The trumpet is not a particularly ingratiating solo instrument in classical repertoire. For extended works, such as concertos, its sound can be fatiguing, owing to its innate acoustical properties, which derive from its small-bore, all-metal tubing, and from the inherent tension that defines the way the sound is produced–from the buzzing of the player’s tightened lips. This is an instrument designed for getting attention, a color instrument that can cut above the orchestral fray, that can declare, announce, and articulate, celebrate, or captivate. For a moment; or two; or three. Any longer and you need some very special music and a very special player.
I always liked Rafael Mendez (my brother the trumpet player idolized him during his high school years–I heard every recording he ever made), for the way he was able to tame the instrument’s more aggressive temperament and find its more mellifluous voice. This was mostly due to his technique–smooth, flawless legato, refined articulation and warm tone, which he brightened when the music called for it.
By now anyone who cares about the trumpet knows all about Alison Balsom, the 30-something British musician who began her professional career in 2001. She truly is a special player, a sensational player, and she fortunately chose repertoire for this program in which the composers–with one exception–know how to write for the trumpet, who exploit its characteristic voice by letting it speak in a manner that’s pointedly assertive yet purposeful–no gratuitous “effects” or cheap tricks.
James MacMillan’s Seraph–which is dedicated to Balsom–is a model of trumpet composition: its appeal lies in the ingratiating character of its totally idiomatic melodic material, and in the way the orchestra complements the instrument’s timbre and various register shifts. Toru Takemitsu’s solo trumpet piece, although written in 1994, sounds as if its provenance were more like 1970, and it’s an intriguing study in the trumpet’s varied sounds and performance techniques–notably the use of a mute, one of the instrument’s few options for varying its tone and expressive effect. (Interestingly, it’s almost impossible to learn exactly what type of trumpet Balsom plays–an obvious acknowledgement that, unlike with strings or pianos, it’s not that important).
You could say that Alexander Arutiunian’s concerto (1950) is the most traditional entry on this program–but it’s also the work that is most attuned to the unique voice and properties of the trumpet (even though Arutiunian was a pianist, not a trumpet player). Anyone who’s ever enjoyed a violin or piano or clarinet or horn concerto will appreciate this piece, so vibrant and melodious and delightfully virtuosic.
Although no doubt many commentators will cite Bernd Zimmermann’s Trumpet Concerto as a highlight of the disc, for me it was the weak entry. Composed in the 1950s, it presents itself as one of the “I dare you to play–or even understand–this” works that were commonly being foisted on performers and the public throughout the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s. I found it annoying–not to mention that the real title of the spiritual the concerto is based on is “Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen”, not “de trouble I see”–not a major fault perhaps, but one that makes you question the composer’s familiarity with–and thus affinity for–the material.
And there’s nothing in this “concerto” to make you love the trumpet’s tight, tense timbre–and not much to connect with the work’s supposed source, not to mention that its claim to be a concerto is bogus and surprisingly ill-informed. It’s a trumpet playing, well, lots of “stuff”–but it’s not a cohesive piece. For a sense of a complete, concise, coherent work, the composer should have spent just a few more minutes listening to the song on which he supposedly based his composition.
Balsom of course is awesome; the engineering, which originates from several venues, including a live concert and two other locations, is very good if not consistently measured. But if you’re one who walks the walk and talks the trumpet talk, this is a disc you won’t happily do without–meaning, you definitely should have this. It’s a celebration.
