Last month I bought a few music albums.
The only reason I say this is that each one is so good
that I feel obliged, compelled even, to tell you about them. Not to do so would constitute a breach of the
laws of natural justice.
The message I
need to recount is that when the routine act of purchasing goods coincides with
an unforeseen difficulty, it can by dint of chance make life’s problems
bearable.
This is what happened to me in
early July.
Little did I know how serendipity would accompany the act
of placing an order for these four new music recordings. This is because at the time of submitting the
order, I had not expected to be a captive audience at the time of their arrival.
I had received an offer from an on-line retailer (named
after a humungous river in South America).
The message was that they missed me so much that I could have 10%
discount off an order if I spent £50 or more.
Thinking that it would be impolite to decline, I opened
up my so-called “wish-list” of items that had caught my attention and which had
been expanding in recent months.
Anyway,
I fished out two jazz and two classical CDs (as well as a couple of books) from
the list.
Without wishing to digress, am I one of the last people
on earth still buying compact discs?
Most normal people seem to obtain their musical recordings as downloads
and through a range of streaming websites.
The day before the merchandise came into my possession, I
had become grounded – literally and metaphorically. A stupid fall resulted in a cracked rib and
the prescription of a course of painkillers and anti-inflammatory tablets. Initial reaction was to be dumbfounded.
However, the next day following the
appearance of our friendly postman, the mood music changed.
Sitting upright listening to new melodies
would cheer the furrowed brow, hasten recovery.
Better medicine than strong co-codamol.
The outcome, I am delighted to report, is positive. Thanks to the therapeutic power of great
music, the patient's recovery is remarkable.
Each of the new recordings was so good that I am happy to recommend them
with an enthusiasm which knows no restraints.
The smooth and modern style and musical flair of the
American soul singer Melody Gardot reminds
me of contemporary jazz artists like Madeleine Peyroux and Diana Krall.
I have seen Ms Gardot on TV and heard her
played on radio, her performances always dazzling.
The release of her new album, Currency of Man provided the opportunity
to add her belatedly to my collection.
The acquisition of second of my four new discs was
inspired by a recent holiday in Russia.
Visiting St Petersburg, I had hoped that there might be an opportunity
to hear a concert by the Mariinsky
Orchestra and Valery Gergiev.
Alas,
during our short visit, no orchestral performance fitted into the timetable,
although we did see the Mariinsky’s ballet company and musicians.
Not to be deterred, Gergiev and his
magnificent band had released a recording late last year of Mussorsky’s classic Pictures at an Exhibition.
The 68 minute CD included the same composer’s four Songs and Dances of Death as well as Night on Bare Mountain.
Russian power and melody at its very best, quality and quantity. What more could anyone ask for?
The other classical disc I had ordered was by the Czech
genius Antonin Dvorak.
The recording by the Swiss orchestra, the Luzerner Sinfonieorchester, had
received an emphatically brilliant review on its release last year.
The two compositions on the disc are Dvorak’s sixth symphony and my favourite
of his, the Suite in A Major, known as the
American Suite.
Containing 68 minutes of sublime music, this is another CD offering wonderful value for money because of an unstoppable combination of quality and quantity.
Containing 68 minutes of sublime music, this is another CD offering wonderful value for money because of an unstoppable combination of quality and quantity.
The fourth disc was bought on a slight whim, based on a
small report in a weekend supplement about an unknown (to me anyway) American jazz band. The article wasn’t even part of the section
that contains reviews of new releases.
Snarky Puppy the group, it added, is not
widely in vogue in the UK. The journalist
recommended listening to a track on You Tube from a previous album[i].
I did as bade and am happy that I took the
chance. Hooked.
Years ago I similarly discovered
an anarchaic young and boistrous British jazz band called Loose Tubes (remember Django Bates).
Three decades later, Snarky Puppy and their album Sylva is reminiscent of that modern big band sound with tons of the same youthful exuberance thrown in.
Three decades later, Snarky Puppy and their album Sylva is reminiscent of that modern big band sound with tons of the same youthful exuberance thrown in.
This album is another which offers superb value for money
– music of the highest quality and over an hour of listening.
To emphasise the point, the disc includes a
DVD version of the entire album. This
extra was unknown to me when I ordered the product.
The other fascination of Sylva is that the jazz musicians
are backed up by a Dutch orchestra, the
Metropole Orkest.
By
coincidence, one of the highlights of the BBC’s London Proms in 2014 was the
performance in the Royal Albert Hall by Laura Mvula.
The occasion was a new rendition of her
acclaimed debut album released the previous year and entitled Sing to the
Moon.
On the Proms version and also in
the studio album, Ms Mvula is backed up by the Metropole Orkest.
The melodic beauty and the sheer bravado of her performance of her haunting song Father Father mesmerizes me.
Experiencing the genius of such artists with abundant
musical talent really does affirm life. It
provides an antidote to negative global events.
Rather than being escapism, it uplifts the human spirit as a force for good, to get out there and do something about it.
Rather than being escapism, it uplifts the human spirit as a force for good, to get out there and do something about it.
When
jazz performers and orchestral professionals come together like this, the
expertise of creative people brings pure joy and inspiration to positive work and living.
©Michael McSorley 2015
