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Ketil Hvoslef - Trio V.C.P.

(b. July 19th 1939, Bergen)
(2014-15)

First performance: Siljustøl, April 17th 2016
Ricardo Odriozola, violin. Ilene Chanon, horn. Einar Røttingen, piano

Ketil Hvoslef was born in Bergen on July 19th 1939. He is the youngest son of Harald Sæverud and Marie Hvoslef. He arrived at a propitious time, since his birth coincided with the completion of Siljustøl, the great mansion in the outskirts of Bergen where the Sæverud family settled and where his father lived until his passing in 1992. It also proved to be a haven during the Nazi invasion of Norway in the Second World War.
Being the son of a great composer, music was naturally very present during his upbringing. He learned to play the piano and the viola and, in his teens, he became heavily involved in Bergen's jazz and pop music environment, becoming a member of what was, reportedly, Bergen's first rock band. Hvoslef (who retained the Sæverud surname until his 40th birthday, when he decided to adopt that of his mother) had, however, plans to become a painter and took serious steps in that direction. It was in the Bergen Art Academy that he met the painter Inger Bergitte Flatebø (1938 - 2008), who would become his wife and adopt the Sæverud surname.
With the birth of their first child, Trond, in 1962, Hvoslef realized that he needed to provide for his family and, abandoning his dreams to become either a pop star or a painter he took an organist's diploma at the Bergen Music Conservatoire. Upon finishing his studies, he was offered a position as theory teacher at the Conservatoire by its director, the legendary Gunnar Sævig (1924 - 1969).
Hvoslef became a composer almost by accident. In his 25th year he composed a piano concertino for his own satisfaction. Shortly after, his father passed on to him a commission for a woodwind quintet he had no time or inclination to write. Since then Hvoslef has received a fairly steady stream of commissions and his work list counts with some 160 compositions to date. Hvoslef always enjoys a challenge and he has often written for unusual or seemingly "hopeless" instrumental combinations, always using the limitations of the ensemble as a stimulant for his imagination. He has written for large orchestra, for a great variety of chamber ensembles and for solo instruments. He has composed twenty concertos and three operas.
He was the Festival Composer in the Bergen International festival in 1990 and has received several prizes such as the Norwegian Composers' Society's "work of the year" in four occasions (1978, 1980, 1985 and 1992) and TONO's Edvard Prisen in 2011.
Hvoslef's music is characterized by great transparency and by a conscious building of tension achieved by accumulating latent energy. He wants his listeners to lean forward and listen rather than sit back and be lulled into a reverie. Listening to a Hvoslef composition is always an adventure. One never knows what to expect. He stretches sections of the music almost to breaking point and only then introduces a new idea. His music has a classical clarity and transparency and is therefore always easy to follow. Although his highly personal and concentrated language is very much of its time, Hvoslef is not averse to using material that is recognizably tonal (such as major and minor triads) albeit always in a context that sets these familiar sounds in conflict with their surroundings. Rhythm is a very prominent aspect of Hvoslef’s music. Although the vast majority of his production is notated in 4/4 metre, his rhythmical patterns almost never conform to it, always favouring patterns of odd-numbered notes.   
Ketil Hvoslef is, without a doubt, one of the greatest composers to emerge from Scandinavia in the second half of the Twentieth Century and one of the truly original masters of our time.

In June 2014, while recording “Sextet (Post)” (mph 4317) for the LAWO record company, Ketil Hvoslef became enchanted with the playing of the French Horn player Ilene Channon. So much so, that he asked her whether she would be interested in having a piece written for her. She, of course, said yes: having a piece written especially by a great living composer is an opportunity not to be missed. The result of this exchange became, a year and a half later, the present Trio V.C.P.
“V.C.P.” stands for “Violino, Corno, Piano” the three instruments that comprise the ensemble for which the work is written. Although the trio had two very significant forerunners (Brahms in the XIX century and Ligeti in the XX) Hvoslef paid no heed to either of these and decided, as always, to do things his way.
The piece begins with each instrument introducing itself, alone, in the order they appear in the work’s title. They all play virtually the same material, but each in its own tonal centre. Hvoslef writes, underneath each of the three presentations: “(think: Io sonno un…)” followed by the Italian name of each instrument. Each musician is asked to identify with the instrument he/she plays. Once these introductions are out of the way, the music proceeds in relaxed hocket style, the single notes eventually becoming longer before the pace doubles and the violin and horn embark on a typical conversation consisting of repeated notes (measures 47-69). While this is taking place, the piano develops its own discourse with a staccato right hand and a legato left hand. This simultaneity of disparate material moving in the same direction will become the tenor of much of the piece. When the accumulated energy reaches boiling point the instruments coalesce into a short unison passage (mm. 76-80) At this point the violin becomes split, partly paying attention to the horn, partly to the piano 81-90) The pianist’s hands stick to their earlier individual articulations. The right hand attracts the attention of the horn, eventually exposing a three-part dialogue with the aggressive violin pizzicatos (mm. 90-108) Then suddenly all three instruments agree on playing in a more sedate legato manner taking their turns (mm. 108-125). For the first time in the piece, the three voices seem to be intently listening to one another. An unexpected flourish of triplets (mm. 115-118) unsettles the temporarily gained calm. The piano slips back to unassuming, nearly taciturn staccato utterances while the violin and horn continue with a playfully conspiratorial dialogue. Without warning, the tempo goes up at m. 150. For 38 measures the piano holds on to a walking bass of sorts while the horn blurts out small irritated motifs and the violin plays long disappearing notes with a strong attack. While the music is palpably moving forward, all sense of metre becomes nearly impossible to discern. Eventually all three instruments partake in a landslide of descending crotchet triplets (mm.202-207). It seems that breaking point has been reached, but our composer finds there is more energy yet to be built. The piano briefly lets out steam (mm. 208-213), paving the way for a gentle unison melody between its two partners (mm. 214-224). Here the piano part becomes blurred. The violin leaves the party, becoming cantankerous as the piano, with the sustain pedal held down for 26 measures – under a continuous stream of quavers – becomes even more indistinct. The impassive horn is finally forced to join the violin (mm 245-248) before the tension reaches the limit of what the music can sustain.
Instead of a new idea, we get an even greater surprise: the beginning of the piece, with its three solo expositions, makes a literal return. It seems as if all the excitement that has taken place thus far has done nothing to change the status quo. The horn is then given a deserved break as the dreamy piano and the violin tremolos and long double stops create a meditative atmosphere (mm. 271-301). The re-emergence of the horn in m. 302 shakes the piano out of its reverie, prompting it to utter fidgety figures. Between mm. 310 and 343, the steady pulse in the piano left hand is our reward for the seeming absence of metrical safety in much of the preceding music. This is, typically, offset by cascades of triplets with entirely unpredictable accents. Between mm. 356 and 373 the violin seems to be mischievously playing peek-a boo wit the horn, slipping out of view every time the latter takes notice. Nothing much seems to happen in this passage, and that is precisely its purpose: we are not supposed to know or even be able to guess what may happen next. As it happens, nothing startling takes place for quite some while. The violin and horn go back to their friendly unison playing while an inconspicuous two-note motif in the piano (m. 382) grows into a good-natured section (mm. 392-420)
As unexpectedly as before, the opening material reappears but is now treated contrapuntally. The three instruments seem to have reached a degree of familiarity with one another, so that each can assert its presence without precluding that of its partners. This friendly understanding permeates the music until the final section, beginning in m. 463. A sense of carefree playfulness, devoid of all possibility for conflict, is available as the violin and piano fool around with their bouncy rhythms as the horn explores its highest register. A relative sense of urgency returns in m. 486 as the ensemble seems keen to wrap up its affairs and abandon the realm of sound, finally leaving the resonance of the piano to carry out the final, strong unison note played by the violin and horn.
Trio V.C.P. stands as yet another composition in which Hvoslef stays true to his style and principles while keeping the listener guessing as to what may happen next – itself a guiding principle. Ever the pragmatist, during the initial rehearsals prior to the premiere performance, Hvoslef excised a rather long passage in the second half of the piece. “This is the kind of thing that is fun for me but not necessarily for the listener” he said. There is very little repeated material: the opening melody in which the instruments assert their identity and the typical Hvoslef repeated note motif (m. 47 and ff.) that returns briefly at the end of the piece (mm. 487-501). Otherwise the music unfolds organically from one idea to the next in the manner of a natural process whose outcome is as unpredictable as it is logical.
A recording of this work can be heard on the CD “Ketil Hvoslef – Chamber Works no. III” LWC 1117.

Ricardo Odriozola July 27th 2024 

 


 

German preface not available ...

 

 

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