Showing posts with label William Blezard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Blezard. Show all posts

Wednesday, 10 January 2018

William Blezard: Variations on a Sea Shanty for piano

William Blezard was born in the North Country at Padiham in 1921. His parents worked at a local cotton mill. However, there was much music in the household as William’s father sang tenor on a semi-professional basis. After some self-taught practice on the piano and harmonium, Blezard was discovered whilst playing at a local cinema. Apparently, a member of the audience was so impressed with his performance and recommended him to her brother, a local mill-owner, who paid for the young man’s lessons.
Later, he was then fortunate enough to win a Lancashire County scholarship to the Royal College of Music in London. He studied piano with Arthur Benjamin and Frank Merrick and composition with Herbert Howells. A further study of orchestration was taken with Gordon Jacob. Unfortunately, his academic career was interrupted by five years of war service in the RAF. During the war he served in the North of Scotland as a Morse code operator.
After early success in winning the Cobbett chamber music prize in 1946, Blezard was appointed student composer at J. Arthur Rank’s Denham film studios where he worked extensively with the ubiquitous Muir Matheson. He married Joan Kemp Potter who was a fellow student at the Royal College of Music.
Much of his subsequent career revolved round the theatre where he was well regarded as an accompanist and musical director. Some of the big names he has worked with include Honor Blackman, Marlene Dietrich, Max Wall and Joyce Grenfell.
William Blezard died in Barnes in 2003 aged 81. His final musical performance was the night before his death.

The Variations on a Sea Shanty is one of Blezard’s longest piano pieces. And I must say that it is seriously impressive from start to finish. It has everything one could possibly imagine about a work with that title. Yet this is not ‘drawing room’ music nor tunes to be played by ‘Grade 5’ students. This is a full-blown set of variations that requires all the resources of an extremely competent pianist. Parkin himself likens the scale of parts of this work to Cesar Franck’s Prelude, Chorale and Fugue.
The work was written in 1939/40 at the beginning of the Second World War – presumably when the United Kingdom was suffering great losses to allied merchant shipping. The theme is ‘What shall we do with the drunken sailor.’ It is often hidden in the pianistic outworking and then suddenly become quite explicit. Some of the variations are aggressive and angry – suggesting storms or violence on the high seas. Often calm descends on the evening scene. Perhaps the sailor has moved on from being ‘fighting drunk’ to a more reflective mood? Or maybe he is thinking of his girl in Liverpool or Southampton? I think that what raises these Variations from a good work to a great one is the skill that Blezard has used in transforming and reworking the basic material. He has used a variety of pianistic styles -from John Ireland through English pastoralism to ‘Savoy Hotel lounge.’ Dissonance is well used in conjunction with more conventional musical devices. Yet the styles never seem to clash or be out of balance. The theme and the variations are well unified in both their design and implementation. One of the techniques that Blezard used is a variation within a variation. The closing pages are totally triumphant – the drunken sailor has sobered up and is now quite simply one of the Royal Navy’s finest. 

Variations on a Sea Shanty can be found on The Piano Music of William Blezard: Volume 2 SWCD27. Alas this CD now appears to be deleted from the catalogues. It is worth hunting down in the second-hand record stores. 

Saturday, 13 December 2014

William Blezard: Suite Circle of Time for piano

The Suite Circle of Time (1975) is a meditation on the progress of the seasons. It is strange in that there are five sections – and there are only four seasons! The secret is the reprise of the New Year Carillon at the works conclusion. The Carillon opens the suite with its brittle, frosty bell figuration. It is definitely winter time-and a cold one at that. I remember walking along the Thames near Barnes one January morning and the frost had hit the riverside vegetation during the night. It was like fairyland. I wonder if Blezard had enjoyed a similar walk from his nearby home? The movement dedicated to spring is quicksilver – all over in 59 seconds. Yet a lot is said and the imagery of ‘small creatures that scuttle about’ is well described. Summer Haze is a perfect little tone picture. Once again I wonder if it is based on his home territory. Perhaps it is somewhere in Richmond Park when he would have heard ‘all the live murmur of a summer’s day.’ It is truly the heart of this delicious suite. Autumn Contrasts literally does that. The composer contrasts ‘vivace semiquaver triplets’ with much softer more introverted material. Autumn is often a sad time of year. With leaves blowing in the wind, the trees becoming bare and the days ‘drawing in.’ Fires burn and leaves are consumed. And finally winter returns – the New Year bells ring out the old and ring in the new. It ends with a perfect hush. This work for me is possibly the most moving of the Blezard opus that I have so far heard.
Circle of Time is available on Priory Records (PRCD 617) played by Eric Parkin. However, I believe that it has been deleted from the catalogues and is only available second hand. 

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

William Blezard: Two Celtic Pieces


The Two Celtic Pieces were originally composed for flute and piano. They were written for a friend who needed some material to help to learn the flute. However, after some thought Blezard decided that the Highland Lament would sound better on the oboe. The Irish Whirligig followed suit. I once wrote that the finest piece of Scottish music was written by Sir Malcolm Arnold – a man born in Northampton- when he penned the third of the Four Scottish Dances. Arnold seemed to have achieved what a generation of Scots composers had failed to do. He perfectly evoked the highland landscape in music. However William Blezard’s evocation of things Scottish in his achingly beautiful Highland Lament comes pretty close. It has been well likened to a piece that could have been written by Delius.

The nod to Ireland is equally impressive. The title Whirligig perhaps is misleading. Although there is much movement here there are also some quite reflective moments. In fact the orchestra gets quite aggressive in places becoming almost discordant before the oboe resumes with its slightly wistful theme. The work ends with a little flourish preceded by a short muse on earlier material.

The Two Celtic Pieces can be heard on ASV WHITELINE CD WHL 2130

Saturday, 12 March 2011

William Blezard: Three Dance Studies for piano

The Three Dance Studies were composed over a three year period between 1966 and 1969. I suppose the first thing I would say is that there is something of Children’s Television about these pieces. It is easy to imagine them being used for some puppet show or cartoon escapades. Perhaps it is hardly surprising when one recalls that Blezard served as an accompanist for Playschool!
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The first dance is an exercise in octaves. I must confess to finding octaves difficult to play. I recall a pianist telling me that you have to lock your hand into position and keep it that way – otherwise major 7th and minor 9ths ensue! And I have heard good pianists fall into that trap! But Parkin avoids this misdemeanour here! The music is actually quite jazzy without being jazz –perhaps 'puckish' would be a better adjective.
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The second ‘study’ is by far the longest and is also a lot more profound. The technical virtue here is the ‘trill.’ Perhaps this piece is less related to cartoon –in fact I believe it could easily have a life of its own. It is probably one of the best of Blezard’s pieces for piano. The mood is quite complex – trills do not necessarily suggest repose or reflection – yet some of this music is just that. There is a harsher and more dissonant middle section that sounds terrifying difficult to play. However the quieter music returns and all is well. The composer who sprang into mind on hearing this number was Kaikhosru Sorabji and I do not feel that is a bad comparison.
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The last study is based on cross rhythms, which is basically music that has, say two and three beats to the bar. Of course Blezard is much more subtle that this and I would need to peruse the score to say much more about his compositional process. However this dance moves along with quite a swing and once again could be the accompaniment to some TV adventure. Not the best of the series, perhaps – but probably the hardest to bring off successfully.

William Blezard’s Three Dance Studies for piano can be heard on Eric Parkin’s recording on the Priory Label

Wednesday, 6 January 2010

William Blezard: The River

The River (1969) is perhaps Blezard’s best known work – if it is possible to say that any of his pieces have really captured the musical public’s imagination. When I first heard this work I had not read the programme notes. I immediately felt that this was a perfect musical portrait of an English River. Of course I was wrong. It was actually composed after Blezard had returned from a tour of Australia in 1969. A certain programme has gathered round this work, which I feel is unnecessary. Apparently it is said to depict two lovers meeting by the riverside and going for a gentle stroll. Obviously the passion builds up a bit and the music swells, only to subside into a pleasant cup of tea and a scone at a riverside tearoom. I am afraid all this leaves me very cold. I accept that it is a romantic piece: I agree that the composer may have had a river in mind – be it in England or Australia. I will even concede he may have been in love. But the bottom line is that a programme like this spoils what is a very beautiful and quite moving piece.
This work is in the classic ‘Delian’ arch shape – beginning quietly, rising to a climax and then subsiding. I was reminded of Constant Lambert’s famous injunction about the only thing you can do with a folk tune is to play it again - louder. Blezard by and large uses just one tune – however it is not really a folksong. The subtlety with which he manipulates this basic material is perfectly satisfying. The orchestration of this work is excellent with exquisite moments for the harp and French horn. Most of the melody is carried on strings which gives this work its romantic feel.
All in all, I was reminded of Smetana’s Moldau as I was listening to this work: not in detail but just in the effectiveness of portraying running water in purely musical terms.
With thanks to MusicWeb International

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

William Blezard: Second Sonatina for Piano

The Second Sonatina (1970s) was written for Donald Swann – one half of Flanders and Swann. Of course he was a composer in his own right and is perhaps best remembered today for the Hippopotamus Song. But let it not be forgotten that he composed many musicals and operas and contributions to Hoffnung’s Musical Festivals. As an aside, the one work that deserves to be recorded and made available is the Song Cycle ‘A Collection of Songs’ on poems by John Betjeman. Blezard knew Swann well in his capacity as a musical director in fact he had met Swann through his wife-to-be, Joan Kemp Potter. And it was through him that Blezard was introduced to Joyce Grenfell with whom he was to have a successful working relationship as her accompanists. So it is fitting that this jazz-influenced work should be dedicated to his friend and colleague. 

The Second Sonatina opens with a lively first movement. This not jazz pastiche – but is actually a rather good fusion of styles. Nods in the direction of Billy Mayerl and Bartok are plentiful. The second movement is marked lirico and is actually extremely lyrical. It has an attractive melody supported by conventional but sometimes slightly acerbic chords. This is very much in the world of the cocktail lounge although perhaps the taste would be a little too bitter for the Ritz? There are touches of Ireland in some of the figuration and a little syncopation is never far away: it is a very beautiful movement. The ‘vigoroso’ is a nod in the direction of Billy Mayerl and is almost pure ‘novelty’ piano writing. In fact Blezard had to use conventional jazz notation in the score to get his point across.
For the life of me I cannot see why this Sonatina is not in the repertoire. It would be a hit on classic FM and even Radio 3 listeners would be impressed at the subtle use of styles and moods. As an encore the last movement would be very popular.
William Blezard’s Second Sonatina can be heard on Eric Parkin’s recording on the Priory Label.



Saturday, 26 April 2008

William Blezard: Caramba (1966)


Caramba was written when William Blezard was on the other side of the world. Apparently he began writing it during a tour of New Zealand.

Yet the musical basis of this work is about as far away from Kiwi culture as you can get. Apparently the word 'Caramba' is Spanish for ‘goodness me’ or perhaps more colloquially ‘golly!’ Of course it nearly rhymes with ‘Rumba’ which is what this work is more or less based upon. The ‘more or less’ includes the tango and the havanaise which, as Rob Barnett has pointed out has ‘a sultriness that has about it enough of the sea air to keep things falling into Siesta.’ The entire work has an exotic feel to it that is so suggestive of things Spanish or Latin American. This is helped by the extensive use of percussion and of course the brass is pure Latin American dance style. The demanding piano part features as an almost ‘concertante.’
Perhaps the obvious comparison would be to Constant Lambert’s Rio Grande. However on my first hearing of this work, I thought of the first movement of Malcolm Arnold’s Fourth Symphony. For the life of me I cannot understand why this work is not a great ‘Proms’ favourite or regularly played as an encore. It has all the hallmarks of a great piece of concert music that pleases as well as excites.

Thursday, 27 March 2008

William Blezard: Duetto (1951)

A music reviewer has said that this Duetto is an interesting way to spend six minutes. And I wholeheartedly agree. This is one of these gorgeous works that makes one wonder why it has hardly been heard over the last half century. How can it have been hidden away on the library shelves for all this time? It was written in 1951 as a response to Blezard’s friend and fellow composer Clifton Parker’s suggestion that he [Blezard] needed to write music in a more contrapuntal manner. Parker is noted for his work on film music including The Blue Pullman, Treasure Island and Sink the Bismarck!
The Duetto is well scored for solo viola and cello accompanied by strings and makes extensive use of canon and other traditional devices. The work is pervaded by one of the composer’s lovely tunes that is quite spine tingling and stays with the listener long after the six minutes has expired. Although appearing on a CD of light-ish music, this does not really belong to that genre as such, but it is actually quite classical, if not baroque. I suppose the ‘light’ epithet can be applied because of the high strings which often carry the tune an at times give it a sort of ‘Mantovani’ feel. Yet this work has some lovely reflective writing in the English pastoral vein that never loses interest for a moment. It is fair to say that this work is more ‘concertante’ than ‘concerto.’

I cannot help thinking of Richmond Park when I hear this music – and of course William Blezard lived at nearby Barnes for many years.

Duetto on Naxos 8.555069

Tuesday, 12 February 2008

William Blezard: Battersea Park Suite


William Blezard (1921-2003) was possibly best known as the one-time accompanist to Joyce Grenfell. However he was also an accomplished composer with many works to his name: he wrote for orchestra, piano and other genres. I was listening to his Battersea Park Suite the other day and felt that this is a little gem. From my desk I can see the chimneys of Sir Giles Gilbert Scott fine power station. It is an evocative piece recalling a post war world that has largely disappeared into folk memory.
Battersea Park is presented a being a ‘suite for children.’ I would only partially agree with this statement. I suggest that it is really a Suite for those who are still children at heart! There is nothing trivial about this work: nothing that suggests immaturity or simplicity. Each one of these five short movements is a miniature tone poem that well complements their titles. ‘Walk up, Walk up!’ reflects the showman’s cry to the reveller to step up to the coconut shy and knock one off the stand or perhaps ‘roll a penny’ It is a cheeky cockney tune that convincingly depicts the fairground. The second piece is called ‘Boat on the Lake.’ It has a poignant clarinet solo that is heart achingly beautiful. This is no children’s messing about in boats. Rather, this is a wistful look back to a time when father was sat at the oars and we were sat in the stern imagining all sorts of romantic or heroic dreams. The ‘Little Merry-go-round’ is exactly what it says. We can almost hear the showman’s engine providing the power for the roundabout and the fairground organ. ‘Distorting Mirrors’ is a weird piece –exactly as it should be. All of us remember laughing at, or being scared of, our altered images. It lasts for all of 46 seconds. It opens with a naive brass tune followed by discordant crashes. Was he nodding to Webern with this piece? The flute comes to the rescue in ‘Child Asleep.’ All is calm as nanny pushes the pram past the tired holidaymakers and dreaming lovers.
It is hard to imagine that this is in the centre of London. The last piece is the best – and most effective. Those of you who know Battersea Park know that the Southern Region main line ran nearby with all those marvellous locomotives – ‘Battle of Britain’, ‘West Country’ and ‘Schools’ classes. But Blezard’s portrait is not of these giants of the iron road but of the miniature railway that was once found in Battersea Park. This is the complete ‘railway’ tone poem – complete with chugging sounds and whistles. Maybe not quite Pacific 231 or Coronation Scot, but this perfectly epitomises a miniature railway which must have been the highlight of many a school boy and girls day out back in the 1950. But do I perhaps detect a nod towards the giants on the British Railways viaduct high above the Thames?
With thanks to MusicWeb.