Boris Lenko HOMO HARMONICUS

Boris Lenko – Accordion Solo

Peter Zagar (1961)
1 Mata Hari (1997/2002) …………………………………. 2.00
Boris Lenko (1965)
2 Juta (2010) …………………………………………………………. 2.29
Gyӧrgy Ligeti (1923-2006)
Musica ricercata (1951-1953)
3 I. Sostenuto – Misurato – Prestissimo ……………. 2.14
4 II. Mesto, rigido e cerimoniale ……………………… 3.12
5 III. Allegro con spirito …………………………………. 1.05
6 IV. Tempo di valse
(poco vivace – «à l’orgue de Barbarie») ………… 1.54
7 VI. Allegro molto capriccioso ………………………. 0.51
8 VII. Cantabile, molto legato ………………………… 3.36
9 VIII. Vivace. Energico ………………………………… 1.19
Peter Zagar (1961)
10 Smútočný spev / Dirge (2001) …………………….. 14.22
Ilja Zeljenka (1932-2007)
3 staršie tance pre akordeón sólo
3 Older Dances for Accordion (2005)
11 I. energ. ā la tango …………………………………….. 2.26
12 II. andante, ā la valčík ………………………………… 2.49
13 III. allegro, energico, ā la polka ……………………. 2.18
Jürgen Ganzer (1950)
„rȇve de jour“ (1990)
14 rȇve de jour V …………………………………………… 3.13
15 rȇve de jour VI ………………………………………….. 1.36
16 rȇve de jour VII …………………………………………. 4.25
17 rȇve de jour VIII ………………………………………… 2.26
Ole Schmidt (1928-2010)
18 Toccata No. 2 (1963) ………………………………….. 4.59
Boris Lenko (1965)
19 Theme + (2006) …………………………………………. 3.50

Recorded at Thurzo House, Banská Bystrica in September 2010 •
Accordion: Scandalli
Recording, Mastering (24 bit/192 kHz), Production and Distribution: PAVLÍK RECORDS
Recording equipment: DAD AX24 Mic Preamp and Converter System, DPA 4041, 4006 and 4011 Microphones
Music producer: Boris Lenko • Sound engineer: Rostislav Pavlík
Texts: © Silvester Lavrík • Translation: © Martina Milova
Photos: © Lenka Rajčanová, Mjuzik.eu • Drawings: © Martin Shooty Šútovec • Layout: © Martin Vojtek
PA 0089-2-131

Vydané s finančným príspevkom Hudobného fondu

Accordion? … a smile upon the face, a deep sorrow inside the heart.

The accordion and myth
If we were to ignore the historical fact that the accordion is only a little over a 100 years old, the myth depicting its creation might recount a certain Lazybones, whose wife would berate him for never doing anything useful or reasonable and instead just leaning on the doorpost all day, and whistling at girls walking by and constantly squabbling with his overworked wife. The wife had cried through many a night, because of her useless husband. To no avail… One day, she’d had enough. It was only after noticing a sad silence inside the house that Lazybones had realized this. He suddenly missed her in the kitchen, in the bed, he missed her tears, her anger and her long forgotten laugh. He missed it so much, that after a few days, he didn’t care about whistling at the young ladies walking by, anymore. He went inside the house shutting the doors and windows behind him and he stuffed his old coat into the chimney. Only a sleeve was left hanging above the cold fireplace. When he opened the house again you could still hear his wife crying in the kitchen, the husband squabbling and the cheerful whistling all at once. The passersby would stop in front of Lazybones house. They were surprised that his wife came back to him. At first, they couldn’t understand why, but then they realized, she just couldn’t live without him. They applauded the faithful wife. Let’s not be surprised now, people have applauded bigger nonsense in the past. Lazybones came out through the door, hugging something strange – it was a shapeless box with a wrinkled sleeve from the old coat sewn into its center. He kept struggling with it and it seemed as if the box was going to split in two any minute now. It croaked, screeched, moaned. It wasn’t beautiful. How could it have been? Its creator was just a simple Lazybones. On the other hand, it was able to simultaneously cry with one eye and laugh with the other. It did this in such a despairing manner, that the women standing by started crying, while the men would laugh. Immediately, they began arguing. Some claimed it was a harmonica and others called it an accordion. They also argued, if what they were hearing was beautiful or ugly. And they argue to this day. Thank god. This way, accordions all around the world have something to play about.

The accordion and reality
A myth is a myth and reality is reality. Let’s admit it openly, even the most beautiful accordion will never be considered really pretty. Meanwhile, any mediocre violin could conceit, that when a woman looks into the mirror she would in fact, prefer to see the violin. Some people could argue that this is a rather superficial judgment. And they would be right. What can we do? Superficiality is in our blood. If we, for example, compared it with alcohol and measured it’s quantity in per mil, the levels would definitely exceed the amount safe for survival. Despite it, we continue to live happily. We automatically consider a violin beautiful. As if a musical instrument was created for its curves. Only very few people actually choose to look at the accordion out of their own volition. When parents sign up their kids in music school, they only choose the accordion after all the other courses are already full. I know what I’m talking about. I used to be one of those kids myself. “We don’t have enough money for a piano and you would break a guitar. You are going to learn to play the accordion”, decided my father. This is how I became an accordion player. I think, I might have been the absolute worst one, in the history of our school. Maybe even in the history of our galaxy. The struggle between my teacher, my accordion and I was nearly inhuman. I kept stretching it, while my disobedient fingers searched for the keys and bass buttons, like an angry blind man sitting over the Braille alphabet, which simply won’t make any sense to him. I hit it with my helpless little ten-year-old fist, blaring out sounds that made my accordions bellows stammer and its trebles tremble. Finally it ended up in the attic. Forgotten…
The accordions discord is innate to it, due to the way it is constructed. A little nacre covered box cut in half and sewn together with an air mechanism. It is heavy and burdensome to play or to carry. Wouldn’t it be easier to just cross it out? Forget it? Persuade all accordion players in the world to take up the piano instead, or the organ, marimba, ocarina…anything just to forget about the accordion. Like I forgot about mine when I realized that I didn’t have enough strength, perseverance, talent and passion; that I simply wasn’t able to handle it. So many of mankind’s great ideas were left to perish. Why not the accordion?
An accordion really isn’t a violin. It’s not even a trumpet. The cheery sound of the trumpet… The sweet tones of a violin… What can we say about the accordion? … You can hear what? Wheezing? Croaking? Moaning? It can even be cheeky. So cheeky, that there are those who to this day believe, that the accordion should have never been allowed to get out of the bars and streets into the world of solid music.

The accordion and the accordion players
The accordions position amongst other musical instruments is such, that the writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez set out to defend it in one of his first publicly released texts, already sometime in the year 1948. He considered it a plebeian with a pure sensitive soul. He wrote his accordion defense at a time when the South American proletariat was just embarking on the road towards loosing its delusions about it-self. Marquez wrote about the accordion, so he wouldn’t have to write directly about people. I think, that it is understandable. He was able to write more fervently about a musical instrument without risking to be accused of his plebeian sentiment. Now, after some time has passed, it’s apparent, that he also avoided the risk of being disappointed by his client. An accordion can do a lot of things but it cannot disappoint. An accordion player can maybe disappoint but an accordion – never. An accordion cannot, but express itself, unlike for example a violin. It is by virtue of its soul. And let’s not mistake it for its bellows. The bellows are only its lungs.
An accordion is irresistibly alluring to me. Maybe it’s due to my own rural origins. The same as the young Marquez attributed to the accordion. Maybe, I too, am touched by the instruments well-hidden soul, that no one expects to be sublime, fervent, ironic and even substantially intellectual. It can surprise again and again. At first it just coughs a little, it hums, as if somehow training its sick or broken voice. Testing its abilities, it hints at a melody, it promises rhythm and opens the listener’s eyes, ears and sometimes even their mouths. I saw people whose jaws literally dropped in astonishment. They freeze, unable to conceive of their own senses. Hesitant, they stare at this cut in half nacre covered, box. Fascinated, their gaze jumps from the right hand to the left, trying to capture, where the sounds bewitching them so much, are coming from. The accordion has one more quality. It’s uncompromising. It always demands all of your attention. Or even utter dismissal. Maybe, that is why it comes back into fashion again and again. Even though, it never really went out of fashion. Gentle and plebeian, passionate and melancholy, hoarse and cheering, all at the same time, this is how only the accordion is able to play. Of course, when the player holding it, possesses all of those qualities. Boris Lenko is exactly that type.

The accordion and the moon
…Let me get back to my accordion now. It is not true that it ended up in the attic. Well, it is true, but not the entire truth. It ended up even worse. It burned… together with the whole attic. The beam that was forgotten in the chimney was at fault. Well, really it was my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged it up there. We guarded the burned down attic all night. Melted nacre, in the moonlight, being covered by soot and ashes…A sad end. Today, despite everything, when I remember my accordion, I feel like smiling.
A smile upon its face and a deep sorrow within its soul – that is the accordion.