Arvo Pärt’s Tabula Rasa was written for Gidon Kremer, Tatjana Gridenko, and Eri Klas in 1977, and it’s not an overstatement to say that they are technical and emotional masters of this music. Kremer and Gridenko’s ECM disc containing this work remains a hallmark Pärt recording. I hesitate to use the word “definitive” though, since another very fine version on DG featuring Gil Shaham is a study in contrast that demonstrates how a masterwork such as Tabula Rasa can receive two entirely different yet equally valid readings. While Shaham’s interpretation is colored through and through with a deep sense of awe and radiant hopefulness, Kremer’s is a prolonged outcry of disconsolate yearning. It’s no secret that Kremer is one of today’s most intellectually exciting (and technically accomplished) musicians, and this second recording of Tabula Rasa undoubtedly is a performance that I will return to again and again. The second Pärt work, the brief Darf Ich…, was written in 1995 and revised in 1999. Its inclusion here makes a fine pairing that exemplifies how the composer’s language has changed in the past 20-odd years.
The rest of the program is a study in contrasts of a different kind. Philip Glass’ Company is standard Glass. If you like his music, then you’ll find this silky performance rewarding; but if you don’t, this arrangement of the String Quartet No. 2 won’t make you a believer. I wish I could say that the music of the little-known Vladimir Martynov is a welcome find, but I just can’t, at least not on the basis of the work presented here. Come In! seems to have wandered onto this disc by accident; it’s a corny, syrupy thing with shades of Elgar’s “Nimrod” Variation (which is quite easily the best thing about it). Martynov is embarrassingly literal: humanity’s need to knock at the door of God/Heaven/Bliss/Truth/whatever is represented by, well, wood blocks knocked together with alarming regularity. While Movement V is inoffensive, overall it’s far better suited as a movie-of-the-week score than as an object of Kremer’s attentions. The sound is very good: Kremer’s sharp strokes aren’t dulled or overwhelmed by the more broad sound of the orchestra. It’s a shame, really. Without the Martynov, this disc would merit a top rating; but Come In! simply takes up far too much time (about 27 minutes) to be comfortably ignored.
