Toronto composer and keyboardist R. Grunwald says his second full-length solo album, Iterations is named such in reference to the “idea of repeating something over and over again and learning new things with each repetition.” It’s a nuanced concept and it says a lot about Grunwald’s practice. It also directly reflects one of the record’s most compelling features. Varied iterations of the same compositions form the cornerstones of this record, providing fascinating perspective shifts and elegant variations on a few beautiful themes.
But at the same time, the term “repetition” does little to describe the music itself which in fact seems more to unfold than repeat over eight tracks, delicately but sure-footedly moving forward, outward. Iterations expands on Grunwald’s first full-length album, Oma, which was an entirely solo piano affair. Iterations is certainly as elegant and patient a record as Oma was, but it is also an aesthetic development, a kind of blossoming.
Opening with the cornerstone piece, the string quartet “Marred in Stillness,” before tumbling gently into “Why” for solo piano, Grunwald establishes a gorgeous and evocative tone which will certainly appeal to fans of the Rachel’s autumnal classic Music for Egon Schiele. Next, “Marred in Silence” reprises the opener, strings replaced verbatim by four voices, variously pulsating gently and cascading. It is a new iteration, a small but significant perspective shift. With this piece, which features Robin Dann (Bernice), Felicity Williams (Bahamas, Bernice), Alex Samaras (Queer Songbook Orchestra) and Mara Nesrallah, one may think of Meredith Monk but it is also here that the listener will begin to understand Grunwald as a sound designer, as someone who conceives of music in terms of landscape and color. Though Grunwald has made a name for himself playing on hundreds of sessions, including consistent contributions to the songbooks of Jill Barber and Donovan Woods, and while much of Iterations was composed while on a Banff Centre artist residency, Grunwald also works composing for film and television. This no doubt informs the cinematic sense in the work. In this way, Iterations has as much in common with Ryuichi Sakamoto or Yann Tiersen as it does with contemporaries like Bing & Ruth or Sarah Davachi.
The cornerstone piece is again reiterated as “Bound in Stillness,” this time arranged for synthesizer. Another perspective shift: while the composition is note-for-note the same as when it twice appeared previously, we are treated to another profound development: something has been repeated and indeed something new has emerged. What was particularly somber when voiced by a viola sounds ruminative when sung by a human voice. And still further, sparkling as a synthesizer, this same line becomes playful, searching. Grunwald understands these perspective shifts, focuses on them, and threads them throughout Iterations. But one need not understand any of this to enjoy the recording. That is, perhaps its greatest strength. For while Grunwald is operating on a conceptually sophisticated level, the emotional content of this music is immediate and palpable. Iterations is tender and inquisitive music, universal in its focus and stirringly intimate.