Friday, January 1, 2010

Day 1 with Yo-Yo Ma

I decided to spend a little down time today after much eating and Wii researching some of the suggestions I have received for this so called Year of Classical.

My father spoke very highly of Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach's Suite in G. Part of the Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello. Rather than think of Bach or music history, this was more of a chance to hear Yo-Yo Ma.

First impressions: I know of Yo-Yo Ma and his status as a virtuoso. I can hear the musical hurtles he has to jump through. At times all the mastery and skill fades into the background and the feeling seeps through with every bit of the music. I didn't want to overthink it, so I listened to both albums once through. Overall I loved it for it's quiet strength. Bold and groaning lines of music making strong bass vibrations in everything. A very good Day 1.

Album information from Amazon below:

Bach: The Cello Suites Inspired By Bach, From The Six-Part Film Series / Yo-Yo Ma Though they were long misunderstood as mere technical hurdles, Bach's six suites for unaccompanied cello are among those rare works of music that offer inexhaustible rewards for performer and listener alike. Yo-Yo Ma gave a pathbreaking account of the suites back in the '80s (Suites for Unaccompanied Cello ) but returns to them here impelled by a unique and interdisciplinary approach. For this project, Ma engaged the talents of artists in different fields--ranging from a landscape artist to a Kabuki actor and figure skaters--to produce six short films as a visual correlative for the highly distinctive character of each suite. While the success of the films in illuminating Bach's creativity is decidedly uneven, Ma brings the music itself to life with a searing, quasi-vocal eloquence. His interpretations are probing, characterized by imaginative bowing and attention to the spacious architecture of Bach's score. This is especially clear in Ma's preference for broad, expansive tempos and patient spinning of filigreed detail. True, the generally Romantic cast of his conception can seem overdone and exaggerated in statement, as if Ma is more intent on overlaying his own personality on the discipline of the music. But the prayerful, meditative concentration he brings to the Sarabandes--listen to the single-lined, anguished tone painting in Suite 5--is utterly convincing. There is a sense of profound introspection here, while in the Sarabande of Suite 6 Ma's phrasing suggests we are in the same spiritual terrain as Beethoven's late quartets. Yet there is no lack of blistering energy and extroverted high spirits in some of the more overtly dance-oriented movements. While purists may complain of distortion in these accounts, Ma once again proves he has something vital to say with this music. --Thomas May

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