I wrote this for the summer 2000 edition of One Final Note. Click here to read it on that site. This past March I wrote another review of Under the Pyramid.

Dominic Duval with the C.T. String Quartet
Under the Pyramid (Leo Records)
review by Micah Holmquist
June 9, 2000

Screeching strings jump right out on "The Mayan (The Worriers),"which opens Under the Pyramid. Jason Hwang’s violin creates a pulsating sound that the other musicians try to match. The pace builds and builds until the tempo just drops with less than a minute left in this barely three minute long track. The four players then imitate sirens.

This track is an auspicious opening to an entire disc full of beautiful music as well as an anomaly as bassist Dominic Duval and his associates seem to be in a hurry. The quartet takes a more measured approach for the bulk of the ten tracks that make up Under the Pyramid.

All of the players get plenty of room to perform with and without accompaniment. At the same time, none of it seems unnecessary or redundant. The group always appears to be moving together even as they play separately or in various combinations. The disc thus comes across as a novel that takes many detours but rarely without reason and which never fails to connect each chapter (track) to the next.

Comparing Under the Pyramid to a novel is actually quite appropriate because Duval was trying to convey a very specific message. In the linear notes the bassist says, "I dedicate this music to the people of Mexico for their great strength and courage and ability to withstand the most difficult hardships. They will continue to survive against all the odds. A great lesson in history for us all to learn from and draw strength." In an email message to me, Duval expounded on the notes saying, "Their plight is part of the human condition we all just glance over in everyday life. Like the American Indian saga we ignore and push under the rug as, for lack of a better word, a ‘mistake.’"

It is thus not surprising that listeners will find a tragic and sorrowful message here. Harsh and jarring qualities dominate this music which stylistically owes as much to classical as it does to jazz. Whether it comes from Duval, Hwang, Ron Lawrence’s viola, or Tomas Ulrich’s cello, there is a consistent feeling that the music is about to fall apart as at any minute. This sense may come from moments like those on "Na Kuba Kai (Her Name is Moon God)" where the four imitate one another before progressing ahead as a quartet. And it may come from the fury found on tracks like the previously mentioned opener. But it is always there. Repeatedly the musicians sound as if they are building towards a great and powerful climax or that they are about to lose control of the music because it is just getting too chaotic. Neither event ever comes. This discipline is impressive and commendable as it conveys the message that even the most destructive acts often leave survivors. Part of the tragedy as well as a reason to remain hopeful is that the survivors carry on.

Tracks: The Mayan (The Worriers) (3:12)/U-Bah (She Performs) (4:47)/Na Kuba Kai (Her Name is Moon God) (9:43)/Mi Kuba (His Name) (4:46)/Adi (It Has Come to Pass) (5:29)/U Cham (She Lets) (5:10)/U Bah (He Goes) (4:27)/Mi Kuba Na (His Name is She) (14:20)/Ti Ak Ot (Dancing) (1:21)/Ti Hasaw-Chan (With a Flag We Wave Good Bye to the Past and Welcome in Our Future) (9:40)

Personal: Dominic Duval (bass)/Tomas Ulrich (cello)/Jason Hwang (violin)/Ron Lawrence (viola)

Recorded June 1999 New York City

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