San Francisco Classical Voice

And lo and behold, in his later years, Crumb is actually embarking on a new stylistic period. Perhaps another parallel can be made with Edgard Varèse, whose productivity fell likewise in mid-career (indeed, in his case pretty much stopped) until new inspiration came his way. For Varèse it was new technology. For Crumb it seems a new take on life. If George seemed obsessed with death in middle age, he now appears to be merrily whistling in the dark in his later years.

Certainly there was always humor and vernacular in Crumb, but in more veiled contexts. Now in such works as Eine Kleine Mitternachtmusik (A Little Midnight Music) (2002), played vibrantly by pianist Robert Shannon, the wit is right out there in front. While these subtitled Ruminations on “Round Midnight by Thelonious Monk” fit into Crumb's tradition of borrowed music, one cannot imagine this material being utilized in an earlier decade. J.S. Bach, Chopin, and Appalachian folk tunes, sure. But adding the bebopper to Wagner, R. Strauss, and Debussy here is both poignant and hilarious.

As Crumb himself would say in his West Virginia drawl, "Gosh." Mundus Canis (A Dog's World) (1998) took similar intriguing terms as five Humoresques for Guitar and Percussion, inspired by five dogs in the composer's household over the years. Expert guitarist David Starobin was only slightly upstaged by Crumb's own quirky percussionism, limited to a few timbres per movement. The maracas recalled "Ghost Dance" from Ancient Voices of Children; the water gongs, a take-your-pick from previous works. The pan drum made for nice counterpoint against the beating of the guitar body; the claves almost echoed an out-of-sync Steve Reich; and the final movement's guiro, castanets, and stentorian cries of "Yoda" (the last pet's name) were almost a parody of the "Christe" movement in Makrokosmos, Volume I. "Bad dog!" Crumb concludes, getting away with a belly laugh that he would not have dared earlier. He's old enough not to care; free enough to do whatever he wants; savvy enough to anticipate a joke on himself.

Lithe and dramatic (in the literal sense) soprano Tony Arnold was heard to marvelous and mysterious effects in the very early Three Early Songs (1947). How early? More than a decade before anything else Crumb has allowed to see print — the next work, Five Pieces, dates from 1962, so the 50's are an absolute wash. But even in '47, here is a youthful Crumb preoccupied by overtone drones, ostinato, sensuous soprano filigree, careful concern for clear melody and striking consonant-and-dissonant harmony. Arnold and Shannon's other collaboration, Apparition of 1979, just at the end of Crumb's most masterful decade, has never sounded better. Whatever mannerisms there be just might be good style by now. And that style is continuing in new directions, as suggested by the marvelous folk-song setting (a taste of Crumb's largest work to date) that concluded as an encore from all four performers.

Bernard Rands connects with Crumb in one of the three ambitious and impressive song cycles that constitute the Canti Trilogy, inspired by sun and moon and their eclipse, that being the Canti Lunatici (Moon Songs) (1980), sung in pure wonderful lunatic fashion by the beautiful and energetic soprano Janna Baty. Wild leaps and laughs, amplified whispers (but never, alas, amplified singing), sudden schizophrenic structural breaks all conspire to keep the listener rapt. Fine, if more measured, performances were also registered by tenor William Hite in Canti del Sole (1984) and bass Daniel Cole in Canti dell'Eclisse (1992), which served as bookends to the paradoxically hot-cool lunacy. Texts, in multiple languages, and emphasis on angularity, color, craft, texture, and individual word-painting over through-line put much of this solidly in a common-practice academic modernist camp — a certain kind of excellence that has often won praise amongst peers.

The Boston Modern Orchestra Project, expertly conducted by a somewhat mannered Gil Rose (what about those third beats and pocket-glasses?), turned in top-notch performances throughout in a colorful yet spare presentation of flute, clarinet, trumpet, trombone, piano, percussion (massive amounts, almost always understated, from two players), violin, viola, cello, and bass.