VASCO MARTINS

Sarva Mangalam

Melodie (2003)

review by Bill Binkelman

Sarva Mangalam is a Sanskrit mantra, meaning "happiness to everyone" and is meant to be chanted in six directions: north, south, east, west, nadir and zenith. Alexandra David-Nell, a Buddhist explorer, chanted this mantra from high in the Himalayas during her trips there in the 1920s. Her books inspired Cabo Verde electronic keyboard artist Vasco Martins to compose this epic work, subtitled his 7th Symphony. And epic is good word to describe this powerful and dramatic work that fuses the motifs and instrumentation of a symphony (repeated themes amid separate movements played out on ultra-realistic string orchestra keyboards) with more overt electronics and rhythmic elements added at select times. There is little in comparing this work with Martins' contemporaries, which is not an elevation of Martins over them as much as it is a statement that Sarva Mangalam simply is unlike almost everything else out there. It is, by turns, powerful, haunting, heartrendingly beautiful, mysterious, primal, and elegant. The CD deserves, if not demands, the listener's complete attention &endash; and that attention will be richly rewarded.

Martins recorded this in "real time" with no overdubs, considering the complex interweaving of all the musical elements, textures, and sources (by the way, this recording is version 1 of the symphony, being scored totally for electronic sound sources, with a version 2 existing for real string orchestra, Tibetan instruments, percussion, and keyboards).

Attempting to describe in detail the music itself will be problematic (have you ever tried to describe a symphony?). However, I'll give it a shot just the same (all song titles on the album start with "Sarva Mangalam" and then the mantra's direction).

"North" opens the CD in bold fashion after a brief ambient-like intro. The wailing cry of a (sampled) Tibetan dugchen (brass instrument) cries out to the sky over an undercurrent of faint percussion and swirling synths. Soon, a lush string orchestra comes in over the percussive effects with a swelling sadly romantic melody. The brass returns to play its refrain once again, and the strings also come back once more.

"South" begins with wooden stick tribal percussion set against an ambient layer of electronic synths and a spacy keyboard carries the lead, which is both cosmic and also beautiful. Later, a sampled Mediterranean string-like keyboard takes over, again playing in a somewhat sorrowful yet melodic motif (the entire album is more often than not dominated by music that is tinted with sadness, reflection, and other more somber emotions). The strings then take over the track and again they are lush and tragically romantic in nature, becoming sweeping at times and soft at others.

"West" has another overt electronic opening segment that actually flirts with cacophony at times but subsides into an almost adagio-like sadness played on lower register strings, before a stirring fanfare of synth horns and festive percussion arises from the somberness. This is an exceptional moment on this brilliant recording. It literally sends chills down my spine every time I hear it. The exhilaration of the crescendo is amazing. Equally stunning is the abrupt transition to a beautiful midsection featuring strings which are alternately lush and playful, flitting here and there. The joyous refrain returns again before the piece ends with a descent back into the opening adagio and concludes with the reemergence of the bleating cacophonous dissonant Tibetan brass.

"East" presents yet another ambient/electronic opening, before a solo piccolo line takes over the song, playing amidst the spacy whooshing electronics, as if it was having a game of tag with them. When the strings enter the track, it is with a stirring of powerful yet sad emotions, and accompanied by the metronomic rhythms from a sampled mouth harp. The piccolo lead then plays on top of the strings and mouth harp, juxtaposing its playfulness with the somber melody carried by the strings. The track concludes with a shift to just strings and some textural electronics as it all builds to a stunning and powerful conclusion.

"Nadir" is unlike what has come before, beginning with an almost drone-like series of tones and textures. The lead melody (a subdued and slow tempo affair) is played out on what sounds like piano and the plucked strings of a Mediterranean instrument. Of course, the string orchestra eventually is folded in to the song (at the four minute mark), but the strings are also somewhat more subdued than usual and they accompany a treated piano which takes back the lead. Sometimes, the piano plays solo in a slow deliberate style and the strings reclaim the song at its end.

"Zenith" opens amidst whirring spacemusic-like synths and echoed wooden percussion, soon joined by romantic strings. A wonderful flute lead dances among the strings, synths, and percussion. The flute's refrain carries an air of hopefulness to it. After a bridge of dramatic strings and synths, the flute's refrain is taken up by other more "new age style" keyboards, more powerful in their sound and the song builds steam as it heads towards the symphony's final crescendo and stirring conclusion. When I listen to this segment, it's almost inconceivable that Martins accomplished this in real time without overdubs. The recording is so richly textured and there is so much going on. When the violin section solo evocatively takes over the piece, it is with almost sublime beauty and grace. All the orchestra starts swelling, taking the music to an near exultant pitch and frenzy; a true "zenith" of emotion before the fade out.

I seldom detail an album to the degree I have done with Sarva Mangalam. The reason I have done so in this case is simply that the CD merits it. Vasco Martins has not composed a mere new age or ambient work here. This is a full realized classical work that just happens (in this version, at least) to include the use of synthesizers (both as sampled orchestra instruments and as electronic textures and sounds). In no way am I denigrating either new age or ambient music with this comment. I'm just explaining that Sarva Mangalam exists on a totally different plane and obviously illustrates Martins' considerable talent as a composer who understands the motifs of classical music. That he was able to integrate electronic music and other non-classical elements (percussion, ethnic instruments) into this work is further proof that he is an artist of uncommon vision and incredible versatility, not to mention the artistry of his performance which is rich with nuance and emotional resonance. Sarva Mangalam is mature music, borne of a deep-seated conviction by the musician to do justice to the mantra's very essence. In that, he has succeeded not just admirably, but with astonishing profundity and elegance. Amazing, simply amazing.