This CD presents premiere
recordings of four excellent orchestral works by Rob Keeley. In the liner notes
he explains that the music ‘on this disc [is] atypical, in that the larger part
of my output of over 100 pieces is for small forces: solo piano, song and
chamber combinations.’ I have written some biographical notes about the
composer in an earlier review.
I will not repeat them here.
The earliest work on this CD is
the Symphony No.2 written in 1996. It remained unperformed until 22 May 2008 when
it was given by the Kensington Symphony Orchestra under Russell Keable. The
symphony has four movements, with the slow movement coming third. The composer
has used a Beethoven-size orchestra with harp, but not percussion (except for timpani).
Rob Keeley has explained that the principal subject of the opening movement ‘is
a paraphrase of the idée fixe from Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique’. I am not
sure that I would have clocked this. This is balanced by a ‘warm chorale for
strings with horn’ which is quite beautiful. The music is vibrant, often edgy
and the scoring and harmonies are piquant. The ‘scherzo’ uses ‘antiphonal choirs’ from
the string and woodwind section to play off against each other. A lyrical tune
tries to establish, but never quite succeeds. The trios are laid back with
delicious flute, string, and harp combinations. This is sultry music. Keeley explains that he rewrote the ‘slow
movement’ for this recording. He felt that the Symphony needed a point of
repose. This is a ‘nocturne’ with one or two little irruptions of activity. The
atmosphere is a touch scary: certainly not romantic. This creepiness is
enhanced by the eccentric little dance at the end of the movement. Maybe one
day the original third movement may be recorded for comprehensiveness. The finale is a splendid piece that nods
towards Stravinsky and Michael Tippett. If anyone suggests that the symphony is
an outdated form, just recommend them this splendid well-constructed and thought
out example from Rob Keeley.
I fell in love with Keeley’s
Flute Concerto (2017) on first hearing. Without falling into the trap of saying
it ‘sounds like’ so and so, it could be categorised as ‘neo-classical.’ French
echoes abound at every turn. For me it evokes warm summer days on the Riviera.
But that is sheer wishful thinking on my part during ‘lockdown.’ The concerto
is presented in two contrasting movements. The first is signed ‘andantino’ and
seems to be conceived as a modified sonata form. The slow music is balanced by lively
‘dance music’ that shimmers in the sunlight. I am not sure just quite how
conventional the development section is, but it does not really matter. The
main subjects are reprised with the movement coming to a whimsical conclusion.
This is followed by the ‘adagio’ which is based on a twelve-note theme
‘identical to that used by Stravinsky in the ‘Surge, aquilo’ setting from Canticum
Sacrum)’. This is not developed serially but is subject to some delightful
decoration. Yet more dance music (a Waltz) is introduced to balance the main
‘allegro’ theme before the ‘waltz’ wins the day with a wayward flourish. If the
listener needs an exemplar to imagine this work against, I guess that it will
be Poulenc. That said, the well-controlled dissonances in the second movement
are sometimes more acerbic than the Frenchman may have used. The solo part is
supported by much notable orchestration throughout the work.
The Triple Concerto (2014) is a
remarkable work. The scoring for two oboes and cor anglais was inspired by the
‘woefully underrated orchestral suites by Georg Phillip Telemann
(1681-1767).’ And surely Bach and Handel
are influences here too. This is the most eclectic work on this CD. There is
nothing here of French neo-classicism. In fact, it seems the composer has fused
baroque inspirations with a touch of minimalism. The opening movement swirls
around with ‘repeating ostinati’ (A short melody or pattern that is constantly
repeated). But this does not result in boredom or ennui. The second movement is
a ‘scherzo’ with ‘internal repeats’ and ‘buzzing scales.’ This music almost,
but not quite, gets ‘into the groove.’ The finale begins a bit like a
‘saraband’ but soon develops into a vivacious ‘presto’, which brings the
concerto to a quiet but ‘mercurial’ conclusion. One again the instrumentation
is extraordinary.
Despite the composer declaring
that his Variations for orchestra ‘were in least in part modelled on the Enigma
Variations by my beloved Elgar’, this music seems a long way from this late
Victorian masterpiece. For one thing, the title seems a touch misleading. I
would have called this a Concerto for Orchestra (clearly written as a theme and
variations). The objective of this music
seems to showcase various instrumental combinations and conceits. The ‘theme’
does nod to Elgar’s style with the use of the melodic intervals of the rising 6th
and falling 7th. And the composer is clear that he has ‘long been
impatient with ‘variations in name only’. Each section allows the tune to be
recognised, even if it is not always in your face. The liner notes present a
comprehensive analysis of each variation. Keeley’s ‘Nimrod’ (12th
variation here) shows respect for the master, not a debt. The work concludes
with a ‘Passacaglia-Finale’ which allows the conceit of having a set of
variations within a set of variations. From first note to the last, this is a
satisfying and enjoyable work. My overall impression is once again of amazing
scoring. There is a chamber music feel with much of this music, but every so
often the full orchestra blazes forth. There may be nods to Tippett, Schoenberg
and Stravinsky, but this is a genuinely original work which may not sound like
Elgar, but certainly has all the competence of composition displayed in the archetype.
I was impressed by the
performances of all four works. The Málaga Philharmonic Orchestra, and the
Liepāja Symphony Orchestra and the soloists under Paul Mann are all ‘top of the
form’. The recording by the Toccata engineers is ideal. The liner notes are by
the composer and comprise helpful notes about the music as well as a brief
‘autobiography.’ The usual bios of the performers are included along with photos.
I have said this before, but it
is worth repeating, Rob Keeley is a composer with whom I can do business. It is
encouraging to hear contemporary music that is quite definitely modernist,
rather than repeating the seemingly popular clichés of Einaudi and his
followers. Keeley’s sound world reflects a wide range of composers including Elliot
Carter, Michael Tippett, Igor Stravinsky, Erik Satie, Francis Poulenc, jazz and
even nods (as noted above) to Edward Elgar, Hector Berlioz, and Ludwig van Beethoven.
It is refreshing to hear music that balances modernity with tradition, is
always true to itself and is thoroughly entertaining throughout.
Track Listing:
Rob KEELEY (b.1960)
Symphony No.2 (1996)
Flute Concerto (2017)
Triple Concerto for two oboes, cor anglais and strings
(2014)
Variations for Orchestra (2019)
Sarah Desbruslais (flute), James Turnbull (oboe), Michael
Sluman (oboe), Patrick Flanaghan (cor anglais).
Málaga Philharmonic Orchestra, Liepāja Symphony Orchestra
(Variations only)/Paul Mann
Recorded on 15–19 October 2018 in
the Sala Beethoven, Sala de Ensayos de Carranque, Plaza Pio XII, Málaga, Spain (Symphony
No. 2, Concertos), and 27–28 January 2020 in the Great Amber Concert Hall,
Liepāja, Latvia (Variations)
TOCCATA CLASSICS TOCC 0462
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review
was first published.
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