088: Floodplain, by Kronos Quartet

Kronos Quartet (USA/everywhere else)
Floodplain (2009)
12 tracks, 79 minutes
Spotify • iTunes

Western classical musicians are known for their virtuosity, but not necessarily their versatility. Kronos Quartet have them both to staggering degrees. Floodplain encapsulates everything that I love about the group. On this album, they delve into the classical styles of three continents, playing compositions from Central Asia, the Balkans, India, across the Arabic world, Turkey, Iran, Ethiopia…the range is staggering.

But Kronos don’t just play music from other cultures on two violins, a viola and a cello by reading some dots from a page. They approach each piece holistically: they work closely with the composers, arrangers or collaborators; they learn about the musical cultures upon which the pieces draw, and they learn about what the pieces mean and the emotions that they evoke; they adapt their playing style to suit each piece, rather than applying a one-size-fits-all Western classical template to everything; they even play specially-adapted or -invented musical instruments to make sure that they convey the pieces in exactly the right ways.

With this meticulousness, the performances on this album are obviously spot on. And that is only right and proper as a show of respect to the twelve pieces on display, all of which, to a one, are absurdly beautiful in their own ways. I could wax lyrical about each one of them. ‘Tèw Semagn Hagèré’ is an arrangement of the celebrated Ethiopian begana lyre player Alèmu Aga, with those aforementioned commissioned instruments echoing the begana’s haunting buzz and Alèmu’s whispered voice. The live performance of ‘Getme, Getme’ with the celebrated Azeri mugham singers Alim and Farghana Qasimov and their ensemble, in which the two classical traditions blend so seamlessly as to feel completely natural. My favourite, ‘Tashweesh,’ written by and performed in collaboration with Palestinian hip-hop/electronica collective Ramallah Underground, which is treated and remixed so heavily that it barely sounds like a string quartet piece at all, but which fits in the collection seemlessly. Or my other favourite, the Lebanese Easter hymn ‘Wa Habibi,’ made famous by the singer Fairuz, which is given a simple arrangement that accentuates the mournfulness of the piece and brings to the fore its connection to both church music and Arabic classical singing. And that’s only four of them.

Floodplain isn’t just an album I enjoy listening to, although I do, and often. It’s more than that. I am in awe of it. The sheer musicianship on display, the outstanding compositions and arrangements, the sensitivity of it all, it all adds up to an album of breath-taking, even heart-breaking beauty. For what it does, I would even go as far as to say that this is a perfect album.