**MICHELL** · Song of the Angel and Other Works
Edna Michell, violin; Czech Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra / Lukas Foss
EMI CDC 5 56804 2 (79:00 · CD) · Rec. 1997–99, Dvořák Hall, Prague; American Academy, Berlin
The genesis of this sprawling anthology—fifteen commissioned works clustered around Menuhin’s ideal of “universal compassion“—possesses an almost touching naïveté that the late violinist himself would have embraced without hesitation. Edna Michell’s question to her mentor during that nocturnal drive between Prague and Vienna in 1990 set in motion something genuinely well-intentioned, though the musical results scatter across a wider aesthetic landscape than Michell’s program notes might suggest.
That Menuhin conducted these pieces in London mere weeks before his death in March 1999 lends the project an elegiac weight. His belief that they “create a very special ambience” when performed together reflects his characteristic generosity of spirit—though one suspects even he recognized that commissioning fifteen composers to address compassion through solo and chamber violin writing would yield more noble sentiment than memorable music.
The performances themselves are beyond reproach. Michell commands considerable technical resources and an admirable tonal purity, particularly in John Tavener’s “Song of the Angel,” where her sustained lines achieve that peculiar suspended animation Tavener’s music requires. When joined by colleagues of the caliber of Shlomo Mintz and Ulf Hoelscher, the ensemble numbers acquire genuine authority—the Czech Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra under Lukas Foss brings unexpected bite to his own Romance, which stands among the disc’s more substantial offerings.
But substance proves elusive across these seventy-nine minutes.
The established names deliver precisely what one expects. Henze’s “"Adagio" "adagio"” unfolds with his characteristic harmonic sophistication, the melodic material genuinely affecting without descending into sentiment. Kurtág’s “Ligatura“—brief, concentrated, utterly characteristic—shows how compression can intensify expression. Wolfgang Rihm’s “Cantilena” explores that middle ground between lyricism and fragmentation he’s mined for decades, though here the balance tips toward accessibility.
Then there’s Philip Glass. His Echorus, featuring Allen Ginsberg’s performance of “Wales Visitation,” manages the dubious achievement of making both poet and composer seem diminished. Glass’s relentless C major arpeggiation doesn’t accompany Ginsberg’s evocative text so much as compete with it—and lose. The great Beat poet’s distinctive cadences deserve silence or genuine musical partnership; this sounds like underscore from a particularly uninspired documentary.
More impressive are works by the less-familiar composers. Chen Yi’s “Romance of Hsiao and Chin” draws on Chinese traditional materials without exoticizing them, the violin and cello dialogue (Michal Kanka plays with radiant restraint) achieving genuine dramatic shape. Shulamit Ran’s “Yearning” explores microtonal inflections that sound genuinely expressive rather than merely experimental—Patricia Rozario’s soprano floats above Michell’s violin with remarkable unanimity of purpose.
Betty Olivero’s “Achòt Ketana” (“Little Sister”) distinguishes itself for its structural clarity and emotional directness. Here the Mediterranean melodic contours feel organic rather than applied, the piece building to a climax that earns its intensity. Olivero understands that compassion in music needn’t mean passivity.
Xenakis’s “Hunem-Iduhey” presents the collection’s greatest challenge—and its most honest confrontation with contemporary reality. This is no gentle meditation but rather an acknowledgment that compassion must grapple with violence, chaos, the very forces it seeks to counter. Michell attacks the formidable technical demands with fierce commitment, though one wonders how this bristling, uncompromising music fits Menuhin’s vision of “an antidote to the chaotic times we live in.” Perhaps it’s the most truthful response here.
Steve Reich’s “Duet” closes the program with characteristic rhythmic vitality, Michell joined by Igor Ardaev in a brief, motoric conversation that feels oddly disconnected from what preceded it. The piece works on its own terms—Reich at this level of invention rarely disappoints—but as a conclusion to this particular anthology it simply stops.
The recording quality varies across the three venues and two-year span, though EMI’s engineers maintain reasonable consistency. The Dvořák Hall acoustic suits the larger ensemble pieces, while the more intimate American Academy sessions capture the solo violin with almost excessive presence—one occasionally longs for a bit more surrounding air.
Christopher Fifield’s original review rightly notes that “the pedigree of all composers… has resulted in good music of a high standard which deserves careful listening.” True enough. But high standards and careful listening also reveal that thematic unity doesn’t guarantee aesthetic coherence. These fifteen pieces, however nobly conceived, resist the unified “special ambience” Menuhin hoped for.
What remains is a historical document of considerable interest—a snapshot of compositional approaches circa 1990–2000, filtered through one violinist’s admirable if somewhat idealistic vision. Michell’s technical command and musical intelligence shine throughout, and several individual works merit repeated hearing. But the whole never quite transcends its parts, leaving us with an honorable failure rather than the transformative statement its genesis promised.
One imagines Menuhin himself would have accepted this outcome with characteristic grace, understanding that the attempt to embody compassion through art matters as much as the achievement. In this case, perhaps more.
