Daniel Hass: Love & Levity
Sono Luminus

American cellist Daniel Hass has studied, lived, and worked in New York for over a decade, during which time he's absorbed the city's cultural scenes in all their eclectic glory and played in classical and non-classical contexts. So it comes as no great surprise that when he decided to take a crack at composing, the resultant album of original concert music would reflect the diversity of genres he'd been immersing himself in and absorbing for years. That said, the two chamber works aren't as wildly eclectic as one might expect: they're both solidly grounded in the classical tradition of his early musical training, though elements of other forms—jazz and contemporary songwriting to name two—make their presence felt, if allusively.

Composed in the sweltering summer of 2021 during the isolating days of the pandemic, Hass bided his time reading books in his apartment while waiting hopefully for the gloom to lift. Inspired by a story in Murakami's debut novel Hear the Wind Sing, his attempt at writing music began with improvising at the piano, sessions that proved fruitful enough that parts found their way into the piano quartet, and after completing it he moved on to the album's other piece, the titular string quartet. As its “Love & Levity” name intimates, there's a pronounced romantic dimension in play but lightness and humour too. The Renaissance Quartet hadn't officially formed yet, but Hass knew he was writing it for violinists Randall Goosby and Jeremiah Blacklow and violist Jameel Martin, his fellow members in the nascent group. Friends since childhood and long-time collaborators, the four show themselves to be the ideal emissaries for Hass's bold conception.

Movement titles such as “Love,” “Hermit's Waltz,” and, of course, “Levity” personalize Hass's first string quartet beyond the writing itself, though the composition does adhere to a four-movement sonata structure. Following an unabashedly romantic intro, the luscious opening part “Love” advances through episodes that seemingly draw from folk music, Reich-ian pulsation, and rock, the wild, eleven-minute thrill-ride held together by the enthusiasm with which the four execute it. The playfulness that in moments arises in the first part is more pronounced in the scherzo, “Hermit's Waltz,” which swings with a jazzy and jaunty élan. The expansive “Largo” offers a solemn and elegiac counterpoint to the carefree breeziness of the scherzo, after which the concluding “Levity” part leaps into position with furious animation, its fire heated by bluegrass sawing and a driving unison attack. The movement's vertiginous swirl makes for a dizzying resolution to the work.

Hass assembled a different set of players for the piano quartet, with violinist Valerie Kim, violist Brian Hong, and pianist Han Chen partnering with him on the four-part piece. In contrast to the string quartet, this one's movement titles aren't personalized, though the music still reflects Hass's sensibility and its performance is as inspired. The opening “Allegro moderato” perpetuates the romantic character of the opening work and is as wide-ranging. Daring harmonic gestures are a central part of the mix and lend the material a destabilizing quality, but a lyrical outpouring or two also emerges. Speaking of fury, the quartet's vicious “Con fuoco” movement plays like skin being torn from the body; low-register piano rumblings appear alongside convulsive violins—until cacophony's replaced by a serene, lyrical passage wholly diametric to it in tone. The siren-like wail of the intro returns, however, to draw the movement to a grinding close. Relief thankfully comes in the slow “Rubato - Con moto” movement, which, though woozy in places, is generally a soothing and delicate thing of beauty. The concluding movement, marked “Allegro leggiero,” blossoms like some brilliant flower with one rapturous declamation after another—Romanticism taken to an extreme.

January 2026