Argo's press statement lays out its credo thus: ''to challenge and to stimulate, to entertain and even to educate'' and if one disc from the first batch of releases had to be singled out that fulfilled all these criteria then without doubt it would have to be this one. I've a hunch that the name Michael Torke will become a familiar buzz-word in musical circles over the next few months, for he is a gifted young American composer who has already made a considerable impact in the States, and if this disc is anything to go by seems set to repeat his success here.
The items presented cover a five-year period from 1984 (The Yellow Pages) to 1989 (Rust) and reveal Torke's preoccupation during this time with minimalism. If, however, you're expecting another Glass, Reich or Adams then you'll be sadly disappointed. Torke's use of minimalist techniques, combined with his ability to create cross-over music par excellence, produces an entirely new genre; indeed, he breaks down the barriers between pop, jazz and so-called 'serious' music so well that it's almost impossible to know where its true affiliations lie. But then I suspect that's the secret of its success; this isn't serious music trying to be jazz or pop, but simply the result of a young composer revelling in the rich resources of his generation.
The works themselves, although all flavoured with the inimitable and highly distinctive Torke sound, are an excellent introduction to the varied way in which he manipulates his diverse and seemingly disparate material. The Yellow Pages, a brief six-minute chamber work built over a bass line derived from a Chaka Khan song, but with strong overtones of Copland (dance music) and Stravinsky (chord displacements and jagged syncopations), and Adjustable Wrench, so named because of the twists and turns that the melodic material is subjected to, are perhaps the most obvious example of his pop-inspired pieces. Vanada, although also drawing heavily on pop and perhaps to a greater extent on jazz techniques, reveals a much more rhythmically complex process, through which Torke projects the most frugal harmonic implications.
The remaining works: Slate, a chamber version of a larger four-movement work for orchestra, and Rust, a concerto for piano, winds and electric bass, are the most recent on this disc, and represent some of his finest music to date. Both share Torke's preoccupation with synaesthesia—the association of colours with musical sounds and keys (well over half of Torke's output falls into this category), and both take what I can only describe as his 'continuous variation form' to its most fully realized expression.
Syncopation and rhythmic drive form the backbone to all of Torke's music, but in Slate and Rust this propulsive energy appears to be leading the music into new territories of greater complexity. (It's interesting to note that in a recent interview Torke disclosed that he saw his music as developing towards greater complexity, with less repetition, more harmonic modulation and more contrasting ideas.) In Rust, a deceptively simple 4/4 time signature is overlaid with several layers of complex syncopation, raunchy brass interjections, sleazy saxophone episodes and a funky off-beat bass line, all led by the emphatic energy of the solo piano.
The London Sinfonietta, led by Kent Nagano and David Miller, respond well to this music, with performances of immense energy and vitality and a genuine sense of enjoyment, and Torke's considerable prowess as a pianist can be heard to great effect in the demanding solo piano parts.
Prospective purchasers be warned: Michael Torke's music can be addictive, and it will probably be well into 1991 before the next fix is available on disc. I for one look forward to future instalments from this fascinating composer.'