Sarah Bassingthwaighte: Orchestrating the Wild
Aria Classics

A better title for composer Sarah Bassingthwaighte's release than Orchestrating the Wild would be hard to imagine. From a cover image that references nature's capacity for inducing spiritual replenishment to compositions that celebrate the splendour of the natural world, the album is one that in a perfect world would only be performed outdoors—even if the music itself is unquestionably evocative enough to conjure the settings when presented indoors. Certainly the Canadian-American composer benefits from the involvement of the London Symphony Orchestra, as world-renowned an ensemble as there is, and the dedicated contributions conductors Jonathan Pasternack and Bobby Collins and double bass soloist Steve Schermer bring to the project.

A flutist, author, and educator (at Seattle Pacific University) as well as award-winning composer, Bassingthwaighte broaches nature from four angles in works inspired by the sea, a cave, a cape, and sparrows. Whereas the ones conducted by Collins—Cape Flattery Symphonic Poem, A Mountain Symphony, and Let There Be Sparrows, then—reference nature-related phenomena directly, the one conducted by Pasternack, Concerto for Double Bass and Orchestra, doesn't. Titles aside, Bassingthwaighte's pieces register as vivid tone paintings that in myriad ways call the mystery and magnificence of the natural world to mind.

A case in point, the overture-like Cape Flattery Symphonic Poem begins with blustery bursts of energy that suggest the wild, untamed power of nature. Inhabited by the Macah Tribe (for approximately 3800 years), Cape Flattery is located at the northwestern corner of the continental United States. On a peaceful day, seals and whales swim in its sparkling waters; when storms arise, the winds pick up and waves crash against rocky shores—a panorama of activity Bassingthwaighte conveys musically in her seven-minute treatment. Terrifying moments alternate with tremulous ones as the composer and the LSO's sections translate into musical form the vibrancy and primordial energy of the place. While gestures suggesting birds fluttering and fish jumping bring the setting vividly to life, the writing more generally captures the majesty of the locale.

Her three-part Concerto for Double Bass and Orchestra ventures through multiple emotional states, including grief, playfulness, and resilience, and makes full use of Schermer's virtuosic command. With an opening movement marked “Lachrymae,” the concerto naturally begins mournfully with waves of grief expressed in the outpourings of both the soloist and the orchestra. Schermer's playing, much of it concentrated in the lower register, suggests someone desperately grasping for meaning and longing for clarity to reinstate itself after being derailed by the death of a loved one. The less downcast “Scherzo” accentuates the more playful and irreverent sides of the double bass, especially when it's partnered with castanets, woodblocks, and marimba and the rhythms are jazzy and syncopated. Pizzicato and bent notes also enliven the music as Schermer wends a serpentine route through the LSO's thickets of percussion and strings. Exploding with energy, the tempestuous “Pesante feroce” ushers the work to a climax with furious bowing by the soloist and agitated flourishes by the orchestra.

Formally speaking a set of seven short variations on Buxtehude's seventeenth-century Passacaglia in D minor, Let There Be Sparrows, then (the title taken from the poem “At the Solstice” by Shaun O'Brien) opens resonantly with the passacaglia theme voiced by vibraphone before the arrangement opens up to include strings as it segues into its second variation, this one distinguished by solo trumpet and melting strings and fluttering flute. Transitions from one variation to the next are blurred, even if changes are identified when different solo instruments and orchestra sections move to the fore. Strings erupt torrentially to cast the theme in a grotesque light, after which the full ensemble explodes in a firestorm. Things gradually settle down as a solo trumpet delivers a melancholy statement and the music eases into a becalmed outro of woodwinds, strings, piano, vibraphone, and harp.

At album's close, Bassingthwaighte pays homage to the breathtaking Cascade Mountains of Washington State with the two-part A Mountain Symphony. Literally composed in a little tent in a cave overlooking Spider Glacier and the valley below at an elevation of 7995 feet, the work draws for inspiration from the rivers, birds, insects, and fresh air at the site whilst also acknowledging the dangers posed by the bears, moose, and wolves within the area. Sounds she heard while at the site were woven into the writing, from the crack of a glacier to the cascade of a nearby waterfall. As it is throughout the recording, Bassingthwaighte's command of orchestration is evident in the duet between oboe and English horn that initiates “Flowing” before ceding the stage to woodwinds and strings. After a lyrical violin solo guides us into the woods, the trip pushes through patches of dense undergrowth before epic views of the site induce awe-inspiring wonder. Joyful appreciation for the splendour of the flora and fauna of the setting emerges in “Pesante,” as well as humble acceptance of the small place we occupy in nature's world.

July 2025