Requiem for Adam, written on the death of Adam Harrington (son of David Harrington, Kronos Quartet violinist), is a piece that is profound and moving–in odd and unexpected ways–and does what a requiem ought to do: show death in all its complications. In the opening movement, “Ascending the Heaven Ladder”, a two-note motif saturates, almost calling out “Adam, Adam”. It’s like a processional that keeps pausing, receding, and returning to its course; it’s complex in its simplicity, allowing space for thought. The second movement, “Cortejo Fúnebre en el Monte Diablo”, is harder to take: the tape that accompanies (and too-often subsumes) the quartet is cheap and inelegant–which somehow works to its advantage. The primitive synthesized brass (something like a Casio-keyboard New Orleans stomp) creates a creepy and inhuman remove, which also is strangely successful. This movement defines a struggle between shoddiness and tasteful restraint, and does so to great effect, though it might take a couple of listenings to get past the flat surface.
“Requiem for Adam”, the final movement, is an extended, complex, non-meditative “meditation” on death. The opening is punchy, full of cheeky dissonant chords (serving as a quirky Kyrie) that gives way to a quick, dance-like section (Gloria?). This builds to a funereal passage (a Miserere) that’s brutally interrupted by the return of the opening punches (Dies Irae and Sanctus rolled in one). A frenzied 7/8 dance (Credo?) leads to an abrupt-but-final close (The mass has ended…). In sum, it’s a short, concise, direct, west-coast minimalist version of a requiem, with Riley at his best (and most contrapuntal).
The Kronos Quartet plays this sort of music better than anyone, a testament to its long-standing relationship with Riley’s work. This recording runs on the jaunty precision we have come to expect from these fearless players, taking on the sort of daring repertoire that established the Kronos as the most progressive (and most highly visible, to the point of flirting with rock-stardom) contemporary quartet. The “Kronos sound” may strike some listeners as a touch over-produced, too forward, not allowing the lower end of the ensemble its fullest due, but this is something that has come to be associated with this prolific band: its high-treble sound adds to the group’s precision. Perhaps it’s an acquired taste, but it’s one well worth acquiring. As an intriguing and beautiful afterthought, Riley performs a piano improvisation that, after hearing the Requiem for Adam, provides an interesting insight into the mind of this original and maverick artist.
