When an ensemble dedicates itself to performing and recording the music of other composers it’s often tricky to balance the intentions of the composer with the musical identities of the performers. One hopes that they will realize the composer’s intentions to the fullest of their abilities but at the same time inject the music with new ideas or energy. That is to say, in an ideal performance the identities of the composer and performers are given the proper balance. This is essentially the definition of “interpretation” in notated Western music. A performance of a famous piece of music is always in danger of repeating the past or straying too far from the composer’s intentions, especially when playing music with any level of indeterminacy.

I first encountered the Arditti String Quartet’s massive discography of 20th century music as a teenager in music school and was instantly enamored. The Arditti Quartet are clearly one of the most skilled and important interpreters of modern chamber music but at a certain point the uniformity of their approach begins to overtake the music. Their virtuosity, commitment, and approach to most music is impeccable; however, when playing more subtle and restrained music like that of Feldman or Luigi Nono, their razor sharp accuracy and intensity can make the music seem “too Arditti”. Knowing this, I approached the first two installments of Zeitkratzer’s “Old School” recording series - each album is dedicated to a different famous composer of the late 20th century - with an exciting but also somewhat guarded interest.

Given that Zeitkratzer’s output over the past few years prominently features chamber ensemble re-workings of electronic and non-academic/non-Western music, it seems obvious that their new Old School series (dedicated to the most well-documented composers of the post-WWII avant-garde) is an attempt to breathe new life into music where the performance practice is already seemingly codified. Skilled, imaginative and vital interpreters that they are, suffice to say that Zeitkratzer is successful in this goal but the results can be a mixed bag.

The Cage disc includes three pieces from Cage’s final creative period, most commonly referred to as “the number pieces”. I have always loved the number pieces. With his final work Cage finally struck the perfect balance between indeterminacy and control, truly achieving his stated goal of both imitating nature and “letting the sounds be themselves”. That said, Zeitkratzer’s performances of “Four6” and “Five” sound a bit too much like Zeitkratzer for my taste. Allowing very little space for silence, these recordings showcase Zeitkratzer’s now familiar arresting intensity that achieves greatness in most situations but in the context of John Cage’s gentle, tender approach to sound seems forced into the Zeitkratzer ideology. The recording of “Hymnkus”, on the other hand, is astonishing; a surprisingly complex piece composed just a few years before Cage’s death, the piece proceeds intently but not too forcefully.

Perhaps because James Tenney’s music is not reliant on indeterminacy, the Tenney Old School disc fares much better. While still a well-known and respected composer, James Tenney’s exploration of several kinds of experimental music, and most notably his work with alternate tunings, has yet to receive the kind of affection and documentation that seems to benefit Cage and other well-known composers of the era. This disc is a welcome addition to the somewhat more limited availability of recordings of Tenney’s music, including one premiere recording (the stunning “Harmonium #2” from 1976) and new interpretations of two more well-known pieces. The disc concludes with one of Tenney’s most well-known pieces, the aptly titled arch piece, “Having Never Written a Note for Percussion” which is finally given a definitive, masterful recording by percussionist Maurice de Martin. While the instrumentation of this single-note piece is left to the performer, the piece is most commonly performed on a large tam-tam because of the tam-tam’s endlessly rich timbre and breathtaking dynamic range (much credit is due here to the recording engineer - only on Michael Pisaro’s Hearing Metal has a tam-tam ever sounded so good). It’s a stunning, controlled performance that transcends both performer and instrument, and is the perfect end to what is the finest document of Tenney’s music I’ve heard on a single CD.