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The music of Béla Bartók (1881-1945) is contemporary music - contemporary to us. This is the claim of three young men who have already proved separately that they are complete, universal musicians. Neither frontiers, nor unknown territories alarm them, if their inspiration or inner prompting happens to lead that particular way. This isn't the kind of project that's planned by producers working with a marketing team and a listeners' focus group in a curtain-lined laboratory. Two good friends who live close to each other in Paris, who've been playing together for years, have long been talking and dreaming of this. They start to make music together, trying out themes and melodies. Bartók is their starting point, and improvisation, which to them is like air. Their ideas have long since been revolving around two axes. Starting from folksongs arranged by Bartók, the striking themes in the 44 Duos for Two Violins, and Mikrokosmos, they soon get a clear idea of where they want to go. They quickly decide two things: one, to involve another traditional acoustic instrument; two, to steer clear of the forms of American jazz and blues. Not, of course, because it is foreign to them, quite the opposite. The reason is rather that they can only preserve the authenticity of this world by keeping this distance. The violin, bass, and the cimbalom they chose as companion, the only chordal instrument, form a sound which, though not alien to the spirit of jazz, is all the more so to its musical material. Though one of the trio is French, another a France-based Hungarian, and the third Hungarian, from the first notes the three musicians are speaking the same language. It's a fantastic experience, how they use the words of a Hungarian composer who died 72 years ago to form their own, contemporary sentences. Szandai's view is that the three of them are twenty-first century folk musicians, or rather, folk musicians that play the music of the 21st century.

Track Listing

Press Quotes

The most conventional of these unconventional sessions is Bartók Impressions (BMC CD 254 bmcrecords.hu) since the tracks are based on works by Béla Bartók (1881-1945). The most notable feature on this Budapest-recorded disc is that besides the double bass of Hungarian-in-France Mátyás Szandai and the violin of Paris-based Mathias Lévy, one prominent sound here is from the traditional hammered zither called the cimbalom played by Hungarian Miklós Lukács. Perhaps the program is also notable since, with two-thirds of the band Magyar and Bartók's themes sometimes based on Eastern European folk melodies, familiarity is paramount. At the same time, Lukács' dexterous skill gives the 13 improvisations a unique quality. When struck, the cimbalom takes on vibraphone and percussion qualities; when plucked, harp or guitar-like tones. A defining instance of this is on Romanian Folk Dances No.4, where Levy's elaboration of the melancholy theme is soon toughened by seemingly simultaneous harp-like twangs and rhythmic mallet string stabs from the cimbalom. This virtuosic versatility is expressed from the first track onwards. On that one, Reflections on New Year's Greeting No.4, for instance, boiling double bass plucks cement the pulse as mallet lopes create a bouncy countermelody to the gorgeous tones of the fiddle's airy narrative. The jittery, jazzy Improvisations on Romanian Folk Dances No.4 finds Lukács comping like a pianist, Szandai with well-modulated plucks and with Levy's staccato stopping in the highest register suggesting both Transylvanian wedding music and tavern revelry. In contrast, a few other tracks are recital-like formal, at least in the expositions. They include a mellow showcase of balanced cello-like tones from the bassist on Improvisations on Romanian Christmas Carols No.7, completed by foot-tapping glissandi with klezmer overtones. The most accomplished, intricate transformation, which highlights another aspect of Lukács' adaptability, occurs on Reflections on Six Bulgarian Rhythms. The cimbalom's mallet reverberations turn him into a Magyar Milt Jackson, at the same time as fiddle squeaks at dog-whistle pitches amplify the pulse, and double bass plucks intensify the rhythms. Staying true to the composer's initial vision though, the piece ends with a wide connective interlude of warm romantic timbres.

     —Ken Waxman, thewholenote.com