John Luther Adams

There’s a sense of vast, open space in John Luther Adams’s music that’s without a ready parallel among American composers. Carl Ruggles, from the early 20th century, probably comes closest, but composition has largely been an urban pursuit, and Adams, living in Alaska, breathes different air from the rest of his colleagues.

The four postminimalist works here each play out over 10 to 15 minutes, but sound as if they could go on forever. Among Red Mountains, played by pianist Drury, places loud cluster chords up against each other, and lets the piano ring out. As the repeated chords fade, you start to notice different notes inside, and what looks pretty basic on paper turns out to be deep and rich. Drury’s playing sounds as if it could fill the Bering Strait, especially as he bangs out big music in the bass clef.

The same goes for Qilyuan, for four bass drums. The percussionists’ repeated rhythms create waves of sound, and again, the music cascades out on a grand scale. The throbbing echoes created by all the stickwork add a third layer of activity similar to the resonance of the piano in Among Red Mountains.

Dark Waves opens the disc, with two pianos. Unlike the chords of Among Red Mountains, here the pianists trade motives and fragments, interspersed with electronic sounds. Piano, percussion and electronics come together for the title piece at the end. Deal’s tinkling vibraphone and crotales (antique cymbals) play off Drury’s meditative piano, and the wide vista stretches out in front of you, waiting.