Duo Orfeo Review
author: Tyran Grillo
Picture it: Two strapping young men sporting classical guitars. With years of study and performance at their fingertips, they roam the farthest corners of the earth (well, New England for now—but there’s still time) in search of the musically needy, only too willing to whet the appetites of those who might otherwise scoff at the notion of nylon strings in this age of electrified steel. By day, they are Joseph “No, Troubadourism is Not a Disease” Ricker and Jamie “Yes, My Guitar’s Soundhole is Supposed to Be There” Balmer; by night, they perform under the evocative moniker of Duo Orfeo, and with an attitude that seems to proclaim, “My other axe chops wood.” Still not convinced? Then read on.
In their self-titled studio debut, Duo Orfeo have assembled for our listening pleasure an eclectic and intuitively arranged assortment of delicacies. We begin with an appetizer of crostini topped with Mompou miniatures in five varieties. Though until recent decades virtually unknown outside of his native Spain, Catalonian composer Federico Mompou (1893-1987) produced a modest yet beautiful oeuvre of songs and piano music. Of the latter, Joe and Jamie have handpicked (pun intended) the delightful “Jeux sur la place” from Scènes d’enfants and paired it with a representative selection of Mompou’s Impresiones intimas (mainstays of the duo’s live repertoire, of which “Gracioso” is particularly captivating).
The salad course is a double helping of music by Italian composer and visionary lutenist Francesco da Milano (1497-1543), a figure shrouded in perhaps even more obscurity beyond the purview of the most fervent Renaissance pluckers. These are buoyant, vibrant pieces that revel in the joys of their own becoming.
Our soup is a creamy “Schottisch” bisque from Brazilian composer Radamés Gnattali (1906-1988). In keeping with the increasingly apocryphal spirit of the album thus far, Gnattali’s virtually unknown music spawns the sleeper hit of this already decadent meal.
Which brings us to our main course: the meticulously realized triptych that is Danses de Travers (“Crooked Dances”) of French provocateur (and thus brilliant melodician) Erik Satie (1866-1925). As their collective title implies, these vignettes seem to stagger on crutches through their motifs, all the while never losing their sense of destination. Each is a different gait, leaving its own distinctive trail in the sand of our attentions.
And finally, for dessert, we have two lovely nocturnes by Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849), both of which are played here as lovingly as they are reconfigured for two guitars.
Overall, but especially in those pieces originally scored for piano, these selections are arranged in such a way as to reveal previously opaque relationships through Duo Orfeo’s distinctively porous approach. Because the resonance of their instruments is enough to flesh out implied harmonies and dollops an entirely different mélange of overtones onto the menu, the recording is minimal in postproduction insofar as aftereffects have been applied. The space they delineate with their instruments is full but always close to our ears and hearts, honest and direct, as all good music should be.
Read more...