Three Pieces Arranged by Humphrey Searle by Thomas Roseingrave Concert Reviews: Part II

In his unpublished autobiography Quadrille with a Raven, Searle recalled that “the concert, which took place on [17 April 1939], also included Liszt's Malediction, a movement from a van Dieren quartet [Adagio cantando, Quartet No.5] to which I had added a double bass part (with the permission of the composer's widow) and the first public performance in England of Webern's Five Movements, op.5 in his own [Webern’s] arrangement for string orchestra. I wrote a short piece [Scherzo Malinconico] for the concert which was a curious mixture of Webern and Liszt, and I have since withdrawn it.”

The programme also included two well-known works: Bach's F-minor clavier concerto [BWV 1056] and the Elegy and Waltz from Tchaikovsky's Serenade, which was not performed as frequently then as it is today. Robert Irving was the soloist in both the Bach and the Liszt. Artistically, the concert was a success, but the reviews were a bit mixed. 

I will quote these critiques in full, as they cast also cast a light on the important Webern premiere and on Searle’s withdrawn Scherzo Malinconico.

 

R.H. (possibly Robert Hull) writing for the Daily Mail (18 April 1939, p.11) headed his critique MUSIC ELUDES THE EAR. He continues:

"At the Aeolian Hall last night Mr. Humphrey Searle conducted the London String Orchestra in a programme of old and new music. Of the former, two fugues and a voluntary by the 18th-century English composer Thomas Roseingrave proved very beautiful and worthy of frequent performance. Of the latter, the first concert performance in England of Anton von Webern's Five movements for string orchestra showed a concentration of style that left everything to the imagination and very little to the ear.”

The Daily Telegraph (18 April 1939, p12) gave an extensive review of the concert. Ferruccio Bonavia began by recalling that:

“Humphrey Searle conducted the London String Orchestra at Aeolian Hall last night in a programme that consisted largely of novelties and unfamiliar compositions. Thomas Roseingrave, represented by two fugues and a Voluntary arranged by Mr. Searle, is not one of the best-known musicians of the 18th century. Then a Scherzo malinconico by Mr. Searle, Five movements for string orchestra by Anton von Webern, and an orchestral setting of Bernard van Dieren's "Adagio cantando" were performed for the first time. Such a programme would be a severe test of the skill of an experienced conductor, and Mr. Searle is not yet that. His beat, lacking clearness and decision, imperilled the ensemble of some very straightforward music.

In the Webern pieces - which possess more tension and meaning in one bar, so the programme said, than many full-sized works of other composers - the conductor's ingenuity could not be definitely proved or disproved; but there were moments in the first movement when the playing sounded extremely haphazard. There was better playing in the acceptable rearrangement of the movement van Dieren’s quartet. But much the best performance of the evening was that of Bach’s piano concerto in F minor with Robert Irving as a sensitive interpreter.

The Scherzo malinconico did not give a clear idea of its composer’s trend. Mr. Searle has studied at the Royal College of Music, and also at Vienna with Anton von Webern. His scherzo is a pale reflection of two styles not usually identified with either the London or the Vienna school. The opening had a flavour of uncompromising intellectuality; but when the mood changed the style became bluff and fussy. It looked as if the composer meant to call forth spirits from the vasty deep and. when they failed to answer, rejoiced at his escape.”

The most extensive analysis of the Aeolian Hall concert was given in The Queen (3 May 1939, p.41):

“A young English conductor, Mr. Humphrey Searle, gave a concert with the London String Orchestra at [the] Aeolian Hall on April 17th. On paper his scheme looked intriguing: some rarely performed works by Roseingrave (1690-1766) and Liszt, and some novelties by Webern, van Dieren, and Mr. Searle himself.

In practice, however, the results were disappointing. The Roseingrave items (two fugues and a voluntary) sounded rather like inferior Bach, and although van Dieren’s “Adagio Cantando” was far more readily comprehensible than most of his other works, one looked in vain for the “serenity and beauty almost without rival in our time” which was claimed for him by the overoptimistic programme annotator. We were also informed that Webern is “one of the few living composers who have achieved real greatness,” that “the omission of a single note would destroy the effect of the whole,” and that “there is more tension and meaning (apart from the sheer beauty of the sound) in one bar of his music than in many full-sized works of other composers.” These claims seemed, to one listener at least, to be rather farfetched.

To most concert-goers, Webern is probably little more than a name, and if a connoisseur of music were told that a bar of Webern’s music had more meaning than, say, a symphony by Sibelius he would either wonder whether he had heard aright or else collapse in convulsions.

Apart from the saving grace of extreme brevity, Webern's Five movements for String Orchestra, op. 5 contained little to interest anyone outside of the composer’s limited circle of friends and pupils, or perhaps some historian of the future. It was received with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm by the audience. Most of the “twelve tone’ composers seem to suffer from acute anaemia and their appeal is mainly confined to those in a similar condition.

A new pianist, Robert Irving, gave a brilliant account of Liszt’s Malediction without, however, convincing us that the work is of any especial merit save to the out-and-out Lisztian.

By far the best music of this concert was Bach’s Piano Concerto in F minor, which Mr. Irving played with commendable clarity and control. Mr. Searle’s own Scherzo malinconico was a brief and ingenious essay much in the manner of his master, Webern; it did not reveal any genuine individuality, nor did it arouse the slightest desire to hear it again.

As a conductor, Mr. Searle has, at the moment, an extremely inflexible and inexpressive beat, and most of his readings were under-vitalised. But he is a sincere and conscientious musician and he will surely improve.”

Notes

Robert Irving (1913-91) was a British pianist and conductor known mainly for his work in ballet. He spent much of his career shaping performances for companies like the Royal Ballet and New York City Ballet.

To be concluded...

 

Three Pieces Arranged by Humphrey Searle by Thomas Roseingrave: Origins: Part I

Humphrey Searle (1915–1982) was an English composer whose music fused late‑Romantic passion with the disciplined modernism of serial technique. A classics scholar at New College, Oxford, turned musician, he studied with Gordon Jacob and John Ireland before travelling to Vienna to work privately with Anton Webern: an encounter that proved decisive for his artistic direction. Returning to Britain, Searle became, alongside Elisabeth Lutyens, one of the country’s earliest and most committed advocates of serialism although always tempered by artistic expediency.

His output includes five symphonies, the opera The Diary of a Madman, and significant works for speaker and orchestra such as Gold Coast Customs and Riverrun. A noted Liszt scholar, he created the first systematic catalogue of Liszt’s works and wrote widely on music.

Writing in his autobiography, Quadrille with a Raven, Searle recalled that: “Early in 1939 a friend of mine, Rodney Phillips, kindly said he would put up some money for a concert which I was to conduct. We hired the Aeolian Hall in Bond Street…and a small string orchestra. As we thought it best to do an out-of-the-way programme, we started with three pieces by the curious chromatic 18th-century Irish composer Thomas Roseingrave; Constant [Lambert] had copied them out in the British Museum, and I arranged them for strings.”

Thomas Roseingrave was born in Winchester in either 1690 or 1691. As a young lad he moved to Dublin where he was educated by his father Daniel. Grove’s Dictionary explains that in 1707, aged sixteen he entered Trinity College, but failed to complete his degree. Two years later, at the expense of the Dean and Chapter of St Patrick’s Cathedral, he was sent to study in Rome. Whilst abroad he became acquainted with both Domenico and Alesandro Scarlatti. On his return to London, he became composer in residence at the King’s Theatre as well as organist at St George’s Hanover Square, between 1725 and 1752. Here he gained a significant reputation for his improvisations. Noted for his championing of Scarlatti’s Sonatas of which he published an edition, he is deemed to have begun a “Scarlatti Cult” London. After a brief and unhappy romance, his commitment to his duties faltered, and he later moved back to Dublin.

His catalogue includes an opera, several cantatas, and many works for keyboard. His keyboard music is vividly individual - chromatic, irregular, even wild- echoing Purcell’s expressive dissonance rather than Italian refinement. Thomas Roseingrave died at Dunleary [Dún Laoghaire] on 23 June 1766.

These three transcriptions make easy listening. Searle took three movements (Fugue I, Voluntary VI anf Fugue III) from Roseingrave’s Voluntarys and Fugues made on purpose for the Organ or Harpsichord and provided a straightforward scoring for string orchestra. As the liner notes for the only recording of these pieces suggested, “It may also have been a nod in the direction of his teacher’s transcriptions of Bach, although Searle’s treatment of eighteenth-century music is, dare one say, a great deal more conformist.”

To be continued…

William Sterndale Bennett: Piano Concertos on Lyrita

Readers will doubtless disagree, but since first hearing the opening movement of William Sterndale Bennett’s Piano Concerto No.4 in F minor, op.19, I have regarded it as one of the highlights of the genre written by any Englishman. This was on a recording released in 1990 featuring Malcolm Binns, piano and the Milton Keynes Chamber Orchestra conducted by Hilary Davan Wetton. (UKCD 2032).

Poor Sterndale Bennett has had a chequered career. In his youth he was lionised by both Mendelssohn and Schumann. His early music was seen as fine examples of classical craftmanship that nodded towards Mozart rather than Liszt or Wagner who were soon to dominate the Romantic era. Indeed, there was always a school of thought that suggested he served up reheated Mendelssohn, especially with the cantata The Women of Samaria. His later works were deemed to be stylistically conservative. By the beginning of the 20^th century, as the English Music Renaissance gathered steam, Sterndale Bennett was dismissed as “an uninspired pedant.” There followed decades of neglect. In the 1960’s there began a reappraisal of his early works, especially the piano concerti and the chamber music. Some critics regarded these as a bridge between Beethoven and Brahms. Indeed, there have been several recordings of his work for piano solo, the piano concertos, and the symphonic music, led by Marco Polo, Lyrita and Hyperion.

Sterndale Bennett composed six piano concertos, as well as a single movement Caprice for piano and orchestra. All have now been recorded. The Piano Concerto No. 4 in F minor, op. 19, is usually regarded as his masterpiece. It was premiered in 1839 with the composer as soloist and Mendelssohn conducting and was dedicated to the Bohemian composer, and regular resident in London, Ignaz Moscheles. The Concerto can be characterised as presenting a “refined virtuosity” and “elegant lyricism.”

Robert Schumann, reviewed the score in 1840, and noted that “nothing in the entire concerto is calculated for bravura display and applause, he only cares to display the composition itself.” Nevertheless, as Elizabeth French (Liner Notes Hyperion CDA67595) explains the “first and third movements provide ample opportunity for the composer-pianist to show off his technique, with flowering passagework and some brilliant figuration.” The middle movement is a cool Barcarole: Andante cantabile e con moto, which replaced an earlier discarded movement.

I am indebted to the liner notes for details of the Piano Concerto No.6 in A minor, WO.48 (1848).

William Sterndale Bennett’s final piano concerto faced delays and revisions, before it was premiered in its present form. Originally titled a 'Concert-Stück,' it was heard at a Philharmonic Concert in London on 5 June 1843. Originally planned in two movements, WSB added the central Serenade at the last minute.

Unsatisfied with the orchestration, he revised the first and third movements and changed the title to “Concerto.” The Serenade was replaced with the slow movement from his First Concerto. This version featured substantial changes to the first movement, including extensive rescoring and a thicker orchestral texture. This edition was premiered on 15 June 1848 at the Hanover Square Rooms.

Rosemary Firman, née Williamson, in her remarkable William Sterndale Bennett: A Descriptive Thematic Catalogue (Oxford, 1996) explains that he never felt confident enough to publish the A minor Concerto, and the lapse in time caused it to become stylistically dated. Rediscovered by Firman in 1992, it is characterized by a broadly classical style, and with its refined, delicate orchestration, standing apart from the prevalent large-scale romantic concertos of the period.

The present conductor Martin Yates edited and completed the score for the Piano Concerto No. 6. In the liner notes he explains that the existing manuscript had "three clearly laid out movements," though the piano part was often "more of a sketch than a finished article." He notes that "it was fairly clear where the missing music was" and "reasonably clear as to how these gaps could have potentially been filled in." The missing sections varied: "Sometimes the piano part petered out altogether," or "the right hand was written out whilst the left hand was missing," or "there was the start of an accompanying figure in the left hand which stopped after just a few notes."

Yates acknowledges that his edition was "…partly guesswork based on my knowledge of Sterndale Bennett's style, the music of the period and also the music that was already completed on the manuscript." He concludes, "Unless a more complete score of this concerto materialises, I feel I have done what is possible in helping this concerto come back to life and in doing so hopefully contributing to the remarkable legacy of Sterndale Bennett; a considerable composer of stature and invention."

This concerto, which is stylistically closest to Mozart and Mendelssohn, has echoes of Hummel and Moscheles. It blends classical clarity with Romantic lyricism, avoiding Lisztian bravura in favour of refined craftsmanship. It is a valuable discovery.

The third and final piece on this disc is the eccentric Concerto for Two Pianos in C major, WO.29 (1835), which is, I believe, a premiere recording. The oddness has nothing to do with its sound and progress – it is in the history of its composition. The liner notes explain that this single movement concerto was completed in 1835 as a joint effort between Sterndale Bennett and fellow student at the Royal Academy of Music, George Alexander Macfrarren. The methodology was that “The two men began by taking turns: Bennett wrote the first thirty-seven bars, Macfarren the next fifty, and so on, with the last 125 bars or so apparently a collaboration.”  There is a suggestion that it may have been the first movement of a full-scale concerto that was never completed. Hearing this Concerto, with its “youthful exuberance” and “joie de vivre” it is hard to see this as being a purely academic exercise. Clearly the young men devised this for sheer enjoyment. The Concerto is a little unbalanced. Opening with an impressive tutti, with the conventional exposition of the first subject, the orchestra soon steps back. From that point to the end, the pianos predominate with many technical devices including cascading scales and arpeggios. Simon Callagahan is partnered here by Hiroaki Takenouchi in this Concerto.

Of particular interest to listeners is that Geoffrey Bush, a champion of Sterndale Bennett, arranged the work for two pianos as a Sonata. This version was broadcast on BBC Radio Three in 1969.

Simon Callaghan is a British pianist celebrated for his adventurous repertoire and international performances. He champions neglected composers alongside Romantic classics, recording for Hyperion, Nimbus, and Lyrita. A chamber musician and concerto soloist, he collaborates widely and promotes British music with many important premieres and recordings.

The recording is outstanding, as expected from Lyrita.

As noted, the liner notes by Rosemary Firman are detailed and informative. They include a Daguerreotype of William Sterndale Bennett, and the cover painting is the haunting Yacht Approaching the Coast by W.J. Turner. Web page addresses are given for the performers.

This imaginative Lyrita disc is a crucial continuation of the restoration of Sterndale Bennett’s neglected concertos. It perfectly balances historical curiosity with compelling artistry. Callaghan, Takenouchi, Yates, and the Royal Northern Sinfonia illuminate these forgotten treasures, asserting Sterndale Bennett’s stature and offering listeners a richly rewarding rediscovery of English Romantic piano music.

Track Listing:
William Sterndale Bennett (1816-75)
Piano Concerto No.4 in F minor, op.19 (1838)
Piano Concerto No.6 in A minor, WO.48 (1848) (completed Martin Yates, b.1958)
William Sterndale Bennett/George Alexander Macfarren (1813-87)
Concerto for Two Pianos in C major, WO.29 (1835)
Simon Callaghan (piano), Hiroaki Takenouchi (piano)
Royal Northen Sinfonia/Martin Yates
rec. 20-21 January 2025, The Glasshouse International Centre for Music, Gateshead, UK
Lyrita SRCD 448

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

It's not British, but...Maurice Duruflé: Complete Organ Music

Whenever I encounter a CD purporting to offer a composer’s “Complete” works, I make a point of checking whether that claim holds up. In the case of this disc, the answer is: yes - and no - it depends. All Duruflé’s published organ music is indeed present, following the sequence established in Durand’s Oeuvres pour orgue, which effectively defines the core repertoire. To this, Roberto Marini has added three further pieces now widely accepted as part of the canon. However, several early student efforts remain unpublished and are therefore missing. Notably, are Duruflé’s transcriptions of other composers’ works and, more significantly, the Trois Improvisations, which he later reconstructed from recordings made by him at Notre-Dame.

An effective way to begin exploration of Maurice Duruflé’s opus is with the Prélude et Fugue sur le nom d’Alain, op.7 (1942). It was dedicated to fellow organist and composer, Jehan Alain, who had been killed near Saumur in the Loire Valley. Alain is often regarded as the single greatest loss to French music sustained during the Second World War. Any performance must point up the dichotomy between the sadness and reflection of the impressionistic Prelude and the gradual build up to a fine peroration in the Fugue. Roberto Marini’s account fits the bill with its equilibrium of triumph and meditation.

The Scherzo, op.2, written as a student exercise in 1926 and dedicated to Charles Tournemire, is anything but academic. Since then, it has taken its rightful place as “a prime example of the 20^th century organ repertoire.” It explores Duruflé’s harmonic imagination and technical skill. A miniature rondo, it opens with quiet string stops before launching into intricate, filigree figures. Chorale-based episodes offer contrast, while shifting moods and modulations sustain interest. Its mystical atmosphere and structural clarity make it one of the most captivating numbers on the disc. The magic is certainly present in this recording.

The Prélude, Adagio et Choral varié sur le thème du “Veni Creator,” op.4, dedicated to Louis Vierne, won first prize from Les Amis de l’Orgue in 1930. Drawing on the Gregorian theme for Pentecost, it characterises the musical language that defined Duruflé’s style. The liner notes suggest that this theme is explored “in all its expressive potential and reworked in a synthesis of traditions and modernity.” The Prélude introduces chant fragments in shimmering textures; the Adagio offers a concentrated, meditative chromatic unfolding; and the Choral varié presents the full theme followed by four increasingly intricate variations, culminating in a glowing coda.

The Suite pour orgue, op.5 dating from 1933 concluded with one of Duruflé’s most often performed pieces – the final Toccata, which is technically demanding, and surges with rhythmic energy and contrapuntal brilliance. The opening Prelude is at first brooding and funerial, before a “melancholic recitative” is explored and the opening material returns. The Sicilienne is impressionistic and tender by comparison. Any performance of this Suite must fuse Gregorian modality with Impressionism and sheer virtuosity. Roberto Marini finds this balance in his fascinating account.

The Chant donné (1953) is a short tribute - just over two minutes - offered to his former teacher Jean Gallon on his retirement. It was part of a festschrift, (Soixante-quatre Leçons d’harmonie offertes en hommage à Jean Gallon par ses élèves) devised by sixty-four of his former pupils. Out of interest, a Chant Donné is an exercise in which a tune is to be harmonized.

The Fugue sur le thème du Carillon des heures de la Cathédrale de Soissons, op.12 (1962) may not be the most significant piece on this disc, but the transformation of a pealing bell motif from the eponymous church, into a radiant, rhythmically intricate organ fugue is satisfying.

The Prélude sur l'Introït de l'Épiphanie, op 13 (1961), commissioned by Norbert Dufourcq for his volume Preludes à l’introït, timelessly honours the Gregorian tradition.

Written in 1964 but published posthumously, the Méditation pour orgue, opus posthume shares a spiritual kinship with the Agnus Dei from the Messe cum jubilo (1966). This likely began life as an improvisation. It unfolds through two principal themes: a chant-like opening motif and a more introspective passage voiced on the flute stops. Gradually, the music slows, dissolving into a series of lingering suspensions.

The Stahlhuth/Jann organ at the Church of St Martin of Dudelange, Luxembourg, is a majestic Romantic instrument shaped by the traditions of Germany, France, and England. It was commissioned in 1912 and rebuilt/restored in 2002. Its remarkable versatility now includes four manuals, seventy-eight speaking stops, two swell divisions, and commanding a Chamade, (a set of powerful reed pipes in a pipe organ that are mounted horizontally,) two 32-foot pedal stops, and a rich palette of solo voices.

Born in Italy, Roberto Marini studied under Fernando Germani and Lionel Rogg, gaining top prizes at the Geneva Conservatory. He is especially celebrated for his performances of Max Reger, having recorded the composer’s complete organ works in a monumental 17-CD set for Brilliant Classics. Marini’s discography also includes the complete organ works of Schumann and Brahms, as well as recordings of Liszt, Reubke, and Flor Peeters. He has performed at major international festivals, and his broadcasts have been given on Vatican Radio and other media outlets. A professor at both the Pontifical Institute of Sacred Music in Rome and the Pescara Conservatory, Marini also serves as artistic director of several organ festivals and is the titular organist of Teramo Cathedral.

The liner notes, provided by the soloist, give all the information required for enjoyment of this music. There are illustrations of the organ and recitalist, as well as the all-important organ specification.

This new recording offers a rewarding exploration of Maurice Duruflé’s published organ works, enriched by sensitive and commanding performances and a great recording. Roberto Marini’s interpretations, supported by the imposing Stahlhuth/Jann organ, illustrate both the technical brilliance and spiritual depth of this repertoire. For seasoned admirers and curious newcomers alike, it is a compelling and dignified tribute to one of the greatest French organ composers.

Track Listing:
Maurice Duruflé (1902-86)
Scherzo, op.2 (1926)
Prélude, Adagio et Choral varié sur le thème du “Veni Creator,” op.4 (1930)
Suite pour orgue, op.5: I. Prélude; II. Sicilienne; III Toccata (1933)
Prélude et Fugue sur le nom d’Alain, op.7 (1942)
Chant donné (Hommage à Jean Gallon) (1953)
Fugue sur le thème du Carillon des heures de la Cathédrale de Soissons, op.12 (1962)
Prélude sur l'Introït de l'Épiphanie, op 13 (1961)
Méditation pour orgue, opus posthume (1964)
Roberto Marini (organ)
rec. 6-7 November 2024, Church of St Martin, Dudelange, Luxembourg.
Brilliant Classics 97665
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Thomas Tallis: Spem in Alium

It is not often that I remove myself from my comfort zone of late 19th/mid 20th century music. A recent visit to St Alphege’s Church in Greenwich prompted me to revisit some of Thomas Tallis’s music. And what better way to begin by listening to his undoubted masterpiece, Spem in Alium, written for forty voices.

Tallis is believed to have played the organ at St Alfege’s Church in Greenwich on an ad hoc basis. However, there are no specific surviving records that provide exact dates for a formal appointment as "organist at St Alfege's Greenwich" in the same way he was at Waltham Abbey. His connection to this place of worship was tied to his residence in the area. He was buried in the church in 1585.

Thomas Tallis was born around 1505 and is considered one of the great founding figures of English church music. He served as organist at Waltham Abbey until its dissolution in 1540.

His most important post from around 1542/3 until his death in 1585 was as a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal, a position he held under four monarchs: Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary I, and Elizabeth I. Alongside William Byrd, he functioned as organist to the Chapel Royal, which was often based at the nearby Greenwich Palace.

In 1575, Tallis and Byrd were granted a royal patent giving them exclusive rights to print music and to sell ruled music paper for 21 years - a remarkable privilege in Tudor England. That same year, they published Cantiones, quae ab argumento sacrae vocantur, a collection of 34 Latin motets (16 by Tallis, eighteen by Byrd).

Tallis's liturgical output was considerable. He composed settings of the daily services - psalms, canticles, and responses - many of which were later reprinted in collections such as Barnard’s First Book of Selected Church Music (1641), Boyce’s Cathedral Music, and the histories of Hawkins and Burney. His shorter service settings (including the Venite, Te Deum, Benedictus, Kyrie, Credo, Sanctus, Gloria, Magnificat, and Nunc Dimittis) became staples of Anglican worship.

His music continued to circulate long after his death. John Day’s Certaine Notes (1560–65) included five of his anthems, while later editors such as Edward F. Rimbault, Novello & Co., and Richard Terry ensured his works remained accessible. In the 20th century, his complete church music was gathered into Tudor Church Music, Volume VI (1928).

Tallis’s most celebrated work is Spem in alium, a monumental motet for forty independent voices arranged into eight choirs of five parts each. It was composed around 1570. This extraordinary work was published in the first reliable printed edition by A. H. Mann in 1888. It remains one of the marvels of Renaissance polyphony. 

The work is cunningly structured for eight choirs of five voices each (soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, and bass). Tallis manipulates these massive forces, creating a continuously shifting soundscape. The music begins with a single voice, gradually adding others in imitation, moving in a "wave" around the choirs, before culminating in moments where all forty voices sing together in a glorious "wall of sound."

Listen to Spem in alium sung by The Tallis Scholars, on YouTube, here.

It's not British, but...Mirrors and Echoes - Ravel and others

The advertising pitch explains that Aïda Lahlou’s debut album offers a striking reimagining of Ravel’s Miroirs, casting new light on its echoes across the global piano repertoire. By interweaving the Suite with overlooked miniatures from diverse traditions, she creates a dialogue that spans continents and centuries. The booklet suggests “[a] journey from innocence toward wisdom and self-actualisation.” I am not sure that this programmatic journey is essential to an enjoyment or appreciation of the music presented here. What is clear is that there are rarities by both well-known and less well-known composers.

The structure for this recital is Maurice Ravel’s well-known Miroirs (1904–05). This five-movement piano suite explores impressionistic and symbolic soundscapes. It was dedicated to members of Les Apaches, a group of avant-garde musicians, authors, and artists. Each piece evokes a vivid image: fluttering moths in Noctuelles, sorrowful birds in Oiseaux tristes, Mediterranean wavelets in Une barque sur l’océan, Iberian rhythms in Alborada del gracioso, and distant bells in La vallée des cloches.

Personal taste will provide a rationale as to whether Miroirs should be heard as a complete suite, or whether movements can be excerpted. Ravel did conceive it as a unified cycle: the outer movements were written after the inner three, suggesting a deliberate framing structure.

The recital opens with a remarkable Polonaise in C Major, op. 89 (1814) by Ludwig van Beethoven. The liner notes refer to it as “theatrical farcicality” – whereas Maurice Hinson, in his invaluable Guide to the Pianists Repertoire, suggests that it is “an interesting forerunner to Chopin’s essays on this dance form two decades later.” I enjoyed this bravura piece that is much more than a frivolous dance.

Armenian composer Alexandr Spendiaryan’s Esquisses de Crimée, op. 9 no.4 Air de danse ‘Kaïtarma’ (1903) is a folk inspired miniature that has a definite Asian resonance.

The present pianist has arranged a couple of numbers, the first being the second of Two Motets op.74 “Heiland, Reiß Die Himmel Auf” by Johannes Brahms dating from 1863/4. The booklet explains that the “vivid, water-based imagery…in which God’s grace is likened to a deluge, pre-empts the fluctuating oceanic shifts and overwhelming elemental power represented in Une barque sur l’océan.” Not sure I get the comparison here.

Polish composer Alexandre Tansman absorbed many influences including his compatriot Chopin, Impressionism, and Jazz. His Four Piano Moods, No. 1: Andante cantabile (1944) epitomises the neo-classical style with its urbane exposition and “gentle syncopation.”

Lancashire-born, Honorary Scot, Ronald Stevenson’s Three Scots Fairy Tales (1967) were written as pedagogical studies for children. Yet they are not dry as dust. Each Tale explores music made by a piper, a harpist, and a fiddler. The first, heard here, is a little march-cum-jig for ‘piper’ vacillates between these two forms. I wish Lahlou had recorded the other two.

Ernesto Lecuona was a Cuban born composer who inherited the Spanish musical idiom. He also wrote popular songs and jazz standards. The Andalucia Suite dating from the mid-twenties, evokes Iberian places. The two numbers heard are second and the last of the set, Andalucía, and Malagueña. They are worthy of Albeniz and Granados.

Gara Garayev is a new name to me. A student and friend of Shostakovich, he was leading Soviet composer. He fused Azerbaijani folk traditions with modernist techniques, across a wide range of genres including ballet, symphony, and film scores. The Prelude No.5 from his 24 Preludes is lugubrious and introspective.

There is no suggestion as to why the Kaddisch from Deux Mélodies hébraïques in an arrangement by Alexander Siloti (1914/1921) is included in this recital. This is a gloomy piece that does not inspire me.

The final track has no commentary in the liner notes. The internet tells me that Lamma Bada Yatathanna is an Arabic “belly-dance” song, which could be anything up to a thousand years old. It is heard here in an arrangement by Aïda Lahlou, which could easily have been written by several of the composers on this disk. It is very lovely and belies its original intention.

Born in Casablanca in 1998, Aïda Lahlou began piano at age five and won her first international competition at age eight. She studied at the Yehudi Menuhin School and later graduated from Cambridge and Guildhall. Lahlou has performed across Europe, North Africa, and Asia, including the Wigmore Hall and the Centre for Fine Arts in Brussels, and collaborated with artists Vadim Repin, Nicola Benedetti, and other high-profile performers. Her repertoire encompasses solo, chamber, and continuo work. She has also directed operas and engaged in environmental activism.

The recording is clean, well-balanced, and sensitive to every subtle detail.

The liner notes do not give any analysis or description of the music on this disc. Dates for most of the pieces are missing, which is disappointing.

Aïda Lahlou’s recital may be framed by Ravel’s Miroirs, but its true strength lies in the breadth and interest of its programming. Whether or not one subscribes to the suggested narrative, the selection of music offers a variety styles, cultures, and moods. Lahlou’s playing is consistently articulate and sensitive, and her arrangements reveal a thoughtful engagement with the repertoire.

Track Listing:

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) 

Polonaise in C Major, op. 89 (1814)
Alexander Spendiaryan (Spendiarov) (1871-1928)
Esquisses de Crimée, op. 9 no.4 Air de danse ‘Kaïtarma’ (1903)
Maurice Ravel (1875-1937)
Miroirs, M.43 V. La vallée des cloches (1904–05)
Johannes Brahms (1833–1897), arr. Aïda Lahlou (b.1998)
2 Motets, op. 74, no. 2: O Heiland, reiß die Himmel auf (?1863/4)
Maurice Ravel
Miroirs, M.43 III. Une barque sur l'océan (1904–05)
Alexandre Tansman (1897-1986)
Four Piano Moods, No. 1: Andante cantabile (1944)
Maurice Ravel
Miroirs, M.43 7. II. Oiseaux tristes (1904–05)
Ronald Stevenson (1928-2015)
Three Scots Fairy Tales No. 1: What the Fairy Piper Told Me (1967)
Maurice Ravel
Miroirs, M.43I. Noctuelles (1904–05)
Ernesto Lecuona (1895-1963)
Andalucía: Malagueña (c.1923-28)
Gara Garayev (1918-1982)
24 Preludes: V. ‘Moderato’ (1952)
Maurice Ravel
Miroirs, M.43 IV. Alborada del gracioso (1904–05)
Ernesto Lecuona
Andalucía: Andalucía (c.1923-28)
Maurice Ravel, arr. Alexander Siloti (1863-1945)
Deux Mélodies hébraïques, M.22 No. 1: Kaddisch (1914/1922)
Traditional, arr. Aïda Lahlou
Lamma Bada Yatathanna (?)
Aïda Lahlou (piano)
rec. 8-9 June 2025, Wyastone Leys, Monmouth, UK.
Resonus Classics RES10368

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

Gustav Holst and J.S. Bach: Fugue à la Gigue

What better way to herald the New Year than with a work pairing of two musical titans? Prepare to be impressed as the work of the composer widely hailed as the "Greatest" meets the genius of one of the finest English masters. This splendid combination is delivered in Holst’s orchestral/wind band transcription of the vibrant Fugue à la Gigue by JSB.

Commonly known as the "Gigue" Fugue (Fugue à la Gigue), it is a cheerful and energetic organ work often attributed to Johann Sebastian Bach. Written in a lively 6/8-time signature, its defining characteristic is the rhythmic vitality derived from the Baroque gigue (or jig) dance form. This unique, standalone fugue is thought to be an early work, possibly from Bach's Arnstadt period (1703-1707). Its authenticity has been debated due to stylistic irregularities, but recent scholarship generally supports its attribution to Bach. The subject itself is a long, winding melody with a distinctive dotted rhythm that creates a sense of perpetual motion. The piece is noted for its virtuoso pedal passages, which demand great agility from the organist.

The background to Holst’s transcription is given in Michael Short’s biography of Holst (1990, p.271). His arrangement of a Bach fugue was already well advanced in 1927. He had selected the Fugue in G major, BWV 577. On 8 May the following year he entered into a formal agreement with the BBC, designating the work Fugue à la Gigue. Short quotes the composer: “When I was studying the organ some forty years or more ago it struck me that of all Bach’s organ works, just one, this fugue, seemed ineffective on the instrument for which it was composed.”

Upon completing the arrangement, Holst appended the following annotation to the score: “The title “Fugue a la Gigue” describes the work perfectly, but there is no reason to think that it was so named by Bach.” After the wind band score was prepared, Holst made an orchestral version that could be performed by a full symphony orchestra.

The premiere performance of the wind band version may have been on 14 October when Holst conducted the Birmingham City Police Band at the West End Cinema, Birmingham. This concert also included his two military band Suites, and an arrangement of the Nocturne from the Moorside Suite. A review in the Evening Dispatch (15 October 1928, p.14) noted that “the players exerted every nerve to present his works creditably, and the result was very gratifying…Most enjoyable of all…was the Bach Fugue…”

The Birmingham Post (15 October 1928, p.14) declared “[that with his] effective arrangement for wind band of Bach’s jolly Fugue à la Gigue  -  he permitted the only repetition of the evening. Nor was he backward in showing his appreciation of the playing. In some respects, and notably in the matter of tuning, the City Band has in these concerts set standard for the City Orchestra live up to…” 

Reference books record that the premier performance of the orchestral version was given in Cheltenham on 24 February 1930. Short (1990, p.287) writes: The next day [Holst] walked through the Cotswolds to Cheltenham, where he was to conduct the first concert performance of The Golden Goose...Besides the choral ballet, the concert also included the first performance of his orchestral transcription of the Fugue à la Gigue. His performance of this with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra drew demands for an encore from the audience, with which he was obliged to comply.”

However, contrary to this received wisdom, there is a review in the Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald (22 February 1930, p.9) that refers to a performance by the Folkestone Municipal Orchestra, of the orchestral version on the previous night, at the Leas Cliff Hall in Folkstone. The conductor was [probably] Eldridge Newman. The appraisal recalled that “Lastly we had an arrangement by Holst of an organ fugue in G major by Bach…This started badly, the subject announced by the solo cello was smudgy, nor were the answer (viola) and the beautiful little codetta in two-part counterpoint cleanly played; these faults were made more evident when the violin entered with beautiful clean rhythmic playing and perfect phrasing. From this point all went well, the way in which the conductor built up the final climax was most inspiring.”

The essence of Bach's "Gigue Fugue," is its single, joyful, and relentless theme defined by wide leaps and dotted rhythms in a distinctive, dance-like meter. This theme is characterized by its perpetual motion and light, buoyant energy, adhering to strict four-voice fugal structure.

In its orchestral arrangement this contrapuntal texture is vividly translated. Holst's skill in neo-classical transparency ensures every line is heard, using specific instrumental combinations to highlight the organ's original voices and stops. The fugal subject opens sequentially for instance, from the cellos to the violins - building dynamically to a joyous, full orchestral conclusion.

Listen to Holst’s arrangement of Bach’s "Gigue Fugue," for orchestra on YouTube, here. Leonard Slatkin conducts the BBC Philharmonic.

Bibliography:
Short, Michael, Gustav Holst: The Man and His Music. Oxford University Press, 1990.

 A Happy and Prosperous New Year

To All Readers of

The Land of Lost Content

 Some Significant (and less so) Composer Anniversaries for 2026:

 Bi-Centenaries:

William Thomas Best

Guillaume Ignace Gibsone

Henry Hiles

Henry Lahee

Walter Cecil Macfarren

Charles Steggall

John Thomas

 150 Years:

Havergal Brian

William Yeates Hurlstone

William Gillies Whittaker

 Centenaries:

Brian Brockless

Francis Burt

Anthony Foster

Stanley Glasser

Tony Hewitt-Jones

Arthur Oldham

Denis Wickens

Arthur Wills

 Continental & American Composers Anniversaries

John Alden Carpenter 150 (USA)

Manuel de Falla 150 (Spain)

Carl Ruggles 150 (USA)

Ermano Wolf-Ferrari 150 (Italian)

Earle Brown 100 (USA)

Morton Feldman 100 (USA)

György Kurtág 100 (Hungarian)

Hans Werner Henze 100 (German)e Henze

The most significant (in British Music) event in 2026 is Havergal Brian’s (1876–1972) sesquicentennial anniversary. He was a fiercely independent English composer best known for his monumental Gothic Symphony, one of the largest ever written. Self-taught and prolific, he composed thirty-two symphonies, many in his later years, defying obscurity, and poverty with relentless creativity. His music blends late Romantic grandeur with quirky modernism, often dark, complex, and structurally daring. Though neglected for decades, Brian’s work has gained a niche interest for its originality and ambition. His musical ethos was driven by vision, rather than fashion or fame. Hopefully the Havergal Brian Society will have several events marking his achievement.

The gifted composer William Yeates Hurlstone (1876-1906) died tragically young, aged only thirty years. Charles Villiers Stanford at the Royal College of Music, London considered him to be one of his most talented students. Hurlstone was admired for his lyrical invention, elegant harmony, and chamber music sophistication. Important works include his Piano Concerto, a set of Variations on an Original Theme, the Magic Mirror Suite based on Snow White and a wealth of chamber music. It would be good to have some revivals during this anniversary year.

Born in Newcastle upon Tyne, William Gillies Whittaker (1876-1944) began as a science student before turning to music, eventually teaching at Armstrong College, and founding the Newcastle Bach Choir in 1915. His passion for J.S. Bach led to landmark performances and scholarly work, including his posthumously published The Cantatas of Johann Sebastian. As Principal of the Scottish National Academy of Music and Gardiner Professor at Glasgow University, he revolutionized music education, introducing a Diploma in Music Education and promoted Dalcroze’s Eurhythmics. His compositions often reflected northern English folk elements, and a robust, lyrical style influenced by Gustav Holst. Whittaker edited educational music for Oxford University Press, leaving a lot of accessible choral and orchestral repertoire. I would like to see a performance/recording of Among the Northumbrian Hills, free variations on an original theme for piano and string quartet completed in 1922. His A Lyke-Wake Dirge for chorus and orchestra (1925) is too much to hope for.

It does not look like there are any celebrations planned for Arthur Wills (1926–2020) (Hopefully I am mistaken). He was an eminent English composer, organist, and educator, prominent for his long tenure as Director of Music at Ely Cathedral (1958–1990). He composed extensively for organ, choir, and orchestra, blending a traditional Anglican mood with modern harmonic language. Hopefully, a few of his anthems and organ pieces will be included in recitals and at church services.

Other composers celebrating their centenaries do not appear to have champions. Certainly, music by Brian Brockless (1926-95) and Arthur Oldham (1926-2003) may deserve unearthing. Tony Hewitt-Jones (1926-89) has little on record.

There will be few celebrations of bi-centenary composers. Walter Cecil Macfarren (1826-1905) trained under W.H. Holmes and Cipriani Potter and latterly taught notable pupils like Henry Wood and Tobias Matthay. His compositions - overtures, piano pieces, and vocal works -echoed Mendelssohn and Sterndale Bennett. Presto CDs list two of his compositions on disc – the most significant being the attractive Concertstück in E minor for piano and orchestra on the Hyperion label.

Organists may pull out dusty copies of original music or arrangements by William Thomas Best (1826-1897).

I would like to think that the continental and American composers will be celebrated at home and abroad. Manual De Falla (1876-1946) has retained his place in the British concert hall with works such as the ballet-pantomime El Amor Brujo, the Diaghilev commissioned ballet The Three-Cornered Hat and the evocative Noches en los jardines de España.

It would be disappointing if John Alden Carpenter’s (1876-1951) Skyscrapers and Krazy Kat ballets were not given an airing. And then there are the two rarely encountered Symphonies.

Hopefully, an enterprising orchestra will perform Carl Ruggles’s (1876-1971) dissonant, and uncompromising, Sun-Treader or even the Men and Mountains.

Italian composer Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari (1876-1948) is often heard on Classic fM with his ever-popular Il segreto di Susanna Overture. Sadly, most of his other operas have been sidelined.

Finally, the Avant Garde composers Earle Brown (1926-2002) and Morton Feldman (1926-87), both from the United States will have their enthusiasts. The same applies to the near-centenarian György Kurtág (b.1926) (Hungarian) and Hans Werner Henze (1926-2012) (German).