Well, it’s about damn time. This is a classic recording that’s been out of print for almost ten years. I lost mine awhile back and regretted it ever since. The good folks at Ryko have finally acquired the rights and reissued it with an excellent remastering job.
I’ve always been somewhat ambivalent in my feelings toward the Kronos Quartet. On one hand, I’m grateful for the job they’ve done exposing the public to new and challenging repetoire, and they approach their work with a great deal of skill and enthusiasm.
On the other hand, their enthusiasm sometimes gets the best of them. Note that they rip through Philip Glass’ Company at such a clip that nothing’s given a chance to resonate and brood the way it’s supposed to. They have a tendency to mic everything very close, and at times it causes them to sound strained and raspy, particularly on the Early Music.
It’s a small price to pay when you consider the balance, though. Cadenza is an early recording from when they were still at Mills College, and the collaboration was Riley’s first work for quartet. It’s an excellent contribution to the medium, a distinctly American piece that embraces several genres without falling into the pitfalls or cliches of any.
When most people think of Riley, they think of six-hour piano improvs or the innovative-but-too-random In C. Riley was one of the fathers of minimalism, and he wears his hippie colors proudly, as is evidenced by such titles as “Sunrise of the Planetary Dream Collector” and “Gathering of the Spiral Clan.”
Don’t let this put you off, though. Cadenza is a propulsive, engaging piece, overflowing with ideas. Like In C, the construction is somewhat modular, consisting of several fragments that can be played in varying order. Such an approach is more like a jazz arrangement than a classical score, but Riley favored this approach, so this recording is only one possible interpretation.
The Kronos jump into it with real eagerness, and their approach suits the music well. At various times, they’re called upon to be aggressive, then pastoral, while at others, they imitate eastern instruments. They manage all sorts of fascinating textures (check out the syncopated ponticello at 4:50 on “Mythical Birds Waltz” or the long, harmonized pedal-tones and glissandri in the title track) and never seem to lose their footing.
Much of it reminds me of Walter Piston’s brilliant chamber music. There’s a momentum and rhythmic verve, and though the music is essentially tonal, it’s just jagged enough around the edges to avoid getting all syrupy. It’s a great embodiment of what American music used to be: wide-eyed and earnest without getting bogged down in sentimentality.