Hedvig Hanson. Nii õrn on öö. MT Holding, 2004, 46:18
Kvetch reasonably, and yea, ye shall be heard, rewarded with generous and thoughtful favours. This was the slender one’s reaction after grumbling in print about how difficult it is to gain access, living abroad, to the best and most recent of Estonian recordings. Turns out, all it took was a visit to the Toronto Estonian Credit Union, a dazzling smile from Muhumaa’s reigning cultural ambassadrice sans egale, and a scamper to the parking lot. Upon which she opened her automobile’s glove box and revealed Hedvig Hanson’s latest recording that had been woefully languishing within. I’ve been in thrall since.
Expectations have been high after Hanson scored wide-spread critical acclaim for her 2002 “Colour of Love” recording, finding legions of fans abroad, most notably in Germany. One that for some listeners is a high watermark, for others it may have created greater expectations. Suffice it to say that some expectations tend to be sky-high, leading inevitably to a degree of disappointment. Though Ms. Muhumaa and I usually see eye to eye, — this not only at the teller window — her initial comments about this disc suggested that I’d be in for a letdown. When this loan is paid off, the borrowed CD returned, perhaps she’ll consider the following lines, and return her CD to her evening playlist, of music to listen to over and over, once the youngsters are well and certain abed.
Hedvig Hanson reaches out on this recording to those tired of expectations, suggesting , as she does oh-so passionately on the gorgeous Uno Naissoo/Viivi Luik number “Taevas kõliseb tähti”, that we have to open up our aural passages, hear the gentle tintinnabulation of stellar bodies, let them wash over our stressed corporeal existence. Much of our scant given days are passed searching for escape from the hurried, necessary hurly-burly that pays our bills, keeps a roof over our heads, the taxman at bay. Tensions generated need an outlet; release is required to be able to sleep rather than toss and turn, concerned about what tomorrow might bring. Hanson senses this weltanschaung, composes herself, and sings splendidly in ways that soothe the sullen surly beast held in check within, rankled by the requirements of treading the quotidinial hamster wheel. She does not induce the listener to dance, trip the light fantastic, but points us towards the heavens above, twinkling calm and soothing rhythm, melodies that were composed long ago.
It’s curious, how the stars and the skies above bring out the inner passions of composers. Gustav Holst’s “Planets” is perhaps the most famous among odes to expanse, void and distant light. Urmas Sisask, amateur Estonian astronomer, very professional tunesmith, composes to what he calls his “planet scale” — theoretical, musical values derived from orbits. Tõnis Mägi recently got Serious with “Siirius”, also a space oddity, musical explorations of the last frontier. Holst was prone to play with cymbals, percussion, emphatic booms, clangs and excess of strings and horns. Mäks went for gentler sounds, the drip drop of water, the hum of electrical transformers. But Hanson takes the truly quiet route, searching for the silence between silences.
“Sind otsin”, arranged by guitarist Andre Maaker, brings us closer to the heavenly maker of things difficult to comprehend, much less describe. Maaker possesses splendid strumming and picking skills, and is the primary accompanist to Hanson’s warbling. When needed, Maaker is complemented on this disc by Mihkel Mälgand’s sensitive understanding of the string bass. Leho Karin’s cello work is also notable for understanding the principle of less is more. Tanel Ruben handles percussion duties, also so unobtrusively that his contributions often come as a deliciously understated yet welcome surprise.
Maaker and Hanson produced this quiet gem, engineer Teet Kehlmann contentedly lets the vision appear. These gentle nocturnes and lullabies make their presence felt best in the wee hours, aid the insomniac troubled with the realities of the material plane. Stellar etudes which remind us, that music oft best soothes the beast within, to be listened to during those frequently recurring times, when it is trying and difficult to be one with the universe, never mind that which is beyond our ken. Recommended.
Gentle nocturnes, etudes for insomniacs (1)
Archived Articles | 03 Dec 2004 | Otepää SlimEWR
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I've enjoyed your commentary for a long time. Equally, I've been curious about the origin of your pen name.
Let me guess. 'Slim' is not because you're in fact slim, but because you've been impacted by Memphis Slim. (Lucky you.) And Otepää derives from a favourable association -- perhaps you're parents or grandparents come from there or, like myself, you simply like the place.
Keep up your good work.
Let me guess. 'Slim' is not because you're in fact slim, but because you've been impacted by Memphis Slim. (Lucky you.) And Otepää derives from a favourable association -- perhaps you're parents or grandparents come from there or, like myself, you simply like the place.
Keep up your good work.
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