Maya Beiser, cellist, Bang on a Can member, listener, composer, innovator, interpreter, and producer. Beiser’s hats are many and each new album traces the musings of a truly interesting artist, ever evolving, revisioning, thinking, growing. She cuts a singular, intelligent, and deeply felt path that is both monolithic and definitive.

This latest release on her own Islandia label is another exposition of a powerful musical mind bringing fascinating perspectives, the artist’s singular take on music spanning some 500 years. Beiser is not about “authentic” interpretation (mostly) but rather about lucidly sharing her perspective, her musical visions.

Previous releases gave us her take on living musical icons like Philip Glass and Terry Riley. She also dares to look back upon some of the “sacred cows” of the repertoire like the Bach Cello Suites and Riley’s seminal “In C” among others. Her revisionings are respectful homages and insightful performances that challenge and inform her listeners to maybe hear in a new way. As T.S. Eliot said,

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place (or the piece) for the first time”

So it is with the carefully curated selections on this disc. Beginning with a Missy Mazzoli composition featuring vocalist and performance artist Helga Davis (featured most visibly in the most recent iteration of Glass’ “Einstein on the Beach”). Her vocal skills drive these settings of texts by Erin Cressida Wilson. And this piece sets the tone for this album which is both lament and celebration for the experiences of women in history, mythology, and memory.

The first five tracks contain the bittersweet song cycle, Salt, from which the album takes its name. Here the listener is brought into the context of the Biblical story of Lot’s wife, forever imprisoned in a pillar of salt. But, rather than a pedestrian retelling of the tale, this cycle appropriates the context of the story to establish, with painful directness, the tone and direction of what will follow.

From her mineral prison, a mineral ironically known for its preserving properties, she sings of her crime of looking and remembering. She sings of pain, anger, and sadness, but never with remorse for her “crime”. It is an image that Beiser says lives powerfully in her personal memory. Mazzoli, Davis, and Beiser recontextualize the prisoner as victim, not criminal.

The ghostly images of the women we meet on this album are lamented as well as celebrated for their stories which burn deeply into our collective mythology, into our personal memories. Beiser lovingly dedicates this release first to her daughter, Aurielle Kaminsky, then to the principals whose creativity and energy pervade this album: Missy Mazzoli, Clarice Jensen, Meredith Monk, Erin Cressida Wilson, Helga Davis, Odeya Nani, Beth Morrison, and Christina Jensen.

In Lament to Phaedra, a work by the late British composer John Tavener is heard in an arrangement by Beiser. The 1995 work is sung by Phaedra’s sister Ariadne in response to Phaedra’s suicide by hanging. But here we have a wordless arrangement for cello and electronics that focuses on Tavener’s unique harmonic style and lyrical melodic construction. The result is effectively an affirmation of the lament for her fate.

Then we are treated to yet another transcription of a curiously difficult but very effective use of the early music concept of “hocket”, an interactive counterpoint of two voices. The eponymous Hocket, though vocal in its original form is, like much of Meredith Monk’s work, without a text. Monk’s work is about the voice, or the voices. And her revisioned operatic creations are fed by the mythological streams of women’s stories. This creative arrangement by this artist is an homage to Monk and, by extension, to the women she so beautifully celebrates in her work.

Another arrangement follows. It is a Melody from Orfeo ed Euridice, from the late baroque opera by Christopher Willibald Gluck. It is, of course, another ill fated relationship ended by the same infraction of looking and remembering that sealed the fate of Lot’s wife. Here Beiser chooses the gorgeous “Dance of the Blessed Spirits”, another wordless homage that imprints on the listener most effectively.

Next up is yet another wordless work, this one by fellow cellist and composer, Clarice Jensen, whose work has graced these blog pages before in reviews of her singular, drone, minimalist, meditative albums. Whether you call her work “drone” or “minimalism” or whatever you choose, your ears will bask in her meditative sonic ministrations. Jensen’s work, while related by its medium (that of cello and electronics), is a distinctly different style, immersive, meditative, evocative, a sound bath for the listener.

From the 21st century we are now transported to 17th century Venice and the work of the early baroque master Claudio Monteverdi. In the only surviving music from his second opera, we hear Ariadne, sister of Phaedra, singing the lament for the sister who had taken her life in shame and sadness.

The penultimate track brings us to this artist’s cultural roots with a song by Yedidya Admon to lyrics by Yitzchak Shenhar.

My Field (Shedemati)

My field,
At dawn I sowed it in tears,
Let the prayer of the farmer be heard!
My field,
It is saturated with dew,
It is intoxicated by the light of the sun.
The grain bends low in front of the reaper.
The strides are long,
The burnished scythe is raised high.

Odeya Nini provides the voice in this “reimagining“ of this classic song of sadness and lament by the lowly farmer imagined by the poet.

Fittingly, this last track is about death, endings. It is Beiser’s arrangement of Henry Purcell’s “When I am laid in the earth” from his opera, Dido and Aeneas. The text:

When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

But forgetting is not allowed here. Beiser begs us to remember. And we cannot avert our ears or eyes.