In standard verbiage, light tends to glow, to shine, to radiate. In summoning an image of light as something that might flow, London-based cellist and curator Clare O’Connell evokes a subtle tension between stillness and movement, between seen and unseen, beautifully characterizing the elegant spirit of her latest album. Light Flowing is the second collection of songs released under O’Connell’s own name, highlighting the artist’s graceful voice and deft ability as a player across a broad range of new work from six young composers.
Light Flowing is primarily a solo affair, though judicious use of loops and the sporadic appearance of guest musicians add welcome ballast without overtaking the arresting intimacy at the album’s core. Most of the pieces here remain in a fairly restrained and introspective mode, though not to the exclusion of tension and momentum, weighty emotional gesture, or indeed a few moments of thrilling drama.
The album opens with a triptych of short, exploratory pieces from British composer Edmund Finnis, a fitting introduction to this eclectic collection; the influence of Bach is evident in the playful lilt of the first track especially. Things then really begin to take off with “Opened,” from London-based French composer Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch. Propelled by a patient, minimalist sensibility, the four movements unfurl a generous melodic narrative imbued with emotional warmth. Next is British violist-composer Natalie Klouda’s “Ühteare,” which, from a trepidatious beginning, launches a propulsive and suspenseful flight across a pastoral landscape aflame with early morning sunlight (“Ühteare” is an old English word meaning “sorrow before dawn”).
Emily Hall’s “You Sail to the Sky,” based on a retuning of the cello in homage to Nick Drake, strikes a more reflective and elegiac tone, evoking a sort of quiet desolation as with the calm that follows a storm. From the two movements of “Vocalise,” composed by Nick Martin, emerge the emotional centerpiece of the album, their intricate construction soaring into a breathtaking romantic sweep before a long denouement so gentle it’s nearly inaudible. O’Connell is joined by harpist Eleanor Turner on Welsh composer Alex Mills’ “Zenith,” their respective instruments encircling one another in an enchanting and buoyant interplay. Finally, in a mirror image of its opening, the album closes with another trio of short pieces from Edmund Finnis, here featuring accompaniment from contrabassist Marianne Schofield.
Throughout, O’Connell brings these works to life with gentle confidence and a dextrous hand, honouring their most subtle and delicate melodic moments with care and reverence while navigating more technically demanding passages with aplomb. As an album, its nearly 80 minute run-time may prove a bit of a challenge for some listeners. As a showcase of O’Connell’s abilities as a sensitive and intuitive performer as well as a keenly perceptive interpreter of a wide variety of compositional tendencies, Light Flowing is a triumph. (Graham Latham)