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Works for solo guitar from Spain to
Poland
Grzegorz Krawiec, guitar
M•A Recordings M068A
Albert Simon: There is so much
originality, such talent, such an array of
guitar textures on this album that it is
unlike any other solo guitar recording
I have heard. Discovering Grzegorz
Krawiec (pronounced Kraviets) is finding
a musical treasure where one hoped
for merely a good concert. And having
it recorded with M•A Recordings’ now
famous sound quality is a joy.
You can hear the size of the space
where the 24-bit/96 kHz recording
took place, St. Mark Church in Krakow,
Poland. It is ideally suited for the warm
resonance of Krawiec’s instrument, and
you can almost see the hand floating
above the instrument as the sound of the
last string fades into the wide silence.
The choice of compositions takes
us on a journey from the 19 th to the 21 st
Century. We travel through Europe from
Spain to France, Germany, Hungary and
Poland. Krawiec chose Tarrega for the
first pieces, a set of variations known
as Variations on the Carnival of Venice by
Paganini, based on the Venetian song O
mamma, mamma cara; eight variations
rivaling in originality and freshness and
introducing the extraordinary talent of
this young musician.
France’s Francis Kleynjans is the
next composer featured here with his
À l’aube du dernier jour (At Dawn of the
Last Day), a 1980 composition referring
70 ULTRA HIGH FIDELITY Magazine
Software Reviews
by Steve Bourke,
Gerard Rejskind and
Albert Simon
to the final morning of a prisoner before
he is led to the guillotine. I was amazed
at this intensely descriptive writing
for the guitar. I listened, mesmerized,
to the clock’s ever present tic-toc, the
ominous chime, the guard’s footsteps
approaching, yes approaching, from
piano to forte, the sudden silence,
the key turning twice in the lock, the
heavy cell door actually creaking as it
slowly opens — I’m not making this up,
Krawiec plays it all on his guitar. And
all combined with fabulous musical lines
for this solo instrument, as the prisoner’s
mind wanders desperately from hope and
nostalgia to melancholy to the sudden
hardness of now. It ends abruptly with a
shock.
In contrast, the next pieces are a
lovely set of two 1984 compositions
by Italian guitarist Nuccio D’Angelo,
Due canzoni lidie, for which he won first
prize at the Festival of Contemporary
Music in Tokyo. It yields a fresh insight
into modern European writing for the
guitar (so different, it seems, from contemporary
South American composers).
We are then given a fascinating glimpse
of the potential of beauty and variety
of atonality as handled by Germany’s
Werner Henze in his Drei Tentos, three
short pieces written in 1958.
Then it’s east to Hungary, and back in
time to Kaspar Mertz’s romantic Elegie, a
delightful 19 th century musical story told
on the guitar with just the right amount
of restrained emotion.
Arrival in Poland. The 2002 composition
Reminiscencje was dedicated to
Krawiec by Sylwester Laskowski. It is a
set of six miniatures, “…full of gratitude
for six very important young women in
his (the composer’s) life … the last one
reflects on the most important one, his
wife (whew, I better add that, just in case
she reads UHF). Did I mention how fresh
and lovely they all are? The miniatures,
of course.
The CD ends with the sweet Mozart
aria La ci darem la mano from Don Giovanni,
followed by a set of six variations
composed by 19 th Century Polish guitarist
Bobrowicz, a true delight.
And so is the sound, another recording
masterpiece of a solo instrument by
MA Recordings.
Vivaldi: Sonate E Concerti
Loiselle and Boucher
Atma ACD22568
Steve Bourke: Because Vivaldi wrote
often for the cello, rarely for the organ,
but never for the two of them combined,
these sonatas and concertos are
transcriptions, music adapted from that
written for other instruments. As such
the novelty of a full scale organ playing
beside a cello is refreshing. It’s a stimulating
change from the usual piano or
harpsichord that is so often paired with
the cello. They each play the melody and
accompaniment, weaving them back and
forth, always with the logical drive and
vigor that is Vivaldi’s trademark. Sometimes
the organ is subdued and gentle,
blending beautifully, never overwhelming
its musical partner. Then it becomes
powerful and proud. Waiting patiently
as the cello recedes, it then steps forward
and dominates for a time. Occasionally
the two seem as one, becoming a third
hybrid instrument with a unique timbre,
especially in the upper octaves.
I found myself anticipating these
highlights in particular, but they came
and went too quickly. I wanted the next