Having released editions of Cage and Feldman, Mode is now releasing the complete works of the Romanian spectralist Horațiu Rădulescu (1942-2008). In the 1970s Rădulescu developed a brand of spectralism independently of his French counterparts – indeed, he referred to the latter as a Parisian ‘mafia’ and claimed to have invented the current himself in his 1969 work Credo for nine cellos (not included here). Rădulescu’s music draws on his theory of ‘sound plasma’, micro-sonorities exploding traditional categories, which entails unique notation (a mix of graphic and standard; each string on a separate stave) and close collaboration with musicians. Longstanding Rădulescu advocates Tunnell (his widow) and Pace here give performances of precision, commitment and imagination.

Das Andere (1984) is one of Rădulescu’s best-known works. It can be performed on any string instrument (I recently saw Garth Knox give a fine viola performance) and asks the performer to enter into and induce a state of trance. Using techniques from flautando to arco, Tunnell gives a compelling performance where glistening harmonics jostle with shrill hints of Byzantine melody. Though the cello often sounds like a string quartet, Tunnell resists bombast, slowly building intensity across the single-movement work’s 18 minutes. L’éxil interieur (1997) is the most conventional work here. A cello sonata, it draws on Romanian folk material, Byzantine chant, ring modulation-derived pitch material and, in the finale, an attempt at a pan-cultural Ur-music. At times there is austere grandeur in a monorhythmic cello line backed by iridescent piano chords.

Rădulescu never shied from transcendental allusions. Pre-Existing Soul of Then (1992/2003) systematically moves through 96 frequency areas in a haunting microtonal wandering. This version superimposes two cello recordings to achieve Rădulescu’s desired final result. Rounding off the disc, Lux animae is (writes Samuel Dunscombe) ‘a set of 21 “windows” through which the light of the soul may shine’. More straightforwardly, it uses scordatura and a mathematically complex form to generate Rădulescu’s characteristic fusion of quickness and mystery.

The engineering is crisp yet warm. A fine introduction to Rădulescu for the uninitiated (as is the previous disc in the series, ‘Works for Organ & for Cello’).