Quotation of a Dream

Quotation of Dream includes seven pieces from the last decade of Takemitsu's life (he died in 1996), including the premiere recording of the title piece. The disc begins and ends with fanfares that, while perhaps effective as aural bookends, are to my ears undistinguished. The music that lies in between, however, is extraordinarily compelling.

Takemitsu's style in these works is generally meditative, with frequent slow, quiet passages, strings predominating. But there are dramatic incidents and color as well: flaring brass, rising like a mountainous island from a tropical sea; raindrops of chimes; drawn-out woodwind lines weaving sinuously through swirls of massed violins. The music sometimes pivots around silent pauses, like the empty spaces in Zen painting. In Quotation of Dream, twin pianos (played by Paul Crossley and Peter Serkin, respectively) dominate the foreground with gentle cascades of notes while orchestral clouds form in the background.

The musical language is often reminiscent of Debussy and Ravel; in mood (though not in technique) it can resemble the slowest and most mysterious moments in music of the second Viennese school (Schoenberg, Berg, Webern et al.). The subtlety and elusiveness probably owe something to the composer's Japanese heritage. But this is no cut-and-paste job; the overall impression is startlingly original.

I have not read the liner notes, and have no idea of what Takemitsu is trying to "say," or what these scores "mean." I would also suggest that those considerations are pretty irrelevant: the important thing is the sound world that he has created, which is both other-worldly and bracing.

Oliver Knussen, a contemporary British composer and a friend of Takemitsu, conducted the London Sinfonietta in these recordings. It is apparent that that he helped the players, who sound expert, get "inside" the music.

Anyone who already knows and appreciates Takemitsu's sensibility need not hesitate to acquire this disc. It can also be recommended for all but the most determinedly "mostly Mozart" classical devotees.

The presentation is not ideal. Deutsche Grammophon has never excelled at digital recordings, and the sound of this disc, while detailed and transparent, is a bit bright and clinical. The disc is contained in one of those cardboard containers that some labels are now trying to get you to accept in lieu of the standard jewel case because it's cheaper to produce (but not cheaper for you to buy). The atmospheric sepia-toned photo on the cover has a fat round sticker on it that shouts "World Premiere Recording"; if you try to peel off the sticker, it leaves ineradicable shreds. The plastic tray with the central claw ring is glued to the cardboard. Take care not to break the plastic, because there is no way you can replace it.

Quotation of Dream includes seven pieces from the last decade of Takemitsu's life (he died in 1996), including the premiere recording of the title piece. The disc begins and ends with fanfares that, while perhaps effective as aural bookends, are to my ears undistinguished. The music that lies in between, however, is extraordinarily compelling.

Takemitsu's style in these works is generally meditative, with frequent slow, quiet passages, strings predominating. But there are dramatic incidents and color as well: flaring brass, rising like a mountainous island from a tropical sea; raindrops of chimes; drawn-out woodwind lines weaving sinuously through swirls of massed violins. The music sometimes pivots around silent pauses, like the empty spaces in Zen painting. In Quotation of Dream, twin pianos (played by Paul Crossley and Peter Serkin, respectively) dominate the foreground with gentle cascades of notes while orchestral clouds form in the background.

The musical language is often reminiscent of Debussy and Ravel; in mood (though not in technique) it can resemble the slowest and most mysterious moments in music of the second Viennese school (Schoenberg, Berg, Webern et al.). The subtlety and elusiveness probably owe something to the composer's Japanese heritage. But this is no cut-and-paste job; the overall impression is startlingly original.

I have not read the liner notes, and have no idea of what Takemitsu is trying to "say," or what these scores "mean." I would also suggest that those considerations are pretty irrelevant: the important thing is the sound world that he has created, which is both other-worldly and bracing.

Oliver Knussen, a contemporary British composer and a friend of Takemitsu, conducted the London Sinfonietta in these recordings. It is apparent that that he helped the players, who sound expert, get "inside" the music.

Anyone who already knows and appreciates Takemitsu's sensibility need not hesitate to acquire this disc. It can also be recommended for all but the most determinedly "mostly Mozart" classical devotees.

The presentation is not ideal. Deutsche Grammophon has never excelled at digital recordings, and the sound of this disc, while detailed and transparent, is a bit bright and clinical. The disc is contained in one of those cardboard containers that some labels are now trying to get you to accept in lieu of the standard jewel case because it's cheaper to produce (but not cheaper for you to buy). The atmospheric sepia-toned photo on the cover has a fat round sticker on it that shouts "World Premiere Recording"; if you try to peel off the sticker, it leaves ineradicable shreds. The plastic tray with the central claw ring is glued to the cardboard. Take care not to break the plastic, because there is no way you can replace it.