Orange is Caroline Shaw’s first full release since she won the Pulitzer Prize for Music for her Partita for 8 Voices in 2013, becoming the youngest recipient of the award at age 30. In the time since her Pulitzer, Shaw’s profile has soared dramatically, thanks to her work with Kanye West: She performed with West at a Democratic National Committee fundraiser in 2015, reworked his 808s & Heartbreak cut “Say You Will,” and contributed to The Life of Pablo and ye. With West, Shaw emphasized her singing, allowing her glassy voice to ring out with stark clarity and strength, echoing the exactitude and control of the Partita. The works on Orange, performed by Attacca Quartet, don’t adhere to the same engulfing claustrophobia of Shaw’s vocal compositions. They’re not confined to a room. They’re of the earth.
In press materials, Caroline Shaw calls Orange “a garden that she and Attacca Quartet are tending.” Even the expert gardener, however, cannot anticipate her results with certainty, and the pieces on Orange shoot off in thrilling and unpredictable directions. “Entr’acte,” the first piece, ranges in open space. The Attacca Quartet (violinists Amy Schroeder and Keiko Tokunaga, violist Nathan Schram, and cellist Andrew Yee) begin as if surprised, playing the core motif vigorously and in unison. It’s a small and satisfying pattern, but they quickly abandon it, and the piece turns into a series of lively detours that add texture. They return to its central melody in full only once.
The individually titled movements of “Plan and Elevation” don’t suggest variations on a common set of themes so much as five disparate approaches. The first movement, “The Ellipse” begins with grandiose violin swells before shrinking into jittery plucks. On the fourth movement, “The Orangery,” violinist Keiko Tokunaga plays Glassian arpeggios while the rest of the quartet shifts restlessly behind her. It’s an array of mood and tones that does not cohere to a bigger conclusion. The details are the meaning.
The music of Orange exudes joy and a sense of wildness. The second piece, “Valencia,” is bright and quick. The longest, “Ritornello 2.sq.2.j.a,” unfurls itself in many directions, unconfined by a motif or pattern. Taken together, the works of Orange share a curiosity to explore the crevices of a composition, highlighting textures and pacing, like the high-pitched stutters of “Punctum.” Often, as on “Entr’acte,” it feels like the performers are not looking toward an end but giddily chasing each other up the same hill, detouring where they see fit and perhaps stepping on each other’s feet as they climb.
