Here in the early days of Austrian composer and flügelhorn player Franz Koglmann's Pipetet -- it was only five years old in 1989 -- listeners hear the first efforts of the mature composer begin to come to fruition. His trademark meld of styles did not so much involve combinations but juxtapositions -- the clear lines of division still existed on Ich. Unlike the later offerings of Cantos I-IV or The Art of Memory, Koglmann's earlier work had to stress its European-ness for the sake of identity more than anything else. (One ...
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Here in the early days of Austrian composer and flügelhorn player Franz Koglmann's Pipetet -- it was only five years old in 1989 -- listeners hear the first efforts of the mature composer begin to come to fruition. His trademark meld of styles did not so much involve combinations but juxtapositions -- the clear lines of division still existed on Ich. Unlike the later offerings of Cantos I-IV or The Art of Memory, Koglmann's earlier work had to stress its European-ness for the sake of identity more than anything else. (One wonders why, when in the first measures can be heard the restraint of a Vienna conductor holding this band of ten together, and the measured ear of the rhythm section looking for cues.) There are 14 pieces, almost all of which are dedicated to European figures that loom large in Koglmann's idiosyncratic iconography: George Trakl, Ingrid Karl, Marcelle Proust, Paul Klee, and this one American guy, named Steve Lacy. But whether the setting is for the whole band or a fraction thereof -- as there are numerous pieces for quartet, trio, duet, and even solo here -- Koglmann was well on his way to this meld of styles that created a music with his own signature. Nowhere is this more evident than on "The Dream." A piece where all of the elements that Koglmann loves about Chet Baker and Anton Webern come together in an off-meter complex harmonic manner, yet are rounded of any jagged edges or dynamic "surprises." (You know, where all of a sudden the band plays real loud when they were playing quiet before?) Elsewhere, on the trio read of Richard Rodgers' "My Funny Valentine," you hear an interpretation that would make Chet Baker drop his needle and spoon and listen...then flee. It is the sheer "organization" of Koglmann's music that is so inspiring and irritating. You are amazed at his ability to write and arrange a score but wish he would let Gustav Bauser, the conductor, loosen the reins a bit. After 40 minutes, the feeling in this work is one of bloodless creativity. You become so lulled into this notion of restraint and even flow that you wish something, anything, would happen. But it doesn't. Not to worry though -- he dealt with that in later years. ~ Thom Jurek, Rovi
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