SAYGUN
Suite,
op. 2:
Theme and Variations (revised version).
Sketches on Aksak Rhythms
,
op. 58.
From Anatolia,
op. 25.
Inci’s Book,
op. 10.
Études on Aksak Rhythms,
op. 38:
Nos. 3, 4, 5, 7, 10
•
Kathryn Woodard (pn)
•
ALBANY TROY1168 (56: 14)
To plunge oneself into the heart of music as unfamiliar as this creates a certain amount of cultural disorientation, yet probably no worse than when Turkish listeners heard Mozart’s
Abduction from the Seraglio
and wondered what on earth that had to do with
their
music. Ahmed Adnan Saygun, acknowledged dean of Turkish composers and long viewed in that country as a bridge between East and West, based much of his aesthetic on those Western composers who taught him (d’Indy) and those whose music he admired (Bartók). Emotionally, I find the music a little remote for my aesthetic, but rhythmically and harmonically, it’s wonderful.
Since this music is a little strange it’s likewise hard to describe in words. It is not overly complex in terms of structure—that much will be accessible to Western ears—as it is in terms of harmony and rhythm, which is quite exotic to these ears. Of course, the same could be said 50 years ago of the music of Bartók himself, which took quite a while to catch on. These two composers shared a passion for blending indigenous folk themes and rhythms into classical structures, a trait that American composers have only really dabbled in with the exception of one whose music is generally marginalized by classical buffs, Charles Mingus. Turkish music being virtually unknown in the West, however, somewhat inhibits our appreciation of Saygun’s accomplishment, brilliant though it is.
Perhaps the best word I can use to describe these pieces is eclectic, though that is almost a cop-out. Kathryn Woodard wrote the liner notes herself, and she does a better job of describing the rhythmic complexities than I, yet even she has a difficult time putting this music into words. “Are the simple ornamental lines of ‘Masal’ [in
Inci’s Book
] to be heard as Phrygian mode or Kürdi makam, or some combined reference to ancient Phrygia in central Anatolia?” she asks, leaving the question unanswered. As for the pieces themselves,
Inci’s Book,
a suite for children, is not only the most accessible but also perhaps the best guide to his approach for a neophyte listener, while
From Anatolia,
influenced by Bartók, is one suite Western ears will find congenial to their experience. I personally found the
10 Sketches on Aksak Rhythms
(“aksak,” Turkish for “limping,” generally refers to the irregular meters of both Anatolian folk music and Ottoman art music) interesting and inviting, while the études seemed to me the most remote.
Woodard’s pianism is clear and lucid. She plays deep in the keys to produce a warm tone, but with little or no pedal. In some pieces I feel a lack of sparkle, yet her goal seems to me to be to present the structure of Saygun’s music clearly, and that she accomplishes beautifully. Having not heard the alternate recordings of
From Anatolia
or
Inci’s Book
by pianist Zeynep Űçbaşaran (Naxos 8.570746), or
10 Sketches
by either Űçbaşaran or Joel Fan (on Reference Recordings 106), I can’t say which would be preferable, but this is certainly a worthy introduction to the music of a neglected master.
Lynn René Bayley
