Barbara Hannigan's latest collaboration with French pianist Bertrand Chamayou has left audiences and critics alike in awe of its sheer musical magic. The duo's rendition of John Zorn's Jumalattaret, inspired by Finland's national epic the Kalevala, is a hauntingly beautiful work that weaves together disparate elements from folk songs, rock grooves, plainchant, and jazz to create something entirely new.
In the hands of Hannigan, this "unperformable" piece becomes a deeply personal and primal experience. Her voice morphs seamlessly between personas, conveying the raw emotions of the text through a series of yelps, keening cries, guttural moans, and shouts. Chamayou's piano provides the perfect counterpoint, adding percussive elements that amplify Hannigan's vocals.
What sets this performance apart is its sense of strangeness and beauty. There's no need for grand gestures or showy displays; instead, the focus is on the raw emotional power of the music. The combination of Chamayou's piano and Hannigan's voice creates an exhilarating listening experience that's both mesmerizing and humbling.
The pairing with Messiaen's 1938 Chants de Terre et de Ciel adds another layer of depth to the performance. This work shares a similar spiritual intensity, answering the feminine mysticism of Zorn's piece with the sternly masculine theology of Catholicism. The piano's French-inflected vowels add a sense of intimacy and connection, as Hannigan tenderly caresses the composer's texts through her voice.
The audience was clearly entranced by this performance, hanging on every word and note. But it's not just applause that matters here – it's the silence that follows the final bow, a silence that speaks volumes about the raw emotion and vulnerability that Hannigan brings to the stage. This is no mere performance; it's an experience that gets close to being a confession.
In the hands of Hannigan, this "unperformable" piece becomes a deeply personal and primal experience. Her voice morphs seamlessly between personas, conveying the raw emotions of the text through a series of yelps, keening cries, guttural moans, and shouts. Chamayou's piano provides the perfect counterpoint, adding percussive elements that amplify Hannigan's vocals.
What sets this performance apart is its sense of strangeness and beauty. There's no need for grand gestures or showy displays; instead, the focus is on the raw emotional power of the music. The combination of Chamayou's piano and Hannigan's voice creates an exhilarating listening experience that's both mesmerizing and humbling.
The pairing with Messiaen's 1938 Chants de Terre et de Ciel adds another layer of depth to the performance. This work shares a similar spiritual intensity, answering the feminine mysticism of Zorn's piece with the sternly masculine theology of Catholicism. The piano's French-inflected vowels add a sense of intimacy and connection, as Hannigan tenderly caresses the composer's texts through her voice.
The audience was clearly entranced by this performance, hanging on every word and note. But it's not just applause that matters here – it's the silence that follows the final bow, a silence that speaks volumes about the raw emotion and vulnerability that Hannigan brings to the stage. This is no mere performance; it's an experience that gets close to being a confession.