Marjan Mozetich: The Complete Piano Music (3 Pieces for Piano; At the Temple; Tremors). Jeremy Samolesky, piano. Centaur CRC4104.
I don't suppose that this amazing recording will fly across too many people's radars, what with the umpteen new releases of well-trodden repertoire by major labels dominating classical music promotions. But I'm not exaggerating when I say that it suddenly counts among the discoveries of the 2020s for me. 48 hours ago, I didn't know who Canadian (ethnically Slovenian) composer Marjan Mozetich is. Now I'm ready to say that his piano works, and the short cycle At the Temple in particular, absolutely belong on the programs of audience-pleasing performers. Like much of the music we enjoy, Mozetich's betrays some strong influences: I'm especially conscious of his debts to minimalism, as well as the music of Debussy, Ravel, and Scriabin. But there's also a unique personality here that transcends those models while consolidating their gains. In other words, Mozetich builds on pre-existing elements to create something very much his own.
We begin with 3 Pieces for Piano, which comprise a Prelude, an Adagietto, and a concluding Toccata. Composed in 1984, this is the earliest selection included. The Prelude is harp-like, consisting largely of arpeggiated figures and a shifting kaleidoscope of harmonies and inflections. This strongly reminds one of Debussy, but with maybe just a bit something more. It's a beautiful, resplendent piece. Debussy's influence also weighs in the Toccata, which superficially recalls "The Snow is Dancing" from Children's Corner. If the listener were to stop here and remark that this suite is merely mock-Debussy, he'd be premature. For the middle Adagietto is what distinguishes the set. Mozetich has a keen feeling for moods of quietude and mystery, and this slow number delivers both. But two-thirds of the way through, when one expects a return to the plaintive opening theme, we get an extended, cluster-like surge of notes in the lower register of the piano, played almost as if they're strummed. In another setting this might come across as noisy and gimmicky, but it absolutely works here. When we finally do return to A-section material, the payoff is all the better.
According to Mozetich's website, Tremors was composed for the 2014 Montreal International Music Competition. All 24 contestants had to play the piece in the quarter round. I would be interested indeed to hear their different interpretations, which stand to sound quite different from one another. On Spotify, Tremors also has the subtitle homage to Ligeti. Certainly one hears echoes of the late Hungarian's music, especially his own piano études. I also make out Scriabin's Vers la flamme. But again, these influences are absorbed into something accessible that is Mozetich's own.
I was quite unprepared for how hard At the Temple hit me. This composition, which takes 'quietude and mystery' to whole new level, was the result of a 2001 commission from the Ontario Arts Council. But that circumstance doesn't really account for its outsized inspiration. There are four movements, arranged curiously as follows: Ia. Through the Temple Gate, II. Supplication, III. Communion, and Ib. Through the Temple Gate. I don't really know what Mozetich had in mind here, but this order suggests a person entering a temple, praying, partaking of the indicated sacrament, and exiting at the end. The music often employs what I would call post-minimalist structures reliant upon repetition, ease of change, and soft dissonances. Loud moments are few, and mostly associated with bursts of splendor in the "gate" sections. I struggle to more precisely describe the musical materials, which are stylistically contemporary but wholly inviting. However, I can tell you what they clearly made me see in my mind's eye: a blurred vision (like an impressionist painting) of a sanctuary in a far-off time and place, where a humble parishioner enters into rapt spiritual communication with the Deity. The whole thing is absolutely breathtaking and I can't get enough of it lately. I'm calling it a 21st-century masterpiece of the piano literature.
One of the reasons I love classical music is making discoveries like this. But I wouldn't have come across At the Temple if not for the enterprising spirit of pianist Jeremy Samolesky, whose deep feeling for sonority is an ideal fit for it, and the mission of the Centaur label to make such fare available. This is why I've become convinced that great music doesn't just magically rise to the top by itself. It requires the hard work of advocacy, and the ability to convert others to seeing what one finds so compelling in a musical object. It requires organizations and companies that are willing to risk low sales, and perhaps ultimate obscurity, in order to give something a chance. Finally, it needs listeners committed to exploring off of the beaten path. Maybe there's not a masterpiece waiting to be found under every rock. But it's worth looking under many just to find one special piece. Yet again, I'm glad I did.
Highly Recommended
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