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Consigliato da Musica Jazz

This concept album defies categorization, even by the eclectic standards that producer Manfred Eicher has made the hallmark of his venturesome label. Frances-Marie Uitti is a French cellist and composer who specializes in contemporary and 20th Century music. Paul Griffiths is a British music critic, author and librettist who shares her passion for new music. Together they have devised these 17 "scenes for speaking voice and cello" that fuse his poetic reflections with Uitti's music to form a kind of meditative melodrama for today.
Griffiths' carefully controlled delivery gives the words their primacy in the dialogue. Rather than simply mirroring the text, the cello creates its own scenario of furtive cries, whispers and scurryings, some of which sound as if they have been electronically altered - although, given Uitti's amazing virtuosity, one cannot be sure what she plays actually has been altered.
In Griffiths' slow, contained delivery, words and images circle each other, taking on new bite and urgency each time they recur. The power of his poems lies in their severity. They speak dispassionately about passion - or, rather, about the doubts and hesitancies of people living in an electronically "connected" world who are isolated from their emotions but still need desperately to reach out. The poems, combined with Uitti's minimalist cello undercurrent, give There is still time its wistful, rueful, often bleak tone.
John von Rhein, Chicago Tribune

On a new ECM disc, There is still time, Uitti plays her own music while Paul Griffiths reads his poetry. Griffiths … has a voice that sounds like Uitti’s cello … and he uses it the way she plays: intense, throbbing, now and then breaking off and darting in some unexpected direction. … There are 17 poems in There is still time, some of few words, some crammed with words and breathless. When its 55 minutes are past, it is nearly impossible to resist playing the disc immediately again.
Alan Rich, LA Weekly

This recording gets into your head and into your thoughts in ways most don't.
Uitti's music is a combination of drones and extra-musical effects, such as tapping on the cello's body, that fits the discursive words well. She's not accompanying him, he's not fitting the words to her music; they're equal partners in messing with your head.
Marc Geelhoed, Time Out Chicago

This unique collaboration between cellist Uitti and speaker Paul Griffiths creates an intriguing blend of text and music. Griffiths, deriving his inspiration from Ophelia’s speeches in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, shapes his lines in a series of poems, soliloquies and statements. Uitti weaves her musical magic to provide an intimate balance.
Gavin Engelbrecht, Northern Echo

Kaum jemand vermag mit seinem Instrument ein derart dunkles Leuchten zu erzeugen wie Frances-Marie Uitti auf ihrem Cello. Im Zusammenhang mit der Lyrik von Paul Griffiths gewinnt ihr Ton eine weitere Dimension. ... Die Intensität, mit der Griffiths einzelne Worte und Brocken zwischen den Cello-Klängen hindurchlässt, bestimmt, wie weit sie ins Bewusstsein des Hörers vorzudringen vermögen. Das einzelne Wort klingt, als würde es in einem unendlichen Klang gerade erst erschaffen. Für diese CD muss man sich Zeit nehmen. Sie muss sich entfalten, sich über die Sinne einen Weg bahnen in den Verstand und von dort geläutert zu einer reinen, unverstellten Sinnlichkeit zurückfinden. ... Was bleibt, ist ein Gefühl unvergleichlicher Intensität und Erleichterung.
Wolf Kampmann, Jazzthetik

Cello und Sprecherstimme sind gleichberechtigt einander zugewandt an der Gestaltung beteiligt, es gibt weder einen Dialog noch eine musikalische Begleitstimme, es gibt nur verschiedene Seiten einer Persönlichkeit. Ein spannendes Projekt, dem sich auch der nicht perfekt Englisch Sprechende langsam über die Schönheit der Klangsprache nähern kann.
Margarete Zander, Rondo

Griffiths ha espunto le parole che evocano immagini dell’esperienza sensoriale trattenendone solo alcune particolarmente potenti e capaci di proiettare un’atmosfera su un intero segmento. Lavora su quelle che evocano flussi interrogativi tesi a scandagliare e definire una situazione psicologica ma esse vanno a urtare invariabilmente contro una parete invisibile che le rimanda come echi, mutilate o distorte nel significato originale. Vengono riformulate, accresciute o diminuite semanticamente da spostamenti a volte solo impercettibili, instillando nel processo l’angoscia che, se le parole non fossero filtrate dal prisma della passione, assoceremmo all’universo di Beckett.
Ma è il violoncello a collocare definitivamente queste scenes in una dimensione drammatica. È l’invisibile interlocutore di Ofelia l’origine degli echi che ingenerano il dubbio e lo smarrimento; è il sipario che si apre e si chiude su un segmento; è l’impulso discontinuo ma irresistibile che a volte le parole invocano per essere sostenute e sospinte; è il pandemonio di forze e di colori di un cielo temporalesco che una frase o una parola o solo una pausa ha il potere di far balenare.
Musica Jazz

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