Iceland Symphony Orchestra: Occurrence
Sono Luminus

María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir: Kom vinur
Sono Luminus

In being the third and final instalment in the series featuring works by contemporary Icelandic composers, Occurrence brings to a close a remarkable collaboration involving the Iceland Symphony Orchestra, conductor Daníel Bjarnason, and Sono Luminus. The series rewards most, of course, when all three releases are absorbed, yet Occurrence proves wholly satisfying as a stand-alone when pieces by five different composers are presented (only one no longer with us). Adding to the recording's appeal, violinist Pekka Kuusisto and flutist Mario Caroli separately appear as soloists on the release's two longest compositions, Bjarnason's Violin Concerto and Thuridur Jónsdóttir's Flutter, respectively.

Literal as well as thematic connections tie the trilogy together when three of the composers—Bjarnason, Jónsdóttir, and Haukur Tómasson—featured on Occurrence appeared earlier in the series. The conductor's Violin Concerto proves an auspicious way into the new collection, the work a single-movement setting distinguished by, among other things, Kuusisto's gifts as a violinist and, yes, whistler. Premiered in 2017 at the Hollywood Bowl, the work was written for the soloist, who makes the most of the opportunity to demonstrate his sterling command of the violin. The material arrests instantly when it begins with Kuusisto whistling and plucking a melody in unison before the orchestra's entrance. For twenty-four minutes the two elements engage in a wide-eyed pas de deux, with Bjarnason's alternately dramatic, plaintive, and mysterious music rising and falling in tandem. As prominent as the soloist's part is, the orchestra is more sparring partner than polite backdrop, which makes for an action-packed spectacle and exciting listening.

Premiered in 2019, Veronique Vaka's Lendh is interesting for showing how effectively this Canadian composer and cellist, who settled in southern Iceland after completing her master's degree in Reykjavik, has adapted to her new surroundings—or perhaps she simply discovered that her sensibilities aligned so perfectly with the country that it left her no other choice than to remain there. Regardless, her rendering of Krýsuvík, a geothermal area outside the capital, into poetic sonic form convincingly evokes the land's rugged terrain, so much so one would assume the piece was created by someone who'd breathed its air for decades. Tómasson composed his vibrant In Seventh Heaven for the opening of Reykjavik's Harpa Concert Hall and thus invites the listener to imagine the work's bright, shimmering textures glinting throughout the site's interior. Though the piece is marked by rapid changes, it's grounded in a vivid sing-song motif the composer dresses in varying orchestral garb and coyly teases at during the seven-minute presentation.

Being a flutist herself, Jónsdóttir was well-equipped for the writing of Flutter, even if it's Caroli who's the soloist. Its design was influenced by the writing of Olivier Messiaen (the work was a commission written for the centenary of his birth) and thus naturally finds Jónsdóttir weaving sampled sounds from the natural world (grasshoppers and crickets) into the material, much as Messiaen incorporated transcription of birdsong into his own. It's hard not to imagine Caroli as a bird herself when the flute flutters and glides alongside a dense, ever-mutating landscape of acoustic and electronic elements. Melody is downplayed for texture, atmosphere, and sound design in the twenty-one-minute creation, but it's no less captivating for doing so. The series is brought to a stirring end with Adagio by Magnús Blöndal Jóhannsson (1925-2005), regarded as Iceland's first twelve-tone composer and an electronic-music pioneer to boot. Written in 1980 after eight years of composing silence, Adagio, however, bears little traces of that earlier focus and is instead an austere seven-minute exercise in haunting lyricism scored for strings, celeste, and percussion.

Released in a combination CD-and-Bluray format, Occurrence affords the listener the opportunity to experience its content in all its lustrous glory. In issuing the series, Sono Luminus has done a great service to both listeners and Icelandic composers alike, the former for being granted the opportunity to sample material representative of the country's fertile artistic milieu and the latter for being given a thoughtfully curated outlet for their substantial creative expression. With nine composers in total represented across the three releases, the listener comes away from the project illuminated and enlightened. Even better, the range of material presented on Occurrence emphasizes how multi-dimensional the music is that the country's composers are creating.

A natural complement to the ISO recording is María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir's Kom vinur, a ten-minute CD release featuring two short choral works by the composer and violinist. A graduate of Reykjavik College of Music and the Iceland Academy of the Arts, a one-time Sigur Rós collaborator (from 2000 to 2008), and amiina member since 1999, Sigfúsdóttir set music to poems by Villborg Dagbjartsdóttir in the two pieces, here performed by Schola Cantorum under conductor Hördur Askelsson's direction. Composed in 2017 and 2018 respectively, Kom vinur and Maríuljóð benefit from the vocal ensemble's pure, pristine delivery. Regardless of whether passages are delivered at a hush or with declamatory force, the singers execute Kom vinur with consummate grace, their expressions forlorn, heartfelt, and tinged with a sense of loneliness in keeping with the poet's words. Maríuljóð, its text about a child observing seasonal change and curious about the image of the Holy Mother, is the more tender setting of the two, though it also swells grandly in places. As rewarding as these performances no doubt are for Sigfúsdóttir, one imagines Dagbjartsdóttir would be as pleased by the musical outcome.

April 2021