Art of Time Ensemble SONGBOOK II: Steven Page reviewed by Stanley Fefferman
Saturday, June 21st, 2008June 20,2008, Enwave Theatre, Toronto.

I like writing “I am Andrew Burashko’s greatest fan.” The shows he creates around Art of Time Ensemble excite me. His best idea, so far, is to raise pop music to the level of chamber music.
For some reason, these days, I do not enjoy listening to pop music, probably because musically I’ve lost interest in it. Too repetitive. It’s like your favourite breakfast flake or granola. If the ABC flavour hits your sweet spot, you get into that groove, and some ABC in your bowl hits the spot every time. My pop music spot seems to have worn off—none of it really touches my any more. It’s kind of sad, but that’s how it is.
The trade-off is I have grown a huge and tender spot for art music, especially chamber music. All it takes to hit my sweet spot is a great voice, adventurously crafted music, and a fine ensemble. That’s what I get with SONGBOOK II.
The particular ingredients of my pleasure are: Steven Page using his voice like a tenor; some unusually thoughtful pop songs with intelligent lyrics, each arranged in rich tones with gutsy changes by a different high class arranger, played with gusto by a chamber sextet with some of Canada’s best musicians at the oars. What a trip!
The first half of the program offered four songs chosen and sung by Page backed by the whole ensemble, and Prokofiev’s “Sonata in F minor for violin and piano” with Burashko and Steven Sitarski. The most musically interesting song was Elvis Costello’s “I Want You,” arranged by jazz/rock/classical saxophonist Robert Carli. It had a recognizable Costello sound but enriched and enhanced with weird discordant sequences, Sitarski bowing ghostly sounds ‘sul ponticello’, and Page singing the phrase ‘I want you’ so softly at one point you’d believe he might be whispering it on his dying breath.
Page’s own “Running Out of Time”, co-written Barenaked Lady colleague Ed Robertson and arranged by Cameron Wilson, violinist with the doomed CBC Radio Orchestra, has some upbeat piano runs by Burashko, works itself through Phil Dwyer’s clarinet into an ardent frenzy, and gives full voice to Page’s bravura tenor. A very high moment, followed by ’something a little different’: four movements of a Prokofiev minor key violin and piano sonata.
This dark, intense, brooding work rises to peaks of excitement and passion that you feel as starkly contrasting textures of the music. Fast violin scales scamper over blocky piano chords, sometimes like fleeting lizard feet, sometimes like tremulous winds whistling among gravestones. Lyrical passages alternate with bitter dissonances; tentative passages build to explosive climaxes. Flow, staccato and virtuosic pizzicato contribute to unceasing surprise and delight for the musical palate.
Here is an unexpected effect. The Prokofiev was such a dose of the what I call, perhaps from prejudice, ‘the real thing’, that the ‘pop’ performances after intermission paled a bit by comparison no matter how good they were in their own right. I began to notice a kind of uniformity of mood in the songs and the textures of the arrangements. Also, Page, known for his articulation and tonal range did not seem well served by the sound setup that seemed to blur the words and keep his voice corralled in a brassy, somewhat airless register. Nonetheless, pleasure flowed.
Stephin Meritt’s “ For We Are the King of the Boudoir” got Steven Page to clown in front of a mirror and the light comic opera quality of the piece made me laugh, which is a good thing. Who but Phil Dwyer would have the minerals to arrange the tone rows of a tune co-written by Philip Glass and Paul Simon and make it sound like Glass but different? Rob Piltch added some memorable woodwindy electric guitar riffs towards the end.
Composer Gavin Bryars took on re-arranging Leonard Cohen’s waltz “The Singer Must Die,” with its incredible lines like in ‘the hinge of her thighs, /where I have to go begging in beauty’s disguise’. Jane Siberry’s “The Taxi Ride” arranged by Glen Buhr came off as passionate, imploring, and desperately real. Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android” arranged by Robert Carli had an interesting opening with moaning low strings covering a single note piano ostinato, rising through dissonant wildwood guitar percussive riffs to a crescendo/decrescendo on cello and clarinet that brought the audience to its feet whooping and hollering.
As the I Ching would say “Grace has success. Perseverance furthers.”

It takes a lot of listening to explore the depths of this third solo piano album by Canadian expat in Berlin, Brian Agro. The pieces are imaginative miniatures, mostly 1-3 minutes with a couple around 5 minutes, played in an attentive, crystalline fashion by Tomas Bachli. Each has its own mood built up out of melodic, simple yet complex elements. If there is an overall energy, I’d have to use words like reflective and enigmatic but there are often cheerful highlights touched by mischief. There are ocassional moments, as in ‘Prétudes’ Part I and II, when a feeling of heaviness bordering on monotony arises.
Simon Trpceski’s 4th album for EMI is marked by his understated but flawless technique and a kind of objective sense of the music that releases the freshness nascent in the (amply recorded) solo piano music of Debussy. I have enjoyed repeated listenings of “Images: Bks I and II” because Trpceski’s style brings out both mysteriousness and passion that are substantial in the floating vagueness of Debussy’s middle period music, following the transfer of his affections from his first wife to Emma Bardac.
The String Quartet No.3 (2000) by Ada Gentile spatializes sound carefully so that despite its drive, the work achieves a sense tranquility and equilibrium that can be felt directly in the gut. In particular, Simon Fryer does his job at the cello with an eyes-open, heads-up style that contributes a wide-awake feeling to the music. Gentile’s “La giornata di Betty Boop for voice and piano (2006)” in five sections, has Piacentini at the piano wearing a tail, a dog collar and leash while Scandaletti outfitted like the cartoon character prances and sings to ‘Boby’ her doggie six funny texts by Sandra Cappelleto, leaving the audience in high spirits.

Composer Georges Asperghis describes it as “a game of mirrors…games between dry attack and their resonances…games where one gets lost not knowing who is who and what is what.” A piece by Asperghis is always amusing: this one is like one of those animations where your mirror image takes on an independent life and imitations fall in and out of synch, often echoing with unpredictable delays, rather than mirroring, as if your reflection were developing intelligence, knowledge of you, and a sense of humour as the piece develops. The incredible sense of timing between the players and some beautiful mellow tones of the marimba remain in the mind with great pleasure.
The mood grows excited to the level of hysteria, generating spectacular textures, though I preferred the passages where the energy melts into an enveloping fullness. Also interesting were the concluding combinations of Lori Freedman’s eerie clarinet sounds ground into a mix with hoarse, gritty violin work by Clemens Merkel and Poulin’s piano thunder that suggested the wistfully sad aspect of sunset. It is striking how wonderful is the silence at the end of such an energetically intense piece.