Medieval (Time-Traveling) Orchestra in Two Immersive Volumes
Yelena Eckemoff walks ‘among castles, horses and carriages, kings and princes’ in her latest, ‘Scenes from the Dark Ages’ — classical-jazz immersion therapy, upended by heavy-duty prog-rock
“I didn’t want just guitar and bass. I wanted rock guitar and electric bass and really strong drums. On this recording, you’ll hear me playing not only piano, but medieval instruments like organ, clavichord, harpsichord, and celesta. I also wanted violin and flute, and I think this somewhat atypical instrumentation gives the music another dimension.” — Yelena Eckemoff, artist
Yelena Eckemoff does nothing halfway. The Moscow-born, classically trained pianist finds her bliss by making the magical whirlwind of existence and all its incarnations come to vibrant life in a kind of hybrid music that passes through the formal structure of theme and variation, the complicated improvisation of feel and function, and the wonderful hand of God that connects the two in melodic striations everyone can enjoy.
The North-Carolina-based artist likes to funnel her far-out ideas into concept albums, usually in two elaborate parts, as she did recently on her Medieval-themed release, Scenes from the Dark Ages. The two-volume, 15-track album (self-released on her L&H Production label) — with each concerto-like tune clocking in between four and a half to over 11 minutes — was recorded at Digitube Studio in Mantua, Italy, on June 16-18, 2023, with guitarist Riccardo Bertuzzi, tweaking the prog-rock — her debut of sorts, violinist Eloisa Manera, bassist Riccardo Oliva, percussionist Trilok Gurtu, and flutist Carlo Nicita.
Over 22 albums later, she turns the Medieval Orchestra of her wild, childhood imaginings into Scenes from the Dark Ages, combining cinematic scope with contemporary, chart-topping feel — all while somehow transporting listeners to another time, one that has the past, present, and future simultaneously playing out at once, as if in a dream or watching the greatest blockbuster fantasy out on the edge of the Grand Canyon under impossible Northern Lights.
This isn’t her first prog-rock, medieval rodeo.
“In my late teens, I played in a progressive rock band, which influenced my composing with prog-rock idiom,” she told Suzanne Lorge for the liner notes. “Later, after immigrating to the United States, I was working in my MIDI studio and utilizing the rich possibilities of Kurzweil K-2000 sequencer and created a project that I called Medieval Symphony, where I mixed a medieval feel with prog-rock and fusion. This project represented my reincarnated childhood dream about medieval times — how I imagined them, according to all those wonderful, illustrated fairy tales I used to read and love.”
As a child, she would pore over those illustrated books and engage in a make-believe game “about living on a different planet, set in medieval times, where I walked among castles, horses and carriages, kings and princes.” The musically gifted child prodigy would soon put pen — and notes — to paper in the fourth grade. “Funny, but a couple of the melodic ideas from that effort made their way into this album [liner notes, Oct. 2024].”
Eckemoff’s one-woman MIDI Medieval Orchestra simmered in the background, as she made other albums and eventually discovered the “live touch of real musicians.”
Eureka!
“…I reworked all of the tunes from the original Medieval Symphony, added new material, and infused it all with jazz improvisation.” Indeed, she did.
This year marks the 15th anniversary of an illustrious, prolific career of master-crafting original, immersive musical experiences, accompanied by art and story. Because for her, the musicians on her projects, and her devoted fans, music should be an experience, not a one-off.
SKIMMING THE SURFACE OF AN INFINITE DEEP, Disc One
“Adventures of a Knight” (9:42) starts off prog-rock strong — electrified guitar, drums, and keys firing away — confident, in no uncertain terms, before snow-drifting off into a piano and violin concerto, wrapping around a thoughtful segment of an ambient, but unambiguous jazz furlough in a series of what sounds like question marks, as the knight forges ahead, with the six-piece band quite literally and figuratively capturing his forward-plodding movements and the changing seasonal scenery unfolding around him, from the spritely flute spring to the wistful melancholy of dying leaves in wintry sleep, and back again to the violent mission at hand — defeating foes and winning crowns, of battles and a good night’s rest. Not surprisingly, the instruments converge, from the group dispensing prog-rock to classical jazz over a jazz dictum, to one massive, fiery multi-dimensional, all-genre collective, proving…
…violin can serenade and rock, keys can go heavy and soft…
(We’ll see this same, all-hands-on-deck pageantry winding out the centrifugal much later…)
In this one opening track, Eckemoff showcases the versatility of instruments long pigeon-holed as one or the other, busting the divide wide open, and all while maintaining the musicality of riding and riffing off a discernible mainstream melody, herself included.
The lady can rock ‘n roll, lithe and jam when she wants to.
Believe it or not, “Battle” sounds very Rush-like.
You remember Rush from the 1980s, double-dipper of artisanal synth prog-rock, tonal jazz, and subversive, yet feel-good social message (“Tom Sawyer,” “Subdivisions,” “The Spirit of Radio”).
“As a story-telling enthusiast myself, playing music where every song is an accurate description of a medieval scene helps to get into a specific mood. All the tracks are different from one another, and you cross a lot of genres. There’s a lot of harmonic courage, and dynamic and tonal variety. From the point of view of guitarist, it was all the more interesting, because I found myself trying, with the guitar, to describe the scenes that were the subject of each song as much as possible.” — Riccardo Bertuzzi, electric guitar
This second, opening salvo underscores and oscillates — in tremendous leaps and steps — the way Geddy Lee and Neil Peart might on a post-millennial revival tour…perhaps an extended play of “Tom Sawyer” for the instrumentalists.
Eckemoff transforms the battle scene, along with the primary focus of her raging guitarist — taking on the hits and misses and fleshy landing — transforming her instruments (she plays an entire range of piano, organ, synth, and clavichord throughout) accordingly.
Even though there is also a hard and fast melody to hold onto, it is in what the musicians do with that heavy-to-light train of thought that fosters listener fascination, especially the main event at her peak. Brilliant.
When it goes, and it goes in 4:45, you’re still waiting for the encore.
“Chivalry” (5:29) could’ve come right out of the latest fantasy-drama on Netflix or Apple, in easy-to-binge parts, more musical narrative than demo showcase. It’s what two people feel when they interact, one giving way, the other fluttered and fluttering like a flute-fettered dove. Eckemoff’s piano opens scenes in wide apertures, cushioning missteps in a poetic license, as subtitles might give way to hidden nuances setting the stage and translating what we cannot say.
“Tournament” (6:03) appears hard to figure out, at first. Until you realize you’re not supposed to pick it apart but sink in and let its multi-figured, medieval-genre tapestries (a funnel cloud of flute, back-bending, subdued guitar, and circular rhythmic percussive keys) come together and untether, as perhaps children’s clothes on mother’s clothes line out back, curtains pulling back naturally for the approach of hooves and flags and celebratory cattle calls.
This composition tells the story of a literal tournament, pomp and circumstance, in thematic pirouettes (Eckemoff’s piano, Nicita’s flute, Manera’s violin) that carry on like shooting stars (Bertuzzi’s win-over guitar, circling the landscape) of musical verve.
Just when you think you’ve fallen in love with the violin’s curves, Bertuzzi steals the show with his guitar solo, cutting through the light and lively medieval countryside with a bit of contemporary, metallic flair — over a constant running rhythmic brook underneath. This one could go on forever, revealing endless charms, and you wouldn’t mind.
“Yelena’s writing recalls the progressive rock of the 1970s, but with distinctive characteristics of its own, which comes from her poetical approach. It’s very dense music, mostly written, even if there are some improvisational sections. It’s also very well organized, and within this organization, everyone found their own space. In addition to the ancient and the modern, there is a somewhat mystical atmosphere to it.” — Eloisa Manera, acoustic/electric violin
“Masquerade” (4:25) is as medieval-sounding as you’ll get (clavichord?). But you know Eckemoff will mince a lot more than a pleasant, “Partridge Family”-meets-carousel TV opening theme set to a dance peopled with ladies and knights behind elaborate masks and costumes — and she does as soon as violin begins to eke out a living off that clavichord dew drop, serving as mood, tempo, and delight around every corner. Eckemoff and her band make the most of a few opening trinkets, infusing wonderful depth to a ring-around-the-rosie fairy tale.
“Alchemist,” at 8:35, runs long, immediately conjuring up an ambient, expanded jazz setting with a slightly downturned flute posing as the classical ballet backdrop. The tune musically follows the painstaking work of an alchemist, pouring elixir and mixing potions, the peaceful, but purposeful work that must be done — a perfect soundtrack effect of scene-building, as well as the inner voices that sustain such a steadfast resolve to keep building nature’s medicinal herbs and life-saving, magical concoctions…the medieval period’s version of a pharmacological chemist. The tempo goes from slow to medium-fast, and back to slowly wafting chimney smoke up into the sky by the end of the day (track).
“Quest” (9:16) contains one of the most beautiful flute renderings in the album, followed by the electric guitarist pressing pulse points to get his amplified melancholy and internal bastion of a kind of anti-heroism across…the living epitome of less bleeding out into more — if you stay awhile and let the instrumental tune have its say.
Flute and guitar portray the riveting quest in all its hopeful, fearful glory, restrained artistry that lets out proverbial monikers of poetic fusion, lyrically encircling that time traveling Eckemoff does so well in her deep, complex music — seemingly telling time through musical equivalents of archetypal character portraits we can somehow identify with, as if we’ve lived through those past/present/future glancing moments with her.
Special kudos to Bertuzzi, who — in between equally captivating interactive/solo interludes of flute and bass/drums and resounding colorful keys, bubbling and buzzing in tuneful micro-to-macro heights — cranks out a solo that serves as both scene stealing and storytelling.
“I was really surprised … how Yelena managed to put jazz band with the medieval-like melodies. For me, as a bass player, it was really unusual to play some melodic lines. They were super well-written, between the other instruments. It was challenging, but in a good way, and the tunes were beautiful.” — Riccardo Oliva, electric bass
“From the Life of the Lords” (5:58) wraps up Disc One in a resplendent, streaming, star-spangled prog-rock hustle, where all of the instruments at Eckemoff and her band’s disposal echo lavish nobility with the industrious busy of noble purpose…in music that sets the scene, glimpses the lords’ inner circle, and rocks the jazz, classical, prog-rock balance.
Arrestingly, Bertuzzi’s one-man, electric-guitar play becomes both a part of the band’s progress and incremental Paul Revere Midnight Ride, sounding off impending news, while also pondering the news’ impact, making way for Disc Two.
GETTING EVEN MORE ESOTERIC-SPECIFIC IN DISC TWO
It’s not, but “Pilgrims” (5:38) seems flute-centric — the intro is quaintly, oddly plodding and offbeat — and that is the genius of Eckemoff. She’s able to pour an entire symphony, in her own clearcut, back and forth, medieval/contemporary style, into each musician’s chart, scripted and improvised, for full effect, together as a cohesive unit listening and harmonizing with one another, and individually, in those stupendous, sustainably animated solos.
If you’re not carefully patient, you’ll assume the Disc Two opener is just more of the same sound-effect soundtrack from the previous volume.
“Pilgrims” is the encore of every late-night jazz jam session, but within the Medieval Orchestra context, telling and following stories, and giving off character-actor vibes; in this case, the musical make-up of pilgrims braving the wild to set up their own kind of heaven on earth — strangely reminiscent of the highs and lows of a densely populated figure-eight of Disc One’s “From the Life of the Lords,” but more spread-out, thought-out, and, dare we say, tonally interesting.
Each instrument, especially the electric guitar, seems to pull more soulful between-the lines — the elaborate descriptives of every mystical tale — of everyday, seemingly ordinary conversation and interaction, breathing meaning in even the simple act of handing a child a bowl full of porridge after a hard day’s trek.
She can make the mundane intoxicatingly musical through traditional, conventional instruments.
Somehow, Eckemoff personifies not only what it must’ve been like to be a pilgrim during that time, but all the sights and sounds, in a rhythmically pleasing, musically forward, aesthetic vibe that makes as perfect sense to people living in 2025 as in the 14th century.
“When Yelena let me listen to her music, I was immediately attracted to this mix of the ancient and the modern. It is precisely what interests me in music — creating a bridge between the ancestral, ancient way of playing and finding a modern, more captivating way. Yelena’s music embraces this world. It has many colors, shades, and settings to it. The whole experience [in the studio] was very beautiful, very intense, though it wasn’t easy, because the compositions are very complex in the way they evolve.” — Carlo Nicita, soprano/alto/bass flute
What starts off simple, winds through a lot of complexity, and a lot of genres, to leave a lasting effect on the listener. This track is an endless treasure trove of discovery and enchantment.
“Village Tavern” (5:18) gives off an herbal, rainforest, jungle, caroling of the bells feel at its outskirts, and is as eclectic as Eckemoff gets, without losing the flute-flavored medieval theme. You know, the theme and the rhythmic bowing and skirting dance of a thousand gatherings by the fire.
Eckemoff makes her clavichord bend, change, sing, and curtsy in the Middle-Aged medley of spin-offs, as the rest of her band merrily joins in before — at the 3/4th mark — Bertuzzi does something striking…
His solo, rocketing out from the medieval fluttering flute, recalls Pat Metheny’s prog-jazz of yesteryear, during the height of that metallic ascension encompassing all we know of emotional time travel, where memories blink and thrum and stir something real inside us.
“From Peasants Life” (5:14) reverberates on a musical shimmering light that flashes and twinkles in the classical-jazz night sky, elevating hardship into inspiration.
Yes, “Nicita’s lyrical flute” does reflect a “pastoral…country life,” but it is Eckemoff’s hand on ivory that guides, glistens, and underscores the peaceful and the hard-won amidst the lark and the limitless of gravity and air taking sharp, puffy intakes of breath and that lithesome flute doing its own swan dive.
A good jazz adventure always includes cutting corners and spiraling harmonic fantasy. “Spell-Bound Fortress” (10:37) mirrors this octave tendency to great, compelling effect. Every beginning turns within itself, every fade flares up and glows, a rounded wave stretching toward home. Maybe Eckemoff’s Medieval Orchestra is trying to describe for us the oasis up ahead, locked and surrounded by invisible warning signs.
Again, she turns in a lyrical, but rigorous jazz phase on post-bop, Orwellian piano, all contrary and melodically discordant, as does Bertuzzi sliding into nirvana — and a blink and you’ll miss the country-western “Shane” draw — on electric guitar, embracing what they know of the present into the past.
It’s funny. Eckemoff thought I’d really like the accessible, melodic throughline of prog-rock — fusion jazz for the people — in this album much more than her past classical-jazz/EDM stuff, but it is her charm with complicated jazz in unforgiving classical form that truly got me here to begin with, especially on this track, one of my favorites.
Another jazz trait can be found in the depths of “Monks in Scriptorium” (6:56), and that is anticipation. The best characteristic of anticipation is in its boundless depths; a musician who knows what she’s doing can play a lifetime’s worth of albums on this alone.
To capture literal monks in Scriptorium, bowed heads and scribbling fingers in a dark void below taverns and castles, Eckemoff and her band strip away musical monikers to bare bones first, then build brick by noteworthy brick the pure feeling of worship — creating worlds out of nothing, let there be light uncovering — and the painstaking wilderness of the conflicted yet divine spark in us all, all of that must entail.
The solos justifiably rock and reverberate out of the past into the 20th century, where, let’s face it, most of the best music resides — and can never be monetized.
Plus, she does it with flute and violin, two decidedly classical instruments.
You’re definitely in a “Cathedral” (5:30). Hear the organ welcoming weary believers into its fold, how its durge-y notes float apart and rest around the tincture of stained glass and weathered wood, the creaky opening of a gold-lined book, rustling of fine-tissue paper, arch of a faint choir in the distance — in eternal rapture, children’s laughter as they assemble to and fro in a nearby, wall-less room, hinting that it’s a cathedral of a more natural kind, taking place outside under bough and eave.
Poetic, intrinsic music realized, the Source of all living things, lives above us, inviting comparisons to a jazz and classical tone poem, a magical haiku that says everything that needs to be said for strangers to lock hands and look into each other’s frailties and gifts.
The echo of voices permeating here and there…church bells ringing in the fade…is everything you need to know about this self-sustaining soundtrack, where quiet wonders never cease, another favorite.
“Legends of the Castle” (11:05): an epic spiritual, emotional, mental, and very nearly time-traveling physical journey of Eckemoff’s Scenes from the Dark Ages, on an ambient + lyrical + pull-out-all-the-stakes coming together jam-session finale befitting the multi-media, multi genres.
Words can’t sufficiently describe what is happening here, and that’s okay. You’re supposed to experience Bertuzzi singularly soaring high, strings ablaze, Eckemoff burying her classical upbringing entirely, over a synth-driving spectacular, Eloisa Manera — a revelation — chopping up and drowning her monk-to-lord electric violin’s Brahms-kissed connective tissue…and everyone else splitting off in monumental stride.
Breathtaking. All of it.
Time traveling isn’t that hard. Take a listen for yourselves.
Quotes taken from Suzanne Lorge’s liner notes.