Is Pärt a part of your life?

I hate Philip Glass. Every time I go to see a movie that boasts “Soundtrack by Philip Glass” I’m filled with dread. I find his music desperately dull. All repetitive twiddly bits with no real melodies, his pieces drone on and on spoiling whatever we’re watching. The New Yorker summed it up nicely for me:

“Glass never had a good idea he didn’t flog to death: He repeats the haunting scale 30 mind-numbing times, until it’slong past time to go home.”

Another writer, Jan Swafford, phrased it slightly differently:

“Simple rippling lines repeated over and over. In the process the ideas, which are not necessarily interesting to begin with, do not become any more interesting.”

I whole heartedly concur. It’s desperate stuff. But for many people he’s the pinnacle of  modern classical music. These are people who have never listened to Arvo Pärt.

I’ve been introduced to Pärt twice in my life, and the first time, to my regret, I didn’t pay a blind bit of notice. Shame on me. When I worked in Iran in the 1990s, my friend Shahab spent his spare time translating English CD liner notes about Pärt into Farsi for local publication, which I thought was an odd hobby, but hey, each to their own. He implored me to listen to Pärt’s catalogue but I didn’t take the time.

The second time was earlier this year when my wife and I went to see the peerless Tallis Scholars at UBC. It was a thrilling concert, built around the concept of a memorial mass for those killed in war, with each piece coming from a different period and style of votive music. In the middle of it all they sang a piece by Arvo Pärt, and lo my eyes were opened! Yup, as close to a religious epiphany as I’ve ever had.

Now, Pärt is kitchen music for me, but don’t get me wrong. He goes on the Bluetooth when I have an hour of cooking ahead of me and can drift off into the music. He’d probably be a bit miffed to hear that but I’m sure I could make him understand given twenty minutes and a nice G&T.

An Estonian, he’s still alive although knocking on a bit at 83. With a look that’s a cross between Alan Alda and a serial killer, he comes off as a bit sinister but appearances aren’t everything thankfully.

He’s regarded by many music scholars as the greatest living composer on our sorry little planet, despite a difficult early career. Growing up composing music behind the Iron Curtain he faced extensive criticism from the communist censors who eventually banned much of his music. He tried to develop his own style, Tintinnabulation, despite, or perhaps because he was cut off from access to recordings of many modern western composers. In the 1970’s he withdrew almost completely to study the structure of Gregorian chant and choral music from the Middle Ages, and it’s an obvious influence in his later choral pieces.

A wonderful place to start any exploration of Pärt’s choral music, is the Tintinnabuli recording by the Tallis Scholars. Skip the first 7 tracks, save them for later, and go straight to the Magnificat. It’s Pärt’s setting of the Latin Magnificat text, and is roughly 7 minutes long, slightly dissonant in places, quite restrained at the start, but don’t let that fool you. The climax of the piece is truly something. At 2 minutes 30 seconds in on the Tallis Scholars’ recording there comes an incredible crescendo of voices. It’s as close to musical perfection as I’ve heard, and something similar happens again at about 5 minutes. It makes the Magnificat one of the few pieces of music I listen to over and over that induces genuine shivers every time.

Here’s a link to The Erebus Ensemble performing it live. But I urge you to track down the Tallis Scholars version.

And that’s why I hate Philip Glass. He couldn’t make me shiver in deep freeze.