricone signals this intention in my view. The piece is in fact sets the tone of the movie from which is taken thus sets the tone of the album itself. But the music is only part of the story. Ms Buniatishvili’s own narrative indicates already that she faces a challenging time. And when this album was likely composed, indeed this would have been when most performing musicians’ touring schedules would have been canceled completely. I think most artists felt quite devastated by this. Ms Buniatishvili turns to her art. The music itself speaks to isolation, that of a character in a story, that of an immigrant, all themes that may perhaps be familiar to her. But then, Mr Morricone himself passed away at the time of the early releases of the album. This was certainly a coincidence and indeed unfortunate, but it undoubtedly speaks to the mood of this work.
Subsequent pieces and accompanying poetry, written in three of the five languages in which Ms Buniatsihvili is fluent, speak of loss and loss of purpose. A questioning of her life itself. Gymnopédie brings a metaphoric quiet mist over the city of Paris, her adoptive home. If it is played somewhat differently here, perhaps more sombrely, I think it is because it may be infused with her feelings of being faced with the quiet solitude we all faced early in 2020. And indeed isn’t this piece meant to evoke a more peaceful side of the city of Paris not often experienced?
Chopin’s Prélude and Arc-en-Ciel bring us further into melancholy. It is at this point we begin to feel that there is something more than a simple selection of musical mood pieces here. There is a story being set out where places and experiences become characters in a story. The music carries us through this narrative and we ourselves are beginning to feel something. Perhaps we are feeling what the artist herself is feeling?
Certain forms of art, such as stone sculpting for instance, have a viscerally connective attribute to the artist. We can for example run our own fingers over the grooves and ridges of a carved statue and feel exactly what the artist felt when creating it. The piano, among all of the musical instruments with its grandiose polyphonic and multi-tonal qualities, comes closest to this in my view. A pianist who transcends the craft, the notes, the page, the progressions, to the point where they feel the music and its inherent structure begin, in some cases at least, to feel what the artist may have been feeling at the time they composed it. As strong emotions transmit more fluidly than words, we too then may feel what the performer is feeling. As philosophical as this may sound, isn’t this why we are all drawn toward art and the artist?
Badinerie is a choice which, for anyone who follows Ms Buniatishvili as a performer, would think of as entirely natural. She appears in her interviews and public presence to be very close to her family and performs on occasion with her older sister. The idea that an escape from the city during this time, a voyage likely taken with her sister, might be represented in the music as a duet seems so natural. And indeed the poetry of the album says as much.
With Air on the G String we pick up a theme carried through the rest of the album. It is the sense of nature, both in its bucolic sense as well as perhaps a new love in her life? The former is apparent here, in Air, Consolation, 4’33” (more on that later) and finally in Adagio. The latter feeling, that of love, is more explicit. What does one feel when they fall in love? One need look no further than poetry itself. One need look no further than Ms Buniatishvili’s own poetry in fact.
The music is not incidental though. La Javanaise could easily be taken as out of place on the album. But indeed, if one considers that the music itself, a French pop song from the 1960’s, was written in a free wheeling time, in Paris, in a single afternoon for Serge Gainsbourg’s own love Juliette Gréco, it makes complete sense. And as such, given the time period and Ms Buniatishvili’s own virtuosic capabilities on the piano, why not play it in a jazz style? This listener hears the improvisational style of Oscar Peterson in her playing. As he had in abundance, she also possess a fluidic and metronomic accuracy with exquisitely musical tonality. It would be easy to dismiss this as an unnecessary flourish if it weren’t so terribly difficult to achieve on the instrument. Masters always make their craft look easy, whatever the discipline. Of course it is hardly so.
But at its heart, La Javanaise is a love song, plain and simple. And this recording delivers something else, something almost imperceptible. Only the careful listener will pick it up. But when you hear it, what a treat indeed.
Valsa da Dor presents pain, again. Love is never simple is it? But interpreting Les Barricades Mystérieuses is even more complicated. Is it the pandemic? A return to the touring schedule and previously made commitments? A dedication to craft only an Olympic-level athlete might understand? Or is it simply herself, her own self-erected barriers? To say then that ‘connection is pain’ makes immediate sense in light of this confusion. After all, she has been connected to her instrument and her chosen craft exclusively for so long.
Intermezzo and its partner, Pari Intervallo, are a dual intermission in the story, pausing to reflect on the development of contrasting feelings - strong attraction and strong resistance. This is pain indeed. And it is the climax of any good story, cinematic or otherwise. Who among us have never felt pain and confusion in love? But what will the resolution of this denouement be?
Perhaps a break in the confinement allowed her to tour again, or at least that is what I sense from the story and certainly feel in the music. But it is no use. She finds that something is not the same as before. There were may false starts during this time, for all of us. But in this case, I feel what is encountered may be a change of feelings about her life.
Philip Glass’s music from The Hours seems to indicate a desire to return to motion and normality, a returning sense of purpose which I believe was evident in the movie, The Hours, at the point where the music was used. Air and Consolation let her give in to what appears to have been a permanent change in her life.
Can we know what it is? Perhaps we may never know, but hints abound. 4’33”, widely panned as a cheeky addition of silence to the album, is the biggest revelation in my view. Firstly, that silence is placed in this album, given the story presented thus far, if indeed you accept my interpretation, seems entirely in place. I believe Mr. Cage’s purpose was to force us to listen to the world around us, around the performance hall, around ourselves. And can I say this with confidence about its placement in this album? I offer you this. Again, for the very careful listener, at approximately half way through the piece, listen very closely. You may hear the answer. In my view, you are hearing Ms Buniatishvili’s answer. Listen carefully…. What a treat.
In the Adagio then, her poetry reveals more, the answer perhaps?
“Someone else’s Spring is also pleasant to watch.”
In my view, this is a magnificent work of a very personal nature to the artist herself and well beyond being worth the departure from classical music convention for the listener. And even if the listener never senses the same details which I believe are there, this album and the personal nature of Ms Buniatishvili's playing and writing draws one in at a deeply emotional level. Is this not the point of art? Would not the creators of the pieces themselves endorse such artistic compilation for the purpose of moving the audience, especially when played by such a careful and learned steward of the music as Ms Buniatishvili?
In this case, we need not guess what the cut grooves and smooth curves of her sculptured work might mean. This artist is present. And she has given herself to us in this work. It is a very brave act. This listener is moved indeed.
No guilt Mikeh, she was made for Schubert. His song format is very evocative and expressive - just like her.
Previous Message
Thank for this very comprehensive review Jeffrey.
I too love this disc. Have you heard her Schubert CD? I have no idea if it is the best ever or the worst ever performance! It is quite extraordinary. I do like it though, perhaps with a guilty conscience?
Previous Message
Recent reviews of Labyrinth, the newest album release by the pianist Khatia Buniatishvili, seem to focus primarily on the eclectic choice of music presented including liberal use of music not traditionally considered to be classical as well as the lack of the usual background information on the pieces themselves, as being non sensical and a reason to dismiss the album as a trifle in the cannon of classic piano recordings.
As a listener who deeply appreciates the beauty and structure of this album, I wish to offer an alternate point of view.
In my view, the album can and should be taken as a work of art in totality. Seen through this lens, the story told by the musical selection and the accompanying poetry seem to be about the artist herself, her trials during the recent pandemic and the questioning of her own life goals with resolutions appearing at varying levels. Ms Buniatishvili began performing at the age of three. Some three decades of a performing life later, she is stopped dead in her tracks by forces outside of her control and she questions her life choices. Wouldn’t we all? Some self reflection is understandable in these times and musical compilations, like the cinema in fact, are almost always more about the current time than the time the works are taken from or the setting of the story.
The opening piece by Ennio Morricone signals this intention in my view. The piece is in fact sets the tone of the movie from which is taken thus sets the tone of the album itself. But the music is only part of the story. Ms Buniatishvili’s own narrative indicates already that she faces a challenging time. And when this album was likely composed, indeed this would have been when most performing musicians’ touring schedules would have been canceled completely. I think most artists felt quite devastated by this. Ms Buniatishvili turns to her art. The music itself speaks to isolation, that of a character in a story, that of an immigrant, all themes that may perhaps be familiar to her. But then, Mr Morricone himself passed away at the time of the early releases of the album. This was certainly a coincidence and indeed unfortunate, but it undoubtedly speaks to the mood of this work.
Subsequent pieces and accompanying poetry, written in three of the five languages in which Ms Buniatsihvili is fluent, speak of loss and loss of purpose. A questioning of her life itself. Gymnopédie brings a metaphoric quiet mist over the city of Paris, her adoptive home. If it is played somewhat differently here, perhaps more sombrely, I think it is because it may be infused with her feelings of being faced with the quiet solitude we all faced early in 2020. And indeed isn’t this piece meant to evoke a more peaceful side of the city of Paris not often experienced?
Chopin’s Prélude and Arc-en-Ciel bring us further into melancholy. It is at this point we begin to feel that there is something more than a simple selection of musical mood pieces here. There is a story being set out where places and experiences become characters in a story. The music carries us through this narrative and we ourselves are beginning to feel something. Perhaps we are feeling what the artist herself is feeling?
Certain forms of art, such as stone sculpting for instance, have a viscerally connective attribute to the artist. We can for example run our own fingers over the grooves and ridges of a carved statue and feel exactly what the artist felt when creating it. The piano, among all of the musical instruments with its grandiose polyphonic and multi-tonal qualities, comes closest to this in my view. A pianist who transcends the craft, the notes, the page, the progressions, to the point where they feel the music and its inherent structure begin, in some cases at least, to feel what the artist may have been feeling at the time they composed it. As strong emotions transmit more fluidly than words, we too then may feel what the performer is feeling. As philosophical as this may sound, isn’t this why we are all drawn toward art and the artist?
Badinerie is a choice which, for anyone who follows Ms Buniatishvili as a performer, would think of as entirely natural. She appears in her interviews and public presence to be very close to her family and performs on occasion with her older sister. The idea that an escape from the city during this time, a voyage likely taken with her sister, might be represented in the music as a duet seems so natural. And indeed the poetry of the album says as much.
With Air on the G String we pick up a theme carried through the rest of the album. It is the sense of nature, both in its bucolic sense as well as perhaps a new love in her life? The former is apparent here, in Air, Consolation, 4’33” (more on that later) and finally in Adagio. The latter feeling, that of love, is more explicit. What does one feel when they fall in love? One need look no further than poetry itself. One need look no further than Ms Buniatishvili’s own poetry in fact.
The music is not incidental though. La Javanaise could easily be taken as out of place on the album. But indeed, if one considers that the music itself, a French pop song from the 1960’s, was written in a free wheeling time, in Paris, in a single afternoon for Serge Gainsbourg’s own love Juliette Gréco, it makes complete sense. And as such, given the time period and Ms Buniatishvili’s own virtuosic capabilities on the piano, why not play it in a jazz style? This listener hears the improvisational style of Oscar Peterson in her playing. As he had in abundance, she also possess a fluidic and metronomic accuracy with exquisitely musical tonality. It would be easy to dismiss this as an unnecessary flourish if it weren’t so terribly difficult to achieve on the instrument. Masters always make their craft look easy, whatever the discipline. Of course it is hardly so.
But at its heart, La Javanaise is a love song, plain and simple. And this recording delivers something else, something almost imperceptible. Only the careful listener will pick it up. But when you hear it, what a treat indeed.
Valsa da Dor presents pain, again. Love is never simple is it? But interpreting Les Barricades Mystérieuses is even more complicated. Is it the pandemic? A return to the touring schedule and previously made commitments? A dedication to craft only an Olympic-level athlete might understand? Or is it simply herself, her own self-erected barriers? To say then that ‘connection is pain’ makes immediate sense in light of this confusion. After all, she has been connected to her instrument and her chosen craft exclusively for so long.
Intermezzo and its partner, Pari Intervallo, are a dual intermission in the story, pausing to reflect on the development of contrasting feelings - strong attraction and strong resistance. This is pain indeed. And it is the climax of any good story, cinematic or otherwise. Who among us have never felt pain and confusion in love? But what will the resolution of this denouement be?
Perhaps a break in the confinement allowed her to tour again, or at least that is what I sense from the story and certainly feel in the music. But it is no use. She finds that something is not the same as before. There were may false starts during this time, for all of us. But in this case, I feel what is encountered may be a change of feelings about her life.
Philip Glass’s music from The Hours seems to indicate a desire to return to motion and normality, a returning sense of purpose which I believe was evident in the movie, The Hours, at the point where the music was used. Air and Consolation let her give in to what appears to have been a permanent change in her life.
Can we know what it is? Perhaps we may never know, but hints abound. 4’33”, widely panned as a cheeky addition of silence to the album, is the biggest revelation in my view. Firstly, that silence is placed in this album, given the story presented thus far, if indeed you accept my interpretation, seems entirely in place. I believe Mr. Cage’s purpose was to force us to listen to the world around us, around the performance hall, around ourselves. And can I say this with confidence about its placement in this album? I offer you this. Again, for the very careful listener, at approximately half way through the piece, listen very closely. You may hear the answer. In my view, you are hearing Ms Buniatishvili’s answer. Listen carefully…. What a treat.
In the Adagio then, her poetry reveals more, the answer perhaps?
“Someone else’s Spring is also pleasant to watch.”
In my view, this is a magnificent work of a very personal nature to the artist herself and well beyond being worth the departure from classical music convention for the listener. And even if the listener never senses the same details which I believe are there, this album and the personal nature of Ms Buniatishvili's playing and writing draws one in at a deeply emotional level. Is this not the point of art? Would not the creators of the pieces themselves endorse such artistic compilation for the purpose of moving the audience, especially when played by such a careful and learned steward of the music as Ms Buniatishvili?
In this case, we need not guess what the cut grooves and smooth curves of her sculptured work might mean. This artist is present. And she has given herself to us in this work. It is a very brave act. This listener is moved indeed.