"It Won't Do, Me Bhoy": Frank Bridge’s Fond Farewell to Stanford

Further to my short post about composer Frank Bridge’s tribute to Charles Villiers Stanford in the Music and Letters Journal, I found another short testimonial in the 1924 edition of the Royal College of Music Magazine. This included many contributions from eminent musicians who know or studied with him. Stanford was one of the founding professors of the Royal College of Music when it opened in 1882, and he taught composition there from then until his death in 1924. He was one of the architects of the English Musical Renaissance.

The list of contributors reads like a "who’s who" of British music: Alexander Mackenzie, George Dyson, Marion M. Scott, Edgar L. Bainton, Thomas F. Dunhill, Charles Wood, Rebecca Clarke, James Friskin, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Cecil Forsyth, and Cyril Rootham

Frank Bridge studied at the RCM from 1899 to 1903. This puts his "period of more than twenty years" into perspective- he is looking back at his formative student years from the height of his own career. Bridge’s recollection of Stanford’s contempt for the "vulgar" provides a perfect opening to explore the fascinating irony that he - who would eventually embrace a radical, dissonant modernism - still credited his old master’s traditionalist "refining influence" for providing the solid architectural foundation necessary to effectively break the rules.

Bridge wrote: “It may be that the perspective of an early impression is altered by the march of time, or indeed by the present day enthusiasms which inevitably dominate one’s point of view, but after a period of more than twenty years there remains the conviction that in Sir Charles Stanford we all had a master-mind at work. Whether during a composition lesson or at an orchestral rehearsal, one was conscious of the power and sincerity with which he exercised his art. His complete sympathy with the classics and their traditions was an outstanding quality which he happily imparted to all who came under his refining influence.

Who can forget his unfailing contempt for the meretricious and the vulgar, or, faced with a youthful harmonic indiscretion, the softened grin as he would say ‘It won’t do, me bhoy”’! [1]
Frank Bridge R.C.M. Magazine Vol.20/2 1924

As a fitting postscript, Ralph Vaughan Williams echoed this sentiment in the same volume:

"I suppose that all of us were inclined to fight Stanford in our time, but like the argumentative Irish servant, “we knew the master was right all the time.” It may have been galling at the moment to have one’s pet new harmony called “damnably ugly,” but it was just at that moment that we received the best of the many good lessons we had from him.

The intense hatred of anything unlovely, the duty of honest and complete workmanship, the sense of style and of a great tradition behind us—these were the lessons which we learnt from Stanford, lessons which no composer can afford to neglect."

Note:
[1] Bridge’s phonetic transcription of Stanford’s accent ("me bhoy") is a classic trope among Stanford’s pupils (Vaughan Williams and Holst often recalled similar quips). It highlights the blend of intimidation and affection his students felt.

Mist on the Moors: The Piano Music of Reginald Redman

Thirteen years have flown since I evaluated the British Music Society’s British Composer Profiles for MusicWeb International. I remember choosing, at random, the entry for Reginald Redman, a composer I had never previously encountered. I discovered that he had written a piano concerto, a cello concerto, three operas, two ballets, a substantial body of orchestral music, incidental scores, and chamber works. His numerous vocal works drew on West Country themes, alongside humorous songs, Chinese settings, carols, and anthems. He wrote piano pieces and arrangements for small ensembles. It struck me then, that this volume functioned as a kind of “Book of Dreams,” inviting readers to turn its pages and imagine the unheard. I ended my review by wondering what Redman’s music might sound like. I suggested that one day someone would be inspired to find out.

Fortunately, Duncan Honeybourne has come to the rescue with this delightful album of piano miniatures by this forgotten composer. Sadly, there is precious little information about Reginald Redman on the internet or in reference books. The above-mentioned volume manages a single paragraph, and there is no mention whatsoever in Grove Music Online. Philip Scowcroft of this parish came to the rescue with a page long discussion, here. I am also beholden to the liner notes written by the pianist.

Synthesising these texts provides a brief but essential biography. Reginald “Rex” Redman (1892–1972) was one of the BBC’s most accomplished regional conductor‑composers. Trained at the Guildhall School, he joined the Western Region of the BBC founding the West Country Studio Orchestra and West Country Singers. Though small and confined to light repertoire, the orchestra flourished under Redman and successors John Bath and Frank Cantell. As noted above, Redman was a prolific composer: his light orchestral music which included picturesque titles like Marston Court, From a Moorish Village, Pan’s Garden, West Country Suite, and Away on the Hills were especially admired.

This is not an album designed for a continuous sitting. Most of the tracks are short, averaging two or three minutes, the longest being the Three Preludes lasting for more than a quarter of an hour. They tend to blur. Select a title that appeals and enjoy.

The recital opens with the impressionistic Mist on the Moors evoking the landscape of Bodmin or Dartmoor. I am not sure what the mysterious Cornish Legend is referring to. There are so many to choose from. But surely it is a secret well kept. There is a sense of the tricksy about the Arabesque, with its improvisatory freedom. Honeybourne notes that La Nuit seems to be “alternating touches of Chinese music with that of church music”! The Lyric Piece may nod towards Edvard Grieg: it is a charming little number. Once again Redman looks to Asia with his perfumed The Mystic Garden. It is a thoughtful nocturne. The Graceful Dance is just what it says on the tin: slightly Baroque in tone. Hardly a lullaby, the Cradle Song is more complex in mood and technique than its title suggests. A fantastic seascape is created with On the Cornish Coast, which has all the stormy drama of Greville Cooke’s Cormorant Crag. One of the best pieces on this disc. The Great God Pan is evoked in his quieter mood in The Lonely Faun although he becomes a little more playful in the central episode. Once again Gossamer lives up to its title – delicate and ethereal.

Three of these miniatures appeal to children of whatever age! The Lullaby for a Kitten is deliciously sentimental. This is followed by Deep in the Woods which is more about a “Famous Five” adventure rather than a psychodrama. And finally, Children at Play, is pure salon music that conjures games, chases, and hide-and-seek.

In Changing Moods is fun. Moving between whimsy and reflection it is well-wrought with lovely tunes and subtle harmonies. Both In a Gondola and Venetian Barcarolle provide an enchanting picture of ‘La Serenissima.’ They should be played as a “set.”

Reginald Redman’s Song of the Fountain is not as elaborate as Ravel’s Jeux d'eau or Franz Liszt’s Les jeux d'eau à la Villa d'Este: it is more of a little water-feature in a Home Counties garden. The short Humoreske is a piece of two parts: vivacious in its opening and closing and with a lyrical trio section. It is not necessarily ‘humorous’ in the modern sense, but touched with wit, grace, and a gentle eccentricity.

The most substantial work in this disc is the Three Preludes dating from 1918. Honeybourne explains that they remained in manuscript in the Redman Archive at the University of Bristol until he discovered them in 2024. Clearly influenced by the then-contemporary French school and, possibly, Cyril Scott, they are each accompanied by a “descriptive French title and verse…” The first, which makes intensive use of the whole tone scale, evokes the Wind through the Reeds by a “quiet little lake, at night.” The reeds are clearly talking to each other. The second imagines In the Glade of the Will-o’-the-Wisps, once again, using synthetic scales: it has a decidedly impressionistic feel. The final Prelude creates the mood of The Desert at Dawn. Beginning lugubriously, it conjures “Light Streams forth in a supreme ripple – and it is day.” There is no indication where the texts were garnered. The entire cycle is a gem, which demands acceptance into the repertoire.

The final tracks present two discrete versions of the Welsh folksong 'Ar Hyd y Nos'– All Through the Night. The liner notes explain that prior to 1936 the West Country Studio Orchestra served both Welsh and West Country audiences. The first iteration, which is undated, was conceived as a signature tune for the station. Characteristically democratic, Redman wove together two melodies - 'All Through the Night' and the old West Country tune, 'Admiral Benbow.' Aged seventy-eight, Redman decided to revisit his earlier effort, adding a brief Prelude and Postlude. It is a touching nod to his long-standing affection for Wales and the West.

It should be noted that those who choose to download or stream can access additional tracks including At the Opera (1935) and In Amberley Vale (1925)

British pianist Duncan Honeybourne is noted for his deep sympathy with British and Irish repertoire and his championship of neglected music. He has explored a wide range of “forgotten” composers including Greville Cooke, Geoff Cummings-Knight, Archy Rosenthal, and William Baines.

This new disc gives long‑neglected Reginald Redman a toehold in the recorded legacy. These miniatures, by turns atmospheric, whimsical, and deeply felt are played with characteristic warmth, sincerity, and imagination.

Track Listing:

Reginald Redman (1892-1972)
Mist on the Moors (1926)
A Cornish Legend (1922)
Arabesque (1923)
La Nuit (1924)
Lyric Piece (1924)
The Mystic Garden (1924)
Graceful Dance (1924)
Cradle Song (1924)
On the Cornish Coast (1924)
The Lonely Faun (1926)
Gossamer (1922)
Lullaby for a Kitten (n.d.)
Deep in the Woods (n.d.)
Children at Play (1924)
In Changing Moods (1924)
In a Gondola (1924)
Venetian Barcarolle (1924)
Prelude I Vent à travers les Roseaux (Wind through the Reeds) (1918)
Prelude II Dans la Clairière des Esprits Follets (In the Glade of the Will-o’-the-Wisps) (1918)
Prelude III Le D sert au Point du Jour (The Desert at Dawn) (1918)
Song of the Fountain (1924)
Humoreske (1927)
All Through the Night (earlier version) (n.d.) All Through the Night (later version) (1970)

Duncan Honeybourne (piano)
rec. 24 September 2025, Wyastone Concert Hall, Monmouth
Heritage HTGCD 121

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

Frank Bridge: An Appreciation of Sir Charles Villiers Stanford

How does a musical revolutionary remember a traditionalist? In July 1924, a few months after the death of Sir Charles Villiers Stanford, his former pupil Frank Bridge offered a surprising answer.

On the death of the elder composer on 29 March 1924, many tributes were written about him. A selection by his former pupils were included in the journal Music & Letters (July 1924). These included words by Ralph Vaughan Williams, George Dyson, Ivor Gurney, Herbert Howells, and Frank Bridge.

Frank Bridge (1879-1941) was a pivotal figure in early 20th-century British music, bridging the gap between Victorian tradition and modernism. A competent violist and conductor, his deep understanding of string instruments infused his chamber music, such as the evocative piano trios and string quartets. While his early works like the orchestral The Sea radiated late-Romantic warmth, the distress of World War I pushed him toward a more radical, expressionistic style. He became the link between Victorian/Edwardian tradition and the modernism of his own pupil, Benjamin Britten.

In 1899, Frank Bridge had entered the Royal College of Music on a scholarship, where he fell under the rigorous tutelage of Sir Charles Villiers Stanford. Stanford, a titan of British pedagogy, emphasised structural integrity and Brahmsian discipline. While Bridge eventually moved toward a more radical, modernist language, his time with Stanford provided the solid technical foundation - particularly in counterpoint and orchestration - that defined his early mastery. Their relationship was a classic blend of traditional craftsmanship meeting an evolving, innovative spirit. In his tribute, Bridge reflected on the "bruising" but vital lessons he received:

"THAT from tuition grounded with staunch belief upon the classics so many composition pupils should have achieved distinction on self-willed paths, is a noteworthy testimony to the soundness of his training and guidance. An extraordinary versatility and interest in all forms of musical art enabled him to solve their problems with facility and shrewd insight. He possessed a continuous inspiration of technical resources with which lie administered first-aid. His firm insistence that we should not embark on an orchestral score which required so-called " extra " instruments may perhaps have been a relic of his own youthful student days abroad. It was undoubtedly a deep-rooted conviction, and his own works prove how unconcerned he was with the mere exploitation of instrumental technique. On one occasion a song with orchestra evoked a severe lecture, and although I recall feeling rather bruised, the experience of its public performance made me realise the truth of his criticism."

Music & Letters July 1924, p.195f

Robert Farnon: Holiday Flight

I was always envious of my aunt who had flown out to Mallorca (or as we called it then Majorca) in the late 1950s with her girlfriend. Although tourism had begun in the 1920s and 1930s, it was not until the post-Second World War era that mass British holidaymaking began there. Back then, boarding a Vickers Viscount or a de Havilland Comet was a sophisticated ritual, involving Sunday best suits and the hum of turboprops. Greater prosperity and cheaper air travel made Mallorca a mainstream destination, with visitors enjoying the sun, beaches, and easy-going life. And then, of course, there was the cheap booze.

Robert Farnon’s miniature Holiday Flight epitomises this social shift. It was composed around 1958 during the post-war golden age of British light music. It reflects the optimism and glamour of commercial air travel during this period. Enthusiastically, it presents flying as adventurous, novel, and stylish. It is a quintessential example of light orchestral writing that distils Farnon’s melodic appeal and cinematic sweep into a small, evocative piece that functions like a musical postcard, capturing mood and imagery with effortless clarity.

Although there is some musical onomatopoeia in this piece, it is more a celebration of the possibility of air travel rather than a actual description. Farnon avoids the literal roar of engines, choosing instead to replicate the feeling of soaring above a layer of stratocumulus clouds. It opens mid-flight rather than taking off or landing. The mood is buoyant and propulsive, with sweeping strings, but sometimes pizzicato, smart woodwind figures and muted brass. Yet in the concluding bars there is a definite sense that the plane is landing, with all the pleasure of a sun-soaked holiday lying ahead.

My only memento of my aunt’s holiday is a small drum with a picture of a toreador on it, a pair of castanets and a pack of Spanish stamps (these last sadly long disappeared.) These mementos were (for me) the exotic spoils of a new era, brought back from a world that felt impossibly far from 1950s Glasgow. It would be some fifty years later that I would arrive at Palma, Mallorca, on board a cruise ship.

Listen to Robert Farnon’s Holiday Flight on YouTube, here. The composer is conducting the London Symphony Orchestra.

 

Ralph Vaughan Williams: Rise, Heart

I was introduced to Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Five Mystical Songs through the legendary recording by John Shirley-Quirk, with the King’s College Choir and English Chamber Orchestra under David Willcocks (HMV ASD 2458). This has been my go-to version since the early 1970s, and I suspect that will not change. It successfully captures the grand scale of the work’s premiere at Worcester Cathedral on 14 September 1911, though RVW noted the chorus was ad lib.

Whilst there have been arrangements for wind ensemble and for solo piano accompaniment, this new Albion disc features the c.1925 arrangement for baritone, piano and string quintet. This is ideally suited for small ensembles, church performances, or intimate recitals.

Bearing in mind that RVW was not a “man of faith” in the traditional sense, but a self-described “cheerful agnostic,” the ethos of Five Mystical Songs is best understood as a spiritual journey. But it is important to add that he was deeply sympathetic to Christian liturgy, theology, and devotional language. The “cycle” becomes the point where three trajectories meet: the world of personal faith, George Herbert’s luminous poetry, and the composer’s instinctive English musical pastoralism. This is not a conventional song cycle but a bit like a private devotional journal set to music. Herbert’s poetry here feels less mystical than numinous, with an emphasis on human tenderness, vulnerability, and wonder. It is Christianity seen through the lens of the English countryside, where the sacred and the pastoral breathe the same air.

Roderick Williams, the Sacconi Quartet, Levi Andreassen, double bass, and pianist William Vann bring a warmth and instrumental colour that far exceeds the piano-only edition. It is a beautiful, deeply felt account.

In 1905 RVW published two settings of poems by Christina Rossetti. The melancholic When I am Dead, My Dearest considers an acceptance of death’s calm, inviting remembrance or forgetting, both without sorrow. Equally melancholic both in words and music is Dreamland where the poet has chosen a twilight journey into eternal rest, beyond sorrow or waking. Both have been recorded on Albion Records (ALBCD002) but this is the first recording with “a male protagonist.” They are both heartbreakingly lovely.

The liner notes explain that all eighty-one of Vaughan Williams folksongs have been issued on the Albion label (ALBCD042-45). For the present disc Roderick Williams has chosen eight of these and arranged them for string quartet. I think that they would make an effective song cycle, although there is no obvious connecting theme. The singer expresses the hope that these will provide a strong introduction to RVW’s folksongs.

Willow-Wood is a cantata based on four poems from Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s sonnet sequence The House of Life. It was composed in 1903, around the same time as his famous Silent Noon. The cantata was premiered at the St James’s Hall, London on 12 March of that year, by J. Campbell McInnes, baritone, and Evlyn Howard-Jones, piano.

In Rossetti’s poems, the ‘Wood’ is an imaginary landscape where Love and Loss meet. Contemporary critics felt the songs themselves were seen as “turbulent, shadowy, and melancholy.” Some suggested that the cantata needed an orchestra, as “its complexities and its breadth seem to demand an orchestral medium.”   The composer duly orchestrated it for a performance in 1909, adding a wordless female chorus. RVW himself was not happy with the final iteration, scrawling in his copy of the vocal score, “first (and last) performance…complete flop.” 

The programme notes pose the question: Does the cantata tell a story? It concludes that Willow-Wood is “a song of love and grief, love lost and love remembered. Poetry stands precedent over narrative and finds further expression in music.”

Whether this challenging work will ever become ‘popular’ is arguable. I find it just a touch too melancholy. That said, Roderick Williams champions its wide ranging and demanding vocal part with conviction.

The booklet text has been compiled by John Francis and provides clear information about the songs. The texts are printed. Resumes of the performers have been included. The booklet is beautifully illustrated, and the cover features a detail from the Ralph Vaughan Williams memorial window at All Saints, Down Ampney.

This is a deeply moving exploration of Vaughan Williams’ more intimate side, where Roderick Williams brings a rare, human warmth to both the well-loved Herbert settings and the shadowy rarities of Rossetti.

Contents
Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)

Five Mystical Songs (1911) (arranged by Vaughan Williams for baritone, piano and string quintet): Easter; I Got Me Flowers; Love Bade Me Welcome; The Call; Antiphon.
Songs for voice and piano: When I am Dead, My Dearest (1903); Dreamland (1905)
Folk Song arrangements (Vaughan Williams’s piano accompaniments adapted
for string quartet by Roderick Williams): Captain Grant; The Saucy Bold Robber; She’s Like the Swallow; Proud Nancy; Barbara Ellen; The Brewer; O Who is That That Raps at My Window; Harry the Tailor
Willow-Wood (1903, revised 1909) for baritone and piano.
Roderick Williams (baritone); Sacconi Quartet, Levi Andreassen (double bass), William Vann (piano)
rec. 16-18 July 2025, St George’s Headstone, London 

Albion Records ALBCD 070

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

Percy Whitlock: Holiday Suite (1939)

Percy Whitlock’s Holiday Suite (1939) is one of my favourite pieces of ‘light music.’ The titles of its three movements express the sentiment that surrounds the thoughts of a holiday by the sea in England (or Scotland, Wales, and Ulster.) It is an epitome of much that has passed into history as people head to Benidorm and Tenerife. However, days at Bournemouth, Morecambe and Swanage will always be with us. And if people enjoy the simpler pleasures of a British seaside holiday, this suite will serve as a reminder of what is precious in our psyche. This may be strong words for a slight work – but this is what ‘light’ music is about – approachability. 

A friend of mine who does not claim to understand or appreciate the complexities of Bartok String Quartets or the transcendental piano studies of Franz Liszt finds this Holiday Suite full of evocative images. And these are images of her holidays too. Memories of her girlhood at Scarborough and Bridlington are evoked in these three movements. And who is to say that Max Jaffa (The Spa, Scarborough) is not as important to aesthetic enjoyment as Yehudi Menuhin or Nigel Kennedy? Certainly, not these gentlemen! 

Three movements and one enigma. The suite opens with a fine Waltz: ‘In the Ballroom.’ This is in the spirit of so many similar pieces by Eric Coates – a fine English Dance. We feel that at times it is a restrained movement. Is it a tea dance? But then the orchestra breaks out into a fine sweep, which along with the saxophones leads back into a typical lilting swing. Then a short codetta and off into the next eight! I can so easily see a pre-war audience moving gracefully around the ballroom. The ‘Ballroom’ in the title is the one behind the Bournemouth Pavilion Concert Hall.

The second is a delightful polka that manages to incorporate the good old English tune ‘Cherry Ripe.’ This had been done already by Frank Bridge in one of his string orchestra pieces and by Eric Coates in his London Suite. Whitlock would have known both these works. It is the composer’s delightful sense of humour that gave this movement its back to front title – ‘Spade and Bucket’ Polka. It is a well-written miniature, which certainly evokes thoughts of major excavations on the beach!

The last movement is entitled quite simply, ‘Civic March.’ Yet there is an enigma here. The Performing Rights Society has this listed as the ‘Picnic March.’ The score and the parts all have the current title of ‘Civic March.’ I spoke with the Whitlock expert Malcolm Riley about this discrepancy, and he is of the opinion that the official title links it in nicely to the ‘municipal’ – the ballroom and the Pavilion belonging to the town council. I have listened to this march a number of times and I am unable to imagine processions of councillors and the newly made Mayor and civil dignitaries and their partners.

Personally? I’m not buying it. The music is too bright and breezy. There is an open-air quality to this tune. It is easier to imagine the Famous Five and Timmy the dog, off on a picnic with their ginger beer and jam sandwiches: it fits in with the idea of ‘being at the seaside.’ The last thing I would want to do as a child is watch old fogeys dressed up in outdated clothes shamble along the High Street! Nevertheless, I will defer, for scholarships sake and concede that this last movement is a bright and carefree ‘civic’ march. Humph.

Listen to Whitlock’s Holiday Suite on YouTube, here.  The RTÉ Concert Orchestra Conductor: Gavin Sutherland and it appears on Marco Polo 8.225162.

Repost from 1 November 2008 with edits and new link.

 

Reflections : Piano Quartets by Johannes Brahms and Hans Gál

Werther was the tragic hero of Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werthers (1774) who became a crucial figure in German cultural lore. He was a gifted and sensitive young man who was consumed by an impossible love for Charlotte. This anguish made him into a symbol of the of Sturm und Drang spirit and serves as a warning about what can happen when feelings run wild.

Speaking about his Piano Quartet No.3 in C minor, op.60, Brahms told his publisher Simrock, that the score should feature a picture of a man with a pistol pointed at his head, referencing Goethe’s book. This would have signalled the present quartet's themes of unrequited love and despair. Simrock did not take him up on this suggestion.

When Brahms began initial sketches for his three piano quartets in 1855, he was deeply in love with Clara Schumann, wife of Robert, who at that time was institutionalised in an insane asylum. Instead of Werther’s pistol shots, the writing of this music was a catharsis for his mental turmoil. Shortly after Robert’s death in 1856, he found another distraction, this time with Agathe von Siebold. The quartet was put to one side, remaining in a drawer for nearly twenty years (there was some revision) before emerging in 1875.

The opening movement begins starkly before the strings introduce a ‘sighing’ motif often associated with Clara, setting the tone for a narrative of tension and release throughout this Allegro non troppo. An appealing second theme in E‑flat major offers warmth, yet the movement never fully escapes its C‑minor gravity. An angry and intense Scherzo Allegro follows; instead of a formal trio, Brahms inserts a brief, unsettled episode. The Andante, the emotional heart, begins with a beautiful long cello melody that offers a measure of consolation. It is thought to be a “farewell to Clara,” and is tenderly played here. The Finale is a turbulent Allegro comodo, its agitated figures driven forward until they finally gain a hard‑won, unsentimental C‑major close. Any performance must recognise the sense of tragedy that overshadows this Piano Quartet. I feel that Confringo Klavierquartett get this mood exactly right.

Hans Gál was an Austrian‑British composer, teacher and scholar who was forced to flee from Austria in 1938. He rebuilt his career in Britain, producing symphonies, chamber works, and operas defined by a rare blend of elegance and contrapuntal wit.

The Piano Quartet in A major was written in 1926 for the pianist Paul Wittgenstein who had lost his right arm during the First World War. The piano writing is so complex it successfully creates the illusion of two hands. Certainly, Wittgenstein’s left hand had its work cut out. At a time when composers were experimenting with various forms of modernism, Gál uses what might be regarded as old-fashioned tonal clarity.

Unfolding across four well balanced movements, the Quartet is defined by appealing melodies and formal balance. The opening Vivace ma non troppo nods unapologetically to Brahms. It is optimistic, but occasionally melancholy, presenting contrasting themes and a vivid development. A buoyant Scherzo, Presto e leggiero possesses a will o’ the wisp fleetingness. Central to this Quartet is the poignant, introspective Adagio, dolce ed espressivo using expansive tunes supported by a subtle accompaniment. The Quartet concludes with a mercurial Molto vivace which is Bartókian in its rhythmic bite. The middle section is brooding, before an exhilarating and witty build up to the final pages.

There have been at least two other recordings of Hans Gál’s Piano Quartet in A major (CPO 555 276-2),  reviewed here, here, and here. The other is Left Hand Legacy Vol.1: Chamber Music Written for Paul Wittgenstein (COBRA0087) reviewed, here.

Confringo Klavierquartett was formed by musicians from Germany, Serbia, and South Korea during their studies in Berlin and Hanover. The Quartet shares a strong interest in Classical, Romantic, and Contemporary repertoire. They have earned significant recognition, including the 2024 Hans Gál Prize and a German Music Competition scholarship.

The liner notes by Florian Gierring give a good introduction to the two important works featured on this disc. Biographical details of the ensemble are included. The booklet is printed in English and German.

This is a splendid debut performance by Confringo Klavierquartett. Both Quartets are performed with enthusiasm and self-assurance. They reflect Brahms’s darker shadows and Gál’s intricate, lyrical wit.

Track Listing:
Johannes Brahms (1833-97)
Piano Quartet No.3 in C minor, op.60 (1855-75)
Hans Gál (1890-1987)
Piano Quartet in A major (1926)
Confringo Klavierquartett: Eun Che Kim (violin), Philipp Sussmann (viola), Irena Josifoska (cello), Viktor Soos (piano).
rec. 18-20 April 2025, SWR Studio Kaiserslautern, Germany.
Reflections Genuin GEN26954

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