My first experience with the contemporary classical sound known as new music was a bitter disappointment. At a time in which my music budget was extremely limited, I took a flier on Anthony Davis’ 1987 album Undine. Rather than the cutting-edge jazz I’d expected, the long out-of-print release on the Gramavision label contains a pair of challenging compositions in the vein of Morton Feldman. I didn’t get it.
Mary Halvorson’s thrilling new Belladonna album compelled me to return to Undine for the first time in more than 30 years. The discordant strings that struck me as an incomprehensible slap in the face in the 1980s now sound entirely natural. I was uniquely prepared, consequently, for Belladonna. Featuring the guitarist’s squiggly freakouts over the similarly strident work of the Mivos Quartet, Belladonna is an adventure in dissonance.
I came to Halvorson’s distinctive attack about a year before the only time I’ve seen her perform. It’s since become obvious that Halvorson is one of the most important musicians to emerge in the first quartet of this century. Belladonna, and to a lesser extent its companion album Amaryllis, is precisely the sort of confrontational sound I’ve spent three decades unknowingly preparing to appreciate.