The many silences that punctuate Tabula rasa register with heightened impact in the context of this highly dramatic performance. The jig-like faster music (cast in 4/4 time) that bounds in between the pauses in ‘Ludus’ gradually gains in intensity, climaxing in a powerful cadenza and some hefty stamping from the lower strings. Turn to Gidon Kremer’s 1977 ECM recording (again with Tatjana Grindenko) and the bass-line is less powerful, the prepared piano (played by Alfred Schnittke) more prominent. Comparing the two versions of the magnificent ‘Silentium’ second movement inclines me towards the more bell-like piano tone on the ECM disc. This new production is smoother, more warmly homogenous, but the contrast between ethereal ppp strings and the piano’s ghostly chiming is better caught by ECM.
There’s more chiming on offer in Part’s far briefer Darf ich, a passionate miniature that at times wears an almost Tchaikovskian demeanour. The solo violin has the first shout before joining the strings (and bell) for an agitated variation on Part’s more familiar tintinnabulation.
So much for Part. The rest of this Nonesuch programme is both less rigorous and more instantly palatable. Philip Glass’s Company was originally written for a Beckett play of the same name and comes neatly packaged in four concise movements. There’s plenty of textural contrast but not very much in the way of musical incident. As to Vladimir Martynov’s Come In!, I’m still wavering between admiration and consternation. The idea concerns our potential entrance to heaven through the door of the soul, with one’s life’s work as a ‘timid knocking’ (and the title of the piece as a hopeful response). There are six movements in all, five of which open to a variation on the one cheesy tune, then cue a woodblock to mimic the knocking. The last movement is a sort of lyrical envoi that eventually winds things up with the tinkling of a tiny bell. Ten minutes of it is charming, even rather touching, but the material really isn’t strong enough to sustain interest for nearly half an hour. The most obvious point of reference, at least for me, is Gavin Bryars’ quasi-minimalist Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet, where a similarly soft-core melody is subject to carefully calculated repetition. Bryars’ approach to sound is rather more original than Martynov’s and the developmental process more innovative. But it’s an interesting and accessible piece, one that could well inspire something of a cult following. Fine sound all round.'