Patrick Hadley: My Beloved Spake (1938)

A Happy Easter

From The Land of Lost Content

Patrick Hadley’s short choral work My Beloved Spake sets a biblical text from the Old Testament Book, the Song of Solomon (2:10-13,16a). It was completed in 1938. The anthem has long been popular at Anglican church services, particularly during the Easter season.

My beloved spake, and said unto me,
Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs,
and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

“The text speaks of the arrival of spring and symbolizes the awakening of love. Hadley’s composition captures the essence of this renewal with a lush, romantic musical setting that contrasts with the austerity of the Lenten season. The work begins with a call to “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away,” reflecting the passage’s pastoral and inviting nature.

The music is characterized by its rich harmonies and melodic beauty, reflecting the English pastoral tradition. Hadley’s skilful use of choral textures and dynamics brings the text to life, creating a piece that is both evocative and deeply moving.”

Christopher Palmer (Musical Times, November 1973, p.1107) writes that “Like Delius and Vaughan Williams, [Hadley] is essentially a nature mystic, even in the most celebrated of his shorter church pieces, the anthem My Beloved Spake…here, pregnantly and pragmatically expressed, is the vernal ecstasy of the magnificent first movement of The Hills ('The Hills in Spring'), the lovely Solitary Reaper (Wordsworth) and of the river-music in the wartime cantata The Travellers, where at the words “Your own voice [will] speak of the wonders to be” there is a sudden sunburst of sound with cymbal roll and harp glissandos shooting in both directions. The climaxes in My Beloved Spake are of similar quality.”

This anthem remains a demonstration of Hadley’s contribution to 20th-century British choral music and continues to be appreciated for its lyrical polish and emotional depth.

A splendid recording of Patrick Hadley’s My Beloved Spake, by King’s College, Cambridge, conducted by Philip Leger, can be heard on YouTube, here.

A Year at Newcastle Cathedral

The tradition of Newcastle Cathedral dates back for more than nine hundred years. Along with the castle and the large stretches of city wall it represents the medieval city. As the liner notes explain, “music is central to the…Cathedral’s daily life of prayer, worship and witness.” 

The programme has “concentrated on the rich treasury of 20th century music, along with some more recent compositions.” Several are receiving their premiere recordings.

The Church’s Year opens with Edward Elgar’s Benedictus with words drawn from the Book of Common Prayer Mattins. It was written for the Hereford Three Choirs Festival, 1897 and was dedicated to George Sinclair, organist at Hereford Cathedral. Generally restrained, the final Gloria is a “celebratory treatment” of the text. It is a splendid accessory to the Church’s Advent meditation on John the Baptist’s preparation for the coming of Christ.

William Drakett, pianist and baritone, and Vicar Choral at Wells Cathedral contributes a sympathetic Magnificat and Nunc Dimitis for Advent and Candlemas, respectively. They are infused with plainsong.

The York-born composer and organist Dr. Alan Gray is represented on this disc by his Three Grace Anthems. No dates of composition are given in the booklet. A distinguished performer, Gray succeeded Charles Villiers Stanford as organist at Trinity College, Cambridge. Best recalled nowadays for his four organ sonatas, Gray wrote much church music, cantatas, vocal music, and part songs, as well as a string quartet and violin sonata. The Grace Anthems were unpublished during Gray’s lifetime but were rediscovered and edited by Matthew McCullough of Durham University. The Christmas anthem Laetabundus exultet is a vibrant celebration of the “Matchless maiden” who “Bringeth forth the Prince of Peace.” The second, the Sanctus, is suitable for Trinity. It is a beautifully wrought and “expansive” eight-part setting of the Mass Ordinary that glows with the superb fugue on the words Hosanna in Excelsis. Equally satisfying is Justorum animae set for double choir. The text is taken from the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed and provides fitting music for All Souls Day.

A rare treat is an extract from Ralph Vaughan Williams’s opera The Pilgrim’s Progress (1951), The Bird’s Song. This setting of the 23^rd Psalm was arranged by him as a standalone piece. It translates well from the stage to the chancel. Equally lovely is the opening Kyrie from RVW’s Mass in G minor (1921). It is an ideal fusion of a modern idiom and Tudor polyphony.

Best known for the song The Cloths of Heaven to a poem by W.B. Yeats, Thomas F. Dunhill wrote in a wide variety of genres including his operetta Tantivy Towers and his Symphony in A minor. A generation or so ago, aspiring pianists would have enjoyed playing his graded character studies and suites. Amongst this considerable catalogue were several anthems. To the Queen of Heaven (1926), suitable for the Annunciation, was originally devised for soloist and piano, but is valuable in this arrangement for trebles and organ.

Assistant Director of Music at Newcastle Cathedral Kris Thomsett contributes Ubi caritas. This antiphon for Maundy Thursday is sung during the Washing of the Feet. It is quiet and restrained as befits the notion that “wherever charity and love are to be found/God is there.”

Edward Bairstow’s Sing ye to the Lord was published in 1911 whilst he was organist at Leeds Parish Church. This anthem has a strong organ accompaniment, with the opening tuba stop fanfare appearing at intervals, some delicious unison passages exploding into four parts, and a powerful reprise of the opening figure in the Alleluia Amen.

British born, but Canadian based Healey Willan made a wonderful setting of words from the Song of Solomon - Rise up, my love. This is one of a series of Liturgical Motets that appeared in 1929. The sheer beauty of this short piece ensures that it remains Willan’s best-loved work. This motet can be used at Eastertime, or for a Festival of Our Lady.

A recent work, Ben Ponniah’s Litany to the Holy Spirit (2018) was composed for the trebles of the choir of St Thomas Church, 5^th Avenue, New York. It is reflective and makes use of soft, jazzy harmonies.

Bearing in mind that Gerald Finzi hailed from a Jewish background and was of an agnostic persuasion, it is remarkable that his extensive anthem, Lo, the full, final, sacrifice (1946) is such an important meditation on the Christian doctrine of the Eucharist. It uses metaphysical poet Richard Crashaw’s translation of St Thomas Aquinas’s Adore te and Lauda Sion Salvatorum. This long anthem is sectional, following the stanzas of the text, allowing Finzi to provide variety of expression and word painting. It is given a gratifying performance here by the choir, which explores the power and the mystery of the words.

The recital closes with a sterling performance of the Te Deum from Herbert Howells’s Collegium Regale. Written in 1944, it was the first of his Services for King’s College, Cambridge. It is a perfect equilibrium of glorious climaxes and hushed quieter moments.

The organ is a four-manual instrument built by T. C. Lewis around 1880 which incorporated older pipework. It has been rebuilt since by Harrison & Harrison in 1911 and 1954 and was reordered by Nicholson & Co. of Worcester in 1981. Most recently the instrument has been reinstated after “some years of silence.”

The liner notes by Ian Roberts are helpful, however it would have been useful for the dates of all the works to be included. I have provided these where possible. All texts and translations of the works are given. The recording is ideal, with an excellent balance between choir and organ (when used).

The repertoire is very varied and always interesting. It explores a wide range of 20th century church music but with a few more recent compositions added for good measure. Performances by the Choir of Newcastle Cathedral, organist Kris Thomsett and musical director, Ian Roberts are always sympathetic and spiritually uplifting.

Track Listing:
Advent
Edward Elgar (1857-1934)
Benedictus op. 34, no 2 (1897)
William Drakett (b.1992)
Magnificat from The Wells Service
Christmas
Alan Gray (1855-1935)
Laetabundus exultet from Three Grace Anthems
Candlemas
William Drakett
Nunc Dimitis from The Wells Service
Lent
Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)
Psalm 23 The Bird’s Song from The Pilgrim’s Progress (1951)
Kyrie from Mass in G minor (1921)
Annunciation
Thomas F Dunhill (1877-1946)
To the Queen of Heaven (1926)
Maundy Thursday
Kris Thomsett
Ubi caritas
Easter
Edward Bairstow (1874-1946)
Sing ye to the Lord (1911)
Healey Willan (1880-1968)
Rise up, my love (1929)
Pentecost
Ben Ponniah (b.1984)
Litany to the Holy Spirit (2018)
Trinity
Alan Gray
Sanctus from Three Grace Anthems
Corpus Christi
Gerald Finzi (1901-56)
Lo, the full, final sacrifice (1946)
All Souls
Alan Gray
Justorum animae from Three Grace Anthems
Christ the King
Herbert Howells (1892-1983)
Te Deum (Collegium Regale) (1944)
Kris Thomsett/organ
The Choir of Newcastle Cathedral/Ian Roberts
rec. 21-23 March 2023, Newcastle Cathedral
Regent REGCD582

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Two Arnolds – Bax & Schoenberg...

Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) and Arnold Bax (1883-1953) are two of my favourite composers. The latter is neo-romantic, inspired by the Celtic Twilight and Irish poetry. His music is often evocative of landscape and always poetic in spirit and content. In 1941, Bax was named as Master of the King’s Music.

The former also wrote romantic, Wagner inspired, music in the early part of his career, such as the massive Gurre-Lieder (1900-03) settings of poems by Jens Peter Jacobson for soloists, chorus and orchestra, the tone poem Pelleas and Melisande, op.5 (1902-03) and the sextet Verklärte Nacht, op.4 (1899). He renounced this aesthetic after about 1903, and developed a style that was simplified, and concentrated. Counterpoint became more important to him. He abandoned tonality after 1907 and produced atonal works that “shocked and electrified” listeners. These evinced the equality of all twelve notes of the chromatic scale. Important atonal works included the last movement of the String Quartet No.2, op.10 (1907-08), the Three Piano Pieces, op.11 (1908) and the Five Orchestral Pieces, op.16 (1909).

After the Great War he developed his infamous 12-tone music that had no tonal hierarchy and used manipulation of devised series of notes or tone rows. The resulting works were “as precise as a mathematical formula, as coldly logical as a syllogism, [and] this music was often strident and ugly.” In later life, Schoenberg did return to the precepts of limited tonality, with such pieces as the Suite for string orchestra (1934), the Theme and Variations for band, op.43a (1943).

In the October 1951 edition of Music and Letters (p.307) various British luminaries of the musical community contributed to a commemoration of Schoenberg who had died on 13 July 1951. These included Humphrey Searle, Herbert Howells, Norman del Mar, Ralph Vaughan Williams, and Felix Aprahamian. Not all were critical of Schoenberg, some were dismissive, and a few supportive. 

With characteristic wit Arnold Bax wrote:

“I instantly developed an ice-cold antipathy to Schoenberg and his whole musical system on the far-away day when I first came upon those three piano pieces, op.11. [The Three Piano Pieces, op.11 were first heard in London on 23 January 1912 at the Steinway Hall. The soloist was Richard Bühlig. One must assume that Bax was in attendance.] I conclude that, dissatisfied with his early milk-and-water derivations from Tristan and Hugo Wolf, he deliberately resolved to turn himself into the world’s premier mathematician in sound.

I believe that there is little probability that the twelve-note-scale will ever produce anything more than morbid or entirely cerebral growths. It might deal successfully with neuroses of various kinds, but I cannot imagine it associated with any healthy and happy concept such as young love or the coming of spring.”

Bruce Montgomery: Scottish Lullaby (1954)

One of the most delightful miniatures to come from the pen of English composer Bruce Montgomery (1921-78) is the Scottish Lullaby. The work was completed on 16 July 1954. David Whittle, in his study of the composer (2007, p.148) writes that the work’s antecedents was the score for the 1954 film, The Kidnappers. This sentimental fable was set in Nova Scotia at the turn of the 20th century. The plot concerns “small orphan brothers who come to live with their tyrannical Scots grandfather and, while mixed up in the disappearance of a baby, soften the old man's stony heart, prompt him to end a bitter feud and win for themselves a coveted pet.”

The film starred the Scottish actor and comedian (in a vital role, here) Duncan Macrae as well as child actors Jon Whitely and Vincent Winter.

The extracted Scottish Lullaby is “almost entirely” based on the old Gaelic melody O Can Ye Sew Cushions? which was used in the film. The piece is scored for chamber ensemble. Philip Lane, in the liner notes for the works only recording (CD WHL 2145) suggests that it is “what Percy Grainger would have called a ‘ramble’ on the folksong. Removed from its film setting, this is gently evocative of the Scottish Highlands, as perhaps as stranger would see them.

Paul Snook, reviewing the above CD for Fanfare, (January 2004) wrote that the Scottish Lullaby along with its companion piece Scottish Aubade are “two lovely pieces [that] are exceptional examples of how to blend folkloristic sources with symphonic procedures without compromising either element.”

Whittle (2007, p.290) notes that the work was premiered during April 1955 at Baron’s Hall, Arundel Castle, Sussex by the Southern String Orchestra. The Worthing Gazette (20 April 1955, p.5) notes that “The guest artist was the well-known soprano Isobel Baillie. The programme, which included works by Gluck. Haydn and Mozart, was heard by a near capacity audience.” No mention is made of Mongomery’s Scottish Lullaby.

Most significantly it was given the first broadcast performance by the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra on 18 October 1956.

Bruce Montgomery’s Scottish Lullaby can be heard on YouTube, here. It is the second part of this upload beginning at the 7.25 section. This track is taken from the 2003 CD British Films Composer (CD WHL 2145). Other composers on this disc include Clifton Parker, Leighton Lucas, Anthony Collins, and Eric Rogers. The Royal Ballet Sinfonia is conduced by Gavin Sutherland.

Bibliography:
Whittle, David, Bruce Montgomery/Edmund Crispin: A Life in Music and Books, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2007)

It's not British, but...20th Century Middle European Flute Music

This CD features diverse works by four “Middle-European” composers. This can be loosely defined as countries to the west of Russia and to the east of France. The disc includes music by an Austrian of Czech origin, a Czech, a German, and an Austrian. Each of these men share a personal history that is “marked by persecution and emigration.” One, Emil František Burian was a prisoner in three concentration camps.

Born in Vienna on 23 August 1900, Ernst Krenek moved to the United States in 1938 to escape Nazi persecution. There he taught in several universities. Stylistically, he is hard to pin down: at one time or another, he adopted atonality, serialism, neo-classicism, jazz, and electronics. His later music tended to be more accessible.  

The Suite for flute and piano dates from 1954. Composed in a neo-classical style, it does have a few atonal moments. It makes an attractive introduction to Krenek’s music. Despite being recorded here as a single track, it has four movements: Andante, Allegretto moderato, Andante con moto and Allegro vivace. It was premiered in Santiago, Chile on 5 July 1956. Krenek later arranged it for flute and string orchestra.

Emil František Burian is a new name to me. He was a bit of a polymath. Born in Plzeň in the Czech Republic during 1904, he became actively involved in music, poetry, film making, and the theatre. He was also a journalist, a political activist in the Czech Communist Party and, latterly, a parliamentarian. Burian was interned by the Germans between 1941 and 1945, but survived Theresienstadt, Dachau and Neuengamme.  The present Ztracené Serenády (Lost Serenades) was completed in 1940. It is easy going and presents no problems for the listener. Once again, it is devised in four movements: Cantabile, Na jednu, volně a zpěvně, velmi zpěvně. The last three titles do not translate into idiomatic English - at least on Google! The present recording of this charming Serenade is a World Premiere. I will look out for other compositions by Emil František Burian.

Guernica will ever be remembered for one of the worst atrocities committed during the Spanish Civil War (1936-39). The German Condor Legion and the Italian Aviazione Legionaria blitzed this defenceless northern Spanish town in support of General Franco’s Nationalists. There were many deaths and injuries. Pablo Picasso was moved to paint his eponymous anti-war masterpiece in 1937.

Hamburg-born composer and conductor Paul Dessau (1894-1979) suffered from persecution by the Nazis. In 1933 he fled Germany, taking refuge first in Paris, then in the United States. After the cessation of hostilities, he eventually returned to East Berlin. His piano solo, Guernica, was produced in 1938. At the time he was living in Paris, so it is possible that he may have seen Picasso’s painting. This piano piece has all the hallmarks of 12-tone music. Yet, there is nothing overtly challenging here. Dessau uses the technique with flexibility, resulting in some lyrical passages as well as harder edged moments.

The major event on this CD is Felix Greissle’s transcription of Arnold Schoenberg’s Wind Quintet, op.26. It has been renamed “Sonate” for flute and piano. At the time, Greissle was a student living at Schoenberg’s house: he would eventually marry his eldest daughter, Trudi.

To be sure, the Quintet is one of “the most abstract, most brittle” of Schoenberg’s compositions. Its long duration of three quarters of an hour, make it quite a trial. Yet, historically, it is deemed to be a “classical work of the twelve-note-technique.”

The Quintet was written between 1923-1924. It is in four movements (Allegro, Scherzo, Adagio and Rondo). Despite the use of serialism, there is a profound continuum between classical sonata form and modernism.

When Felix Greissle came to transcribe the Quintet, Schoenberg was adamant that no note of the original should be lost. To this end, every note not played by the flute was to be included in the piano part. I have not seen the score of the Sonate, but it must make it difficult for the pianist. One way or another, Greissle has managed to syntheses all five wind parts for the solo flute.

The opening movement presents themes, developments, recapitulations and even a coda. It may not seem obvious to the listener, though. Equally traditional, at least formally, is the quicksilver Scherzo. It may just be that it outstays its welcome. The heart of the Quintet is the Adagio, which is in “ternary form.” The concluding Rondo is the most congenial part of the work.

As part of my preparation for this review, I listened to the “original” Wind Quintet. Although it is difficult, I did begin to enjoy it. Certainly, I feel that the Sonate version is more approachable, and would serve as a worthy introduction for the stronger meat of the Quintet.

The Duo, featuring Luisa Sello (flute) and Bruno Canino (piano) give commanding performances of these four works, abetted by an excellent recording.

The liner notes by Danilo Prefumo give a good outline of the music and its context. They are a little too long-winded on the definition of “Middle-European” for the interests of most listeners. Suffice to say the former Austro-Hungarian Empire and Germany is a good approximation as a locus. The booklet is printed in Italian and English.

This is a fascinating CD, featuring four composers who are quite different in character but are united in their response to political extremism.

Track Listing:
Ernst Heinrich Krenek (1900-91)
Suite for flute and piano (1954)
Emil František Burian (1904-59)
Ztracené Serenády for flute and piano (1940)
Paul Dessau (1894-1979)
Guernica for piano (1938)
Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951)
“Sonate” for flute and piano (1923-24/1926) arr. Felix Greissle (1894-1982)
Luisa Sello (flute), Bruno Canino (piano)
rec. 3-4 February 2023, Black Mirror Studios, Udine, Italy
Dynamic CDS7995

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.

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 17^th/18^th 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

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

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.

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 18^th 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.

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.