Erik Chisholm Songs on Delphian

The Erik Chisholm Facebook page succinctly sums up the ethos of this CD. This is a “real voyage of discovery since many of these marvellous songs have not been heard for at least 60 years, if ever.”  I am not sure exactly how many Chisholm composed, but it was a fair proportion of his oeuvre, possibly nearly a quarter. It is reprehensible that this is the first major survey of these notable songs. 

A “seminal moment” in Chisholm’s life was the gift of Patrick MacDonald’s A Collection of Scottish Airs, published in 1784. This volume was included in some “old music” gifted to the 10-year-old boy, by a hotelier in Millport, the Isle of Cumbrae, in the Clyde Estuary. The book was to remain by his side until his early death.  John Purser, in the liner notes, explains that Chisholm used many of these “airs” in his Scottish Airs for Children, A Celtic Song Book and in many other compositions including the William Soutar settings on this CD.

The reader will be relieved that I am not going to give a detailed commentary on all 36 songs. This would simply be a repetition of Purser’s notes.  I would suggest listening to groups of songs rather than through-listening: Soutar, Scott and non-Scottish poets, for example.

Two important divisions are apparent here. When Chisholm is setting his second wife, Lillias Scott’s poems, he uses straightforward accompaniments to equally direct melodies of his own devising. In the Soutar songs, the composer has dug into the MacDonald Collection for the melodies and has created more “adventurous” accompaniments.

The main event on this CD is the setting of seven Poems of Love by Lillias Scott. Some of these are clearly love songs but other subjects such as the Lament which explores the “transitoriness of life” and the celebration of the sheer joy of living found in Hert’s Sang.  My favourite is the beautiful Skreigh o' Day (Crack of Dawn) which is a “homage” to the mountain, Ben Cruachan. It is seen from the perspective of a young man, waking in the hills, and watching the sun rise. It is dreamy, musically half asleep, and quite gorgeous in its static effect.

A few words about the poet William Soutar (1898-1943). He had a tragic life. After service in the Royal Navy during the First World War, he studied at Edinburgh University. During this time, he contracted ankylosing spondylitis, which is a rare and debilitating form of arthritis. He was paralysed for the final 14 years of his life. Soutar is best remembered for his Scots language lyrics, although he did write in English. Many of his poems reflect his interest in ballads and the folkloric traditions of his country. Other formal structures incorporate epigrams, riddles, bairn‐rhymes (Children’s pieces.) One of his most amusing collections are “whigmaleeries”. The word means “whimsical oddments”.

Chisholm chose a good range of Soutar’s verse. From the dreamy Summer Song to the humour of The Prodigy, The Braw Plum and The Three Worthies. More serious is the “thoughtful and rhetorical” A Dirge for Summer.  

Other poets set, range from the inevitable “Anon” to a Russian translation of The Chailleach -The Spiteful Old Woman.  The anonymous children’s rhyme Snail, snail, shoot out your horn, would appear to be a magical spell for getting fair weather. The well-kent The Fairies by the Cavalier Poet Robert Herrick is full of impish humour. Other non-Scots settings include G.K. Chesterton’s, The Donkey, A.E Housman’s The Offending Eye, W.B. Yeats Cradle-Croon and Randall Swingler’s politicised Sixty Cubic Feet.

The music on this CD covers a wide range of emotion, from humour to melancholy, and from a celebration of landscape, the supernatural and the political. Stylistically, Erik Chisholm balances a high regard for his national musical heritage, with an approachable Modernism that is always satisfying and often perfectly synthesised.

The line-up of singers and the accompanist all hail from Scotland. This is clearly appropriate as many of these songs call for the Scots language. I enjoyed the performances, with each artist contributing much emotion, character and, where appropriate, humour, to these varied numbers. The use of the three different voices adds great variety and interest.

The liner notes are by the Scottish composer, playwright and historian, John Purser who wrote the definitive study of the composer. (Reviewed here). These are informative and readable. They give a splendid overview of Erik Chisolm’s achievement, set the songs in context, and provide concise descriptions of each number. It would have been helpful to have the poets’ names included in the track listing. And composition dates are typically not given. All the song texts are printed, including glosses on Scots words.  The instantly recognizable subject on the cover is from a colour lithograph by Ernest William Haslehurst (1866-1949).

This is a selection from Erik Chisholm’s catalogue. There are plenty more. For example, only two numbers were selected from the Twelve Songs. So, I am eagerly anticipating a further volume from Delphian Records. Hopefully, this will feature the current performers who have given such an incredible account of these remarkable songs.

CD Details:
Erik Chisholm (1904-65)
Mhairi Lawson (soprano), Nicky Spence (tenor), Michael Mofidian (bass-baritone), Iain Burnside (piano)
rec. 31 August, 1-2 September 2020, The Queen’s Hall, Edinburgh
DELPHIAN DCD34259 [67:50]

Discovering Erik Chisholm: Part II

Digging Deeper:

Listening to the vibrant Dance Suite (1932) on the new Hyperion CD of orchestral music, it is difficult to understand how this music has been ignored for nearly 85 years. The work was given a partial performance in 1933 by the Scottish Orchestra, at the Glasgow’s St Andrew’s Hall, conducted by John Barbirolli and with the composer as soloist. On 14 June 1933, it was heard in its entirety at the ISCM Festival in Amsterdam. The Concertgebouw Orchestra was conducted by Constant Lambert. The Suite comprises four movements and is scored for piano and orchestra. It is not a concerto, nor even a concertante, however the piano does play a vital role in providing orchestral colour.

The opening movement is a reel. Not really a pastiche of the White Heather Club but more ‘generic’, making use of note patterns and rhythms viewed through the eyes of musical modernism prevalent during this period. It is exciting, wayward and largely chromatic with much dissonance and bite. The orchestration is vivacious and colourful.

The second movement is a ‘Piobaireachd’ (very loosely pronounced ‘Peebarochk’) which literally refers to pipe music of the ‘classical school.’ These musical events were presented as ‘variations on a theme’. John Purser, in the liner notes, explains that this ‘traditional’ form ‘fascinated’ Chisholm. There is a ‘strange’ and ‘ethereal’ beauty about this movement. Certainly, the composer has not attempted to create an ‘Edinburgh Tattoo’ version of the ‘form’ but has created an almost ‘Bergian’ interpretation of it. This is one of the loveliest pieces of Chisholm that I know.  The ‘March’ is a ‘fun’ movement. There is nothing militaristic about it: just pure entertainment. The finale reverts to a ‘reel’, this time it does owe something to a Scottish ceilidh. All the exuberance of this unique social event is present. What Chisholm has achieved with this is to create an archetype (rather than an example) of the dance. It is sheer pleasure from end to end. 

The Dance Suite was dedicated by Chisholm to ‘To my dear wife’ who at the time of the Amsterdam performance was at home in Glasgow about to give birth to Morag, their first child, born on June 11.

I suggest that the listener next explore the three Preludes: From the True Edge of the Great World (1943). The title alludes to the Hebridean islands which folklore sometimes regarded as Ultima Thule or the Edge of the World. Certainly, since the time of the great Roman senator Publius Cornelius Tacitus, the Hebrides have been regarded as one of the limits of geography. As a tyro classical ‘scholar’ I must add that the Romans probably knew of Iceland, the Faroes and possibly even Greenland.  Chisholm originally composed a series of ten preludes for piano on this theme. I understand that nine of these were latterly orchestrated by the composer. Chisholm took his inspiration from Amy Murray’s Father Allan’s Island where he derived all the tunes. The listener is encouraged to regard these as mediations or improvisations on elements of the melody rather than a straightforward transcription for piano or orchestra. From the original twelve preludes, this Hyperion disc includes ‘The Song of the Mavis’ [Thrush], ‘Ossianic Lay’ and ‘Port a Beul’.

‘The Song of the Mavis’ certainly enters the world of the ‘favourite’ bird. Historically, the original melody suggests the parent bird calling its young to mealtime. But this music does not parody birdsong: it is a paean to Spring and the reawakening of life after winter.

Most Scots who take an interest in Scottish literature are aware of James MacPherson’s (1736-96) recreation of the Ossianic myth supposedly from ancient sources but more likely from his imagination or later retellings. Chisholm’s ‘Ossianic Lay’ is based on Amy Murray’s ‘The Day we were at the hillock of rushes.’ He has created an impressive (but short) tone-poem for orchestra that examines this mythical exploration of the heroic days of Ossian. Forget the forgeries and the MacPherson scandals: this is a stunning portrayal of shadowy heroes from the distant past. It is a song without words, full of misty sea and remote islands and forgotten romance.

The final number on this CD is ‘Port [puirt] a beul’, which, Purser tells us, means ‘mouth music’. This is a Scottish version of ‘scat’ sung by jazz performers. It is translated ‘cheerful music’ and is often represented by nonsensical vocalisations which parody the rhythms of the music.  Chisholm’s short study is breathless and downright fun.

The four-movement Violin Concerto (1950) is a remarkable work by any standards. Purser perfectly sums up the ‘bottom line’: this is a work that displays ‘haunting lyricism, Middle-Eastern sensuality with Western formality: its sound world is unique.’ Now, I am not sure that geographically this is ‘Middle-Eastern.’ The sources that Chisholm has mined for this work are largely Hindustani. This would seem to imply the northern areas of the Indian sub-continent, including Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan and some states of the modern country of India. It is also known as North Indian classical music or Shāstriya Sangīt.

I have never been a huge fan of Indian ‘classical music’ although the late Ravi Shankar was (and remains) a generational icon. I do know that its appreciation and performance involves philosophy and cosmology as well as the musical notes.

What Chisholm has done, is to fuse these Hindustani musical ‘tropes’ into the modernist musical culture of Western Europe. To what extent this is successful will be up to the individual listener. The Eastern influence is most obvious in the solo violin part, especially in the first and third movements.

The composer has revealed his sources for the opening movement, ‘Passacaglia telescopico (in modo Vasantee)’ and the third, ‘Aria in modo Sohani’.  This implies that Chisholm used a special ‘scale’ or ‘raga’ that also carried symbolic resonances. For example, the ‘Raginee Vasantee’ sings ‘of the spring, evoking images of a woman whose hair is decorated by peacock feathers and her ears ornamented with mango blossoms.’ The ‘telescopic’ bit refers to the gradual shortening of the passacaglia theme, until nothing is left, and then growing it again to full maturity. It is a novel, but wholly effective conceit.  

The second movement, a ‘scherzo’ also uses this ‘rag.’  Opening with aggressive war-like music, nodding to Holst perhaps, it is followed by the ‘trio’ which is deeply contrasting and contemplative.

The Aria, which is really the heart of the work is beautiful. It is based on the ‘Rag Sohani’ which is associated with night-time. The movement is downright romantic and features a love duet between the flute and the violin.

The finale, a ‘Fuga senza theme’ is a little unusual to say the least. There is a vibrancy and ‘breath-taking energy’ about this music that seems to transcend any organisational principles of lack of. But there is a structure. What Chisholm has done is to dispense with the formal fugal subject and answer and substituted it with a half a dozen angular fragments which he seems to chuck about in various patterns. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Chisholm’s Violin Concerto was premiered during the Van Riebeeck Festival by the violinist Szymon Goldberg in Cape Town during March 1952 and at that year’s Edinburgh Festival.

One reviewer (The Times, 8 September 1952) wrote that the violin concerto ‘offers few concessions…The ear cannot take in its subtleties of construction, nor without a clearer definition of the terms of reference can the manipulation of the…[ragas] be fully appreciated.’

W.R. Anderson’s (Musical Times, October 1952) thoughts most likely echoed public opinion at the time about this ‘difficult’ work when he wrote: ‘…[Max] Rostal played a Mozart concerto and one by Erik Chisholm with Hindu thematic and rhythmic influences, of which I could make very little.’

Please, Listener, when exploring this outstanding Violin Concerto, do not feel that you need to understand the first thing about Indian/Hindustani music to appreciate this great work. If I had heard it, without knowing of (not even beginning to understand) its theoretical underpinnings, I guess that I would have thought that Chisholm was using synthetic scales of his own devising or some convenient devices found in the music of Bartok. Music is more universal than we give it credit for.

The sound quality of this new Hyperion disc is superb: I cannot fault it in any way. The liner notes, which I have made extensive use of, are written by Chisholm biographer, John Purser. This detailed essay is essential reading before and after listening to the music. The BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra under Martyn Brabbins are clearly enthusiastic about this music. They are perfect advocates of all three pieces. Danny Driver brilliantly plays the piano solo in the Dance Suite. He has already contributed a recording of Chisholm’s two stunning piano concertos on Hyperion CDA67880.

I do wonder if they could have squeezed another orchestral piece by Erik Chisholm onto this disc: 62 minutes does seem to be a wee bit mean.

I certainly hope that Hyperion will urgently follow this spectacular CD with more releases of music by Erik Chisholm.

Conversation with John Purser

JF

I asked John Purser about Erik Chisholm’s operas and if he felt that they are worthy of revival. I understand that the musical style does not always ‘fit in’ with the Scottish or Hindustani dichotomy, but is often beholden to more ‘traditional’ modernist or early music styles.

JP

Not only are the operas worthy of revival, they have proved it. Dark Sonnet (1952, after Eugene O’Neill) and The Pardoner's Tale (1961, after Geoffrey Chaucer) were revived in Cape Town and were very successful. Simoon (1953) based on a libretto by Strindberg, was revived in Glasgow and both the single performance and the subsequent CD thereof have been highly praised. Simoon's style has many connections with the Hindustani works and The Inland Woman (1951, after Mary Lavin) has Scottish elements. This opera may yet prove to be a match for Vaughan Williams’s Riders to the Sea which rather pushed the Chisholm out of the way. The completed Chaucer operas are intriguing.

The Dark Sonnet and The Pardoner's Tale are only available privately from the Cape Town Opera School revivals. Both should be recorded.

JF

I asked which composers had a vital impact on Erik Chisholm. This being apart from the Scottish/Hindustani influences. For myself, I included RVW (4^thSymphony), Arnold Bax, Alban Berg, Kaikhosru Sorabji and Bela Bartok

JP

I agree with the importance of Bela Bartok and Alban Berg but also add Karol Szymanowski and Johannes Brahms. John Blackwood McEwen, the Scottish composer and academic was an exemplar, in particular.  Erik Chisholm was eclectic and, as a pianist, performed an incredibly varied and extensive repertoire.

JF

Finally, I asked John Purser what other orchestral works ‘demanded’ to be recorded: in an ideal world, all of them would be.

JP

There is a strong case for the revival of the third major Hindustani work - The Van Riebeeck Concerto - better to be known as Concerto for Orchestra as Chisholm had little love for the motivations behind the van Riebeeck festival. And then the Straloch Suite and the remaining Preludes from The True Edge of the Great World in their orchestral dress. Finally, the music for the ballet, The Forsaken Mermaid in its orchestral version.

JF

I would in my wish list also include The Adventures of Babar: Suite for orchestra, the Suite Hebredia and the Overture: The Freiris of Berwick.

With grateful thanks to John Purser for his assistance and interest in the preparation of this essay.

Discography

Erik CHISHOLM (1904-1965)

Violin Concerto (1950) 

From the True Edge of the Great World: Three Preludes for piano solo, orchestrated by the composer (1943) 

Dance Suite for orchestra and piano (1932) 

Matthew Trusler (violin), Danny Driver (piano) BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra/Martyn Brabbins

Re. City Halls, Candleriggs, Glasgow, 5-6 October 2016

HYPERION CDA68208 

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

Discovering Erik Chisholm: Part I

Introduction

The exciting new release from Hyperion Records of Erik Chisholm’s orchestral music is an excellent introduction to the music of a composer once described by Arnold Bax as ‘the most progressive composer that Scotland has ever produced.’ Despite many subsequent advanced Scottish composers such Thea Musgrave, Iain Hamilton and James MacMillan, this opinion, I believe, holds good to this day. Chisholm was a great innovator as well as a synthesiser. His main achievement was the fusion of Scottish Bag Pipe Music and Hindustani Ragas with mainstream European modernism. In this sense, he mirrors Bartok’s success in assimilating the music of the Balkans to his own genius.

Listeners will discover in Erik Chisholm a composer who is bursting with energy, conscious of his own unique voice and commanding a wide-ranging palette that successfully coheres, despite the seeming disparities of styles and musical influences.

This new CD cements the ‘Chisholm Triangle’ of influences in listeners’ minds: Scottish, Hindustani and Modernist. 

Life and Times

There are now several helpful sources for establishing a biographical understanding of the composer’s life and achievement. The easiest to access are the excellent webpages maintained by the Erik Chisholm Trust. John Purser’s Chasing a Restless Music: Erik Chisholm: Scottish Modernist 1904-1965, (Boydell and Brewer, 2009) is more detailed and makes essential reading. There are the usual references in the various musical dictionaries and the inevitable Wikipedia entry.

Erik Chisholm was born on 4 January 1904 at 2 Balmoral Villas in Cathcart, an attractive suburb of Glasgow. His father, John Chisholm, was a master house painter and his mother was Elizabeth McGeachy Macleod.  Aged thirteen, he left the local Queen’s Park School due to ill health. Anecdotally, Chisholm had begun to compose music before he could read. Later, he was writing poetry and ‘novels.’ Between 1918 and 1920, Chisholm studied at the Glasgow Athenaeum School of Music (now the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland) with Philip Halstead. His musical education continued with Herbert Walton (1869-29) then organist at Glasgow Cathedral and the Russian composer and pianist Leff Pouishnoff (1891-1959).

In 1926 Erik Chisholm moved to Nova Scotia, Canada where he held the post of organist and choirmaster at the Westminster Presbyterian Church, New Glasgow. He was also Director of Music at Pictou Academy, a secondary school. Three years later he returned to Scotland, where he accepted the post of organist at the United Free Church of St Matthew’s, Glasgow as well as supplementing his income by teaching. Lacking formal musical qualifications, Chisholm studied at Edinburgh University with the legendary Donald Tovey (1874-1940). He received his Bachelor of Music in 1931 and his D.Mus. in 1934.  In the years after his return from Canada, Chisholm was the conductor of the Glasgow Grand Opera Society. During this period, he oversaw British premieres of major European operas, including Berlioz’s The Trojans and Mozart’s Idomeneo. One other important work introduced by Chisholm was Edinburgh composer William Beaton Moonie’s (1883-1961) The Weird of Colbar. This was given at the Glasgow Theatre Royal on 22 March 1937. Moonie is a composer ripe for rediscovery.

Erik Chisholm set up several societies during this period. There was the Scottish Ballet Society, the Active Society for the Propagation of Contemporary Music and the Barony Musical Association. He was also music director of Celtic Ballet, based in George Street, Glasgow. Additional income was provided by music criticism written for the Glasgow Weekly Herald and the Scottish Daily Express.

During the Second World War, Chisholm was conductor of the Carl Rosa Opera Company and director of ENSA in South East Asia. He was a conscientious objector, but was subsequently declared unfit for service due to a twisted arm and poor eyesight.

In 1946, Erik Chisholm moved to South Africa where he took up an appointment as Director of the South African College of Music in Cape Town. There he set up the university opera company and the opera school. During this period, he began to compose a series of operas, some of which were performed there.

On 8 June 1965, Erik Chisholm died of a heart attack in Cape Town. He was only 61 years old.

Getting to Grips with the Music

An examination of Chisholm’s music catalogue reveals a daunting quantity and variety of compositions. It is a truism that the piano works provide continuity through the composer’s career, nevertheless there is music in virtually every genre. This included eight ballets, many operas, two symphonies, four concertos, numerous orchestral works, choral and chamber music.

In 1963 Chisholm provided a stylistic overview of his compositional career on a scrap of paper. This virtually illegible note proposes four ‘periods’:

1.      Early works 1923-27

2.      Scottish Music 1929 to 1940 (?)

3.      Hindustani works 1945-51

4.      Operas 1950-63

There is a danger of adhering to this classification in a rigid manner. It is a rule of thumb, and will assist the performer or the listener to approach Chisholm’s vast catalogue with some sense of purpose.

As a Scot, I tend to relate to the Scottish ‘period’ of music more than that of the Hindustani works, but further investigation has revealed that there is a considerable musical similarity between these two traditions. Without being too technical, John Purser (liner notes) cites the Scotch snap, drones, use of grace notes and even the bagpipe itself as being common to both traditions.  For the Western ear, the procedures of Hindustani music may be more difficult to come to grips with. It is a completely different musical culture that utilises unfamiliar scales and tunings, instruments, textures and symbolism. I explain a little more about these influences in my comments about the violin concerto later in this essay.

Note: A Scotch snap is ‘a rhythmic feature in which a dotted note is preceded by a stressed shorter note, characteristic of Strathspeys.’ A ‘drone’ is where the three lower pipes of the bagpipe play a fixed three note chord. Above this, the tune is played. Finally, a grace note is ‘an extra note added as an embellishment and not essential to the harmony or melody.’

The Chisholm Website sums up the composer’s relationship to Scottish ‘traditional classical music’ – ‘He is also alone in his attempt to infuse into symphonic structure the forms of Celtic music-lore (e.g. the pibroch, a form of music for the bagpipes) as distinct from the introduction into present-day forms of merely discursive Celtic atmosphere.’

I am not a fan of Scottish bagpipes: I do not mind hearing them from afar, but a ‘hundred pipers an’ a’’ is just a recipe (for me) for a headache. But I do like Jimmy Shand… We all have different musical tastes.

Some listeners may fear that Chisholm has infused his music with ‘tartanry’ which is all too common in musical works composed attempting to evoke a Caledonian atmosphere. Despite the many attractive Scottish and Celtic titles of his music, there is no pastiche of Harry Lauder or Rabbie Burns. Chisholm has taken up his native Celtic musical sounds and rhythms and applied the technical procedures of modernism. In this sense, he is in a trajectory from the Hungarian composer Béla Bartók.  

To be continued...

Erik Chisholm: Piano Music Volumes 1-4 (Part 2)

I recently discovered that I had never uploaded my review of Erik Chisholm’s Complete Piano Music Volumes 1 to 4 onto my blog. This was originally published on MusicWeb International in 2009. Since then the remaining volumes of the cycle (5, 6, &7) have been issued, John Purser’s biography of the composer has been published and changes to the Chisholm website have been made. So I present a slightly revised version of that review. I have not changed my view on this music in the intervening six or so years. This is the second of two posts.

The first of the two Sonatas presented on these discs does not have a Scottish theme, but was inspired by a landscape no less Celtic- that of Cornwall.  The Sonata was written around 1926 and was composed after a holiday with his piano teacher Lev Pouishnoff in a cottage in the north of the county. There is no doubt that this is a late romantic work – that owes more to Rachmaninov, than to his teacher, who is reputed to have hated the work.  Pouishnoff felt that it was not in tune with the ‘modernism’ of the day. Furthermore he did not approve of, what to him, were naïve subtitles to each movement: The Wet Scythes, Blown Spume, Chin and Tongue Waggle and With Clogs On.

To take an example: the last movement is a little bit of a misnomer. This is no Percy Grainger concert show stopper: this is not Handel walking down the Strand – but is really a huge rhapsody very much in Chisholm’s own extravagant style.

John Purser is correct in suggesting that we regard this work as ‘a youthful show-piece rather than a major work...’ and notes that ‘The work is of interest as a kind of compositional groundwork for later developments of Scottish traditional material-notably in the tremendous Sonata in A minor.’  Its only fault is being a little too massive for its own good, and maybe there is a lack of light and shade and technical contrast?

I enjoyed this work, in spite of it not being fully in the Chisholm style. But surely, this work has ‘moments of beauty and mystery’ that raise it above the mundane.  It may not be a masterpiece – yet it deserves its place as a part of this exploration of Chisholm’s music. And one last thought, the composer himself regarded the work well- he re-worked two of its movements in his First Symphony –surely another candidate for revival?

An integral part of these four CDs, and I suspect subsequent releases too, are the works which are by and large arrangements of Scottish tunes. For example, there are ten pieces from the 24 Preludes from the True Edge of the Great World, which refer to the Hebrides. John Purser sums up these preludes by pointing out that they are much more than ‘simple settings of traditional melodies. As the title ‘Preludes’ implies, they are more in the form of meditations or improvisations on some aspect of a melody which may only appear in full once in the whole piece.’  All these pieces have colourful titles, such as Sea Sorrow, The Sheiling and Sea Tangle.  I would suggest that the listener play Track 9 Rudha Ba-eon to get flavour of this cycle of Preludes. This is mood-music and manages to create a dreamlike impression of a seascape on the Isles at Edge of the World.  Interestingly some nine of these Preludes were orchestrated by the composer.

As an excellent example of the numerous collections of Scottish tunes I want to consider the The Scottish Airs for Children which are based on Patrick MacDonald’s A Collection of Highland Vocal Airs. However, there is a difficulty here. How does a listener approach some 25 pieces – the shortest being some twenty one seconds long, the longest being just over two minutes. I guess that one could just let them wash over you whilst staring out the window or enjoying a glass of Auchentoshan.  But that would be to do these well-crafted pieces a disservice. I think that there is a need for a little effort on the listener’s part here. I guess that I would suggest a study of the programme notes – reading the brief descriptions of each piece and then deciding to listen to half a dozen. I give one example – my favourite. This is No. 7 based on the tune Loch Bhraoin, or Loch Broom to non-Gaelic speakers! Purser writes that this loch, which is ‘on the north-west coast of Scotland, [is] here coloured with chromatic harmonies, as seen through a rainbow prism’.

Furthermore it is useful to note the raison d' être of these pieces.  They were dedicated ‘For the Children’ and therefore represent a gift to his three daughters.  It is also important thing to recall is that he had the intention of publishing these pieces in three graded volumes.  John Purser notes that these ‘are settings of great beauty, their sensitivities enhanced rather than diminished by the directness and simplicity of treatment required for children.’ I agree with him that these are superb pieces and that their neglect is incomprehensible. I hope that it will soon be possible to purchase the sheet music for these delightful and deserving pieces.

Other collections of ‘folk-music’ include the Airs from the Patrick MacDonald Collection which was published in 1784.  Chisholm had found a copy of this work as a boy and it remained with him throughout his life.  He also used this book as a source for the Petite Suite.  Once again these are all short pieces that need to be explored slowly rather than just listened to from end to end.

And finally, there are a number of Piobaireachd which are effectively bagpipe tunes which are integrated into a fully twentieth-century pianistic language.  These tunes are gathered from traditional sources and may well be battle songs, songs of welcome and laments. All these arrangements, realisations, re-workings and inventions are worthy of our attention, but I must confess that they need to be explored in bite-size chunks, else I think the effect would pall and the listener would loose a lot of the charm, the wit and sheer magic of the music. It would be hard to listen to all Rachmaninov’s Preludes at one sitting. Chisholm's Piobaireachd need similar attention.

Lastly I want to consider the Sonata in A ‘An Riobain Dearg’ (The Red Ribbon) which was composed in 1939. It is important to realise that this present version is an abridged edition of this work that was made by Murray McLachlan.   It is not stated in the liner notes as to whether these are the pianists suggestions or whether they are based on suggested cuts in the score by Chisholm. However, the unabridged version is available on DRD 0219, so a comparison can made. I have not heard this disc.

For me, this Sonata is my abiding memory from all the works on these CDs. This is an undoubted masterpiece.

I understand that the work was never published and was lost for a number of years. As it stands, in this recording it is a massive work although the original was some six minutes longer. I guess that John Purser is not wrong in suggesting that ‘nothing like this extraordinary adventure in pianism has been penned before or since...’  He mentions the ‘extravagances of Sorabji’ and the ‘bravura textures of Busoni’ as possible comparisons. But this is to do the work a disservice. I remember the old story about Elvis Presley being asked who he sings like. He replied, “I don’t sing like no-one.” And this is surely the watch-word for this piece – there is nothing like it in the repertoire. This is a work that is largely derived from Scottish sources, but never lapses into a sentimental type of Brigadoon musical landscape.

The opening movement is based on a Piobaireachd which is a set of variations on an original bagpipe theme. Chisholm presents the tune in exact transcription at the start of the work.  This is a complex movement that owes little to the classical idea of theme and variations. It is a journey outwards – it does not return to the source, save with a few tentative reminiscences.

The scherzo is a stunning example of Chisholm's pianism – a driving irregular rhythm is maintained throughout the piece only being relived by quotations from another bagpipe tune - The Prince’s Salute. It is exhausting music to listen too – but totally satisfying.

The slow movement is a ‘lament.’ In fact, it commemorates the loss of the submarine Thetis which sank during her diving trials just before the outbreak of the Second World War. There were only four survivors out of a crew of 103 men.  This is a ‘watery’ piece that sometimes tips it hat to Debussy – especially with Chisholm’s use of the whole-tone scale. It is a heart-achingly beautiful piece of music. John Purser suggests that it closes with a sense of pity rather than consolation: it sums up a deep and tragic movement.

Yet all this sadness is put to flight with an extrovert and highly dramatic ‘allegro moderato’. In this movement tunes just seem to tumble over each other. It is the effusions of a confident man who, to quote the liner notes, celebrates ‘Chisholm as a Scot, Chisholm as a composer and Chisholm as a virtuoso pianist.’ But one last addition to this list – lest we exaggerate the Scottish influence – this is music that stands its own ground in the corpus of European piano music from the Twentieth and any and every other century.

It is clear to see that Murray McLachlan had made an important contribution to the literature of British Music. He has decided to make, as Colin Scott-Sutherland notes, Chisholm’s music his own. And that is what was surely needed – a champion of this great catalogue of excellent but virtually unknown music. Moreover, McLachlan has been well-served by the fine recording made at Chetham’s School that presents this music with the highest sound quality. And finally the learned liner notes are a joy to read. In fact, they are absolutely necessary, due to the lack of information about and criticism of Chisholm’s music. John Purser certainly gives any listener a fine preview of his up illuminating and remarkable biography of the composer.

Lastly (in 2009) I look[ed] forward to hearing the subsequent CDs in this eye-opening cycle with great anticipation and enthusiasm. It is one of the musical discoveries and revelations of the Twenty-First century.

Track Listings:-
Eric Chisholm (1904-65)

Volume 1

Straloch Suite (1933)

Scottish Airs for Children (c.1940s)

Sonata in A (1939) ‘An Riobain Dearg’ (A Red Ribbon)

Volume 2

Ten Preludes from 24 Preludes from the True Edge of the Great World (1943)

Airs from the Patrick MacDonald Collection (1951)

Petite Suite (1951)

Volume 3

Piobaireachd for solo piano (undated)

Sonatina No.1 (undated)

Sonatina No.2 (undated)

Two Piobaireachd Laments (undated)

Cornish Dance Sonata (c.1926)

Volume 4

Piobaireachd for solo piano (undated)

Sonatina No.3 (undated)

Cameos (1926)

Highland Sketches (mostly from the MacDonald Collection) (undated) Portraits (1924-1929)

Murray McLachlan (piano)

Dunelm Records DDV 24131, 24132, 24133 & 24134 

Erik Chisholm: Piano Music Volumes 1-4 (Part 1)

I recently discovered that I had never uploaded my review of Erik Chisholm’s Complete Piano Music Volumes 1 to 4 onto my blog. This was originally published on MusicWeb International in 2009. Since then the remaining volumes of the cycle (5, 6, &7) have been issued, John Purser’s biography of the composer has been published and changes to the Chisholm website have been made. So I present a slightly revised version of that review. I have not changed my view on this music in the intervening six or so years. I present it in two posts.

This is an all for nothing project. I can hardly imagine anyone wanting just a single CD of this collection of piano music. I know that I am pained at only having four of the projected seven volumes of this fascinating but virtually unknown music to review.

If I were to put my cards on the table and give a ‘heads up’ overview of my thoughts on this cycle it would be as follows: this is possibly one of the most important single contributions to British Piano Music alongside Bax, Ireland, Sorabji, Hoddinott and from my personal point of view, Cyril Scott. It is fair to say that the unknown-ness of this music will mean that it is a very long time before it takes its rightful place in the canons of British Piano Music. My prime concern is simply this – I fear that these CDs will not be bought by general listeners – they are hardly likely to be played on Classic FM, for example. So I guess the buying public will be those who know something of Chisholm’s music (a precious few, I imagine) or those lucky enough to have come under the influence of those ‘precious few’’ and have been introduced to this music.

One thing I must insist on saying before I move on with this review – and it is this. In spite of a number of ‘picturesque’ Scottish and Celtic titles of many of these works, Chisholm’s music is no crass ‘tartanry.’ This is not pastiche ‘highlan’ music that is meant to evoke a sentimental view of the land north of the border. And as a Scot, I have heard plenty of that kind. Chisholm’s art is obviously influenced by his native musical sounds and rhythms, but the result can only be defined as a part of the Western tradition in a trajectory from Schoenberg and Bartok.  A note on the Chisholm Website explains this well – “He is also alone in his attempt to infuse into symphonic structure the forms of Celtic music-lore (e.g. the pibroch) as distinct from the introduction into present-day forms of merely discursive Celtic atmosphere.”

First of all a few biographical notes about Chisholm. I should preface my remarks by noting the excellent Website that is managed by his daughter, Morag.

Erik Chisholm was born in the Cathcart suburb of Glasgow on 4th January 1904. Apparently, he was a kind of ‘wunderkind’ who was composing music before he could read and also writing poems and ‘novels’ whilst still in junior school. He studied with Herbert Walton, the erstwhile organist at Glasgow Cathedral and Lev Pouishnoff, and then at the Scottish Academy of Music between 1918 and 1920.  After this, he toured the United States and Canada before returning to Edinburgh and studying under the great Sir Donald Tovey. He received his Doctor of Music from Edinburgh in 1934.  During this time he was also the conductor of the Glasgow Grand Opera Society which gave under his direction a number of first British performances, including Mozart’s Idomeneo, Berlioz’s The Trojan’s (still remembered by the older generation when I was a young man in the early 1970’s in Glasgow), Dvorak's Jakobin and Moonies’  Weird of Colbar.  Chisholm did seem to have a penchant for setting up groups and societies – but these were all means to an end for his enthusiasm for new music. He founded the Active Society for the Propagation of Contemporary Music in 1929; this was followed by the Barony Opera Society in 1936.

During the Second World War he was the conductor of the Carl Rosa Opera Company and was a director of ENSA in South East Asia.

After the war Chisholm was appointed as Director of the South African College of Music at Capetown. Once again he was instrumental in promoting new music and opera and set up the University Opera Company and the University Opera School.

Erik Chisholm died in Capetown on 8 June 1965, aged only 60 years.

Apart from his massive corpus of piano music, Chisholm’s works include an opera, based on The Canterbury Tales, two ballets, The Forsaken Merman and The Pied Piper of Hamelin, two symphonies, two piano concertos, and a Violin Concerto. There is a huge catalogue of other music, including tone poems, chamber pieces, songs and choral works.

Interestingly, the author of the Grove article suggests that ‘it was as an opera composer that he produced his best work: this is particularly evident in the trilogy Murder in Three Keys and in the three acts that constitute Canterbury Tales. The latter is arguably his best stage work and a good example of his dramatic flair.’

Yet for the majority of listeners and enthusiasts of British music the only work that is known is the fine Second Symphony ‘Ossian’ released by Dutton Records.

One fact makes this review rather tentative. There is the problem of chronology: a number of works on these CDs do not have dates of composition in the text and furthermore I was unable to find another source of a dating. The Chisholm WebPages do not yet show this information for every work.

In a top-line overview, it is fair to say that there appears to be two key divisions of Erik Chisholm’s piano music – those works with an obvious Scottish or at least Celtic influence. And secondly, there are works that appear to be more universal. For example, the Sonatinas and the Cameos. Although I believe that this is in many ways an ‘academic’ divide.  

It is important to note that Chisholm was the first ‘serous’ composer to devote time to the study of Highland bagpipe tunes known as Piobaireachd. This systematic study of these works has resulted in well over a hundred piano pieces based on these tunes.  William Saunders, writing in the Musical Times in 1932 suggests that these Piobaireachd are ‘curiously rhythmical works, with enormous potentialities for the expression of every phrase…of what to a Scottish Highlander must ever sound as the artistic manifestation of what he regards as the noblest of all emotional experiences.’

I feel that the best place to begin a consideration of Chisholm’s piano music may well be with the Straloch Suite. This work was completed in 1933 in a number of incarnations – including arrangements for full orchestra and for string orchestra. There is a somewhat convoluted compositional history, but the present Suite has three movements that are based on tunes from Robert Gordon of Straloch’s lute book of 1627.

The opening ‘grave’ of the first movement is a million miles away from Scottish music until the composer introduces a tune called ‘Ostende’ and makes contrapuntal and fugal play with it. There is a balance here between the serious and the humorous. The second movement is a working out of three tunes from the lute book – including an attractive love-song based on An thou wert my own thing. The last movement appears to nod to Bartok. However John Purser points out that the 'off beat' chords are actually in the original Straloch version.

The interesting thing about this Suite is that the material used by the composer does not overwhelm. It is obvious that he is using ‘Scottish’ tunes – but they do not detract from the logical and often quite involved structures and constructions that are f beholden to twentieth-century music. The listener need not concern themselves with identifying tunes – in fact I believe that this may detract from enjoyment of this piece.

Another good entry point to Chisholm’s piano music is the three Sonatinas.  In fact, he composed six examples of this genre: presumably the other three will be presented on succeeding CD issues. They are undated and were given a group title of E Praeterita, which means ‘From the Past’.  The melodic material used by Chisholm in these works is from mainland Europe rather than from the Highlands of Scotland. For example, the three movements of the First Sonatina are effectively contrapuntal variations on O Gloriosa Domina by the 16th century Spanish composer Luis de Narvaez.  The first movement of the Second Sonatina is derived from a lute Fantasia by Luis de Milan.  The Third is slightly different being based on four 'ricercars'. The word ‘ricercare’ means ‘to research’ but is applied to musical forms that are largely contrapuntal and often academic in nature. However, in this case there is nothing dry and dusty about this music.  One last thought about these Sonatinas. Many pianists were brought up playing these ‘small sonatas’, such as those by Clementi and Kuhlau and are therefore associated with didactic music and perhaps are regarded as being ’easy’. It is best to see these short works in the terms of the Ravel and Ireland’s Sonatinas: there is nothing simple or technically naïve about this music. They are miniature masterpieces.

One of the most fascinating collections of pieces on these four CDs is the Cameos: Portraits.  These are amongst the earliest pieces presented here. They were published around 1926 but are only a selection from a greater number of Cameos that remain unpublished or in draft form.  Each of these pieces is given a picturesque title – for example the first is called A Jewel from the Sidereal Casket, the fourth, The Companion to Sirius and the penultimate is called The Sweating Infantry – which is based on some words from Walt Whitman.  These eight pieces are truly original, do not rely on any published melodies or tunes and exploit the piano to the full.  The sixth cameo is interesting. It is called the Procession of the Crabs. John Purser suggests that the image for this work may have come to Chisholm whilst on holiday at that playground of Glaswegians -Millport on the Isle of Cumbrae in the Clyde Estuary. This piece “marches determinedly, using [a] variety of harmonic density to help punctuate the rhythm”.

These eight pieces are entertaining, sophisticated and technically competent pieces that surely deserve their place in the repertoire.

Another work that does not involve ‘quoted’ Scottish tunes as such are the enigmatic Portraits. However, the influence of native music is never too far away – often presented in a distorted light, but revealing themselves to the careful listener.  These six pieces were written over a five year period between 1924 and 1929.  The first, an Epitaphe for “a little child who left this world just as soon as he had entered it” is absolutely full of despair. Chisholm fills this music with dissonances that resolve themselves into Debussy-like parallel triads.

The composer noted that the second Portrait, Melodie Chiaroscura, was ‘from some strangely foreign parts. Here Nature revels in colour. There are bright liquid blues tapering to an infinity of ether; scarlet towers bursting violently into blazes of…purple: yellow parts scored symmetrically with jet black parallels side by side with webs of high-pitched undulation in pink. There is no unity of colour...’ The listener can ignore the density of this text and just enjoy the impressionistic sounds that seem to unite the Far East, France and Scotland.

Porgy is quite short: it is based on a passage from Du Bose Heyward’s eponymous novel on which Gershwin based his great opera. The piece is dedicated to Hugh S. Roberton, the conductor of the celebrated Glasgow Orpheus Choir.  It is really a musical description of a procession of African-American ‘Repent ye saith the Lorders’ on their annual parade. It is a tremendous tour de force.

Agnes and the Maultasch is another bleak and quite dissonant piece that the composer instructs to be played ‘hauntingly’.  It is based on ‘fairy tale’ called ‘The Ugly Duchess’ which is full of death and ghosts.

Suss communes with Maimi would appear to be the last of the Portraits to be completed. It is dedicated to Lion Feuchtwanger who was the author of a novel called Jud Suss – published in English as ‘Power’. As a novel it was intended to expose the racist policies of the Nazis. The ‘plot’ of the music is really a meditation on Suss, in the form of a ghost. He is in prison and is a man ‘who has never yet felt an emotion except hardness of heart and hate is overwhelmed with tenderness and his house of cards crumples to the ground’. All because Suss has been visited by his beautiful daughter Maimi.   

The last Portrait is exactly that: A Portrait of a Fashionable Gentlewoman. This is another complex piece that explores two separate musical strands. Firstly there is the pastiche waltz and secondly the growing complexity of the musical language moves it far away from being simply a parody of contemporary salon music. It is a fine conclusion to a difficult but rewarding set of pieces. 

Erik Chisholm: Music for Piano Volume 7

According to the excellent liner notes by John Purser, this present volume of ‘Music for Piano’ by Erik Chisholm is likely to be the last. He writes that unless ‘current research work uncovers sufficient previously unknown material... [which] at present seems extremely unlikely,’ there will not be an eighth volume. It is a job well done. I have had the pleasure of reviewing all previous releases of this series and have been struck by the vitality, technical competence and sheer ‘enjoyability’ of virtually every work presented. The seventh volume is designed to tidy up a few loose ends. Purser suggests that this disc ought to be listened to ‘within the context of the whole series.’ And he is correct. I guess it is unlikely that many people will set off on their exploration of Chisholm’s piano music with this CD. Most of the pieces on this disc are ‘light’ music – with the exception of the Elegies and the Fourth Sonatina. However, that does not mean that the other works are unworthy of our attention or lack inspiration and sheer musicality.

The most important pieces on this CD must be the five Elegies with which the CD opens. These are dark introspective numbers that reveal the pianistic style of Erik Chisholm at his very best. Most of these elegies are derived from tunes which the composer had found in a variety of ‘song books’ such as the Reverend Patrick MacDonald’s Collection of Highland Vocal Airs. However it is important to emphasise that these are not direct transcriptions of the tunes; nor are they simply arrangements or variations. This is not a pastiche of ‘highlan’ music designed to portray a sentimentalised view of the people and places of Scotland. Chisholm’s music is manifestly influenced by his native musical sounds and rhythms, but the resultant can only be defined as a part of the Western tradition of both Schoenberg and Bartok. A note on the Chisholm Website explains this well – ‘He is also alone in his attempt to infuse into symphonic structure the forms of Celtic music-lore (e.g. the pibroch) as distinct from the introduction into present-day forms of merely discursive Celtic atmosphere.’ These five elegies display this ‘symphonic structure’ in spite of their short duration.

When I first came across Erik Chisholm’s music I read somewhere that he had composed a Peter Pan Suite. Alas, as each CD was issued, this work appeared to be missing. However all things comes to him (or her) who waits.

The Suite was composed in London during 1924, which was some 20 years after James Matthew Barrie’s children’s classic was first published as a stage production. Many people have tried to get to the bottom of this timeless classic and analyses abound. However, it needs neither Freud nor Jung to enjoy the story, save to say that the underlying themes would appear to be a ‘conflict between the innocence of childhood and the responsibility of adulthood’.

Erik Chisholm’s Suite is divided into five attractive, but rather concise movements. All the key players from Peter Pan and Wendy are incorporated into the music. From the capricious Peter himself, to the will o’ the wisp Tinker Bell, the lugubrious Crocodile, the more complex than would at first appear ‘Wendy’ theme. Finally, Captain Hook is portrayed by something a little more sinister.

There is nothing particularly difficult (aurally) about this music; however it fair to say that it is an adult’s appreciation of the childhood story. Chisholm never indulges in sentimentality or kitsch.

The Sonatina No.4 is a different story. Part of a series of works entitled E Praeterita (From the Past) is is one of six such pieces. [For the connoisseur, Nos. 1 and 2 are given in Volume 3, No.3 on Volume 4 and Nos. 5 and 6 on Volume 5 of this series]

Only one movement is included of this three movement work: one has been lost and another has reappeared as ‘The Jew’s Dance’ in the Fifth Sonatina. John Purser suggests that this surviving first movement is effectively a transcription of a lute-dance by Hans Neusiedler (1508-1563). However in Chisholm’s hands the music transcends time and becomes an exciting work that almost defies categorisation. It was completed in 1947.

The Three Suites presented here are attractive and enjoyable, but they are not in the composer’s typical style. However they differ from much salon music in their ‘spareness’ of texture, their lack of cliché and their harmonic subtlety. Listen to them one at a time.

The First Suite is in five ‘conventionally’ named movements. It opens with a ‘Caprice ‘that is full of light and sunshine. Yet even here there is a depth and modernity of language that would not be found in a similar suite by Montague Ewing or Haydn Wood. The Feuillet d’album (Leafs from an Album) is a diverse little piece that explores a variety of moods and pianistic formula. The Scherzo is a chipper number that ‘exploits [the] rapid alteration of hands.’ Certainly it sounds a bit tricky to my ear. The ‘waltz’ is probably quite typical of the genre: pleasant but nothing more. Finally, the ‘Moto Perpetuo’ brings the Suite to an exciting conclusion.

To my ear there is nothing of ‘persiflage’ about the Second Suite: it may be fun, but it is never trivial. The first movement is a complex, involved piece that belies the playful nature of some of the passages and the the use of a nursery tune at the conclusion. The second movement, a Caprice is played ‘allegro scherzando’. This is an intense scherzo that has a wide variety of moods and a certain hard edge that denies the concept of a ‘musical joke.’ The next movement is funny: it is based on Euphemia Allen’s universally known chopsticks, which are subject to a number of ‘petite’ variations. However even here there is an edginess that ensures the listener does not dismiss this as nugatory. The ‘Intermezzo’ is a trippy little piece that nods towards the salon. John Purser suggests that it appears to be ‘an exercise in simple pianism [rather] than an inspired piece of music’. He suggests a little editing may have done it a power of good. The final ‘Jig’ is complex and ‘fluent’ however it is not a ‘bucolic’ example so popular with composers of light music. It is an astringent piece of music.

The Third Suite is entitled ‘Ballet’. This is brittle, often staccato music that is hard to pin down. Purser has noted the cross-rhythms and the ‘quirky changes of pace.’ Yet it is quite definitely ‘dance’ music – one cannot listen to this without the mind’s eye seeing it interpreted by a dancer. One recalls Chisholm’s commitment to ballet – The Hoodie Craw and The Forsaken Merman being two important scores. The present Third Suite is often romantic in a fugitive sort of manner – but the abiding impression is of quicksilver. Puck or Robin Goodfellow is a likely inspiration.

John Purser sums this CD up very well when he notes that ‘we leave Chisholm’s music then, not with any grand gestures, modernist assertions, Scottish determination or lyricism, but with unaffected, easy going and undemanding pleasures...’

I have noted before the great commitment that the pianist Murray McLachlan has made to this cycle of seven CDs – as well as other recordings of Erik Chisholm’s music. It is a major achievement that deserves to be lauded. The liner notes by John Purser are essential reading, for apart from that author’s excellent monograph on the composer, there is little information about the man and his music that is easily available. The sound recording is superb and benefits from the sympathetic acoustic of the Whiteley Hall, Chetham’s School of Music, Manchester One minor criticism: I would have liked to see the dates for all these pieces given, however it may well be that they are not yet definitively established.

Finally two things need to be said. Firstly, this is the authoritative edition of Erik Chisholm’s music. I cannot imagine another cycle of this piano music being recorded in my remaining lifetime. We are fortunate to have such an exemplary production as that which Divine Art has provided for the listener over the past few years. And, secondly, it is hardly possible to listen to the works on this present CD and the other six and not wonder how such an important contributor to the literature of the piano has gone virtually noticed by lovers of piano music. I make no excuse for concluding this review by quoting myself! ‘I believe that Erik Chisholm is so important that his music ought to have International status rather than just a local interest. I repeat [again!] my assertion that this series of CDs showcase one of the most important “musical discoveries and revelations of the Twenty-First Century’.

Track Listing:-

Erik CHISHOLM (1904-1965)

Music for Piano, Volume 7

Five Elegies; Peter Pan Suite; Praeterita (Sonatina no. 4) – First Movement; Suite No. 1; Suite No. 2; Suite No. 3 (Ballet)

Murray McLachlan (piano)

Divine Arts ddv24155 
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published

Erik Chisholm: Music for Piano Volume 6

This is the sixth of eight projected volumes of the complete piano music of Erik Chisholm. As there is no catalogue of his music currently available, it is not possible to tell what has still to be released and, if there are some hidden gems that have been overlooked, although I imagine that Messrs. McLachlan and Purser will have contrived to omit nothing of importance.
The briefest of glances at the Chisholm Trust website will show a huge variety of music in many genres and combinations of instruments. Yet the ‘theme’ that runs through Erik Chisholm’s music are the works for the piano: they are essential to gaining an appreciation of his musical achievement. Furthermore, any understanding of this music has to take account of the various stages in his compositional career: he helpfully provided these details in an excruciatingly badly hand-written catalogue produced in 1963:-
Early works 1923-27
Scottish Music 1929 to 1940 (?)
Hindustani works 1945-51
Operas 1950-63
Like any attempt at classification, this is surely only a rule of thumb: there will be plenty of exceptions. However it is a good reference marker to begin exploration of Chisholm’s music. One final suggestion. I would suggest the listener takes this CD slowly: it is not something that can be put into the CD player and through-played and half-ignored. I guess I would recommend that each work be played separately - after having read the programme notes.
Before progressing with the review I must write that my only serious complaint about this CD is the lack of dates for most of the works. In fact, the first set of pieces, the Ceol Mor Dances only indicates when the work had been orchestrated- not when originally composed! The ‘catalogue’ of piano music referenced by the Chisholm WebPages also lacks dates for most of these works. I find that it is important to my listening that I am able to situate the work in its historical and chronological milieu. Even reference to John Purser’s excellent biography has been little help as a number of the works performed on this CD are not indexed. However, I guess that from the titles of the pieces it is possible to speculate as to which ‘period’ of the composer’s activity they were written.

The Ceol Mor Dances are ‘technically challenging’. John Purser notes that the title is a contradiction in terms. ‘Ceol Mor’ is Gaelic for ‘Big Music’. This is opposed to ‘Ceol Beag’ which literally means ‘little music’ but is also a conversational idiom for ‘dance music.’ Certainly, these complex pieces must not be regarded as some attempt to write pastiche ‘ceilidh’ music: they are much more technically involved than that. There are echoes of Eric Satie in these pages and the pianism look towards the European tradition in spite of the eruption of a number of Scottish fingerprints. I am reminded of Liszt and his Hungarian Dances - few villagers would have jigged the night away to that music: the same can be said of these dances by Chisholm.

The Dunedin Suite was inspired by The Dunedin Association which was set up in 1911 by Janey Drysdale with the aim of supporting Scottish music, however, by the nineteen thirties it had declined in its influence and achievement. Erik Chisholm was asked to try to revivify it, which he succeeded in doing. The Suite was written in a style that juxtaposes the classicism of his Sonatinas and the native music of Scotland. It is conceived in five well-balanced and successful movements. There is much of interest in these pages - most especially the gorgeously moving Sarabande. One of the finest moments is the fourth movement, the Strathspey. This opens with music reminiscent of ‘old world dignity’ before eliding into the ‘dance’ form with its dotted rhythms and highland exuberance, but always tinged with a little regret. Technically the final ‘jig’ is the most impressive - effectively a short two-part invention that balances the composer’s Scottish and neo-classical influences. Perhaps it could be subtitles Bach goes to Barra?

The Scottish Airs is a work that utilises Caledonian tunes published by Patrick MacDonald in his A Collection of Highland Vocal Airs: Chisholm used this as a source book a number of times. These pieces are individually enjoyable, but I feel that it can be a little difficult listening to nine pieces of which the shortest is a mere 35 seconds. Once again, I suggest these ‘airs’ be approached after a study of the liner notes and a reading of the brief descriptions and the translations associated with each air. Murray McLachlan has suggested that this work can be ‘considered as Chisholm’s response to Bartok’s Improvisation on Nine Hungarian Peasant Songs.’ Although each movement is discrete it can be perceived as a single ‘movement’. The music is strongly Scottish in mood and effect with each section promoting a different atmosphere - wistfulness, grandeur, eeriness and playfulness.

Erik Chisholm has written that his Dance of the Princess Jaschya-Scheena is a ‘pot-boiler.’ However it is difficult to imagine this rather sultry piece being in the category of a recital encore, nevertheless it has its attractions. I am not sure who the princess was in fictional or historical terms, but she does seem to be realised in a manner of orientalism that Cyril Scott would have recognised.

For me the Wisdom Book is the hardest work to come to terms with. Each of these eleven sections is extremely brief with the shortest lasting a mere 16 seconds: the longest is the finale at 42 seconds! The programme note tells us that these are musical illustrations of folk-adages and were composed for children to play. For example, No. 8 is entitled ‘The tortoise and the hare’ whilst the last is entitled ‘Set a begger on horsbak and he will run his hors out of breth [spelling as written in the score, apparently] They are all too brief to get a grip on, although I believe that they could be rather fun for young pianist to play.

The last work on this CD is probably the most impressive and certainly one that establishes the composer as a master of his genre. John Purser has written that these pieces ‘call for tremendous virtuosity and intense concentration,’ and concludes by suggesting that they require ‘humility from both performer and listener.’ The Nocturnes: Night Song of the Bards is most certainly not a series of ‘nocturnes’ in the style of Frederick Chopin or John Field. The work was composed at a time when Chisholm was influenced by Hindustani music. Yet the initial inspiration was taken from an anonymous Gaelic story collected in James Macpherson’s Croma which dates back to the 9th century. It is worth quoting the introduction to this tale:-

‘The story of it is this. Five Bards, passing the night in the house of a chief, who was a poet himself, went severally to make their observations on, and returned with an extempore description of, night. The night happened to be in October, as appears from the poem, and in the north of Scotland, it has all that variety which the bards ascribe to it, in their descriptions.’

John Purser describes this enigmatic music in three full pages of text in the liner notes which deserves to be studied. I was impressed with the sheer magical quality of this music. To my ear, it reminded me of the music Kaikosru Sorabji. However, I note that the German musicologist, Dr. Jürgen Schaarwächter writing on the Web, has suggested that Busoni and Alkan are never too far removed from the sound-world of this long piece. It is certainly a work that, more than any other fuses the various musical influences of Erik Chisholm.

The playing is superb, and reflects the massive commitment that Murray McLachlan has made to the piano music of Erik Chisholm. The programme notes are extensive and excellent (in spite of the above comment about dating) and give as much information as can be wished for. I have noted in a previous review that it is always difficult to produce a ‘complete works’ cycle of any composer: this is compounded by the fact that Chisholm’s music is not really in the public domain, much of it appears to be unpublished and is barely represented on disc by any other pianist. It seems unlikely that anyone will attempt a ‘competitive’ cycle over the coming years. This is, and will remain, the definitive edition of Erik Chisholm’s piano music for many years to come. To that end, Dunelm and Murray McLachan have made a magnificent effort: their goals have been achieved in every possible way. It is a monument to Scottish, European and World music by any standards of judgement.

Track Listings:-
Erik CHISHOLM (1904-1965)
Music for Piano - Volume 6
Ceol Mor Dances (1943) Dunedin Suite (undated) Scottish Airs for piano(1951) Dance of the Princess Jaschya-Sheena, for piano(undated) The Wisdom Book, for piano (undated) Night Song of the Bards - Six Nocturnes, for piano (1944-51)
Murray McLachlan (piano)
DIVERSIONS DDV24149

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review first appeared.