An evening of powerful music.
There is a certain might in music, the way it fills the space, that elusive moment of resonance in a room of strangers. As part of the Memory Unwrapped series at King’s Place, Solem Quartet shows us music in all its might. They transport us to war-torn landscapes, visions of teenage whimsy, and the ecstatic worlds within Kate Bush’s song book.
Opening the night is Steve Reich’s seminal work of minimalism, “Different Trains”. The work, which mixes archival voice recordings with sounds of speeding trains as well as live (and pre-recorded) strings, is a meditation on Reich’s childhood spent taking trains between New York to Los Angeles. When considering his experience, Reich noted that had he been living in Europe at the same period, as a Jew, he would’ve been boarding very different trains.
The work pulsates with life and is immensely unforgiving to any musician not up to the task of keeping up with the unrelenting engine or melodic quirks, which imitate the spoken recordings. The quartet are totally up to scratch in their rendition, almost athletic in their approach, taking each change of meter totally in their stride, joining each other’s new phrases like a relay team. As the second movement, with its wailing sirens of concentration camps and electronic shrieks, rears its ugly head the quartet never waver into melodrama. The amplified voices and strings feel stifling and unescapable — the work is really as theatrical as one can get within the minimalist canon. It’s a beast of a piece, one that Solem Quartet conquers with aplomb.
After a short interval we are granted some levity with contributions from composer/singer Alice Zawadzki. Her style is undoubtedly compositional, evident in just how well put-together the string arrangements are, but also earthy and folky. The barefoot Zawadzki stamps out rhythms and sings with a fresh honesty, particularly in ‘Ring of Fire’, an ode to teenage drinking — “I dont care, I don’t fucking care, for I’ll never be sober as she”. It’s a major tonal shift from Reich’s work, but manages to have the room rapt, listening intently to all of her musings and confessions.
Ending the night is Zawadzki singing us through highlights of Kate Bush’s discography, with arrangements from second violinist Will Newell. It’s a tough task, finding something new in songs held so dear in the popular culture. Newell often finds a certain gliteriness to Bush’s compositions, and steers clear from Bridgerton territory. However, particularly with songs that occupy such a firm space in the zeitgeist like “Running up that Hill”, you’re fighting a tough battle — that engrossing pulse is lost. Zawadzki however pulls out the tender and autobiographical in Bush’s lyrics. “Man with the Child in His Eyes” is laden with impatience and uncertainty, “Hounds of Love” is all silly abandon. While it’s a long leap from the holocaust, and gives a little bit of thematic whiplash, it is enough to leave us home with a bit of joy. What a rare thing that is in these times.