Editorial Reviews

This is the recording that told the world about Arvo Pärt. The reclusive Estonian composer was virtually unknown when this disc was released in 1984. Suddenly, everyone was talking about this new music that defied description. It sounds ancient yet it's utterly contemporary. It seems simple yet it's rigorously constructed. And while all these works are abstract, each has a deeply spiritual quality. Today, new recordings of Pärt's music pop up like wildflowers, but this album is still the essential introduction to the composer's art. You enter into Pärt's sonic world through a delicate web of violin arpeggios with "Fratres." One of his best-known pieces, it exists in various versions, two of which are heard on this recording: the first is played by violinist Gidon Kremer and pianist Keith Jarrett, the second, by the 12 cellists of the Berlin Philharmonic. "Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten" is an elegy for string orchestra in which each lamenting line of music is exactly the same, but played at a different speed. Last, but not least, is "Tabula Rasa," a two-movement concerto for two violins, "prepared" piano (with rubber stoppers and screws placed between the strings to give the instrument an otherworldly, bell-like tone), and strings. "Tabula Rasa" builds, through sound and silence, to a devastating climax -- then "Silentium," a slow transformation from profound quietude to absolute, soundless peace. This is music that could change your life. Andrew Farach-Colton, Barnes & Noble

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