
You’re in a café, a quiet little out of the […]
“A unique selection of magical piano moments that have shaped Khatia’s life,” reads the sticker on what appears to be a gimmicky concept album, but
Nothing about Giya Kancheli’s music falls into any neatly descriptive category. Even the works themselves, with their very specific, non-traditional structures and scoring–soprano and viola;
The first movement and passacaglia of the concerto are simply gorgeous, from Lisa Batiashvili’s dusky but rich timbre to Esa-Pekka Salonen’s crystal-clear accompaniments. The rest
While the repertoire on this disc is chronologically and geographically circumscribed, it nevertheless offers abundant variety of mood and texture. Alfred Schnittke’s Suite in the
Giya Kancheli employs extreme contrasts to vividly illustrate the realms of life and death as separated by the mythological river Styx. After a ferociously grim
Giya Kancheli often reminds me of a sort of Georgian Alan Pettersson: his music generally expresses sorrow and lamentation either loudly or softly, with nothing