Bass World Reviews Holocaust 1944
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A review of Holocaust 1944 from the October 2004 issue of Bass World.
Gary Karr has always been associated with singers. Long having
confessed to being a frustrated singer, one of Karr’s most prized
possessions is his Bronze Medal presented to him by the foundation of
the early 20th Century Metropolitan Opera star, Rosa Ponselle in honor
of his lyric, singing style. One need only glance at his discography
(garykarr.com) to see that indeed many of his recordings are of vocal
works: Basso Cantabile, Spirituals and Songs, Japanese Songs, Songs of
Prayer. While the majority of the pieces on these recordings are of
previously composed works ranging from the operatic repertoire to folk
songs, Karr is also well known for performing new works. Such is the
case with Lori Laitman’s song cycle Holocaust 1944.
Having studied at Yale, Laitman was inspired by her husband’s bass teacher, and originally composed the seven-song cycle for Karr and Grammy winning operatic baritone Sanford Sylvan in 1996. Revised in 1998, Holocaust 1944 received its premier in 2000. The work was recorded by Karr and William Sharp and released on the Albany Record label in 2003 (albanyrecords.com).
Laitman wrote an earlier work using the holocaust as her central theme for soprano and alto saxophone. I Never Saw Another Butterfly is comprised of six settings of poems by children who did not survive the tragedy and has a more reflective, hopeful quality than the work for baritone and double bass. Gregory Berg, writing a CD review for the Journal of Singing, calls Holocaust “relentlessly bleak and heart-broken.” The text of the songs range from brief direct messages, such as the opening guilt-ridden I Did Not Manage to Save, to the emotionally charged Both Your Mothers. Here the singer explains to a young child of how his mother gave him away in secret so that he could be saved and “not to be surprised at all when you say I am.” Perhaps the most poignant poem in the cycle is the Massacre of the Boys, beginning with the chilling lines: “The children cried ‘Mummy! / But I have been good! / It’s dark in here! Dark!’”
With such oppressive subject matter one could easily imagine dark minor themes, violent interruptions from the accompaniment, and perhaps pointillistic textures, reflecting the futile yearning in much of the poetry. Laitman instead takes a different approach. Her style can be generally described as very lyrical and, for the most part, tonal. At times, such as in much of How Can I See You, Love, the tonality of the piece is clear, in this case, a flowing medium-tempo waltz in G minor. Likewise the lilting waltz Race, performed pizzicato, begins in D minor before modulating to Bb minor and finally ending in Eb minor. Other songs, such as the finale, Holocaust 1944, are composed with a more complex pan-tonal approach, an approach also reflected in her rhythmic choices with frequently changing meters and duple against triple rhythms. However, even these songs retain a lyrical character created in large part by Laitman’s use of melodic phrases
built from gestures of significant length.
The bass is not used as an accompanying instrument, rather as an equal partner in creating overlapping lines and conversational moments, extending and developing vocal ideas. Using a large range of three octaves and a fifth, Laitman frequently exploits the lyrical qualities of the bass with flowing, continuously moving lines. The bass part of the first song, I Did Not Manage to Save, features a stepwise eighth-note line in groupings of five and six that serves both as an introduction and a continuation of vocal phrases, linking one to the next. During vocal phrases the movement of the bass line is either suspended, by holding longer pitches, or pushes against the stepwise vocal eighth-note motif with triplet figures. As the meaning of the text becomes clear and the intensity of the message builds, so too the bass part becomes more and more aggressive and the eighth-note motif evolves into triplet and sixteenth note gestures across two octaves.
Holocaust 1944 is a powerful song cycle both for the performers and the audience. Each part is very exposed and technically challenging. The subject matter, confronting genocide on a personal level, is so intense one would need to take great care in programming the work. The work has an impact reminiscent of Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder or Strauss’ Four Last Songs, yet due to the starkness and transparency of the instrumentation, this work is somehow more intimate. The last three lines of the cycle, “I weep, I weep, I weep” are sung to a long held unresolved minor second, appropriately unsettling.
– Review by Hans Sturm
Having studied at Yale, Laitman was inspired by her husband’s bass teacher, and originally composed the seven-song cycle for Karr and Grammy winning operatic baritone Sanford Sylvan in 1996. Revised in 1998, Holocaust 1944 received its premier in 2000. The work was recorded by Karr and William Sharp and released on the Albany Record label in 2003 (albanyrecords.com).
Laitman wrote an earlier work using the holocaust as her central theme for soprano and alto saxophone. I Never Saw Another Butterfly is comprised of six settings of poems by children who did not survive the tragedy and has a more reflective, hopeful quality than the work for baritone and double bass. Gregory Berg, writing a CD review for the Journal of Singing, calls Holocaust “relentlessly bleak and heart-broken.” The text of the songs range from brief direct messages, such as the opening guilt-ridden I Did Not Manage to Save, to the emotionally charged Both Your Mothers. Here the singer explains to a young child of how his mother gave him away in secret so that he could be saved and “not to be surprised at all when you say I am.” Perhaps the most poignant poem in the cycle is the Massacre of the Boys, beginning with the chilling lines: “The children cried ‘Mummy! / But I have been good! / It’s dark in here! Dark!’”
With such oppressive subject matter one could easily imagine dark minor themes, violent interruptions from the accompaniment, and perhaps pointillistic textures, reflecting the futile yearning in much of the poetry. Laitman instead takes a different approach. Her style can be generally described as very lyrical and, for the most part, tonal. At times, such as in much of How Can I See You, Love, the tonality of the piece is clear, in this case, a flowing medium-tempo waltz in G minor. Likewise the lilting waltz Race, performed pizzicato, begins in D minor before modulating to Bb minor and finally ending in Eb minor. Other songs, such as the finale, Holocaust 1944, are composed with a more complex pan-tonal approach, an approach also reflected in her rhythmic choices with frequently changing meters and duple against triple rhythms. However, even these songs retain a lyrical character created in large part by Laitman’s use of melodic phrases
built from gestures of significant length.
The bass is not used as an accompanying instrument, rather as an equal partner in creating overlapping lines and conversational moments, extending and developing vocal ideas. Using a large range of three octaves and a fifth, Laitman frequently exploits the lyrical qualities of the bass with flowing, continuously moving lines. The bass part of the first song, I Did Not Manage to Save, features a stepwise eighth-note line in groupings of five and six that serves both as an introduction and a continuation of vocal phrases, linking one to the next. During vocal phrases the movement of the bass line is either suspended, by holding longer pitches, or pushes against the stepwise vocal eighth-note motif with triplet figures. As the meaning of the text becomes clear and the intensity of the message builds, so too the bass part becomes more and more aggressive and the eighth-note motif evolves into triplet and sixteenth note gestures across two octaves.
Holocaust 1944 is a powerful song cycle both for the performers and the audience. Each part is very exposed and technically challenging. The subject matter, confronting genocide on a personal level, is so intense one would need to take great care in programming the work. The work has an impact reminiscent of Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder or Strauss’ Four Last Songs, yet due to the starkness and transparency of the instrumentation, this work is somehow more intimate. The last three lines of the cycle, “I weep, I weep, I weep” are sung to a long held unresolved minor second, appropriately unsettling.
– Review by Hans Sturm