Honoring its title, Justyna Jablonska‘s Unforeseen never heads exactly where expected; in fact, it’s not even close. The cellist’s debut solo album drips with the confidence of exploration, incorporating multiple genres while acting as a metaphor for the immigrant experience. Jablonska connects the migration of birds with the migration of people and the migration of oft-improvised notes, focusing on the lives of Ukrainian, Polish and Roma Gypsy migrants. While this seems like a lot to tackle, the artist does so with aplomb.
The album begins as one might expect a cellist’s album to begin, with sedate phrasing, multitracked lines and a regal tone. The title track demonstrates Jablonska’s depth of emotion while establishing the baseline from which it will soon wander.
Were the record to have continued in this vein, it would have remained exemplary; yet the artist strives for something greater, just as those dreaming for a better life might pack their belongings, imitating the flocks passing overhead in the spring and fall. As “If You Can Hear This” launches with a spoken word sample and jungle rhythms, all bets are off. The artist will not be confined by expectation. Is it safe? Not at all, and therein lies the appeal. The bird, the immigrant, the artist may each be called upon to adapt to new surroundings.
“9 Daughers” is the first of three vocal pieces, beginning in birdsong and proceeding to a rendition of a traditional Lithuanian folk song A linden tree has nine branches, each one corresponding to a daughter, who each in turn are married, leaving the mother to “sweep the ashes.” The tone is one of mingled celebration and sadness: the empty nest, the broken tree. Can even the birds sing the sorrow away? The next piece starts with the sound of traffic, implying movement; then peaceful kalimba, cello and electronics, each in turn moving the music further away from its origins.
The skies open in “Wayward,” and Jablonska seems forlorn, until a series of upbeat melodies are translated to percussion and string. These are the unforeseen joys of leaving the place where one has begun; by the end, the skies have cleared. But not all changes are easy; “Fabryka” introduces a brief note of dissonance, setting the listener up for Monika Niemczynowicz’s return on “The Pact,” an extremely dark cautionary tale from Roztocze, Poland. The presence of such songs underlines the connection between land, culture and memory ~ tales passed down generation to generation, even when the family has migrated to a new home. One hungers for the live show, incorporating film and copious amounts of spoken word, hinted at in the final minute of “Procession.”
The album’s greatest surprise arrives toward the end with “Shchedryk (feat. Sofiia Fylypiv).” Most listeners will recognize “Carol of the Bells” in an instant, and many will recall its Ukrainian origins, but few will remember that the song predates Christianity and is about a swallow wishing a family “prosperity, good fortune and a fruitful year.” Jablonska reinstates the original title and meaning, reclaiming it from distortion. This too is a metaphor for the immigrant experience: the temptation to integrate to the extent that one’s history is sublimated. Jablonska, who lives in Glasgow, closes with her own take on “The Skye Boat Song,” which was itself adapted from a Gaelic tune. By the end, one is wondering about the the tug between one’s national origin and country of residence, and the very definition of home. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 