Jagden und Formen {“Hunts and Forms”), a 51-minute concerto grosso played without pause, putatively completes Wolfgang Rihm’s odyssey on the subject of musical form. Since in his view composing (or artistic creation itself) always represents a “work-in-progress”, there is no definitive score but the one we may hear in a particular performance or on a recording. Beginning with Gejagte Form (“Hunted Form”), composed in 1995/96 and from which strands have been used in the current work (available on the Kairos label), Rihm has explored the ways in which the compositional process itself influences the ultimate form of the composition, rather than the other way around. After wading through the turgid Heideggerian liner notes and wincing at the arch, high-minded (but constantly equivocating) interview with the composer, we learn that the “hunt”, the pursuit of form via the act of composing, becomes (and determines) the form itself.
This is all well and good, but there is nothing new in this philosophy. It shares as much with non-linear Eastern music and aleatoric principles of composition as it does with Boulez’s extended reworking of his own compositions. Philosophical justification aside, Rihm simply pens fragments without regard to sequence and then strings them together with some neat transitions. What the whole “hunt” amounts to in the present circumstances, then, is a monstrous test of endurance for the crack musicians of the Ensemble Modern in a piece that is as exhausting to hear as it probably is to play.
Winds and brass dominate the proceedings, although the violins (playing slightly out of phase) open the piece with its basic musical kernel and later exist mainly in the background for effect. For the most part, the piece spotlights various soloists and groups (the English horn at track 3, the marimba at track 4, flutes and winds at track 7, and so on) hurling startling bursts of mostly dissonant sound anchored by propulsive rhythmic motifs characterized by sharp staccato triplet and off-beat syncopated figures that at times sound as if they’re being spit out.
With each new section, quicksilver instrumental entries seem to spark action from other parts of the ensemble–a chaotic-sounding effect, to be sure, but one that probably is consistent with Rihm’s fundamental thoughts about the search for form. Rare moments of repose infiltrate the work–notably the minute lyrical spots for English horn and a grueling solo for bass tuba (or possibly trombone) at track 6 played at such an improbably high register that the instrument sounds like a flugelhorn. Tracks 10 and 11 feature blazing trumpets and explosively wild and frenetic passages for the entire group, representing a sort of climax in a piece full of fake finales. Toward the end, Rihm tosses us into the deep abyss accompanied by double bassoon and double-bass clarinet, only to surprise the listener with a quiet ending that trails off with the sound of bongos played with fingertips.
At bottom, the success of this piece rests not in its philosophical underpinnings but in the virtuosic display of its performers and the orgiastic and clangorous instrumental colors they spew. As the disc is all one movement, tracking is set according to bar numbers to enable the listener to get some sense of the structure (but, more likely, it’s just for convenience’s sake). So, skip the liner notes and just listen.
