Ramble on Doubles with Ceilidh and Ondiola

Grant Chu Covell

[January 2026.]

“Music for Strings (plus….).” Justin CONNOLLY: String Trio, Op. 43 (2009-10)¹; Tesserae C, Op. 15/III (1971)²; Triad V, Op. 19 (1971)³; Gymel B, Op. 39/II (1995)⁴; Ceilidh, Op. 29/I (1976)⁵; Celebratio per viola sola, Op. 29/IV (2005)⁶; Collana, Op. 29/III (1995)⁷; Celebratio super Ter in lyris Leo, Op. 29/II (1994-95)⁸; Tesserae E, Op. 15/V (1972)⁹. Mihailo Trandafilovski^1,5, Emily Su³, Peter Sheppard Skærved⁵, Tiago Soares Silva⁵, Muriel Oberhofer⁵ (vln), Peter Sheppard Skærved^1,6,8, Adonis Lau⁸, Andrea Fages Saiz⁸ (vla), Neil Heyde^1,2,3,4,7 (vlc), Dmytro Fonariuk³, Roger Heaton⁴ (clar), Alise Siliņa⁸ (accordion), Nancy Turetzky⁹ (fl), Bertram Turetzky⁹ (cbs). Divine Art MEX 77209 (2 CDs) (www.divineartrecords.com).

I am astonished that I haven’t encountered Connolly’s emphatic music before. Connolly was a teacher and broadcaster in the UK. There is nothing sloppy or half-hearted about any of these nine chamber pieces. This twofer opens with a bang, the String Trio, whose bold sentences convey an acute sense of how musical shapes fit in time. Carter quickly comes to mind, but Connolly (1933-2020) may be terser or more playful.

In Triad V, a trio for violin, clarinet and cello, notation alternates between strict and temporal, as Connolly plays upon how we might connect new and recurring material. In the four-violin Ceilidh (a Scottish social event with song and dance), Connolly sets pairs against each other, balancing strict and aleatoric passages. It seems Connolly enjoyed or prevaricated between opposing doctrines.

Connolly may ask for theater: In the unusually scored Celebratio super Ter in lyris Leo, for three violas and accordion, the accordionist moves across the stage, a gesture reflecting its dedicatee’s passing, violist Lionel Tertis.

There are three solos: Tesserae C and Collana for cello and Celebratio for viola. Tesserae C has an Anglican tune built into it which completely escaped me. Collana (necklace) is another work which alternates loose and strict sections. Gymel B is a duo for clarinet and cello with the subtitle “…on Planet X with CN…” referring to Nancarrow. All these pieces but one were taped in 2024. Heyde and Sheppard Skærved (alternating violin and viola) effortlessly achieve the heaviest lifting. As a bonus we get the Turetzky duo (flute, double bass) in the vigorous Tesserae E captured in 1984.

“The Complete String Quartets.” John ZORN: Cat O’Nine Tails (1988); The Dead Man (1990); Memento Mori (1992); Kol Nidre (1996); Necronomicon (2003); The Alchemist (2011); The Remedy of Fortune (2015); The Unseen (2017). JACK Quartet: Christopher Otto, Austin Wulliman (vln), John Pickford Richards (vla), Jay Campbell (vlc). Tzadik 9318-2 (2 CDs) (www.tzadik.com).

“Schuppanzigh had Beethoven; Joachim had Brahms; Robert Mann had Elliott Carter. The four of us in JACK have John Zorn.” So declares cellist Jay Campbell in the notes. Reflecting the prolific Zorn’s wide career, these eight works open a vein onto the composer’s aesthetic and process. Imagine the composer as purveyor, as someone who brings new experiences to you, to maximize your exposure to as many different things as possible.

With wide-ranging styles and abruptly sequenced quotations, I hear Cat O’Nine Tails as a Carl Stalling score for an unseen thirteen-minute cartoon. Zorn calls this “freewheeling” without mentioning cinematic slapstick, but there is no way to hear the Paganini parody as serious business. As the quartets progress chronologically, they grow graver. Quick mood changes persist, but the quotes are more subtle, the demeanor serious. The Dead Man offers nods to Bartòk, Beethoven and much else. Memento Mori opens slowly, suggesting a grander tone, but hijinks flash towards the finish.

Necronomicon was written with the ghost of Bartòk’s 4th looking over Zorn’s shoulder. The allusions are modest: For composers, the best way to understand music is to write music about it. At this point, it’s worth observing that Necronomicon and The Alchemist (and quite possibly other quartets) have something to do with magic. The Alchemist steps back into the 16th century and considers the interactions of John Dee and Edward Kelley. We’re treated to unexpected jump cuts, the zaniness has matured, and the alternating flavors seem wholly Zorn, except for the Beethoven bits.

Kol Nidre arises from Zorn’s Masada Songbook project, reflecting yet another aspect of Zorn’s style and worldview. Compared to the other quartets, this one bears a consistent demeanor. The notes gush about Zorn’s influences and influencing, his extended discography and how the present day has not caught up to him. Six “tableau depicting the changing fortunes of romantic love” constitute The Remedy of Fortune. Zorn’s note on The Unseen, inspired by Hilma af Klint’s mystical art: “This could be the last string quartet I will ever compose.”

“Scelsi Revisited.” Michael PELZEL: Sculture di suono (2014)¹. Michel ROTH: Moi (2012)². Tristan MURAIL: Un Sogno (2014)³. Georg Friedrich HAAS: Introduktion und Transsonation (2012)⁴. Nicola SANI: Gimme Scelsi (2012)⁵. Uli FUSSENEGGER: San Teodoro 8 (2013)⁶. Fabien LÉVY: à tue-tête (2015)⁷. Ragnhild BERSTÅD: cardinem (2014)⁸. Klangforum Wien, Emilio Pomàrico¹, Sian Edwards², Johannes Kalitzke^3,4,8, Sylvain Cambreling^5,7 (cond.). Kairos 0015030KAI (2 CDs) (www.kairos-music.com).

You must be in the right frame of mind for this collection. As a tempered Scelsi fan I’ve alternated between apprehension and enthusiasm. Scelsi’s music rocked my world for a while. At one time there was nothing quite like it. But nowadays, exotically spiced suspended microtonal wriggling is commonplace: For some it’s a whole genre, for others just a seasoning kept within easy reach.

Scelsi devotees must also reckon with Vieri Tosatti’s assertion that he transcribed, or orchestrated, or wrote some of what bears Scelsi’s imprimatur. And while it’s not too unusual to prohibit publicity photos, emerging anecdotes enhance the Conte d’Ayala Valva’s reputed quirkiness.

But most relevant to this release, Scelsi’s taped Ondiola improvisations (Tosatti’s raw materials) still exist and have been made available. Uli Fussenegger dug into the archives and came up with unused tapes which these composers were asked to explore and score for an ensemble not exceeding Anahit’s demands (solo violin and 18 players).

Klangforum Wien’s collection throbs and slithers. Of course there are eight pieces. The first three, Sculture di suono, MOI, and Un Sogno, resemble a suite. Pelzel’s Sculture produces amazing ensemble sounds, combining opulent chords and deathly rasping. Roth’s title, Moi, points to Tosatti’s assertion, “Scelsi, c’est moi,” but through clear gestures and fewer aggregates, Roth wrestles with the transcriber’s choices. Un sogno adds Murail’s refresh of Scelsi’s multi-tracked noodlings, aligning with Sculture’s smear but with added aura.

We get uniqueness from Haas’ rarefied but scary Introduktion und Transsonation and Sani’s breathy 10-minute Gimme Scelsi with its eerie oboe multiphonics. Some among this octet are more reverential: Sani and Murail write about meeting Scelsi, suggesting what it was like to be in the Roman composer’s orbit. Why do Haas and Sani offer the darkest Scelsi approximations, with works that come closest to chaos?

Another version of Fussenegger’s San Teodoro 8 appeared on Kairos 0015024KAI. At 42:11 this is perhaps the best chance to hear examples of the inspiring tapes and of course the extemporizing composer. A small ensemble (saxophone, cello, double-bass, electric guitar) emulates Scelsi’s raw product and concludes with improvisation.

Lévy’s à tue-tête for buoyant winds starts off as a one-note piece, adding movement, retreating, starting up again, drifting into something jazzy, almost evaporating at the end before a final melee. Berståd’s cardinem might take the assignment most literally, starting with solo violin before plunging into dark spaces, emphasizing different combinations, releasing quirky microtonally inflected chords. At some point during the piece’s flow, it dawns unexpectedly that Berståd is echoing nature, not just Scelsi.

This twofer got me thinking about notation and intention. Would these composers have written similar Scelsi commemorations without the tapes? Probably not. The assignment might not have required to be faithful to Scelsi’s tapes (as presumably Tosatti was) but inspired by them. It would be interesting to hear a composer influenced by Scelsi but not sound like him. Nono’s A Carlo Scarpa, architetto, ai suoi infiniti possibili? B.A. Zimmermann’s Stille und Umkehr? (Decades ago, I wisely abandoned a project, “Scelsi meets Schenker,” which was, you guessed it, orchestrations of Schenkerian analyses in a Scelsi-style.)

Could these composers have written these pieces without having started from Scelsi’s tapes? Haas asserts these Ondiola doodlings are not unlike Beethoven’s sketchbooks. However, we might evaluate the continuation of a Beethoven sketch more objectively, possibly even dismissively, than we consider these eight composers. But what is originality anyway? Celebrating an outsider by copying him inevitably establishes a culture around what was once unique. What might Scelsi have made of that?

“Ars Ad Hoc.” Emmanuel NUNES: Degrés (1965)¹. João MOREIRA: Atropos (2022)². Mariana VIEIRA: String Quartet No. 1 (2023)³. Beat FURRER: intorno al bianco (2016)⁴. Gérard GRISEY: Talea (1986)⁵. Carlos LOPES: TO_mbeau (2023)⁶. Pedro BERARDINELLI: a (2024)⁷. ars ad hoc: Ricardo Carvalho^5,6,7 (fl), Horácio Ferreira^4,5,6,7 (clar), João Casimiro Almeida^5,6,7 (pno), Diogo Coelho^{1,2,3,4,5,6,7}, Matilde Loureiro^3,4 (vln), Ricardo Gaspar^1,2,3,4 (vla), Gonçalo Lélis^{1,2,3,4,5,6,7} (vlc). Neper Music NPM 003 (2 CDs) (www.nepermusic.org).

The ensemble ars ad hoc stakes a claim on the future with commissions and classics in this vigorous seven-piece collection. This is the group’s first recording. The oldest piece here is Nunes’ 1965 string trio, ten connected parts that reflect post-war exploration. Written in a cozy atonal style, the short movements allow for internal repetition and great contrasts, not unlike the scripted spontaneousness of Carter. Why Degrés is not more frequently heard is a mystery and loss.

If exploring chronologically, we must skip to the Furrer and Grisey, two pieces that unfold according to expansive time frames. At 23:41, Furrer’s intorno al bianco describes striving clarinet and string quartet shapes in slow motion, as if tipped off by Scelsi and Lachenmann both. Talea, for the classic ensemble of flute, clarinet, violin, cello and piano, also takes the long view, dramatically alternating fast and slow in a specific harmony with intentional distractions. Both works are offered with passion and excitement.

Moreira’s Atropos, Vieira’s Quartet, Lopes’ TO_mbeau and Berardinelli’s a are the providential results of the ensemble’s commissioning efforts. A string trio like the Nunes, Atropos more aggressively continues the elder composer’s concerns. An extended cello solo separates two sections thick with extended techniques leading to uncomfortable agitation. Vieira’s eight-minute concise and enigmatic string quartet considers the foursome’s mass, “an accentuated crescendo,” through variations that both explore and ignore combined shapes.

Interesting that both Lopes and Berardinelli find their place in the current landscape through commemoration, although TO_mbeau doesn’t explicitly remember a person but considers funereal effects generally. The title’s spelling references topology optimization, the scientific study of optimizing materials within specific spaces, represented instrumentally through emulating digital sound techniques. Such precepts permit Lopes to introduce a Wagnerian flicker without batting an eye. Bernardinelli’s diminutive title means “to,” an elliptical homage to his influences. Bass flute and bass clarinet contribute grotesque colors among gently repeated gestures. Evidently there is much music to be written, but it all starts from somewhere else.