Doublestop Magazine

Asturiana — A Review

by Steph Johnson

Asturiana: Songs from Spain and Argentina
Kim Kashkashian
Robert Levin
ECM New Series
www.ecmrecords.com

I play the viola. I do not play the viola well; certainly not as well as I might like. Then again, I have neglected my theory—as well as the theory that one ought to read and practice music in order to play it. So, the sounds I manage to coax from my inflexible, decrepit, albeit functional instrument are less delicate, less refined, generally less than the music I hear in my head. And, as intrepid editor Karl suggests, hearing the viola—really hearing the viola with its rich tonal shifts and languid musicality—outside of one’s own head is rare.

Asturiana: Songs from Spain and Argentina is not exactly the violist’s platform either. Kim Kashkashian (viola) and Robert Levin (piano) were not intending to make it so in producing this collection of songs. Rather, they were attempting to translate song—even the singing voice, the words of music—into a collaboration for piano and viola. Their partnership, over the course of several years, writing, crafting and performing songs on Asturiana, has resulted in an effort where neither instrument takes center stage. And that is the magic in the music. These are largely love songs and songs of loss, if you read their translations in the liner notes. But reading the lyrics is almost irrelevant, “For when feelings are profound, / Torments are sweet” (from La Maja Dolorosa). As these songs unfold in their almost cinematic way, the listener already understands what is at stake.

Nevertheless, we do hear the viola. And we hear it in a profound and beautiful way. Kashkashian and Levin respond to one another not as performers might, deferring some phrases, and then striding again to the front. But as lovers; the beloved coaxing and encouraging. Each song capitalizes on the give and take: the silences (which are music) and the heavy, yearning multiple stops that pull the narrative forward.

Of course, I have my favorites. The opening track (and album title), Asturiana, seems to set the tone for the entire collection and leads easily into the following four-song set translated from composer Enrique Granados. Arguably, the darker, more yearning melodies speak to my violist’s heart (Triste, tracks 7 and 19). (Ah, the sublime and melancholy lower registers.) It is a testament to this collection of songs, unique and divergent as it is that Kashkashian and Levin have created a unified sound. As if each grouping of songs is a movement or, perhaps more accurately, scenes. One of the most effective ways they have achieved this is by the notable repetition of certain melodies, La rosa y el sauce, for example, arranged from Carlos Guastavino’s original, tracks 6 and 24. These repeat performances are beautifully nuanced and provide a thoughtful structure to the album.

As the collection draws to a close, Kashkashian and Levin finish with two pieces translated from composer Carlos López Buchardo, Prendiditos de la mano and Oye mi llanto. The first is so exuberant—Kashkashian and Levin obviously relish playing this piece—I had the sense that the final song of the collection ran like so many movie credits. Of course, beginning and ending on a similar, thoughtful note makes sense, and in Oye, that note is achieved. In any case, read the lyrics in the liner notes for these two songs and you seem to wrap up the entire experience of love: perplexing and absurd, a joy and a sorrow. The experience of such music is a pleasure.