A Song For Friday: Scott Wollschleger
An old favorite gets up to some new adventures on Between Breath
Way back in 2017, when confronted by Soft Aberration, the debut portrait album of composer Scott Wollschleger, I noted that “…it’s rare that you hear such command of structure and orchestration in any idiom.” When it came to his next album, 2019’s American Dream (performed by Bearthoven), I praised “…his single-minded focus on creating an emotional landscape.” It was my #10 album of that year. Then came the “glimmering contemplation” of Dark Days, a collaboration with pianist Karl Larson, which landed at #3 on my Top 25 for 2021. Cutting to the chase, Wollschleger is one of my favorites and one of the best American composers of recent years.
Further proof arrives today in the form of Between Breath, a new collection of four chamber works meant to be experienced as a whole. It begins with the jagged yet high-fat Violain, a two-movement work that puts AndPlay, the redoubtable violin/viola duo of Maya Bennardo and Hannah Levinson, through their paces. Also included is Anyway, where threads go, it all goes well, featuring the great soprano, Lucy Dhegrae, and pianist Nathaniel LaNasa, meditating on the pseudo-John Ashbery quote of the title phrase, which Wollschleger spotted on Twitter. The final piece is Secret Machine No. 7, an astonishing solo violin piece that uses tones (a detuned G string) and techniques (a metal mute) to wrest new expression from the instrument. Miranda Cuckson dashes it off with fiery grace, engaging equally with its dance rhythms and moments of echoing loneliness.
But my focus today is on the title track, a wild and witty - and ultimately gorgeous - ride for piano (Anne Rainwater) and trombone (William Lang). It starts as an utter tantrum, with Lang blatting away while Rainwater uses the keys and her fingers to produce angular sounds from the piano strings.
It gradually calms down to what my father might have called “a dull roar,” still mad at the world but deliquescing to acceptance. Perhaps beauty can be made of anything, Wollschleger seems to posit, even anger, rage, and sorrow - not to mention noise. By halfway through the piece, Rainwater is exploring nearly jazzy complex chords while Lang purrs away in the background. It gradually fades out, becoming part of the atmosphere around you, before disappearing entirely.
The whole piece is a wonder, as is the album, as rich and varied a collection as one could hope for.
From the archives:
Best Of 2022: Classical
Best Of 2017: Classical