Saturday 16 March 2024

Hidden Holst No.1: Seven Scottish Airs (1907)

In the coming days and months there will no doubt be many events to celebrate the Sesquicentennial Anniversary of Gustav Holst’s birth. The Planets may well feature at this year’s Proms. The English Music Festival has already programmed the Cotswold Symphony, A Song of the Night, and the Hymns from the Rig Veda, 3rd Group as well as some short choral pieces for their May Festival. Hopefully, there will be a raft of CDs, articles, and essays.

In Cobbett’s Cyclopaedia Survey of Chamber Music (1929) Edwin Evans mentions that Holst’s only published chamber work at that time was the Seven Scottish Airs written during 1907. The composer did not want it mentioned in the Survey. He was equally reticent about Three Pieces (1896/1910), a Wind Quintet in A minor (1896) and a Quintet for winds in Ab major (1903). Since that time, much of Holst’s chamber music has been published, and virtually all of it recorded.

The year of composition saw the birth of Gustav and Isobel’s only child, Imogen. He had also been appointed Director of Music at Morley College for Working Men and Women. Important works from around this time included A Somerset Rhapsody, popular Two Songs Without Words, and Songs of the West, all for orchestra.

Seven Scottish Airs was originally composed for piano and strings and was deemed suitable for “school purposes.” In a letter (15 April 1929) Holst told Evans that it was published “because I was hard up.”  It was dedicated “To H.S.,” probably Harriet Solly, leader of the Solly String Quartet and the Morley College Orchestra.

Michael Short (1990, p.80) states that the piece was probably premiered at Leighton House by the Israfil Sextette under the German title Schottische Skizze and was described by one newspaper as ‘curious and eccentric’.” This information came from an undated newspaper clipping found at the Holst Birthplace Museum, ostensibly from the Daily News. I was unable to find this reference in the files of that publication.

Structurally, the Seven Scottish Airs is a rhapsody, with little development. The “airs” unfold one after the other. It includes the tunes: The Women are a’ gane wud, My love’s in Germany, O how could ye gang, lassie, Stu mo run (Red is the Path), We will take the good old way, O! gin I were where Gadie rins and Auld lang syne.
The work was published as No. 28 of Novello's Albums for pianoforte and stringed instruments. (Novello & Co., Ltd.). The Musical Times (1 April 1909, p.256) reviewer of the score stated that “Gustav von Holst has skilfully arranged seven Scottish airs as a quintet for pianoforte and strings. The setting should find favour in school circles where there are string orchestras. With the exception of Auld lang syne, which effectively concludes the whole, the chosen tunes are well away from the beaten track…The string parts present no special difficulties.”

Michael Short (op. cit.) further explains that Holst later wrote (5 November 1916) to his pupil Irene Bonnett, suggesting that a chorus could be added to the ensemble: “You can get the words of the 7 Scot: Airs from almost any book of Scottish tunes. It just depends on how many you want to use. A good way is to begin with the Stu mo run…then do “We will take the good old way” without chorus: bring the latter in on “O Gin I were” and then let them wait until the final entry of Auld Lang Syne. But probably you'll hit on a better way.’! To my knowledge, this “version” has not been performed or recorded.

The chamber edition of Seven Scottish Airs has been given at least one recording: Angèle Dubeau & La Pietà – Les Violons Du Monde Analekta – MRK 8722 (2002), on YouTube, here.

In 2006, Alfred Publishing issued Bob Phillips’ arrangement for full string orchestra and optional piano accompaniment. The advertising blurb explains that this is a “great musical find...technically easier than the St. Paul's Suite, but with a similar feel, Seven Scottish Airs is the perfect introduction to the music of Holst.”

Bob Phillips edition can be heard on YouTube, here. It includes the full score.

Wednesday 13 March 2024

Ravel, Berkeley and Pounds Orchestral Music on Chandos

The ethos of this remarkable CD is to create a lineage between Maurice Ravel and Adam Pounds, by way of Lennox Berkeley, and, in the background Nadia Boulanger. To be sure, Berkeley did not formally study with the French master, but they had “firm bonds between mentor and protégé.” Through this relationship he was introduced to the artistic circles in pre-war Paris, and he did take lessons from Nadia Boulanger. The liner notes explain that “Ravel admired the sensuous side of Berkeley’s music when he was shown it, but felt it lacked technical finesse.”

First up, is Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin (The Tomb of Couperin) (1914-17), which was originally a piano suite. The composer insisted that it was “a tribute not so much to Couperin himself as to Eighteenth Century French music in general.” Certainly, each movement’s title nods to the 17th/18th century clavecinists but uses “modern French harmonies.”

Despite being written during the First World War, this is not a depressing or even elegiac piece. That said, each movement was dedicated to one of the composer’s friends who had been killed in the fighting.

Ravel orchestrated Le Tombeau in 1919, omitting the last two movements, the Fugue, and the Toccata. The orchestral suite was first performed under Rhené-Baton, conducting the Pasdeloup Orchestra on 28 February 1920. The neglected movements were orchestrated by Kenneth Hesketh in 2013, using the same orchestral forces as Ravel.

The Sinfonia of London give a wonderful performance here, with especial magic created by the woodwind department.

Lennox Berkeley’s Divertimento for orchestra in B Flat Major, op.18 (1943), was commissioned by the BBC and is dedicated to his teacher, the redoubtable Nadia Boulanger. The piece is in four movements: Prelude, Nocturne, Scherzo and Rondo. It was premiered at the Bedford Corn Exchange on 1 October 1943 by the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Clarence Raybould. The Divertimento has been well summed up by the critic Alan Frank, (cited by Peter Dickinson, sleeve notes, SRCD.226) who considers that Berkeley found “a light way of expressing serious thought…illuminated by a Latin clarity.” Alec Robertson (The Year’s Work in Music, 1948-49) states that the “Divertimento…is, at least in the outer two movements, an excellent answer to the objection that the contemporary composer leaves out so many things that people enjoy and includes so many that they do not.”

There is always going to be a discussion as to whether this work is to be regarded as “light music” or something a little more serious. Certainly, the melancholy slow movement, and the astringent scherzo, go beyond what would have been standard on Friday Night is Music Night. It is given a powerful performance by the Sinfonia of London.

Between 1946 and 1968 Lennox Berkeley was Professor of Composition at the Royal Academy of Music. Adam Pounds had sent some early scores to him, including his prize-winning Oboe Quartet by way of “self-introduction.” Although retired from teaching, the elder man was prepared to offer Pounds “a little general advice” beginning in 1976. This arrangement lasted for three years. The booklet explains that “Berkeley constantly impressed…the importance of always composing with the needs of performers in mind, and above all with clarity and economy: ‘write only the notes you need!’ was his defining mantra.”

I am beholden to Mervyn Cooke’s liner notes for background details to Adam Pounds’ Symphony No.3. This grew out of his reaction to the succession of national lockdowns engendered by the Covid19 pandemic beginning early 2020. Actual composition was between February and May 2021, during the second major lockdown. Pounds has stated that he has captured the “sadness, humour, determination and defiance” which was the emotional response by the public at large.

The Symphony is conceived in four contrasting movements, reflecting the above-mentioned sentiments. The orchestra is small and devoid “of vast ranks of percussion, or multiple brass instruments.” Stylistically, the work is tonal, with little in the way of harsh dissonances and few modernistic melodic or rhythmic devices.

The opening movement presents three ideas that are occasionally Ravelian in mood and at times echoing the redoubtable “Cheltenham Symphony” – and none the worse for that. It creates a sense of “the dawning of a new, uneasy day.” There are “two interruptions by fast, powerfully dynamic music suggestive of what Pounds has termed ‘a driving force of determination.’” The second movement is a “waltz.” Cooke states that it is in the “well-established tradition of unsettling danses macabres to which composers as diverse as Saint-Saëns, Britten and Shostakovich memorably contributed.” I am not sure just how ghoulish I found it. It is certainly a tour de force of orchestral writing, which, dare I say, could easily become excerpted on Classic fM. The heart of the Symphony is the slow Elegy which is dedicated to all those who lost their lives during the pandemic. I am not a fan of Anton Bruckner, but I get Pounds’ point that it has the “strong influence” of that composer. It is quite beautiful and deeply moving. The finale, which projects “defiance,” opens with a march that nods to Shostakovich. Echoes of earlier movements emerge, bringing the symphony to a fulfilling and bold conclusion. Whatever the impact of Covid19 on this work, it is filled with optimism and never gives in to hopelessness. It is a splendid addition to the British symphonic repertoire.The performances are both authoritative and satisfying, complimented by an outstanding sound recording.  Mervyn Cooke’s programme notes are helpful at all times. They are printed in German and French as well as English. Resumes of the Sinfonia of London and John Wilson are included.

This remarkable new CD explores three fulfilling works by three composer that are interconnected by pedagogical history.

Track Listing:
Maurice Ravel (1875-1937)

Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-17, 1919)
Lennox Berkeley (1903-89)
Divertimento in B flat major, op.18 (1943)
Adam Pounds (b.1954)
Symphony No.3 (2021)
Sinfonia of London/John Wilson
rec. 22-24 November 2022, Church of St Augustine, Kilburn, London.
Chandos CHSA 5324 SACD

Sunday 10 March 2024

Bruce Montgomery/Edmund Crispin: A Life in Music and Books by David Whittle

This book review was originally published on MusicWeb International during June 2007. Despite David Whittle’s volume being an excellent study of Bruce Montgomery, there seems to have been little revival in the performance of his music. On the other hand, virtually all his detective novels and short stories are available in print or Kindle. I have made several corrections to the review.

It was on the former P&O liner Oriana that I discovered Bruce Montgomery. In fact, it was quite a coincidence, with three strands coming together at once. Let me explain. The cruise's first ‘leg’ was the long but relaxing journey from Southampton to Barcelona. I spent most of the time eating, reading, swimming in the Riviera pool, and listening to a carefully chosen play list on my iPod. An annoying habit I developed was whistling the ‘hornpipe’ as I walked round the promenade deck. But not just any ‘hornpipe’ – it was the catchy version used in that comedy classic - at least I think so - Carry on Cruising. I could talk for hours about this film. There are so many ‘classic’ lines – "I’ve been up to the sharp end; I’ve been to the blunt end…" "Italy has nothing to offer me I cannot get here (the bar!) – break out the Chianti …" etc. etc.

Recently, I had been reading an article about detective novels in general and so-called ‘locked room’ mysteries. One of the texts mentioned was a book called The Moving Toyshop by an author called Edmund Crispin. This was part of my holiday reading. And last, but not least, I listened to a certain Concertino for String Orchestra. It was not part of my plan to make connections – but I did. I soon realised that all three of the above indulgences were written or composed by a remarkable, if melancholic man called Bruce Montgomery. So, the opportunity to review this masterly book by David Whittle was a most welcome, educational, and thoroughly enjoyable opportunity.

I imagine that few folks will have heard of Bruce Montgomery, yet there will be hardly a person in the United Kingdom who is not acquainted with at least half a dozen of his film scores. I have already alluded to Carry on Cruising – add to this Constable, Nurse, Regardless, Sergeant and Teacher. I can only presume that most people (of a certain age) must respond to at least one of these classic excursions into camp British comedy. But it was not just music for the Carry On films: he provided scores for the equally enjoyable Doctor movies starring the redoubtable Dirk Bogarde, Leslie Phillips, and James Robertson Justice. How often do we look for the composer’s name in the credits of a film? I guess rarely.

Bruce Montgomery was born in Chesham Bois in 1921. He had a good education both locally and at St John’s College, Oxford. He studied modern languages and subsequently filled the vacant post of organ scholar there – the incumbent had gone off to fight Hitler. Montgomery was inspired to write his first detective novel after reading a book by one of the mid-century doyens of that genre, John Dickson Carr. He finished The Case of the Gilded Fly in an unbelievably brief time, and it was equally speedily published by Victor Gollancz in 1944. It was the first foray of the detective/don Gervase Fen into the criminal complexities of Oxford. Fen, a professor of English Language, was to feature in most of Montgomery’s subsequent crime writings. The detective novels were all authored using the pseudonym of Edmund Crispin.

It is surprising that nowhere in this book does Whittle suggest that Gervase Fen may have had a profound influence on Colin Dexter and his ‘scholarly policeman’ Detective Chief Inspector Endeavour Morse.

Concurrently with his authoring, Montgomery was keen to follow a musical career. His early works were small scale piano pieces and anthems. His magnum opus is An Oxford Requiem which was commissioned by the Oxford Bach Choir to celebrate the Festival of Britain in 1951. Whittle quotes The Times critic as thinking that this is “Montgomery’s most considerable achievement to date; it confirms the suspicion that he is a composer with something of real significance to say." According to Whittle’s evidence and the contemporary assessments, a recording is long overdue.

It is clear from reading the musical analyses in this book that Bruce Montgomery was not a major ‘concert hall’ composer. He had twenty-four pieces published – most of which was choral or vocal music. However, two key works stand out for me – the above-mentioned Concertino (an overly modest title) and the Overture to a Fairy Tale. In addition, there are the attractive Scottish Aubade and the Scottish Lullaby – both adaptations of film scores. These would be a feather in the cap of anyone. They are interesting, well-wrought and full of character. In fact, apart from the film scores, they represent everything that is recorded and easily available on CD.

When Bruce Montgomery turned his hand to the lucrative business of film music, his career really took off. In total, he provided the scores for some forty odd films of greater or lesser importance. His biggest achievement was in producing both the score and the screenplay for Raising the Wind – a humorous story about music students. Whittle tells the tale that Kenneth Williams and Leslie Phillips were coached by him on how to conduct Rossini’s William Tell Overture. Montgomery himself had a cameo role in this film.

Alas, Montgomery had a propensity to fail to meet the strict deadlines that the film producers imposed. This came to a head when the score for Carry on Cruising had to be completed by Eric Rogers. The years after Carry On Cruising marked a decline in his fortunes. Poor health and alcoholism led to long stays in clinics, minimal work, and financial insecurity. He spent the last fifteen years of his life contributing reviews to The Times, editing collections of Science Fiction stories and finishing his ninth and last novel, The Glimpses of the Moon. Bruce Montgomery died on 15 September 1978.

The story presented in these pages is not really one of poor to rich or vice versa. It is a survey of a man who struggled with several problems – some of his own making and others that were just part of his lot. Montgomery had his moments of fame in the first four decades of his life. The last sixteen or so years seemed to many of his friends to be a let-down, yet Whittle rightly insists that it must "not be allowed to obscure the achievements of his earlier years."

I read the analysis of the novel, The Moving Toyshop. There is much useful and helpful information here that increased my understanding of the book. Yet I wonder if there are ‘plot spoilers’ lurking around here if I had not already read the novel. I avoided perusing the detailed studies of the other books and short stories: I do want to read these stories and I do not want to have the plot revealed or even hinted at. I recall an edition of Sherlock Holmes and The Hound of the Baskervilles where the culprit was named and shamed in the introduction!

The study of the musical compositions is impressive. The important pieces are all treated to two or three or more pages of close written text. For example, the fine Concertino for Strings has five pages of detailed discussion and nine helpful musical examples. It is really a model for discussing an unknown work and raising the awareness of the listener.

The author discovers significance in examining Montgomery’s relationship with ‘famous men.’ I did not know for example that he was close friends with Philip Larkin and Kingsley Amis. These two men encouraged Montgomery when he was sliding into the unproductive phase of his career.

The present volume feels good, although I guess a ‘glossy’ cover may just have improved the first impression. There are photographs and dozens of musical examples. Whittle has quoted extensively from the letters of Larkin, Amis, and other key players in the Montgomery story. Separate appendices provide considerable essays on Detective Fiction and Film Music. There is a list of works – both literary and musical and a brief (necessarily so) discography. A short bibliography concludes the documentation.

David Whittle has been involved with music from an early age. He was Head Chorister at Peterborough Cathedral and studied music at Nottingham University. At present, (2007) he is Director of Music at Leicester Grammar School. Whittle regularly gives organ recitals and is also interested in performing ‘big band’ music. Yet another facet of his musical interest is the harp: he plays with an Irish folk music group in the school. The author enjoys British Music of the 20th century and has an interest in an earlier age in the 16th century which goes with the territory of spending much time in the organ loft. He is interested in detection fiction – he has contributed to the Oxford Companion to Crime and Mystery Writing. The author told me that he is minded to pen a detective story of his own.

Bruce Montgomery/Edmund Crispin: A Life in Music and Books is a fine volume. It is extensively researched and is written in an approachable style. However, it is a scholarly book and will have a limited market. Notwithstanding, this market will reach out in quite a few directions – including students of film and classical music, detective fiction, Philip Larkin, and Kingsley Amis.

Bruce Montgomery/Edmund Crispin: A Life in Music and Books: David Whittle
Ashgate 2007 £60 314pp
ISBN-13: 978-0-7546-3443-0
ISBN-10: 0-7546-3443-4

Thursday 7 March 2024

Alan Rawsthorne: Elegiac Rhapsody (1964)

The Elegiac Rhapsody (originally titled Rhapsody for String Instruments, Elegiac Fragments) was written “In Memoriam Louis MacNeice,” who had died on 3 September 1963. The Irish poet and playwright was a long-standing friend of the composer. John M Belcher (Liner Notes 8.553567) explains that it consists “of two elegiac statements stated at the outset, the first expressing sorrow and resignation, the second vehement protest.” The progress of the Rhapsody is an “exploration of their contrasting relationships and gives the work its rondo-like structure of alternating slow and quick sections, with the slow sections becoming slower as the work progresses, patterning the ebb and flow of grief.”

Rawsthorne’s other compositions around this time, included the Symphony No.3, String Quartet No.3, a Suite for Brass Band, and the film score for Messenger of the Mountains.

The Elegiac Rhapsody was premiered at the Victoria and Albert Museum on 26 January 1964. The Hirsch Chamber Players were conducted by their leader Leonard Hirsch. Other music heard included Grieg’s Holberg Suite and Sibelius’s Romance in C. There was also a performance of Mozart’s Adagio and Fugue in C minor, and extracts from Bach’s Art of the Fugue arranged by Robert Simpson.

Donald Mitchell from the Daily Telegraph (27 January 1964, p.14) noted that Rawsthorne was in the audience at the previous evening’s concert. An important observation explained that the as the work progressed, the two ideas presented at the start are “gradually blurred” and that what “was fragmentary at the outset has achieved a quite impressive degree of unification.”  A common thread in criticism of the Elegiac Rhapsody was that there were “a few passages which seemed mechanically, rather than naturally extended.” This was odd for such a short work. The critic heard the influence of Bartok.

Colin Mason, writing in the Manchester Guardian (27 January 1964, p.9) was impressed with the concert’s “eclectic programme.” About the Rhapsody he states: “Belying its title [Elegiac Fragments] it is a continuous piece in several sections, which cling fairly closely to the thematic material expounded in the first two of them, expressive respectively of ‘sorrow and resignation’ and ‘vehement protest.’  Mason thinks that “both musical ideas are quite striking, and [that] Rawsthorne develops them with characteristic skill, though without making them yield a higher emotional temperature than at their first statement and not without sometimes lapsing into merely decorative flourishes.” It was given an outstanding performance by the ensemble.

The Times reviewer (27 January 1964, p.5) notices the contrasting sections. He considers that it is the “sorrowful resignation” mood that predominates, rather than that of “vehement protest.” He spots various Bartokian elements including the “almost rhythmless imitative treatment of three note figures” in the works opening pages. Negatively, the faster sections that “one senses a certain flagging in the music’s impulse.” Perhaps Rawsthorne adopted “routine” development processes. A highlight is “a passage of uncommon beauty, where four solo instruments have sustained notes against groups of throbbing chords.”

Donald Mitchell’s colleague, John Warrack at the Sunday Telegraph (1 February 1964, p.13) felt that the Rhapsody “mourns Louis MacNeice, in a tone of voice whose quiet grace of utterance he would have appreciated.” Top of his praise was the “beautiful craftsmanship” of the piece with Rawsthorne demonstrating “the really skilled composer’s ability to move at the right pace and with the right means between the different sections s that the listener is carried with the composer’s thought, here coming to share the double mood of mourning.”

The score of the Elegiac Rhapsody was published by Oxford University Press during 1964. In an assessment by E.R. (Music and Letters, July 1965, p.283), he states that “…one [is] conscious of a really musical mind shaping the somewhat Bartokian material to personal ends…the mood is, therefore, in spite of changes of tempi, consistently sombre. It is, nevertheless, sensitively varied in texture, and is nowhere less than interesting.”

In 1999, Naxos Records issued the only recording of the Elegiac Rhapsody to date (8.553567). The work was played by the Northern Chamber Orchestra conducted by David Lloyd-Jones. Other numbers on the disc include Rawsthorne’s Concerto for Orchestra, the Concertante pastorale for flute, horn and strings, Light Music for strings (based on Catalan tunes), the Divertimento for chamber orchestra, as well as John McCabe’s orchestration of the Suite for recorder. This version of the Rhapsody has been uploaded to YouTube, here. Also online, here, is Raymond Leppard and the English Chamber Orchestra recorded in Gloucester Cathedral. No date is given.

Monday 4 March 2024

The Great Organ of Aarhus Cathedral

The raison d’être of this two CD publication is to celebrate the recent restoration of the organ in Aarhus Cathedral, Denmark. This is brilliantly achieved through text, photographs and two recitals. The packaging includes a sumptuous 70-page hardback book, which tells the story of the restoration. There are also descriptive notes for all the pieces, as well as resumes of the two performers. Naturally, the organ specification is also given.

The instrument is the largest in the country, with ninety-six speaking stops. Its history ranges over four centuries, with the most recent rebuild and restoration by the Danish company, Marcussen & Søn Orgelbyggeri, conducted between 2018 and 2020.

Kristian Krogsøe is the organist of Aarhus Cathedral, as well as a guest professor at the Royal Danish Academy of Music in Copenhagen. He presents the first recital.

The performance gets off to a splendid start with British composer Percy Whitlock’s Fanfare, the last of his Four Extemporisations (1933). It is in ternary form, with an exuberant opening and closing sections characterised by rhythmical energy, bookending a quiet, reflective passage with hints of Delius. This recording is a “showcase” for the organ’s powerful Tuba Mirabilis.

Johann Sebastian Bach’s Partite diverse sopra "Sei gegrüßet, Jesu gütig, BWV 768, was written over a number of years. Beginning around 1705, Bach was still developing it when he was at Weimar between 1707 and 1717. The partita is based on the “given” choral melody played, incidentally, on the original 18th century façade pipes. This is followed by eleven variations which allow for considerable exploration of the organ’s timbres. Overall, it is a masterclass in the art of variation.

French composer Jean-Baptiste Robin is a new name to me. Regard vers l’Air (Looking towards the Aïr) was published in 2007. The liner notes explain that this is a “homage to the Aïr Mountains in Niger.” Despite the booklet’s suggestion that the piece depicts “various soundscapes and elements [that] blend together in an imaginative whole” it is hard going. To be fair, Robin uses a vast range of the “colours of the organ” in his exposition of his tribute. The texture and dynamics range from “light arabesques” to “massive tuttis.” The impact of Regard vers l’Air is just a little too eclectic for its own good.

For me, Marcel Dupré’s Symphonie-Passion is the highlight of this first recital. It began life as an improvisation made during a concert at Wanamaker’s Department Store in Philadelphia, during 1921. The themes were handed to Dupré by members of the audience. He immediately began to improvise a four-movement structure which followed the life of Christ. The four are The world awaiting the Saviour, Nativity, Crucifixion and Resurrection. When Dupré returned to France he began to “write up” the work based on his recall of the concert. The restless opening section, suggesting anticipation, is followed by the Christmas story, imagining cribs and wise men. This is gentle and pensive. The Crucifixion is “doom-laden” with angular harmonies and plodding pedals. It comes as no surprise that the finale, Resurrection, is a full-blown Toccata in the finest “French Manner.”

The second recital is given by Anders Johnsson, who is currently organist at St Andrew’s Church in Malmö, Sweden. He is also associate professor in organ playing at the Malmö Academy of Music.

Dietrich Buxtehude’s Magnificat primi toni BuxWV 203 is based on a Gregorian Magnificat melody. “Primi toni” means that it is set in the Dorian mode (White notes on D). The resulting piece is a combination of eight sections, with some being improvisatory or fantasia-like and others being fugal. It ends with a virtuosic finale.

American organist, composer and professor Searle Wright’s Lyric Rhapsody pushes the stylistic boundaries. Every so often it is ethereal, then climactic. Does it nod to film music, jazz, or modernism? Plenty of opportunities for the soloist to exploit various solo stops and colourful combinations.

Beethoven wrote no major works for the organ. There are, apparently, a few fugal exercises. The Suite für eine Spieluhr Wo0 33 (1799) was originally devised for a large “self-playing” organ in Vienna. Andre Isoir has realised the three movements for a “normal” organ. These miniatures sound well here, with imaginative registrations.

César Franck’s Deuxième Choral in B minor (1890) opens with a short passacaglia which builds up from the opening pedal notes, before embarking on an involved exploration of moods and emotions. There are interludes, fugal passages and a “fantastical recitative” for full organ. The overall impression is one of gloom or deep introspection. Positive moods do occur as the work progresses, and there are some stupendous climaxes. Yet, it is the serenity of the conclusion that captures the imagination.

If I were to declare what I considered to be the ultimate piece of “pure” or “absolute” music, it would have to be J.S. Bach Chaconne in D minor, from the Partita II for violin solo, BWV 1004. Many years ago, I first heard it in Busoni’s renowned transcription for piano solo – I was seriously impressed. It has been arranged for multiple combinations of instruments, including Stokowski’s for full orchestra. This version for organ was made by Ulisse Matthey, onetime organist, and professor of music in Milan. This is a successful transcription in every way that preserves the “spiritually powerful, emotionally powerful, structurally perfect” nature of the original.

Léon Boëllmann is best recalled for his Suite Gothique (1895) with its uplifting Toccata. In fact, he produced concertos, a symphony, chamber works and piano music. His Ronde Française (op.37 (1896) was originally written for piano (or cello and piano?) and was arranged for organ by Gaston Choisnel. It is a charming modal work that never strays from the white notes on the keyboard and pedals.

Anders Johnsson concludes his recital with three wonderful pieces of Vierne taken from two books of Pièces de Fantasie dating from 1926-27. Naïades is justly regarded for its sheer virtuosity, evoking the doings of the mythical daughters of the god Poseidon. This performance shimmers with rapid scales, and overt impressionism. The Sicilienne, from the second Suite, is more thoughtful but never morose. It is a little rondo, with a theme introduced by a soft reed stop on the swell. There are three refrains and two episodes, with the chromatic accompaniment getting more complex as it progresses. The final piece is a warhorse. From start to finish the Toccata is an unrelenting perpetuum mobile, that tests the organist’s skill to the extreme. It ends in absolute triumph.

Little more needs be said. The organ sounds magnificent. This is an excellent package: superb performances, great sound quality, brilliant documentation and rewarding programming. In the opening days of 2024, this CD and book are already on my list of recordings of the year.

Track Listing:
CD1
Percy Whitlock (1903-46)

Fanfare, from Four Extemporisations (1933)
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)
Partite diverse sopra "Sei gegrüßet, Jesu gütig, BWV 768 (c.1705)
Jean-Baptiste Robin (b.1976)
Regard vers l’Air (2007)
Marcel Dupré (1886-1971)
Symphonie-Passion, op.23 (1921/25)
CD2
Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707)

Magnificat primi toni BuxWV 203 (?)
Searle Wright (1918-2004)
Lyric Rhapsody (1957)
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)
Suite für eine Spieluhr Wo0 33 (1799) arr. André Isoir (1935-2016)
César Franck (1822-1890)
Deuxième Choral en si mineur (1890)
Johann Sebastian Bach
Ciaccona in re minore from Parita II for violin solo, BWV 1004, realised for organ by Ulisse Matthey (1876-1957)
Léon Boëllmann (1862-1897)
Ronde Française, op.37 (1896) arr. Gaston Choisnel (1857-1921)
Louis Vierne (1870-1937)
From Pieces de Fantaisie (1926-27): Naïades, op.55, no.4; Sicilienne, op.53, no.2; Toccata, op.53 no.6
Kristian Krogsøe (organ) CD1, Anders Johnsson (organ) CD2
rec. 2022-2023 Aarhus Cathedral
Danacord DACOCD 971-972
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Friday 1 March 2024

Alun Hoddinott: Jack Straw: Overture for orchestra, op.35 (1964)

Sixty years ago, on 1 May 1964, Alun Hoddinott’s Jack Straw: Overture for orchestra, op.35, was premiered at the King’s Hall in Aberystwyth. The New Philharmonia Orchestra was conducted by Walter Suskind. The work had been commissioned by the Welsh Committee of the Arts Council.

Jack Straw was a fourteenth century English revolutionary, associated with the Peasant’s Revolt. He is a shadowy character who may be an alias of Wat Tyler or possibly identified with fellow insurgent John Rakestraw. In 1381, with an army of 100,000 men, Straw, Tyler, and John Ball marched on London. Much damage was done to the Temple, there were burnings of prisons and the destruction of the Monastery of St John of Jerusalem in Clerkenwell. The Archbishop of Canterbury, in residence at the Tower of London, was executed. Wat Tyler was killed in Smithfield by the Lord Mayor of London, William Walworth.

Reasons for the uprising included the aftermath of the Black Death, inept government and church, lack of equality under the law, as well as the “third poll tax” which levied one shilling per head of population. The aims of the Peasant’s Revolt were manifold, including the abolition of serfdom and rescinding of the Third Poll Tax.

Jack Straw is remembered today at the eponymous tavern on Hampstead Heath.

Hoddinott completed his overture during April 1964. It was later published by Lengnick and Co. The Overture was rescored during 1980 for a larger orchestra.

There has been a single recording of the Overture. In 1982 it was included on the Unicorn LP (RHD 401) along with the Sinfonia Fidei (1977) and the Nocturnes and Cadenzas for cello and orchestra (1968). The Philharmonia Orchestra was conducted by Charles Groves. In 2009, the Overture was reissued on CD (Lyrita SRCD.334). This album included several works by Alun Hoddinott, William Mathais, and Daniel Jones.

Rob Barnett (MusicWeb International, 9 July 2009) reviewing the Lyrita CD, considered that “This [Overture] is …thorny [and] replete with gawky impudence, conspiratorial asides, and explosively dissonant expostulations.”

Steven J Haller, writing in the American Record Guide (May/June 2011, on-line edition) reflected that “Hoddinott is almost too effusive for his own good, lavishing so many good tunes on a piece that's over almost before it begins.”

In a brief review of the Lyrita release, The Gramophone (November 2012, p.91) David Threasher revealed that “Alun Hoddinott was allegedly most amused when his overture’s latter-day namesake [the Labour politician, Jack Straw]…rose to the exalted position of Home Secretary... His 1964 overture (revised in 1980, just in time for the Revolt’s 600th anniversary) starts ominously but soon opens out into a winningly jaunty main section full of Hoddinott’s characteristically deft orchestration.”

This is not programme music. There is no suggestion that Hoddinott was trying to create a character sketch akin to Richard Strauss’s Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks, op. 28 or even Walton’s Scapino. The Overture can be listened to with no reference to historical events.

Rob Barnett (op.cit.) has suggested that Jack Straw “hangs together only loosely” and is not completely convincing. Fundamentally, there is nothing wrong with this piece, but a large amount of material seems have been used in what is only a five-minute work. It seems terribly wasteful and can lead to a feeling of unease. If only Hoddinott could have expanded it a wee bit: there are so many promising ideas here that just cry out to be developed.

The Philharmonia Orchestra/Charles Groves recording can be heard on YouTube, here.

Tuesday 27 February 2024

Lennox Berkeley: Sonatina for piano duet, op.39 (1954)

Seventy years ago, on the 8 July 1954, Lennox Berkeley’s elegant Sonatina for piano duet, op.39 was given its premiere performance by Michael Linsey and Sybil Jones at the College of Art, Stoke on Trent. I was unable to find any reviews of this recital.

The Sonatina was composed shortly after he had completed his operas A Dinner Engagement, op.45 and Nelson, op.41. Other pieces written at this time include the incidental music to Goethe’s play, Iphigenia in Taurus, the motet Crux fidelis, op.43, no.1 and the anthem Look up, Sweet Babe, op.43, no.2.

Alec Rowley in Musical Times (December 1954, p.660) succinctly summed up Lennox Berkeley’s Sonatina: “a minimum of notes, [and] refinement of taste […] in texture, it is a true Sonatina, and in appearance, ingenuous and stark in outline.” This bleakness becomes less fearsome on repeated hearings. In fact, there is significant warmth and elegance in much of this refreshing music. The three nicely contrasted movements feature lively syncopation in the opening Allegro moderato, well-considered lyricism in the Andante, and a conclusion with a definite nod to Poulenc in the Allegro finale.

The first London performance was given at the Wigmore Hall, by Uza Fuchsova and Paul Hamburger on 18th January 1955. A wide-ranging recital included Beethoven’s 8 Variations on a Theme by Count Waldstein, WoO 67 and Schubert’s Variations on a Theme from Hérold's 'Marie', Op. 82, No. 1 (D.908). There were other works by Mozart, Mendelssohn, Dvorak and Moszkowski. The only other modern piece was Peter Racine Fricker’s Nocturne and Scherzo, long since disappeared from the repertoire.

The Times (24 January 1954, p.3) reviewer was impressed by the Berkeley duet: “In his Sonatina Berkeley again revealed his blessedly welcome gift of never writing a note too many, either from viewpoint of length or clarity of texture. All three movements were most cunningly disposed for the four hands, particularly the limpid middle Andante.”

Equally complimentary was the brief assessment by Mosco Carner in the Daily Telegraph (19 January 1955, p.8): “[The] Sonatina was terse in expression without being blunt, admirably clear in form and transparent in sonority. The last movement in particular, with its discrete contrapuntal interest was a model of four-hand piano writing.”

Donald Mitchell in the Musical Times (March 1955, p.151) reported that “Lennox Berkeley's three-movement Sonatina sounded marvellous throughout and its invention was as crisp as its textures. The work offered Mr. Berkeley's customary charm and elegance but perhaps rather less than his usual amount of memorable composition.”

Lennox Berkeley’s Sonatina for piano duet, op.39 can be heard in live performance on YouTube here. The soloists are not credited in the video.

Saturday 24 February 2024

It's not British, but...Édouard Lalo Orchestral Music on Chandos

Sadly, Édouard Lalo would be classified by Classic fM as a “one work wonder” composer. To be sure his Symphonie Espagnole remains his best-known piece. It has received many recordings which are listed in the Presto and the Arkiv catalogues. Opera lovers, who enjoy exploring rare repertoire may well have heard his important Le Roi d’Ys first presented at the Opera-Comique in Paris during 1888. It was to enjoy success in the rest of Europe and the United States.

Briefly, Lalo was born in Lille on 27 January 1823. He studied violin and composition in his hometown and at the Paris Conservatory. In 1848 he was violinist in the Arminaud-Jacquard Quartet, which introduced much Germanic music to France. Although now largely forgotten in the United Kingdom, he enjoyed success with his orchestral and dramatic works. Sadly, his later life was marred by ill-health and paralysis. Édouard Lalo died in Paris on 22 April 1892.

The CD opens with the overture to Le roi d’Ys. The opera was based on the old Breton legend of a city under the waves. This was also an inspiration for Claude Debussy’s La Cathédrale engloutie. Interestingly, the Overture had already received a performance during 1876: the opera was not heard until twelve years later. The progress of the overture naturally includes various themes from the opera, including the return of the hero, Mylio, the wicked Margared and the romantic theme of Rozenn. Whether Le roi d’Ys demands revival is another matter, however, as a standalone Overture it deserves its place in the concert repertoire.

The ballet Namouna was premiered at the Paris Opera on 6 March 1882. The choreography was by Lucien Petipa, who also devised the libretto along with Charles Nuttier. The backdrop of the ballet is the Isle of Corfu, and concerns a certain Lord Adriani, who, in a bet with Count Octavio loses all his money, his boat and his beloved slave girl, Namouna. For better or worse, she falls for the Count, frustrates Adriani’s attempts to get her back, and finally escapes from the island on a boat. Lalo wrote an Introduction and twenty-three numbers. The liner notes explain that some of these dances “advance the action” while other are simply for dancing. After the initial run of performances, Lalo felt that there was little chance of a revival, so he extracted three Suites. Only the first and the second were published.

Musically, these “dances” are eclectic. Echoes of different composers find their way into these pages – Grieg, Tchaikovsky, Bizet… Contemporary critics railed against its “Wagnerian” passages, as being “noisy and intrusive.” It seems pointless to try to extrapolate the plot of the ballet onto the ten movements included on this CD. Besides, the extracts do not follow the order of the story. I guess that listeners to these two Suites will simply enjoy them as standalone creations.

The Third Suite from Namouna was never published, but the Valse de la cigarette from the first act was issued separately, no doubt in the hope that it would become a potboiler. The “visuals” featured the lead ballet dancer rolling her own cigarette “so she finishes the dance while smoking.” It is an enchanting Valse lente.

Lalo’s Symphony in G minor (1886) is the only one published. I understand that there were/are two unpublished examples. The present work was premiered in Paris, on 7 February 1887 during the Concerts Lamoureux. It was conducted by the dedicatee, Charles Lamoureux. The symphony is classically constructed in the traditional four movement form. The liner notes call attention to the “cyclic” theme used in the “solemn introduction” that recurs at the end of the Adagio and is used to develop material for the finale. The Scherzo is typically will o’ the wisp in its lightness, although the “trio” section is based on a lament from Lalo’s opera Fiesque (The Genoese Conspiracy). Then, a romantic slow movement which is quite beautiful, complete with touches of Wagner. The finale is dance-like with a few magical moments of repose. The scoring throughout is masterful.

Echoes of Brahms, Schumann and Mendelssohn may be heard throughout; nevertheless, Lalo has produced a work that stands in its own right: it is neither a parody nor a synthesis of other composer’s music. It is a symphony that can stand proudly beside the contemporaneous examples by César Franck, Ernest Chausson and even Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony.

These works are played with sensitivity balanced by enthusiasm. The Chandos recording is excellent. The liner notes by Hugh Macdonald give a good introduction to the repertoire. They are printed in English, German, and French. A detailed resume is given of the Estonian National Symphony Orchestra and their conductor for this recording, Neeme Järvi. Their current maestro is Olari Elts.

This is a splendid introduction to the music of Édouard Lalo for those who wish to explore beyond the ubiquitous, but brilliant, Symphonie Espagnole.

Track Listing:
Édouard Lalo (1823-92)
Overture to Le roi d'Ys (1875-88)
Valse de la cigarette from Namouna (1868-71)
Suite No.1 from Namouna (1868-71)
Suite No.2 from Namouna (1868-71
Symphony in G minor (1886)
Estonian National Symphony Orchestra/Neeme Järvi
rec. 6-8 June 2022, Estonia Concert Hall, Tallinn, Estonia
Chandos CHAN 20183
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Wednesday 21 February 2024

Lennox Berkeley: Suite for String Orchestra (1974)

Whatever happened to Lennox Berkeley’s Suite for String Orchestra, op.87? According to Stewart R. Crags (Lennox Berkeley: A Source Book, Ashgate, Aldershot, 2000, p.115) this work was completed in 1974. It had been commissioned by the Westminster Cathedral String Orchestra, with funds from the Arts Council. It was duly performed at St John’s Smith Square, London on 1 June 1974, under the baton of Colin Mawby. Concertgoers also heard Berkeley’s Antiphon for string orchestra, in two movements. The evening included music by Corelli, Boyce, and Handel as well as an “inane” harp concertino by Jean-Michel Demase, with Ossian Ellis as soloist.

The Suite is in four movements: Introduction (Lento) and Fugue (Allegro); Air (Andantino); Scherzo and Epilogue (Lento sostenuto). It had a duration for about 11 minutes.

The manuscript is dated “Nov:1973-Jan:1974.” It was published in 1974 by J.& W. Chester Ltd. Other music written around this time included the Guitar Concerto, op.88

The Daily Telegraph (3 June 1974, p.12) gave an excellent complimentary review of the Suite: “The new piece…proved delightfully ingratiating to listen to, if no doubt tricky to play.” The critic considered that “the most immediately memorable movement, Scherzo, contained a trio melody of heartwarming luminosity, and the work opened and closed in a quiet serenity which, together with the flowing spun-out Air stamp the work with the composer’s typically reticent poetry.”

And then the Suite disappears. There is no recording listed on the Lennox Berkeley Website. I was unable to find an assessment of the score. Furthermore, there is no discussion of it in Peter Dickinson’s The Music of Lennox Berkeley (Woodbridge, Boydell Press, 2003) nor in Tony Scotland’s Lennox and Freda (Norwich, Michael Russell, 2010). I was unable to locate any subsequent concert performances or BBC radio broadcasts.

This is clearly a major work by one of Britain’s senior composers that has simply disappeared. Perhaps it is time for a revival?

Sunday 18 February 2024

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976) Canadian Carnival (Kermesse Canadienne), op.19

Benjamin Britten composed Canadian Carnival (Kermesse Canadienne), op.19 shortly after his arrival in the United States prior to the outbreak of the Second World War. Britten had left England with his companion Peter Pears during May 1939 and had initially spent several weeks together in Canada. Here they heard a performance of the Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge given by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Britten and Pears declared themselves lovers at Grand Rapids and arrived in New York late June 1939. There they quickly began to move in various artistic circles, numbering Aaron Copland, W.H. Auden and the composer Colin McPhee as their friends. Other important works from this time include the choral setting Ad majorem Dei gloriam, the Violin Concerto and Young Apollo. The same period saw work commence on the Sinfonia da Requiem Op.20.

Canadian Carnival has been described as a ‘Rhapsody on French Canadian folk-tunes’ based on some songs Britten had heard in the Province of Quebec. The programmatic content begins by evoking the Canadian landscape at dawn. It is the day of the great Carnival. Slowly people begin to arrive. A number of ‘songs and snatches’ of folk tunes are presented. The fair grows more boisterous and eventually, after a significant climax it begins to calm down. Slowly the villagers disperse and the night falls. All is peaceful once more.

Typically, this work has been regarded as a ‘light-hearted frolic for symphony orchestra.’  However, David Matthews regards it as ‘a more serious piece than it appears.’ He notes the ‘disturbingly ironic setting of ‘Alouette’ which is provoked by the sadistic words of this disingenuous children’s song’. The burden of this song cruelly suggests that the singer will pluck the feathers, the eyes and the beak off the skylark for daring to sing and waken her from sleep. 

Negatively, Canadian Carnival has been described by Peter Evans as ‘little more than a sophisticated pot-pourri of folky song and dance, arranged inside a quasi-programmatic frame.’ This seems unfair. It is a fine, vivacious example of the ‘rhapsody’ genre with some excellent orchestration and a clever and subtle manipulation of the folk-tunes.

Aaron Copland had met Benjamin Britten at the 1938 International Society for Contemporary Music festival in London where the American’s El Salón México and Britten’s Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge were both performed. After the Festival, Copland visited Britten’s home at Snape.  On Pears and Britten’s arrival at New York they gravitated to Woodstock to be close to Copland and his partner Victor Kraft.  At this time Britten regarded Copland as ‘the American spokesman.’  It is not surprising that critics have detected an ‘open-air prairie’ mood in Canadian Carnival.

The first performance was given on 6 June 1940 by the BBC Orchestra conducted by Clarence Raybould from the BBC studios in Bristol.  The first concert performance was at Cheltenham Festival on 13 June 1945 with the composer conducting the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

Benjamin Britten’s Canadian Carnival (Kermesse Canadienne), Op.19 can be heard on YouTube, here. The City of Birmingham Orchestra is conducted by Simon Rattle

Thursday 15 February 2024

Luminos: Contemporary Music for Clarinets

This CD is based around four new pieces that clarinettist Ronald Woodley had written for him since the beginning of the first Covid lockdown in 2020. Alongside these there are three compositions dating from an earlier period. I reviewed this disc in chronological order.

The earliest work on this CD is Elisabeth Lutyens’s Five Little Pieces, op. 14/1 for clarinet and piano, dating from 1945. It is not surprising that “Twelve Tone Lizzie” has conceived these gnomic numbers as serial music. That said, she has brought her own unique interpretation to this modernist technique that does not eschew lyricism. They are short and concise and reflect on a single idea: Lirico, Drammatico, Doloroso, Pastorale and Declamatorio. And do not worry, the “pastorale” does not have a cow pat in sight or sound. They were written for Frederick Thurston.

Percussionist and composer Morris Pert is barely recalled nowadays. His career was wide-ranging, from classical to jazz fusion by way of being a sidesman to Bryan Ferry, Wings and Caravan amongst many other pop and rock performers. Luminos completed in 1972 is a significant study for basset horn and piano. It is certainly a work of its time, with a functional balance between modernism and nods to past eras. The liner notes explain that the “[musical] lines are at times questing and lyrical, at other times rising to a relentless energy; Messiaen-like block chordal movement sits alongside jazz-inflected points of relaxation and rather trippy, semi-improvised wanderings…” Certain “extended” techniques are used such as playing inside the piano with fingers and mallets. It is a valuable exposition in classical terms of the “cosmological" inspiration that was informing progressive rock bands fifty years ago.

Three years later Lutyens wrote her This Green Tide, op. 103 for basset horn and piano (1975). It was inspired by the eponymous book of verse published by the artist Valentine Dobrée (1894–1974). The book title itself was derived from a pamphlet published by John Ruskin during the 1870s and 80s, Fors Clavigera which set out his “social and moral vision [for] the workforce in Britain.” The sound-world balances moments of tranquillity, with much protest and defiance. The liner notes provide a good hermeneutic for appreciating this piece. They cite Ruskin scholar Paul L. Sawyer’s view that “Comparing the “green tide” with the “black and sulphurous tides” of English rivers and with “Death, and Hell also, more cruel than cliff or sea”, [Ruskin] presents a world on the brink of that Moment when “the Sea shall give up the dead which are in it, and Death, and Hell, give up the dead which are in them.” There is, therefore, a spiritual as well as an environmental aspect to this music.

Despite Christopher Fox’s pretentious programme note, I found his This has happened before, for four multitracked bass clarinets (2020) long-winded and frankly boring. It may be played by four clarinettists or one multi-track performer. The technicalities involve canonical entries, variable speeds of “melodic” patterns and “accidental” harmonies. It does not inspire or entertain. Hopefully, it won’t happen again…

Angela Elizabeth Slater’s piece for bass clarinet and piano was specially commissioned by the present performers in 2020. Slater writes that she “felt a sense of relentless timelessness and disconnection, with an overriding sense of foreboding about what was to come, almost as though world events were spinning out of control. At this time, I came across an article by NASA which reported that the sun is getting dimmer year on year, inspiring the title Around the Darkening Sun.” All very depressing musings. It is hardly surprising that there is little optimism in the progress of this music. That said, there is often considerable beauty in the interaction of the soloists. There is supressed energy at every turn, which is packed into just over five minutes duration.

Four brief numbers go to form Liz Dilnot Johnson’s The Space Between Heaven and Earth for basset horn and piano (c.2020). She explains that it is “a glowing, positive statement of hopefulness, embracing Greek mythology, medieval song, and a very modern response to human healing from trauma.” It majors on the story of the Greek nymph Daphne, her metamorphosis into a tree, her ability to heal and, finally, the restitution of her body. The movements are seasonal. Winter, the longest, is slow and expressive. Spring is vibrant, whilst Summer is a jocund dance. The finale, Autumn is positive and reflects the moment that “the healing role of the deep-rooted tree is complete – and Daphne is able to skip away.”  Johnson displays a deep understanding of the performative characteristics of the basset horn. The overall impact is positive. The style is modernist, often chromatic but always lyrical.

The longest piece on this disc is Edward Cowie’s Heather Jean Nocturnes completed for the present CD during April 2023 at “white hot speed.” These Nocturnes are a response to five paintings by Cowie’s wife, Heather. To get to grips with these five imaginative movements it is necessary to see the illustrations that inspired them. Fortunately, the CD cover features Earth Nocturnal as an example of her style. The booklet contains photographs of the other four. Cowie gives a long, detailed descriptive analysis which bears reading before exploring the music. The first four movements are The Singing StreamEvening, Sun and Moon Dancing, Okavango Dream Streams and Lake Eacham Blue. Heather Cowie, discussing the work declared that “what moved me profoundly was the fact that the sense of mood and colour, as well as their formal integrity, was so beautifully articulated by the sonic (inter)relationships of the bass clarinet and piano.”

The liner notes by Ronald Woodley are helpful in every way. Dates of compositions in the track listing would have been helpful. They include resumes of both soloists. The recording is ideal. I found the performances illuminating and typically inspiring.

The advertising blurb perfectly sums up this disc: “This collection is a valuable addition for clarinet enthusiasts and music lovers, shedding light on the lesser-known gems…and showcasing the power of artistic collaboration across mediums, offering a glimpse into the evolution of British music.”

Track Listing:
Elisabeth Lutyens (1906-83)
This Green Tide, op. 103 for basset horn and piano (1975)
Angela Elizabeth Slater (b.1989)
Around the Darkening Sun for bass clarinet and piano (2020)
Morris Pert (1947-2010)
Luminos, op. 16a for basset horn and piano (1972)
Christopher Fox (b.1955)
This has happened before, for four multitracked bass clarinets (2020)
Elisabeth Lutyens
Five Little Pieces, op. 14/1 for clarinet and piano (1945)
Liz Dilnot Johnson (b.1964)
The Space Between Heaven and Earth for basset horn and piano (c.2020?)
Edward Cowie (b.1943)
Heather Jean Nocturnes for bass clarinet and piano (2023)
Ronald Woodley (clarinet, basset horn, bass clarinet); Andrew West (piano)
rec. 3–5 April and 24 July 2023, Ayriel Studios, North Yorkshire
Métier MEX 77118
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Monday 12 February 2024

Germaine Tailleferre: String Quartet (1917-19)

Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983) was in her mid-twenties when she composed her String Quartet. It was around the end of the First World War. At this time, Tailleferre was in the same artistic set as Pablo Picasso and Amedeo Modigliani. It was these connections that led to her early successes. She was introduced to the Paris musical establishment during a concert given in the studio of one of her painter friends. Her Sonatine for String Quartet along with the Jeux de Pleine Aire were well received, along with pieces by Louis Durey and Francis Poulenc. After the concert, the Sonatine was revised into the present String Quartet – with the addition of the finale.

Listeners may detect echoes of Ravel’s String Quartet in F major (1902-03). There are specific similarities and dissimilarities from the Ravel’s essay. For a start, Tailleferre’s Quartet is one movement shy of Ravel’s and is a full 10 minutes shorter! However, the opening Modéré is certainly reminiscent of the model. There is an intimate feel about her quartet that epitomises chamber music at its best. Some mild dissonances in this first movement add spice and interest to a well-wrought piece. The Intermède is mysterious rather than dark or depressing. Perhaps enigmatic is the best description? Yet there is cross-referencing to the Modéré in these pages. The Final is by far the lengthiest – being as long as the previous two together. This music is quite aggressive and even dissonant in places. There are some quasi-motor rhythms used although they do not last for long before being cast aside. These are interspersed with moments of repose. A chorale type phrase emerges before the work comes to a quiet but memorable conclusion.

There is considerable variety in this Quartet – one could even argue there is a stylistic disparity between the parts. Yet one way or another it does have unity. Is this created by internal self-referencing? And one final comment - any comparison with Ravel must bear in mind that the world had moved on since 1904 – the First World War was still raging across Europe when Germaine Tailleferre penned this composition. And then there was Schoenberg…

Is this a great work? I do not know but it is certainly beautifully written, intellectually satisfying and quite moving which suggests that this could well be the case.

Listen to Germaine Tailleferre’s String Quartet on YouTube, here. It is played by the Fanny Mendelssohn String Quartet and features the score.

 

Friday 9 February 2024

Wigmore Soloists play chamber music by Ferguson, Bliss and Holloway

Nailing my colours to the mast, I suggest that Howard Ferguson’s Octet, op.4 is one of the most significant chamber music works from the 1930s. The equilibrium of the movements is key to this work’s ultimate success. There is a thoughtful opening Moderato, complete with its allusion to the horn theme from the slow movement of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No.5. This is followed by a vibrant, if uneasy, scherzo with quite a few melodic episodes. There is a definite Celtic feel in these pages, which may reflect Ferguson’s birthplace, Belfast. The lyrical slow movement is full of pastoral charm with just the hint of something a touch more demanding. This serenity is destroyed by the rhythmic intensity of the Allegro feroce. However, all is not so strict, as there are sweeping “big tunes” of an almost filmic nature to interrupt the proceedings.

To be sure, much of the Octet nods at various characteristics of English music current at that time. It is not “pastoral” as such but does have several passages that can be so described. Equally so, are nods to neo-classicism and even the “modernism” of Bliss and Walton. What is absent is any hint of serialism or atonality.

The Octet was finished in 1933 and was dedicated to R. O. Morris, Ferguson’s composition teacher at the Royal College of Music. It was originally conceived as a quintet for clarinet and strings and then modified into a septet with the addition of the bassoon and the French horn. At Morris’s suggestion, the instrumentation of the piece was expanded to include a second violin. This made it the ideal companion to Schubert’s Octet in F major, D.803.

Two other versions of Howard Ferguson’s Octet are in circulation: The Nash Ensemble on Hyperion, CDA66192 (1990) and Dennis Brain with the Griller Quartet et al, on Dutton Epoch CDAX8014 (1937/2019).

Arthur Bliss reminded the potential listener that “the personality of a great player has often been the incentive for me to compose a work.” He cites as examples the Oboe Quintet for Leon Goossens, the Viola Sonata for Lionel Tertis, the Piano Concerto for Solomon, and the Violin Concerto for Campoli. The Clarinet Quintet, F.20, was written in 1932 and was premiered the following year by Frederick Thurston and the Kutcher String Quartet. It was dedicated to the composer, Bernard van Dieren. But a deeper inspiration can be sensed in these pages: Bliss’s brother Kennard, who was killed during the First World War, was an accomplished clarinettist.

The overall temper of the Quintet is one of lyricism and to a certain extent resignation. Various moods are inherent in the four movements including serenity, animation, and drama, but as the advertising blurb suggests, “the sunny, extrovert aspects of Bliss’s character ultimately prevail in the brilliantly energetic finale.”

Contemporary criticism noted that with the Clarinet Quintet, Bliss had moved on from his “enfant terrible” period. It is fair to say that this is one of his masterpieces, certainly within the genre of chamber music. It is given a wonderful performance by the Wigmore Soloists and Michael Collins, clarinettist.

There are other satisfactory performances of Bliss’s Clarinet Quintet on disc, including David Campbell (clarinet) with the Maggini Quartet (Naxos, 8.557394, reviewed here) and Janet Hilton (clarinet) with the Lindsay String Quartet (Chandos, Chan 8683). There are also two releases of Frederick Thurston and the Griller Quartet’s 1930s recording (Testament SBT1366 and Clarinet Classics CC0037)

My review of Robin Holloway’s Serenade in C for octet, op.41 (1979) is beholden to the liner notes. The Serenade has five movements. The opening Marcia is full of “quirky cross-rhythms” complimented by a pleasant trio section. The short Menuetto alla tarantella is vigorous and dynamic with a big tune for the bassoon and jazz like pizzicato on the double bass. Despite being the official slow movement, the Andante is characterised by curious wit and tongue in cheek commentary. It is a wayward set of variations based on a “touching, sincere, naïve…”  melody discovered in a Methodist hymnbook. Then, a second Menuetto follows with its nods to Poulenc and Schubert. Once again, it is contrary, with the conventional repeats “[going] off in different directions.”  The Serenade concludes with another tarantella where “scraps of silly tune are put through the textural, tonal and rhythmic mincer.”

The listener will be charmed by the Serenade’s humour and mischievousness. Holloway has stated that it is full of clichés, parodies, and “commonplace” musical devices. That said, the piece is characterised by “compositional rigour” as well as a profound understanding of the possibilities of the various instruments.

It is interesting that the scoring is the same as that of both Ferguson’s and Schubert’s Octets. Holloway acknowledges the latter as a model. This is music for entertainment, “making few intellectual demands.” It is at a stylistic distance from the composer’s more modernist offerings (I recall hearing one of his Concertos for Orchestra and being baffled). That said, I doubt Classic fM will be playing this Serenade anytime soon.

The liner notes by Philip Borg-Wheeler are helpful in every way. They are printed in English, French and German. There is also a short resume about the Wigmore Players.

This outstanding survey of three characteristic chamber works are splendid examples of “deeply personal” utterances from composers of different stylistic mores. All are superbly written for their medium. The performances are committed and inspiring in every case and are complimented by an excellent recording.

Track Listing:
Howard Ferguson (1908-99)

Octet, op.4 (1933)
Arthur Bliss (1891-1975)
Clarinet Quintet, F.20 (1932)
Robin Holloway (b.1943)
Serenade in C for octet, op.41 (1979)
Michael Collins (clarinet) (Bliss), Wigmore Soloists
rec. 17-19 December 2021 (Ferguson, Bliss), 13-14 April 2023 (Holloway), Menuhin Hall, Stoke d’Abernon, Surrey, England
BIS BIS-2547 SACD
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Tuesday 6 February 2024

William Walton’s Overture: Portsmouth Point

The overture Portsmouth Point was composed between spring and November 1925 and dedicated to the poet Siegfried Sassoon. The immediate inspiration for the Overture was a print made by the English artist, caricaturist and printmaker, Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827), published by T. Tegg in 1814. The etching presents a bustling view of Portsmouth Harbour with a clothes shop on the left-hand side, with a pawnbroker, above. To the right of the image is the Ship Tavern. The fleet in the background is arriving and departing into the port. Ships are being victualled, a busker plays the fiddle, lovers caress and carouse. But note the elderly gentleman in the upstairs window of the inn. He views the scene with equanimity.

David Drew, in the liner note for the 1955 London Philharmonic Orchestra/Adrian Boult recording, (London, LL 1165) explains that formally, “[Portsmouth Point] follows the broad outlines of sonata-form, having a clear-cut exposition (whose thematic material falls into two groups), a short development (the exposition was already developmental - this music has no time for leisure) and a compressed recapitulation. However, the tonal scheme is anything but academic.”

Alan Frank has suggested that “Walton’s Overture is not to be taken realistically in its detail, but it is from beginning to end music of extraordinary liveliness and vigour, often deliberately shrill in scoring: there is no moment of repose. It abounds in cross-rhythms and syncopations: indeed, from a rhythmic point of view it is the most complex piece of music Walton has ever written. We need not be worried by that, nor is technical analysis needed to enjoy the Overture’s stimulating high spirits. Walton has interpreted Rowlandson’s roistering scene in the most vivid musical terms.” (Angel Records ANG.35639)

Constant Lambert stated that “…melodically speaking, the work derives to a certain extent from traditional nautical tunes and from the more breezy English 18th century composers… another melodic influence was the sardanas [communal dances] of Catalonia. The folk dances have nothing in common with the rest of Spanish music, under distinguished by their clear-cut form and vigorous melodic line; the tunes are often curiously English in atmosphere, and therefore their influence has in no way caused an inconsistency of style. From the harmonic point of view the work raises no problems. The style is broadly diatonic, with free use of diatonic discords but with nothing approaching atonality or polytonality, we are presented with neither cliches nor innovations.” (Cited in Ewen, David, The Encyclopaedia of Musical Masterpieces, Grosset and Dunlap, New York, 1949)

Here and there Walton pokes fun at academicism. He uses chords and rhythmical variety that would have raised eyebrows in the 1920s, both at home and abroad. Yet, it is clear that Walton is in full command of his orchestral forces.

The Overture was premiered on 22 June 1926 during the Zurich International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM) Festival. The Tonhalle Orchestra was conducted by Volkmar Andreae. Other works heard at that concert included Paul Hindemith's Concerto for orchestra, op. 38, Alfredo Casella's Partita for piano and orchestra, Ernst Levy's Fifth Symphony for violin, trumpet and orchestra, Pierre-Octave Ferroud's Foules for orchestra Alexandre Tansman's Danse de la Sorcière for chamber ensemble.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra/Adrian Boult recording of Walton’s Portsmouth Point can he heard on YouTube, here. A more modern recording with the same orchestra can be found in Leonard Slatkin’s 1988 on the Virgin Classics label (VC7 90715-1). The LP front cover features Thomas Rowlandson’s etching.