Kamran Ince divides his time between Turkey and America, and carefully balances the musical influences of the two countries in his music. Ideas and sounds from Turkish folk music appear, but are so well integrated into the textures that they never feel like exotic additions. His American side is most clearly evident in the music's structure, which usually relies on a repetitive minimalist approach. The diatonic modality also suggests an all-embracing American aesthetic, a cosmopolitan musical environment accommodating ideas and sounds from overseas.
This album first appeared in 2004, and gives a
snapshot of the diverse trends in the composer's work in the years around the
millennium. The music begins at Ince's most American and gets more and more
Turkish a the album progresses. Flight
Box, for ensemble and choir, is described by the composer as “a diary of a
flight which reaches its destination safely.” That last reassurance required
because of the suggestion in the title of a black box recorder and the fact the
work appeared soon after 911. This is the most minimalist of the works on the
disc, but it's a gritty industrial minimalism, reminiscent of Louis Andriessen.
There is no development here to speak of, instead the blocks of repetitious
music are edited together with abrupt shifts from one to the next. Stirring
melodic lines ride over the top of all this, and a backing choir provide
sustained textures, suggesting Morricone at his most bleak and windswept.
A cello solo piece follows, MKG Variations performed by Karl Lavine.
The form here is again based on repeated or slightly changing cells, and the
ideas within those cells owe much to Bach's Cello Suites. Pizzicato figures
vary the texture and give the first suggestion on the program of Turkish folk
instruments.
In
White is a violin concerto,
the solo part taken here by Present Music's Artistic Director, Kevin Stalheim.
It is in three slow movements interspersed with two short and fast ones. The
violin writing is simple but effective. Ince weaves long, seductive melodies
for the soloist in the slow movements, which he contrasts with more astringent,
jumpy sounds in the faster ones. As in Flight
Box, a wordless choir supports the ensemble, and although the singers'
contribution is atmospheric, it feels like a distraction in the context of a
concerto.
The devastating earthquake that hit Turkey in
1999 motivated the piano piece In
Memoriam 8/17/99, written later the same year and played here by Phillip
Bush. Within the sombre atmosphere of this work, Ince introduces some
surprisingly modern sounds. Textures that you might associate with the post-war
avant garde are presented, but always against traditional sounding harmonies.
The result sounds like a kind of diatonic Boulez, if such a thing were
possible.
Ince's Turkish side finally rises to the
surface in the final piece, Turquoise.
The heterophonic music of the Ottoman court was apparently the inspiration for
this work for an ensemble of seven. Tuned, metallic percussion dominates most
of the textures and gives the music a distinctly Janissary
feel. Structurally, the music is
as minimalist and repetitious as ever, although the rhythms within the repeated
cells are more complex, bringing the overall effect close at times to Conlon
Nancarrow.
The Present Music
ensemble of Milwaukee give precise and convincing readings of these scores, and
there is never any feeling of impatience about the repetitive forms. The sound
quality is reasonable; no recording details are given, but these sound like studio
recordings to which unconvincing digital reverb has been added. Nevertheless,
the ensemble has done the composer a great favor in presenting his music to
this standard. Their collaboration has continued since, so if you want an
update on Ince's more recent work, seek out the disc from Present Music that
was released on the Naxos label in 2010 (9.70011).
This review appears in Fanfare, issue 36:2.
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