As on the 2020 trio album ‘Transylvanian Folk Songs’, the inspirations are compositions collected by Béla Bartók in the early 20th century. Tracks such as the mournful ‘Harvest Moon Ballad’ and the brooding ‘Lover Mine of Long Ago’ resonate with Transylvanian sorrows and up-tempo pieces conjure village festivities. But now the influence of downtown Brooklyn is stronger, viola and piano are more intimately connected and moods are downbeat. […] Overall, emotions veer towards the sombre, and viola and piano are engagingly close-knit. Maneri’s mid-range slurs and upper-register sustains add mystery to Ban’s confident harmonic touch and a sense of foreboding when voicings become dense. The set ends with the traditional ‘Make Me, Lord, Slim and Tall’, in which unfulfilled desires are captured as blues cadences and Romanian scales combine.
Mike Hobart, Financial Times
Bluesy, intense and mercurial probably because Béla Bartók is so relevant to Charlie Parker such sounds linger and fascinate. And yet ‘Transylvanian Dance’ is a world away from the big city, bebop and the African-American experience. Nevertheless this collection of folk (doina) pieces once collected by the great Hungarian composer and performed by pianist Lucian Ban – very much a modernist in a Craig Taborn-like vein – and violist Mat Maneri fits right in. Maneri proves a dazzling presence on an evocative album recorded live in the western Romanian city of Timișoara at the CJT in 2022.
Stephen Graham, Marlbank
Pianist Ban and violist Maneri have collaborated for over a decade and a half, with the last few years dedicated to exploring a microcosm of Bartók’s thirty-six hundred transcriptions of Transylvanian folk music. The duo treats the composer’s work on each piece with admiration and appreciation but does not feel bound to his written notes. Songs are opened up for moments of improvisatory ingenuity, which allow for the incorporation of not only elements from their backgrounds in jazz and free music but also their shared interest in folk music from around the globe. […] . It isn’t easy to pinpoint precisely where the ‘Transylvanian Dance’’s music is coming from stylistically. It’s not quite folk music. It’s not quite Western classical music. It’s not quite jazz. Ultimately, it is human music, and that is what makes it so beautiful.
Rob Shepherd, Post Genre
Das Duo harmoniert perfekt. Ban und Maneri verdichten folkloristische Ideen zu einer kammermusikalischen Suite. Vor allem der Bratschist, der bei seinem Vater Joe Maneri durch eine strikte Schule mikrotonaler Sachlichkeit gegangen ist, entdeckt hier völlig neue Seiten (und Saiten) emotionaler Verzückung in sich. Die innige Vertanztheit dieses Pas de deux läuft auf eine Art Ritual hinaus, die jede Distanz zwischen Machern und Zuhörern aufhebt. Man wird beim Hören Teil des Klangs, der zwischen Tröpfeln und Drone changiert.
Wolf Kampmann, Jazzthing
In a musical partnership that stretches back to 2009, Romanian born pianist Lucian Ban and US violist Mat Maneri, and with this their second release for ECM that musical relationship continues to deepen and explore new sonic and melodic possibilities. […] From the outset the chemistry is apparent and it appears that some of the music written by Ban was with Maneri in mind as a collaborator. The material on this latest release is markedly different, and much closer to home for the pianist than Maneri as the duo explore the folk music collected and notated by Béla Bartók, with many of the compositions having been gathered by Bartók from Transylvania where Ban grew up in a small village in the northwest of the region. These folk songs offer limitless possibilities for the duo, and indeed they have been exploring ways to approach the material for a number of years […] With Ban and Maneri taking such a deep and scholarly interest in the music collected by the Hungarian composer they breathe new life into the pieces. Classical music, jazz and improvisation are carefully introduced in the mix while taking care to preserve the origins of the songs, and yet the resulting music sounds uniquely their own. […] It is this sense of togetherness in creating music that is seemingly timeless yet inherently free and open to fresh interpretation that make the music recorded as part of the Retracing Bartók project in Timișoara so appealing.
Tim Larsen, Jazz Views
Diese meist traurigen, langsamen, bewegenden Weisen bilden aber nur das Sprungbrett für fantasievolle Improvisationen, bei denen vor allem Maneri auch in andere Musikkulturen auszuscheren scheint, sogar nach Afrika und Ostasien. Das sind anrührende, sanft wogende Seelenreisen, die sich mal an der Melodie entlangbewegen, dann wieder ganz eigene Motivräume aufschließen – die Tonalitäten wechseln fließend.
Hans-Jürgen Schaal, Jazzthetik
Ban und Maneri begegnen sich auf dieser zum Großteil improvisierten Expedition in die Enklaven der südöstlichen Folklore mit Reife und Hingabe. Sie finden in der spontanen wie zugewandten Kommunikation eine außergewöhnliche Einheit zwischen Jazz, Folklore und Moderner Klassik. Sie arbeiten mit Zitaten, zeitgenössischen Texturen und solistischen Impressionen, lösen schlichte Melodien aus ihrer Provinzialität und verbeugen sich gleichzeitig in Demut und Respekt vor der Einfachheit und Würde dieses Volksliedgutes. Neugierig wie die Kinder und zugleich unerschrocken erforschen die beiden Solisten musikalische Hintergründe und folkloristische Prinzipien. Eine musikalische Reise in die Regionen regionaler wie individueller Intimität, aufgenommen übrigens in Timisoara, der letztjährigen europäischen Kulturhauptstadt.
Jörg Konrad, Kultkomplott
Dies ist eine Geschichte vom kreativen Umgang mit ‘Volksmusik’, und zwar in mehrfacher Brechung und damit mehrfach aufgeladener Spannung: in dem melancholischen Bewusstsein um die Entfernung vom Ursprung und in der selbstbewussten Behauptung jener, die den Blick zurück wagen oder in einem Akt der Beschwörung dem Ursprünglichen eine Präsenz verschaffen. […] Ban und Maneri bringen einmal diese Volksmusik ans Herz greifend zum neu zum Leuchten (der Rumäne auch aus autobiographischen Gründen: Es ist die Musik seiner Kindheit auf dem Land). Sie setzen auch Bartók ein Denkmal. Und nicht zuletzt sich selbst: Sie rekonstruieren die hinreissenden Fundstücke nicht ‘originalgetreu’, sie nehmen sich, und das ist der Jazz-Aspekt des Unternehmens, durchaus improvisatorische Freiheiten und Anspielungen heraus. […] Es gibt auf diesem Album Stücke, die nah am Original sind, und solche, die freier, manchmal sogar ‘abstrakt’ mit der Vorlage umgehen. Auch dies im Sinne Bartóks. Der suchte für seine Musik nicht ‘folkloristische’ Fragmente, er suchte einen neuen, im Elementaren verwurzelten musikalischen Geist. Der weht in diesem ganzen transsilvanischen Songbook.
Peter Rüedi, Weltwoche
Following in the footsteps of previous artists can be an exciting task. Romanian pianist Lucian Ban and US violist Mat Maneri find inspiration as they trail 20th-century composer Béla Bartók. ‘Transylvanian Dance’ is the second project by these two, but one that focuses on a stronger folk-style sound. The duo embodies the oddness of Bartók as well as their own musical eccentricities and expertise nicely; they are playful (giving way to free styling) without losing focus and leaving the listener completely behind. […] From the first track, ‘Poor is My Heart,’ we are transported to the rural countryside full of birds, sunshine, fields and laborers. The duo plays softly but earnestly. The piano drifts and runs lithely. The violin jitters and can be a bit screechy or scratchy sounding, but it provides an interesting opposite to the steady flow of the piano. It sets the mood and establishes the folksy tone that will drive the rest of the album forward. […] . A spirit of enthusiasm partnered with a sophisticated and educated ear, helps the duo meld together and spin reems of silvery improvisational magic. […] Ban and Maneri are forward-thinking when it comes to their projects, willing to push the boundaries and seek that which is new, that which is startling. The musical narrative on ‘Transylvanian Dance’ exhibits a balance between the musicians’ awareness of their distance from the original material and a self-confident assertion of self, of creative originality that then conjures something wonderful and new into existence. Though they could be truer to the traditional sources, the improvisational mode is rewarding on the whole.
Konstantin N. Rega, Spectrum Culture
Recorded live as part of the Retracing Bartók project that took place in Timișoara, Romania, the eight songs run the gamut of traditional folk ballads to the lively title track with the two musicians improvising around the original scores. The recording echoes across the ages with its moving and emotional material and spectacular performance.
Stuart Derdeyn, Vancouver Sun
‘Transylvanian Dance’ is the second recording on ECM by pianist Lucian Ban and violist Mat Maneri; the first was ‘Transylvanian Concert’ (2013). As the album title suggests, the duo explores Eastern European material, specifically that collected by Béla Bartók. Ban was born in Romania and delights in the fascinating polyrhythms of this region. Maneri is well versed in the microtonal and multi-scalar aspects of folk song. These are not mere transcriptions. Maneri has described them in interviews as, ‘a springboard,’ a reservoir of melodic and rhythmic ideas that the duo use for improvisation. Recorded live in the Romanian city Timișoara în 2022 as part of ECM’s Retracing Bartók project, ‘Transylvanian Dance’ demonstrates varied and versatile reinventions of its source material. […] Ban and Maneri revel in the music Bartók found in his trips to Transylvania. The title track is a case in point, where Ban explores a mixed meter groove while Maneri plays modal scales with glissandos and bent notes that recall the gestural vocabulary one might hear from a traditional fiddler. As the piece progresses, Maneri plays long lines that blur the polymeter, inviting Ban to add splashes of cluster harmonies and a thrumming bass countermelody. Gradually, there is a coming apart and then rejoining by the duo, a recapitulation of the opening material, and then a sideways swerve with new harmonies, inside the piano work, and a rousing viola cadenza. […] Fluent in folk sources and imaginative in improvising upon them, Ban and Maneri have created a compelling document. I think Bartók would be proud of them. ‘Transylvanian Dance’ is one of my favorite recordings of 2024.
Christian Carey, Sequenza 21
Nachdem bereits die CDS ‘Transylvanian Concert’ (2013) und ‘Transylvanian Folk Songs’ (2020) stark von Béla Bartóks Feldaufnahmen beeinflusst waren, hat das Duo Ban Maneri nun mit der Neuerscheinung ‘Transylvanian Dance’ eine stimmige Mitte gefunden zwischen offener Kammermusik und Folklore. Dabei geht es nicht um die Darbietung der ursprünglichen Melodien. Vielmehr lassen sich die zwei von Details und Stimmungen anregen. Der ‘Romanian Folk Dance’ ist ein schönes Beispiel für die Free-Jazz-beeinflusste Weiterentwicklung und man fühlt sich auch an moderne Komponisten wie György Ligeti erinnert. Dass die zwei ihre Aufnahmen häufig live machen, ist ein zusätzlicher Gewinn. ‘Tansylvanian Dance’ ist 2022 im Rahmen des Projekts ‘Retracing Bartók’ in Timisoara aufgenommen worden.
Jörg Solothurnmann, Jazz’n’more
This work is art the highest level. But fear not: it swings in its own way, because like Bartók’s work, it is infused with the natural syncopation the rhythmic complexity that has been at the heart of the people’s music for centuries. Perhaps the best example of the microtonality (note bending) and freedom of rhythm is the title track, which swirls around the driving ¾ groove Ban sets with his left hand. Maneri slides his way up and down through notes (not unlike Billie Holiday) in a joyous, pulsating romp. The artists had no interest in merely playing transcriptions of ancient melodies. With their deep knowledge and technique, their goal ‘was to bring (the music) into our own world and improvise,’ Ban recently informed this reviewer. ‘We wanted to blow, and still do justice to the original.’ A fine example is ‘The Boyar’s Doina’, written in a form that’s widely believed to be connected to the Middle East, but which Maneri and Ban transform into a hypnotic, slowly-swaying blues.
Keith Hoffman, New York City Jazz Record
