Monday 10 January 2022

John Purser: Consider the Story

This retrospective CD of Scottish composer, John Turner, opens with a remarkable string quartet, with a disturbing subtitle Kalavrita. Kalavrita, was the site of the most brutal massacre of Greek citizens by the German army during the occupation. In reprisals for the shooting of 76 Wehrmacht, the Germans rounded up the entire village. Many women escaped, but 696 boys and men were machine-gunned to death. The village was looted and burnt to the ground. 

Purser writes that the subtitle was taken from incidental music that he had written for a Glasgow Arts Theatre production of Charlotte Delbo’s play Kalavrita des Mille Antigone - Kalavrita’s Thousand Antigones. This borrowed theme crops up in the slow second movement.

Because of the harrowing historical allusions, this quartet is emotionally depressing and draining from the first note to the last. Purser declares that the four movements progress from the despair of opening, through tragedy to anger and resolution. The scherzo is particularly aggressive, despite its allusions to a rare form of Scottish or Irish folk dancing. Here are wonderful glissandos, with the trio section providing a little relief from hostility. And there are the ceum nan sitheach – the fairy paths, which give the music a more Celtic feel. I am not convinced that Purser achieves “resolution” in the final movement – the pain and sadness endure.

Whether the listener regards this work as a threnody for the massacred, or deeply disconcerting absolute music, does not matter. This String Quartet is the masterpiece on this CD: it is one of the finest compositions I have heard from Purser’s catalogue.

The quartet was written 40 years ago as a commission by the Glasgow Chamber Music Society, to celebrate the retiral of one of their leading members. I wonder if this Society has gone the way of all flesh: I could find only historical references to it on the Internet. At least, this accomplished String Quartet is a solid memorial.

Purser’s key to appreciating his Sonata for Trombone and Piano (2001) is to regard the brass soloist as an extension of the human voice. He remarks the instrument’s long melodic singing lines and vast emotional range. Like all good sonatas it is a dialogue between equals rather than an accompanied solo. There is a subtle balance here between aggression and innocence, with both emotions sometimes occurring simultaneously. It is characterised by its uniform tempo, and single movement structure, but which is never devoid of interest. The Sonata is dedicated to Purser’s son Seán.

The song cycle, Six Sea Songs sets nautical poems by John’s father, J. W. R. Purser. These are some of the best and most evocative seaside poems I have ever read. From buckets, spades and coloured balls to beaus and belles strolling along the prom, these evoke the sea from Blackpool seafront to the North Pole, and from a human presence to the sea anemones and squirting lugworms. The listener will notice the dominance of the vocal line with a typically lightweight piano accompaniment. They were composed for the tenor Alexander Oliver, who was a friend and fellow student of Purser at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. It is brilliantly sung here by the dedicatee.

The only work on this CD to leave me cold, was the long-winded Love my Lewd Pilot, based on a text drawn from Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queen. That said, there are several lovely moments here, especially the interplay between the vocalists and the flautist, Matthew Studdert-Kennedy.

Despite the commissioner of Silver Reflections for cello and piano (2013) asking for something with a “feel of the Scottish tradition”, this is no piece of tartanry. The tune is heart on sleeve romantic, rather than deploying ubiquitous Scotch-Snaps or evoking Hielan’ Mist. The basic material used was a tune called Drinan, which was written for Purser’s wife. It is a beautiful, ageless dialogue between cello and piano. Drinan is a wee clachan on the Isle of Skye.

Puna for taonga puoro and bassoon is “far out.” It is written for several Māori musical instruments, vocals and a bassoon. Wikipedia explains that the “[Taonga puoro] fulfils many functions within Māori society, including a call to arms, dawning of the new day, communications with the gods and the planting of crops. They are significant in sacred ritual and fulfil a story-telling role. Many of the sounds of the instruments and tunes are imitations of the sounds of nature, including the wind, the seas, and the natural world of birds and insects.” The brilliant soloist, Rob Thorne also plays the jade gong, the gourd, and the putorino (a kind of flute). This is a perfect and utterly coherent fusion of “world music” and the Western tradition wind instrument. Purser explains that “Puna is Māori for spring, well or pool: the puna which inspired this piece is an incomprehensibly vast up-welling near Rotorua, shaded by magnificent trees, and putting out over a million gallons an hour with scarcely a ripple on its surface. It is a sacred place, icy cold, life-giving.” Puna is a remarkable discovery that is ageless in both its stylistic unity and in the bending of time itself.

I did not know what a Chickadee was. I now understand that it is a North American bird of the tit family. Purser writes that “I was a resident lecturer at [Iowa State] University in 1998 and was walking in the snow beside the carillon tower listening to the mournful calls of the chickadees in the neighbouring trees.” He was invited into the tower to inspect the instrument, and this led to the present “lament as a memory and a tribute to those little birds so tenacious of life in such bitter cold.” Lament for a Chickadee is a frosty piece that is evocative of a winter’s landscape. It is magically played by Tin Shi Tam, the carilloner at the University.

The final number on this diverse CD is Ave atque vale (1996). Purser writes that this was originally conceived for solo trumpet and featured in his radio play The Secret Commonwealth. It is performed here on trombone, giving a more “thoughtful character” to the music. “Ave atque vale” is the Latin tag for “I salute you, and farewell.” This is often used in eulogies to a hero. The plot of the original play sounds a little too agonising for my taste.

My only (big) problem with this CD is the booklet. Nothing to do with the succinct and helpful programme notes. It is simply its near illegibility. Why graphic designers insist on printing white font onto dark and/or dappled backgrounds, I will never understand. It might look cool as an artefact, but it is impractical. I was unable to find any recording dates or venues.

No one can argue that John Purser’s music is not eclectic. On this CD we explore world music, carillons, a sonata for a little used solo instrument, an absorbing song cycle and a well-wrought string quartet. One of the reasons for this diversity is John Purser’s skill that enables him to respond, “to commissions for many different instruments and ensembles in a variety of styles.” On this disc we are asked to “consider the story.” By taking each composition for what it is, allows the listener to explore this wide-ranging study of Purser’s music, written over a forty-year period.

Track Listing:
John Purser (b.1942)

String Quartet “Kalavrita” (1981) [21:52]
Sonata for trombone and piano (2001) [14:30]
Six Sea Songs to poems by J. W. R. Purser (1966) [12:32]
Love my Lewd Pilot (1978, 2002) [12:45]
Silver Reflections for cello and piano (2013) [5:48]
Puna for Taonga puoro and bassoon (2005) [8:05]
Lament for a Chickadee (1998) [2:43]
Ave atque vale (1996) [1:02]
Brodsky Quartet: Gina McCormack (violin), Ian Belton (violin), Paul Cassidy (viola), Jacqueline Thomas (cello); John Kenny (trombone); Paul Keenan (piano); Alexander Oliver (tenor); Bernard Sumner (piano); Susan Hamilton (soprano), Ben Parry (baritone), Matthew Studdert-Kennedy (flute), Peter Evans (piano); Philip Norris (cello); Lynda Green (piano); Rob Thorne (Taonga puoro: jade gong, gourd, putorino, male and female voices, conch), Ben Hoadley, (bassoon); Tin Shi Tam (carillon); Gary MacPhee (trombone)
rec. Not given.
Private Release JWP040 [79:17]
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

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