In the Wake of the Great War: Works for Piano by Delius, Bax, Vaughan Williams and Bridge

All the works here were written in the decades immediately following the conclusion of the Great War (1914-18). However, I think that only Frank Bridge’s Sonata majors on the devastating impact of that conflict. Delius’s Preludes are a backward glance to his younger days, the Bax is more to do with his love-life and his interest in Irish politics, Vaughan Williams harks back to Tudor times and Chaplin considers the impact of modern industrialisation in the aftermath of the Great Depression. All that said, this is an important CD that will be required listening to all enthusiasts of British 20^th century piano music.

Frederick Delius’s Three Preludes are hardly in the composer’s ‘greatest hits’ category. In fact, his small corpus of piano pieces are probably amongst the least known if his works. As the liner notes suggest, at the time the Preludes were written, most of the composer’s big achievements were in the past, he was severely incapacitated and was probably trying to recapture his long-departed youth. The Preludes were composed in 1923, with Delius’s wife Jelka acting as copyist. This was before the young Eric Fenby arrived at Grez-sur-Loing to begin his stint as Delius’s amanuensis in 1928.

The first Prelude was dedicated to the English pianist, conductor, and music educator, Evlyn [sic] Howard-Jones (1877-1951). It is changeable and sometimes ‘will o’ the wisp’ in ambience. The second, which is a miniature ‘toccata’, is inscribed to Adine O’Neill, a celebrated pianist, and pupil of Clara Schumann. The final Prelude is a delightful little tone poem portraying (to my mind) a gently bubbling stream. The entire set will remind the listener of Debussy and perhaps Edvard Grieg.  The three Preludes are full of impressionistic sunshine, whole tone scales and magical chromaticism.

Arnold Bax’s Piano Sonata No.3 in G sharp minor (GP 279) was completed in 1926. Like many of his piano works it was dedicated to his lover and muse, the pianist Harriet Cohen. Several commentators note that this stormy work presents Bax’s response to the turbulent and tragic progress of the Irish Civil War as well as his own personal ‘affairs’ with Harriet.

This Sonata is written in the conventional three movement form: his two previous numbered piano sonatas had been composed as single movement works. Bax himself conceded in a letter to John Simons (13 May 1935) that: '[The sonata] gave me a lot of trouble... and as always when work does not come easily, I always felt doubtful about it'.

The first movement, ‘Allegro moderato’ is virtually devoid of lyricism and repose. Bax has eschewed romantic tunes and has used a series of short motifs that are related to each other. The progress of this movement is one of ‘wild passion’ and high drama, which never quite seems to stay the course. Regular changes of mood is the order of the day. The ensuing, ‘Lento moderato’ as a stunningly beautiful creation.  It has been described as a ‘dream-poem’ with its careful balance of one of Bax’s ersatz Irish folk tunes and an intense chromaticism that seems to push towards atonality. There is some warmth in this music, but the deep introspection outweighs any sense of optimism.

It is easy to hear ‘sea music’ in the finale with the relentless use of semiquavers in either hand. There is a wild dance-like theme which appears sporadically. The movement nearly ends quietly with soothingly rippling waves plashing against the rocks, before a ‘ff’ G major chord awakens anyone who may have dozed.

This work is given a splendid performance here by Benjamin Martin. He convincingly expounds the dichotomy between passion and elegy and well as focusing on the essential nature of the work as a stormy love letter to Harriet Cohen and a protest about the Irish situation.

Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Hymn-tune Prelude on Song 13 by Orlando Gibbons was written as a gift for Harriet Cohen. It was presented to her in 1930.  The music is a perfect synthesis of the ‘Tudor’ melody with Vaughan Williams’s inimitable counterpoint. Despite its relatively straightforward sound this is a difficult piece to play. Gaining a good legato with the main melody and working around it the ‘parts’ can be difficult. Benjamin Martin gives it an idyllic performance. There is virtually nothing here that looks back to the Great War: if anything, it is a reaffirmation of Vaughan Williams’s pastoral ‘Land of Lost Content’.

Frank Bridge’s Piano Sonata is one of the greatest examples of the genre – whether this is equated to British music, or music on general. This ground-breaking and style-changing sonata occupied Bridge for several years and was completed in 1924. It might be regarded as composer’s masterpiece: it is certainly his most elaborate work for the piano.  I guess that any listener coming to this work after having heard some of the composer’s character pieces for piano or maybe even the orchestral tone poem The Sea, may be baffled by its sound world. The Sonata is a massive work that displays great profundity and sometimes an almost unbearable sense of despair and hurt. This is hardly surprising as it was dedicated to fellow composer Ernest Farrar who was killed on the Somme in 1917. But not just Farrar. This Sonata seems to be a ‘requiem’ for all the musicians Frank Bridge had known and who due to the fates of war had been unable to realise their potential.

One of the half-truths about the reception of this work is that it represents the composer’s move towards his ‘Dissonant Contemporary’ period. To be sure, there is much dissonance in these pages. But in some mysterious way, several of these passages create a lyrical magic that seems far away from the horror of the trenches. There are moments of resentment and passion, but this is not the whole story.  The structure of the Sonata owed much to Franz Liszt. There are moments when Alban Berg’s mantle falls on the composer. And then Scriabin’s ‘shifting tonalities’ are often present.

From a recitalist’s point of view, this a challenging work. Maurice Hinson (Guide to the Pianists Repertoire, Indiana University Press, 2000) remarks that it ‘is one of the most ambitious British piano composition of its period.’ He concludes by noting that ‘advanced pianism is required.’

Benjamin Martin presents one of the finest interpretations that I have heard. For the record there are currently eight versions noted in the Arnold Bax Website discography.

The final number on this excellent CD is a wonderful ‘cocktail piano’ transcription by Benjamin Martin of Charlie Chaplin’s iconic song ‘Smile’. This music was originally written for the silent film Modern Times. Words to the ‘song’ were added in 1954. Over the years it has been rescored and rearranged many times and has been recorded by a diverse group of artists including Placido Domingo, Liberace and Michael Jackson. The film was a critique of the impact of Fordism in the US workforce.  Chaplin plays a man who is at odds with modern technology. It is regarded as the last great silent film, although Chaplin did concede to a soundtrack of music and sound effects. There is no spoken dialogue. Martin’s arrangement makes a thoughtful and wistful conclusion to a fascinating exploration of English piano music.

The liner notes are in two parts: An overview by the late Michael Kennedy and a detailed analysis of each work by Michael Quinn. I think a through-written note would have been preferable. There is a brief biography of Benjamin Martin.  The font is of reasonable size; nonetheless, it is printed as black text on beige. Not the easiest of reads. As for the cover, it is one of the least inspiring I have seen for a while. The pianist is dressed as if he has just come in from digging the garden. It is the sort of cover that one would skip past in the browser. Which is a pity, as this is a major contribution to the repertoire of English piano music. It is essential repertoire that is played to perfection with huge technical accomplishment and a great sympathetic understanding of each piece.

Track Listing:

Frederick DELIUS (1862-1934) Three Preludes for piano (1923)

Arnold BAX (1883-1953) Piano Sonata No. 3 in G sharp minor (1926)

Ralph VAUGHAN WILLIAMS (1872-1958) Hymn-tune Prelude on Song 13 by Orlando Gibbons (1930)

Frank BRIDGE (1879-1941) Sonata for Piano (1921-24)

Charles (Charlie) Spencer CHAPLIN (1889-1977) arr. Benjamin MARTIN (b.1970): 'Smile' from Modern Times (1936)

Benjamin Martin (piano)

Rec. 2006-2009

MELBA PANTHEON MR 301146

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

British Prom Premieres Revisited 1970 Part 4

Georg Frederic Handel: Messiah

Elisabeth Lutyens: Essence of our Happiness (BBC Commission)

Anthony Milner: Roman Spring

Henry Purcell: Ode on St Cecilia’s Day (1692)

It seems almost unbelievable that Prommers had to wait some 75 years before they heard a performance of the complete Handel’s Messiah. On Sunday 2 August 1970, the BBC Symphony Orchestra and the BBC Singers were conducted by Colin Davis. Soloists included Sheila Armstrong (soprano), Robert Tear (tenor) and John Shirley-Quirk (baritone). It would subsequently be performed five more times at the Proms. The most recent (I understand) being on 6 September 2009. Over the years there have been countless extracts of this iconic work heard at this Festival. There are many performances of Handel’s Messiah given each year in the United Kingdom. Currently, some 95 recordings of the entire work available. My personal favourite is King’s College, Cambridge and the St Martin-in-the-Field’s Orchestra conducted by David Willcocks and released in 1972. Many listeners still swear by the remarkable, but dated, Huddersfield Choral Society version conducted Sir Malcolm Sargent made in the 1950s.

Equally remarkable was the Proms Premiere of Henry Purcell’s great Ode on St Cecilia’s Day, Z328, ‘Hail Bright Cecilia.’ This was featured in the second half of the Wednesday 5 August 1970 concert. Before the interval Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks and Michael Tippett’s Fantasia Concertante on a Theme of Corelli was heard. The English Chamber Orchestra was conducted by Raymond Leppard (for Purcell and Handel).  This was the final, and possibly the best of Purcell’s four Odes to St Cecilia. The work was written during 1692 for the Saint’s Feast Day setting a text by the Irish Anglican Divine and poet, Nicholas Brady. The entire work, lasting for nearly an hour, is replete with stately choruses, engaging solos, duets, and trios, as well as well-wrought instrumental interludes. The Archiv CD catalogue lists 14 recordings of this work now available.

Elisabeth Lutyens’s Essence of our Happiness op.69 has hardly fared well. This work was a BBC Commission. Written for tenor, mixed chorus, and orchestra, it is a setting of texts by Abū Yazīd, John Donne and Arthur Rimbaud. It was composed in 1968, two years before its premiere on Tuesday 8 September 1970. Richard Lewis was the tenor soloist, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus were conducted by Norman del Mar.

The work’s title is derived from Donne’s ‘Devotion XIV’ which, in abridged form, is set in the cantata’s long central movement. 

It is interesting that Colin Mason (Daily Telegraph, 9 September 1970) has declared that this ‘large scale work [is composed] in what is probably the simplest and most accessible style [Lutyens] has yet attempted.’

Max Harrison (Musical Times, November 1970) writes: ‘…The ejaculatory expressiveness of Elisabeth Lutyens's Essence of our Happiness at first hearing appears fragmented by the strong cumulative inner tensions which shape the music. But sometimes a curiously acid gaiety, severe yet obliquely suggesting optimism, is achieved. The work is a cycle for tenor, chorus, and orchestra of three mystical texts dealing with time, each complemented by a dance-like orchestral movement.  Originality of content is matched by consistently inventive writing for voices and instruments, so that one's ear is delighted by fresh sounds and shapes as well as by new meaning. The performance, by Richard Lewis with the BBC SO and Chorus under Norman Del Mar, was poised and readily communicative; this work seems likely to prove the most durable of this year's Prom commissions.’

This was the one and only Promenade Concert performance of this work. Unfortunately, there is no recording currently available, either on record or download. Max Harrison’s prediction about durability has proved wrong.

Anthony Milner’s Cantata Roman Spring, op.29 is a remarkable ‘sing’ by any account. The work was composed in 1969 and is written for soprano and tenor solo, chorus, and orchestra. It was a setting of words by the great Latin poets Catullus and Horace.  Roman Spring is a celebration of Spring and a call to lovers to make the most of it. The work was premiered at the Queen Elizbeth Hall during October 1969. 

The composer has described this work as ‘pantonal’, in other words ‘shifting freely among many or all keys.’ This is not atonal music as such: Milner has not totally abandoned the sense of ‘key’ and ‘there are many focal points’ such as ‘chords, single notes, motifs, which act as centres or gravity’ but only in one or two places is ‘there anything that momentarily establishes a sense of key.’ All that said, Roman Spring is approachable and straightforward to enjoy.

Fellow composer Lennox Berkeley writing the BBC’s house magazine, The Listener (23 October 1969) reported that this ‘was music of real distinction’ and the reviewer was ‘particularly struck by the subtle and evocative use of the orchestra.’ Berkeley concluded by suggesting that the ‘vocal writing was restrained but telling in the earlier movements, more forthright in the third, matching thereby the uninhibited mood of the poem.’

The Proms Premiere was given on Monday 17 August 1970. Other works included Benjamin Britten’s Les Illuminations, Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.15 in B flat major, K 450, and Beethoven’s Symphony No.5 in C minor. The soloists for the Milner were Rhonda Bruce, contralto and Philip Langridge, tenor. The BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus were conducted by Peter Gellhorn (Roman Spring).  Colin Davis conducted the other works. Anthony Milner’s Roman Spring was released on LP on Decca SXL 6699 in 1975. The singers were Felicity Palmer, soprano and Robert Tear, tenor. The London Sinfonietta was conducted by David Atherton. It has subsequently been re-released on Lyrita SRCD 267.          

To be continued…

British Prom Premieres Revisited 1970 Part 3

William Boyce: Symphony No.5 in D major

Sebastian Forbes: Essay for clarinet and orchestra (BBC Commission)

Roberto Gerhard: Epithalamion, Leo

William Boyce’s Symphony No.5 in D major is an enchanting work. It may well have been played on Classic FM; such is its approachability. It was composed in 1739 and was originally entitled Overture to St Cecilia and destined to be the overture to ‘Part 1’ of the St. Cecilia Ode ‘See fam’d Apollo and the Nine’ setting a text by John Lockman (1698-1771). Lockman was a renowned writer and Secretary of the British Herring Fishery. The ‘Symphony’ was first heard at the Apollo Academy in London during 1739.

The opening movement is a ‘French overture’ with a majestic formal opening complete with trumpets and drums, leading into the then obligatory fugal passage. It is a successful movement. This is complemented by a delightful Gavotte and a vivacious Minuet. There have been several excellent recordings of this work, made over the years including releases by L'Oiseau Lyre, Naxos, Nimbus and Archiv labels.

It was performed at the Promenade Concert on Saturday 8 August 1970.

I was unable to find any recording of Sebastian Forbes’s (b.1941) Essay for clarinet and orchestra. This is one of those works that appears to have sunk without trace. A BBC Commission, it was premiered at a special concert given by the BBC Training Orchestra, conducted by Meredith Davies and Michael Rose. It was an otherwise straight forward programme including Beethoven’s Egmont Overture No.1, Sergei Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No.1 in D flat major (soloist, John Lill) and concluding with Johannes Brahms’s Symphony No. 2 in D major.  A major review by Dominic Gill of Forbes’s Essay was published in the Musical Times (September 1970). Gill writes that this is a ‘short (14-minute), well-bred, mildly academic and thoroughly sure-footed Essay in atonal instrumental design for clarinet and orchestra by the young British composer Sebastian Forbes. It falls very roughly into three sections: simple melodic  decoration over long-held chords on muted strings and woodwind; a violent brass introduction to a central developmental section of growing rhythmic interest and increasing restlessness (as well as some  nice imitative writing for soloist and wind); a final part, in which the impetus spends itself - and communicates a sense of distance, muted colours, sunset outlines, set off by a brief, liquid spark of a tailpiece. A pleasant but fairly stereotyped studentish essay - and something of a disappointment in the context of some earlier, more vigorous and less predictable chamber and choral works by Forbes.’

I looked at Sebastian Forbes’s ‘personal’ website which seems to be in abeyance but could find no further details.

At the same concert (31 August 1970) as the audience was introduced to Harrison Birtwistle’s Verses for ensemble, they heard Roberto Gerhard’s equally complex Leo.  This was the second of his ‘cosmological’ pieces. In 1968, he had composed Libra based on his own star sign. Leo was that of his wife, Leopoldina 'Poldi' Feichtegger Gerhard. It was to be the composer’s last completed work: he died on 5 January 1970, so did not live to hear the work’s Proms Premiere.  Leo was commissioned by the Hopkins Center to commemorate the bicentennial anniversary of Dartmouth College, Hanover, New Hampshire, USA. It was premiered there on 23 August 1969. The first London performance was at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on 24 November 1969, with David Atherton conducting the London Sinfonietta.

Peter Stadlen, writing in The Daily Telegraph (1 September 1970) summed up this performance well. He wrote, ‘what a marvellously happy end to his life Roberto Gerhard has created with Leo…the last bars of this work, which was to be his last, must be the most delightful he has achieved. Here the Catalan charm and the Viennese argumentativeness that used to vie one with the other in his personality and in his art are found beatifically reconciled’. This gorgeous final tribute to his wife, and a consummate backward glance at his career was preceded by more than 15 minutes of abstract and virtuosic scoring.  As for the ‘programme’ it can be ignored. There is little reference to the zodiacal characteristics of the lion nor to the disposition of the composer’s wife.

The composer wrote, ‘I have always wanted to pay homage to the unshakeable, natural, completely unpretentious self-reliance of the lion and to its terrific fighting power... Leo shows the way I tried to do it.’ (© The Estate of Roberto Gerhard).

At least three recordings of Leo have been issues including David Atherton and the London Sinfonietta on the Headline label, HEAD 11 (1977). This LP included the other two astrological works, Libra and Gemini.

Epithalamion was another important work by Roberto Gerhard which was given its Proms Premiere on Thursday 23 July 1970. Other music heard that night included Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major and Charles Ives’s Symphony No.4. The BBC Symphony Orchestra was conducted by Edward Downes.

The work was written during the winter of 1965/66. It takes its title from the well-known wedding ‘Ode’ written by Edmund Spenser. Yet the tenor of the piece is thoughtfulness and not celebration. The entire work is a ‘showpiece for large orchestra with a prominent role for a large percussion section.’  The progress of the work is predicated on dialogue between instrumental groups rather than massive orchestral ‘tuttis’.

Epithalamion had been premiered at Valdagno, Italy in September 1966. It was revised for the Promenade Concert. The score is prefaced by a quotation from Psalm 19: ‘In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun, which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber.’

Formally, the work has been described as ‘an expansive rondo’ and a ‘cycle of variations in which material and gesture are completely integrated.’

To be continued…

It’s not British but…Ernst Krenek: Piano Music, Volume 2

The hermeneutic for understanding (and hopefully enjoying) Austrian/American composer Ernst Krenek’s music is the realization that his style is diverse. Virtually. every ‘ism’ in 20^th century music can be discovered in his massive catalogue. This ranges from post-Romantic scores to electronic music, by way of atonality, serialism, neo-classicism, jazz, and even aleatory techniques. It is just a question of knowing the ‘aesthetic’ of the work in hand. And remember, that towards the end of his life, his musical style began to synthesise several of these elements. 

The Toccata and Chaconne, op.13 is a big work by any standards. Lasting for nearly 25 minutes, this piece had its origins in a ‘joke’ designed to fool musicologists and music critics. Krenek, and his friend the pianist Eduard Erdmann, created a subtitle for this piece, ‘…über den Choral ’Ja ich glaub’ an Jesum Christum’- ‘On the chorale, Yes! I believe in Jesus Christ.’ Alas, there is no such old Lutheran melody. It was simply a pattern of words made up by Erdmann to help him memorise the music. Yet, the title stuck. The ‘joke’ is described by the composer: ‘We anticipated that they of course would not bother to investigate whether any such chorale existed nor become suspicious on account of the utterly un-chorale-like melody which consisted of wide skips and chromatic progressions, and would indulge in remarks on my treatment, or mistreatment, as the case may be, of the ‘well-known’ chorale. It was not hard to predict that in this calculation we were absolutely right.’

The Toccata and Chaconne was completed in 1922 and tends towards atonality. It is a powerful work, that explores a wide variety of moods. Despite the ‘joke’ this is a work that could well do much to encourage a timid listening public into coming to terms with a musical style that is now at least a century old- and still detested by many ‘music lovers.’

This great work had a follow-on. Using the same ‘chorale’ Krenek created a ‘Little Suite’, op.13a, presenting the melody in several formal constructs – ‘Allemande’, ‘Sarabande’, ‘Gavotte’, ‘Waltz’, ‘Fugue’ and ‘Foxtrot’. I guess the ‘joke’ of the Toccata and Chaconne was carried to the extreme here. It seems that some critics were ‘hostile’ towards Krenek for the ‘blasphemous idea of dragging the sacred [!] theme through the gutter of dissolute, obscene jazz rhythms, after having been defiled by the ‘cacophonous’ orgies of atonality.’  Unfortunately for the composer, this ‘jest’ was later to cause him problems with the German authorities. As for the music, this is a lovely suite. Full of delicious clichés and parodies, it is entertaining from the first note to the last – provided one knows the gag!

The Zwei Suiten, op.26 (1924) were dedicated to the great pianist Artur Schnabel. The movements in these suites are not given titles, only tempi instructions. Krenek does not deploy wit here so much as a serious reflection on ‘modern’ dance forms.  Out go the ‘sarabande’ and the ‘gigue’, in comes the ‘Foxtrot’, the ‘Charleston’ and the ‘Tango’. Yet, it is the ethos of these dances that is explored: there is virtually no pastiche. This is serious music rather than flippant. Both Suites are worthy of the attention of contemporary pianists.

Of all the works on this CD, the Piano Sonata No.5, op.121 represents the composer doing his own thing. It was written in 1950, when the intelligentsia in Darmstadt and other centres of learning were endeavouring to evacuate music of any tonal references and attempting to organise every aspect of compositional technique by ‘integral serialism.’  What Krenek has done in this Sonata is to create a ‘serial’ work that is tightly controlled by the tone row. But he has not gone to the extent of total organisation that characterized the music of, say, Pierre Boulez at this time. Despite my best endeavours I have never really got my mind around ‘integral serialism’, I understand (to a certain extent) how it is ‘done.’ But I do not ‘get it’ as a form of musical expression. I imagine that precious few composers use this methodology these days. The whole project has passed into history as a lost cause. (Naturally, I stand to be corrected on this last statement!).

The liner notes explain that, despite this work being highly ‘organised’, there are indeed ‘allusions both to the thematic dualism of nineteenth-century sonata form, and to traditional tonality itself (especially through the emphasis of the interval of a third, and through the use of scalar passages on the ‘white’ keys of the piano across all three movements).’  Krenek’s Sonata is a success, And the reason is that his innate musicality has overcome the demands of the ‘process’. He has created a work of art that uses ‘total’ organisation but at socially distanced length! And a good piece it is too.

The final work on this CD, ‘Sechs Vermessene’, Op. 168 was written in 1958.  The title can be literally translated as ‘Six Measures’. Yet the ethos of the work may require a subtler interpretation.  ‘Vermessene’ can mean ‘measured’ (as in restrained or thoughtful) as well as ‘self-willed.’ These pieces do deploy ‘integral serialism’. This means that not only are the notes derived from the 12-tone series, but rhythm, dynamics, and density.  Around the time that Krenek wrote the ‘Sechs Vermessene’ composers were beginning to experiment with aleatory (chance) music. Many felt that ‘integral serialism’ has reached an impasse.  The liner notes explain that each ‘Measure’ ‘explores in epigrammatic fashion a rarefied aspect of musical structure…subject to serial organisation.’ Without the score and the tone row it is difficult to work out what is happening. But is appears that Krenek has crossed the line from ‘complete control’ into ‘improvisation’. These noticeably short pieces are often quite beautiful (in their own way) and can also be seen to nod towards ‘free-jazz.’

I enjoyed every piece on this imaginative exploration of Krenek’s piano music. I have not heard Volume 1 (alas) in this cycle, however it has been reviewed for these pages by Jonathan Woolf. The liner notes by Peter Tregear make essential reading: I have relied on them heavily for my assessment of this disc. Ernest Krenek certainly has a sympathetic campaigner in Ukrainian born pianist Stanislav Khristenko.

I understand that only the Zwei Suiten, op.26 is a ‘first recording.’ It is my loss that I have not heard these pieces in other versions. Sadly, it would seem unlikely that this piano repertoire will feature in many piano recitals in the United Kingdom. I look forward to succeeding volumes in what I hope will eventually become a complete cycle of Ernst Krenek’s piano music. Meanwhile, I must get myself up to speed with this rewarding composer’s catalogue of music.

Track Listing:
Ernst Krenek (1900-91)
Toccata und Chaconne über den Choral ’Ja ich glaub’ an Jesum Christum’, Op. 13 (1922)
Eine kleine Suite von Stücken über denselbigen Choral, verschiedenen Charakters, Op. 13a (1922)
Zwei Suiten, Op. 26 (1924)
Piano Sonata No. 5, Op. 121 (1950)
Sechs Vermessene, Op. 168 (1958)
Stanislav Khristenko (piano)
Rec. 3 and 4 January and 7, 8 and 29 March 2016 in the Clonick Hall, Oberlin Conservatory of Music, Oberlin, Ohio
TOCCATA CLASSICS TOCC 0399
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Rob Keeley: Orchestral Music

This CD presents premiere recordings of four excellent orchestral works by Rob Keeley. In the liner notes he explains that the music ‘on this disc [is] atypical, in that the larger part of my output of over 100 pieces is for small forces: solo piano, song and chamber combinations.’ I have written some biographical notes about the composer in an earlier review. I will not repeat them here.

The earliest work on this CD is the Symphony No.2 written in 1996. It remained unperformed until 22 May 2008 when it was given by the Kensington Symphony Orchestra under Russell Keable. The symphony has four movements, with the slow movement coming third. The composer has used a Beethoven-size orchestra with harp, but not percussion (except for timpani). Rob Keeley has explained that the principal subject of the opening movement ‘is a paraphrase of the idée fixe from Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique’. I am not sure that I would have clocked this. This is balanced by a ‘warm chorale for strings with horn’ which is quite beautiful. The music is vibrant, often edgy and the scoring and harmonies are piquant.  The ‘scherzo’ uses ‘antiphonal choirs’ from the string and woodwind section to play off against each other. A lyrical tune tries to establish, but never quite succeeds. The trios are laid back with delicious flute, string, and harp combinations. This is sultry music.  Keeley explains that he rewrote the ‘slow movement’ for this recording. He felt that the Symphony needed a point of repose. This is a ‘nocturne’ with one or two little irruptions of activity. The atmosphere is a touch scary: certainly not romantic. This creepiness is enhanced by the eccentric little dance at the end of the movement. Maybe one day the original third movement may be recorded for comprehensiveness.  The finale is a splendid piece that nods towards Stravinsky and Michael Tippett. If anyone suggests that the symphony is an outdated form, just recommend them this splendid well-constructed and thought out example from Rob Keeley.

I fell in love with Keeley’s Flute Concerto (2017) on first hearing. Without falling into the trap of saying it ‘sounds like’ so and so, it could be categorised as ‘neo-classical.’ French echoes abound at every turn. For me it evokes warm summer days on the Riviera. But that is sheer wishful thinking on my part during ‘lockdown.’ The concerto is presented in two contrasting movements. The first is signed ‘andantino’ and seems to be conceived as a modified sonata form. The slow music is balanced by lively ‘dance music’ that shimmers in the sunlight. I am not sure just quite how conventional the development section is, but it does not really matter. The main subjects are reprised with the movement coming to a whimsical conclusion. This is followed by the ‘adagio’ which is based on a twelve-note theme ‘identical to that used by Stravinsky in the ‘Surge, aquilo’ setting from Canticum Sacrum)’. This is not developed serially but is subject to some delightful decoration. Yet more dance music (a Waltz) is introduced to balance the main ‘allegro’ theme before the ‘waltz’ wins the day with a wayward flourish. If the listener needs an exemplar to imagine this work against, I guess that it will be Poulenc. That said, the well-controlled dissonances in the second movement are sometimes more acerbic than the Frenchman may have used. The solo part is supported by much notable orchestration throughout the work.

The Triple Concerto (2014) is a remarkable work. The scoring for two oboes and cor anglais was inspired by the ‘woefully underrated orchestral suites by Georg Phillip Telemann (1681-1767).’  And surely Bach and Handel are influences here too. This is the most eclectic work on this CD. There is nothing here of French neo-classicism. In fact, it seems the composer has fused baroque inspirations with a touch of minimalism. The opening movement swirls around with ‘repeating ostinati’ (A short melody or pattern that is constantly repeated). But this does not result in boredom or ennui. The second movement is a ‘scherzo’ with ‘internal repeats’ and ‘buzzing scales.’ This music almost, but not quite, gets ‘into the groove.’ The finale begins a bit like a ‘saraband’ but soon develops into a vivacious ‘presto’, which brings the concerto to a quiet but ‘mercurial’ conclusion. One again the instrumentation is extraordinary.

Despite the composer declaring that his Variations for orchestra ‘were in least in part modelled on the Enigma Variations by my beloved Elgar’, this music seems a long way from this late Victorian masterpiece. For one thing, the title seems a touch misleading. I would have called this a Concerto for Orchestra (clearly written as a theme and variations).  The objective of this music seems to showcase various instrumental combinations and conceits. The ‘theme’ does nod to Elgar’s style with the use of the melodic intervals of the rising 6^th and falling 7^th. And the composer is clear that he has ‘long been impatient with ‘variations in name only’. Each section allows the tune to be recognised, even if it is not always in your face. The liner notes present a comprehensive analysis of each variation. Keeley’s ‘Nimrod’ (12^th variation here) shows respect for the master, not a debt. The work concludes with a ‘Passacaglia-Finale’ which allows the conceit of having a set of variations within a set of variations. From first note to the last, this is a satisfying and enjoyable work. My overall impression is once again of amazing scoring. There is a chamber music feel with much of this music, but every so often the full orchestra blazes forth. There may be nods to Tippett, Schoenberg and Stravinsky, but this is a genuinely original work which may not sound like Elgar, but certainly has all the competence of composition displayed in the archetype.

I was impressed by the performances of all four works. The Málaga Philharmonic Orchestra, and the Liepāja Symphony Orchestra and the soloists under Paul Mann are all ‘top of the form’. The recording by the Toccata engineers is ideal. The liner notes are by the composer and comprise helpful notes about the music as well as a brief ‘autobiography.’ The usual bios of the performers are included along with photos.

I have said this before, but it is worth repeating, Rob Keeley is a composer with whom I can do business. It is encouraging to hear contemporary music that is quite definitely modernist, rather than repeating the seemingly popular clichés of Einaudi and his followers. Keeley’s sound world reflects a wide range of composers including Elliot Carter, Michael Tippett, Igor Stravinsky, Erik Satie, Francis Poulenc, jazz and even nods (as noted above) to Edward Elgar, Hector Berlioz, and Ludwig van Beethoven. It is refreshing to hear music that balances modernity with tradition, is always true to itself and is thoroughly entertaining throughout.

Track Listing:

Rob KEELEY (b.1960)

Symphony No.2 (1996)

Flute Concerto (2017)

Triple Concerto for two oboes, cor anglais and strings (2014)

Variations for Orchestra (2019)

Sarah Desbruslais (flute), James Turnbull (oboe), Michael Sluman (oboe), Patrick Flanaghan (cor anglais).

Málaga Philharmonic Orchestra, Liepāja Symphony Orchestra (Variations only)/Paul Mann

Recorded on 15–19 October 2018 in the Sala Beethoven, Sala de Ensayos de Carranque, Plaza Pio XII, Málaga, Spain (Symphony No. 2, Concertos), and 27–28 January 2020 in the Great Amber Concert Hall, Liepāja, Latvia (Variations)

TOCCATA CLASSICS TOCC 0462

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

British Prom Premieres Revisited 1970 Part 2

Harrison Birtwistle: Verses for ensemble

William Byrd: Ave Verum Corpus, Haec Dies, Laudate Pueri and Vide Domine afflictionen, nostrum

Gordon Crosse: Violin Concerto No.2

Harrison Birtwistle’s Verses for Ensemble is a radical work, even for 1970. Bill Hopkins writing in Tempo (December 1975) summed up the composer’s achievement: ‘Verses is a long, complex and richly-layered work disguised as a straightforward sequence of contrasting episodes.’ I listened to this impressive, but challenging work as part of my preparation for this blog post.  Verses is one of Birtwistle’s most radical works and can be seen in this analysis: ‘the musical development consists of a series of abrupt, energetically edited blocks; every melodic form or group of chords appears charged with high voltage. The ensemble practically never uses ‘tutti’ but is permanently divided up into different groupings (ensembles) which combine and interchange with solo passages.’  (cited in Wither, Rodney, An Annotated Guide to Wind Chamber Music, 2004)

The work is scored for Flute (Piccolo/Alto), Oboe (English Horn), Two Clarinets (Eb and Bass), Bassoon (contra bassoon), Horn, 2 Trumpets, 2 Trombones and 3 percussionists. 

Verses for Ensemble was premiered at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, London on 12 February 1969. The London Sinfonietta was conducted by David Atherton. The same forces gave the Proms Premiere on Monday 31 August 1970. Other works that evening included Roberto Gerhard’s Leo, Arnold Schoenberg’s ‘Lied der Waldtaube’ from Gurrelieder (chamber version), Igor Stravinsky’s Berceuses du chat for contralto and three clarinets, and Pribautki for low voice and wind ensemble. All these works were ‘Proms Novelties’. A sense of musical continuity was provided by Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.20 in D minor, K 466. The soloist was the legendary Alfred Brendel. For the performance of Verses, the ensemble and the conductor eschewed ‘tails’ and wore polo neck sweaters.

Interestingly, there were to be two further performances of Verses at the Proms: in 2009 and latterly 2014. There is only a single recording of Birtwistle’s Verses in the catalogues. It was originally issued on the Decca Headline label (HEAD 7) in 1974. It was re-released on Lyrita (SRCD.308) in 2008.

William Byrd has not suffered any diminution of interest since the performance of these four motets. Since the sterling efforts of clergyman and musical scholar Edmund Fellowes (1870-1951) at promoting Byrd’s music, his reputation has gone from strength to strength. In 2020, virtually all the composer’s music is available ‘on record.’ Many of his pieces are staples of choirs and place where they sing. The four pieces were ‘Ave Verum Corpus’, ‘Haec Dies’, ‘Laudate Pueri ‘and ‘Vide Domine afflictionen’, nostrum

These Byrd anthems were given their Proms Premiere on Wednesday 22 July 1970. They were placed in the programme as a ‘prelude’ to a performance of Edward Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius. They were sung by Cantores in Ecclesia directed by Michael Howard.  The main event featured the Philharmonia Chorus and Orchestra conducted by Sir Adrian Boult. The soloists were John Mitchinson, Alfreda Hodgson and Forbes Robinson.  

Gordon Crosse’s Violin Concerto No. 2, op. 26, written in 1969. This is a large, multi-layered work that explores a wide variety of musical styles and soundscapes. The concerto was commissioned by the Oxford Subscription Concerts for their 50th Anniversary season. It was premiered on 29 January 1970 by Manoug Parikan, violin accompanied by the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sir Colin Davis. the same artists gave the Proms Premiere on Monday 7 September 1970. At this concert it was preceded by Joseph Haydn’s Symphony No.84 in E flat major (which was also a Proms Premiere) and Gustav Holst’s well-loved Suite: The Planets.

The formal structure of this work was inspired by Vladimir Nabokov’s novel Pale Fire. In this book (I have not read it) a lyrical poem ‘is subjected to an elaborate and grotesque misreading by its editor, whose notes [commentary] provide the narrative vehicle of the book’. Apart from this formal structure, the Concerto derives no programme from the book. Some of the music in this concerto was culled from an opera Crosse was composing at that time, The Story of Vasco.

There are two important things to note about the concerto. Firstly, although Crosse uses a large orchestra, there is a chamber music texture to much of the music. There is a huge battery of percussion. The composer uses his resources with great variety but in a sparing manner. Typically, the soloist is not pitted against the orchestra, but is primus inter pares. Secondly, Leslie East (British Music Now, ed. Foreman, Lewis, 1975) has summed up the overall effect of the work: ‘the bipartite Concerto presents dramatic opposition of different elements or styles on various levels: unassertive first part against aggressive second…’ There are other oppositions: lyrical/bravura, balance of expounded themes/motivic manipulation, stasis/dynamism. For example, in the last movement, there is a romantic outburst from the full orchestra that seems to nod to Messiaen’s Turangalîla Symphony.

I could understand some listeners not enjoying this powerful, modernist work, yet, it seems to me that it is approachable within the context of its time. Criticism has been made of the work’s lack of direction and the exaggerated ‘stylistic diversity’. This did not appear to me a problem. I particularly enjoyed the huge disparity of styles, the colourful orchestration, and the general ability of the composer to hold my attention over a half hour period. It is, I believe, one of Gordon Crosse’s greatest works.

It would be disingenuous to suggest that this Concerto holds an established place in the orchestral repertoire. However, in June 2017, the Proms recording was released by Lyrita Records (REAM 1133). This CD also included the Elegy for small orchestra, op.1 (1960), the Concerto for chamber orchestra, op.8 (1962) and the Concertino op.15 (1965) for flute, oboe, clarinet, viola, and chamber ensemble.

To be continued…

British Prom Premieres 1970 Revisited Part 1

Introduction. Looking back at British music ‘novelties’ that were played at the Promenade Concerts half a century ago makes for fascinating study. Each anniversary reveals the strange tale of survival and loss of ‘new’ music. Of great interest in a study of this nature are the few famous works that have survived the changes and chances of succeeding generations. And then there are those works that were heard once and seem to have fallen by the wayside. The ‘Novelties’ for 1970 are a mixed bunch. Three ‘classes’ are evident. Firstly, works from the past that finally received a Prom Performance, sometimes after centuries. This does not mean that they have been languishing. In fact, the older music has survived best of all. Handel’s Messiah, Boyce’s Symphony No.5 in D major, the William Byrd anthems, and the Purcell Ode all have strong footholds in concert halls, cathedrals and recording studios. Even Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Grand Duke is given the occasional outing in our time.  Alas there are several compositions that have totally disappeared from the repertoire: virtually sunk without trace. There may be a recording available, but that does not mean that they are established works. And, finally there are some ‘novelties’ that are the preserve of devotees of individual composers.

A few works received their first and possibly only performance at the Proms. It may be that the composers subsequently withdrew the scores or that time has taken its toll and all trace of the music has vanished except for an occasional review in contemporary newspapers and musical journals and the memories of aging concertgoers.

Some of the works mentioned in the following posts are ‘World Premiere’ performances, others were ‘Proms Premieres.’

My notes below vary from a reasonably detailed study to brief comments. This does not necessarily reflect the success or otherwise of the individual work. They are presented largely (but not entirely) in alphabetical order.

Malcolm Arnold: Concerto No.2 for horn and string orchestra

Lord Berners: A Wedding Bouquet

I am not sure to what extent Malcolm Arnold’s Concerto No.2 for horn and string orchestra has gained a secure place in the repertoire. There are seven recordings of this work noted in the Arnold Society Discography. On the other hand, this work is rarely heard in the concert hall. The Concerto was composed for the legendary horn player Dennis Brain and was completed in December 1956.

Arnold’s Horn Concerto no.2 was given its Proms Premiere at an all-British music concert on Saturday 8 August 1970. The soloist was Alan Civil, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra was conducted by Malcolm Arnold. The concert also included William Boyce’s Symphony No.5 in D major and Lord Berners’s eccentric A Wedding Bouquet, both also receiving first Proms performance. Other works included Edward Elgar’s ever popular Enigma Variations and the Façade Suite No1 by William Walton.

The premiere performance of the Horn Concerto had been given by the dedicatee on 17 July 1957 at that year’s Cheltenham Music Festival.  The Hallé Orchestra was conducted by the composer. Sadly, Brain was to die in a car crash some months later.  

Arnold’s Horn Concerto No.2’s three movements could not be more straightforward in their formal construction. A concise sonata form is followed by a thoughtful ternary (three-part ABA) slow movement and concluding with a vibrant Rondo (Vivace-presto). The Concerto’s outer movements exploit the virtuosic abilities of the French horn with both vivacity and urbanity, whilst the gorgeous ‘andantino grazioso’ has been described as ‘a timeless modern Gymnopédie’ [Erik Satie]. Arnold himself declared that this slow movement was written to showcase Dennis Brain’s ‘superb cantabile playing.’ 

The music is ‘unashamedly’ diatonic and lacks any conspicuous ‘modernism’. Sometimes the music can veer towards the ‘sentimental’, but this is a large part of the pleasure to be gained from this enjoyable concerto. Writing in the Musical Times (September 1957) Dyneley Hussey wrote that: ‘A Horn Concerto with string orchestra by Malcolm Arnold…[is] mainly designed to exhibit the extraordinary virtuosity of the soloist, Dennis Brain. Deprived of the orchestral colour which he lays on with so brilliant a touch in the Tam o' Shanter Overture [heard earlier in the Festival], Arnold's music sounded rather too facile in thought. But the Concerto will always make agreeable hearing whenever Mr. Brain is available to play the formidable solo part. His legato delivery of the long phrases in the melodious slow movement attained an ideal beauty-and that is a rare and wonderful experience.’

Subsequent horn virtuosos such as Alan Civil, David Pyatt and Richard Watkins have stepped up to the plate and made satisfying and commanding performances of this work.

I wish that I appreciated Lord Berners (The Right Honourable Sir Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson, 14th Baron Berners) ballet score, The Wedding Bouquet. A concert performance of this work was heard on the same evening as the Arnold Concerto.

On one level this is delightful score. On the other hand, for many people the score is ruined by the abstract text. In form, it is a light-hearted satire majoring on a French provincial wedding introducing a philandering bridegroom, his wife Julia and the ‘other woman.’

The work is a ‘ballet-pantomime’ derived from a play by Gertrude Stein, called They must be Wedded to their Wife.  For practical and commercial reasons, the title was shortened to The Wedding Bouquet. Lord Berners wrote the music and designed both the set and the costumes. The choreography was by Frederick Ashton. The premiere performance had been at the Sadler’s Wells Theatre on 27th April 1937. The cast included Ninette de Valois as the maid Webster, Margot Fonteyn as Julia, and Robert Helpmann as the Bridegroom. The ballet was conducted by Constant Lambert.

Musically, the score is full of good things. Often, there is a touch of Gilbert and Sullivan about the proceedings, both musically and textually. The music publisher (Wise Music) provides the following note: ‘the words explained the action, introduced the characters, made utterly irrelevant comments, worked themselves into a frenzied rhythmical accompaniment or injected an occasional apt phrase that devastated dancers and audience alike.’ The final paragraph sums up my feelings about this work: ‘Not all of the words have ever been really intelligible but gradually the audience got to know certain phrases by heart and the ballet has a devoted public, although inevitably it has always been a rather special one and to this day there are people who detest the whole affair, don't 'understand' it, and think it an absurd waste of time and talent.’ My jury is still out on my reaction to this score.

Finally, during the Second World War, a version of The Wedding Bouquet was devised which replaced the chorus and soloists with a narrator. It was hardly successful.

To be continued…

Edward Cowie: Orchestral Music on Metier

In 1984 Hyperion Records (A66120) released a significant LP of two major works by Edward Cowie – the Clarinet Concerto No.2 and the Concerto for Orchestra. This was just after the European advent of the compact disc in 1983. Alas, this recording never made it onto disc - until now. In danger of indulging in hyperbole, I think that if any two pieces of British music from the late 1970s/early 1980s demand to be re-presented to the musical public, it is these. In fact, this CD is my record of the year, so far. I should note my reliance on the original Hyperion sleeve notes by Andrew Burn and conversations with the composer, whilst preparing this review. For details of Edward Cowie’s life and times, I refer the reader to the opening paragraph of my review of the String Quartets published in these pages, as well as the composer’s personal website.

The hermeneutic for understanding Edward Cowie’s music is straightforward, even if the music is complex. The composer wrote that ‘Art is illusion and about transforming things: my music feeds on experiences, surroundings, the tangible and intangible world, on things that move and change.’ In other words, ‘metamorphosis’. On the other hand, nature, topography, and artworks are key stimuli in this music. I have noted before that Cowie has a wide range of extra musical interests and talent including ornithology, field studies, painting, and broadcasting. These pursuits all feed into his compositions.

It is no secret that the wonderful land/seascape of Morecambe Bay has inspired much of Cowie’s music. Such places as Leighton Moss, Martinmere and the wide panoramas gained from Hest Bank have made themselves felt in his music. An early celebration of this topography was found in his choral Gesangbuch (1975), which is effectively Cowie’s Four Seasons. This music displayed a vast range of timbres and extended vocal and instrumental techniques.

The Concerto for Orchestra also celebrates the numinous impact of Morecambe Bay. The work was completed in 1982 and was premiered by Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Howard Williams. It is dedicated to fellow composer, and Cowie’s teacher, Alexander Goehr. The piece carries a subtitle, which allows the listener to appreciate what is going on: ‘Studies in the Movement of Water.’ It is known that Cowie made an extensive set of drawings, paintings and photographs of the little Rivers Kent, Greta, and the larger Lune, all flowing into Morecambe Bay and out into the Irish Sea. The Bay is surrounded by a varied landscape: The Lake District Mountains, the pastoral fields of Furness, and the wide-ranging sand and mud banks, all showcased by amazing sunsets. On the downside, there are wind factories, a nuclear power station and gas platforms - all of which are (possibly) necessary evils.

Andrew Burn has observed that the waters of the bay ‘create a kaleidoscope of currents’ that play into the pre-compositional material that Cowie had generated. The composer has written that this provides ‘a continuum alternately turbulent, still, turbulent, of this wonderful ever-changing element: a continuous stream of impulses which can move as a great wave or a small ripple.’ All this imagery has been poured into a three-part musical mould. The opening and closing sections, which are fast and dissonant, bookend a slow, magical atmosphere that is almost ‘tonal’ in its impact. There is no repetition as such in this music, which develops organically from the start to finish. I hazard this opinion without studying the score. Instrumentally, the Concerto for Orchestra presents overlapping sounds. No matter how the orchestra has been divided up, there is always depth to the proceedings. It is like Morecambe Bay itself. Water lies at various depths and currents that move and criss-cross in a multitude of patterns. The music often sounds dissonant in a positive way, with some degree of consonance to provide contrast and repose.

The whole experience is a virtuosic display for the entire orchestra: it is not designed to showcase individual soloists. Despite the intricacy of the Concerto for Orchestra, this present performance never loses its place or gets out of hand. As The Times (10 September 1983) reviewer notes at the work’s Prom Premiere (9 September 1983) the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic under Howard Williams ‘met the rising tides of complexity with impressive staunchness.’

The Clarinet Concerto No.2 was composed some 45 years ago in 1975. It was written ‘in homage to the virtuosity and artistry of Alan Hacker.’ The work is scored for brass, percussion, and strings. Apart from the soloist, there is no woodwind. The work was premiered by Janet Hilton and the BBC Northern Symphony Orchestra under Norman Del Mar in 1977.

One criticism levelled at this Concerto needs to be addressed. AW writing in The Gramophone (January 1985) suggests that ‘one fears that the soloist may be reduced to the role of a mere bystander by the sheer power of the orchestration and the urgency of the orchestral debate.’ In defence, the composer has reminded me that the character of the work pitches elemental forces of nature against the fragile, and sometimes fearful, near madness of John Ruskin. Readers will recall that the great Victorian polymath owned Brantwood on the shores of Coniston Water. It is well known that Ruskin was beset by phobias which sometimes occurred as he walked the fells. In swirling mists, he would imagine that he was beset by ‘dragons bent on his destruction.’ It is this struggle between these horrors and the tranquillity of the lakeside that infuses the Clarinet Concerto with its intensity, drama, and ultimate repose. Sometimes, it seems that even the soloist may lose their sanity. Quite deliberately, then, the clarinettist is occasionally nearly submerged.

This must be one of the most demanding clarinet concertos in the repertoire: it is certainly one of the best. As alluded to above, Alan Hacker is never ‘phased’ by problems of projection in this recording. The balance of musical dynamics is critical in this work. Cowie has told me that he spends more time crafting them [dynamics] than any other aspect of the composition. The effect of this labour is self-evident to the listener.

The excellent text written by Andrew Burns from the original Hyperion LP has not been included in the liner notes. I understand that this was for copyright reasons, but it seems to me a significant omission. There is little technical, historical, or analytical information given in the new notes about either work. I was fortunate to have a scan of the rear cover of the LP so was able to consult this in the preparation of my review. Apart from that, the liner notes are excellent, with a stunning painting by Heather Cowie entitled ‘Ocean Harmony.’ Interestingly, the sleeve of the original LP was painted by Edward. There is also an essay by the composer, ‘34 Years On’ (how time flies) in which Cowie considers his response and recalls his reaction to both works. There is an excellent drawing of the composer writing his Concerto for Orchestra made by John Eveleigh and an evocative photo of Cowie on the shores of Morecambe Bay in 1985. How we looked in those days! A short appreciative note by the conductor Howard Williams and a good biography of the composer conclude this insert.

The performance of both these works are first rate. Age has not dimmed their power and impact. The recording engineers have done an excellent job repristinating this Hyperion recording. All the overlapping textures and ‘structural layering’ of both works are always clear and focused. The soloist, the orchestra and the conductor have done a splendid job in keeping all these interlocking musical events in equilibrium.

This amazing CD presents music that is in the ‘premiere division’. Edward Cowie’s work is required listening for all enthusiasts of 20th century British Music. The Concerto for Orchestra takes its honourable place in a trajectory from Paul Hindemith to André Previn, by way of major examples by Béla Bartók, Roberto Gerhard, and Michael Tippett.

Finally, I was delighted to catch up with this work: I have not heard it since the Prom Premiere at the Albert Hall half a lifetime ago.

Track Listing:
Edward COWIE (b.1943)
Clarinet Concerto No. 2 (1979-80)
Concerto for Orchestra (1981-82)
Alan Hacker (clarinet), Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra/Howard Williams
Rec. Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool on 2 November 1983 (Concerto for Orchestra). 29 January 1984 (Clarinet Concerto No. 2)
MÉTIER msv 92108
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Ian Venables: Requiem

For this review, I rely heavily on the excellent liner notes written by John Quinn. Ian Venables originally demurred from composing a full-blown Requiem. However, after agreeing to write a short work suitable for a memorial service, he turned to the Latin Mass of the Dead, and selected the Introit, ‘Requiem aeternam’. This was duly written and performed at a service commemorating the life and death of Doreen Somerville, the mother of the composer’s friends Bryce and his sister Cynthia. After the success of this beautiful piece, Adrian Partington, convinced Venables of the need to ‘complete’ his Requiem. It was premiered by the Gloucester Cathedral Choir during November 2018.

Ian Venables has omitted certain sections from the ‘traditional’ order of the Requiem, including most of the long ‘Dies Irae’ (Days of Wrath), except for the final ‘Pie Jesu’. Neither has he set the ‘In Paradisium’ but concludes the work with the exquisite ‘Lux æterna’ (Eternal Light).

The overall impression of this Requiem is one of continuity with manyy of the great examples from the past, including obvious exemplars such as Fauré and Duruflé. It presents a studied use of modal melodies and harmonies, but not eschewing conventional tonality and occasional excursions into chromaticism. As has been pointed out by Roderic Dunnett, Venables does not fall for the static, added note harmonies of Arvo Pärt and his acolytes. Neither does he utilise the ‘pop’ idiom of Andrew Lloyd Webber. If anything, this work lies in a trajectory of good solid Anglican choral writing including such luminaries as W.H. Harris, Charles Wood and not forgetting Ralph Vaughan Williams.

A perfect balance has been struck between contrapuntal and homophonic writing as well as some delightful unison passages. The listener will immediately notice the effective organ accompaniment. This is hardly surprising as Ian Venables is also a wholly accomplished organist.

There are recurring elements in this score that display the composer’s skill at creating a subtly unified work. In this cyclical work, the first movement presents material that occurs throughout the piece.  The entire score is largely restrained, making the occasional musical outbursts infinitely more effective. Venables has written (introduction to the published score) that, ‘As a song composer, I have naturally included elements of word-painting to highlight key moments in any text and I felt that the Requiem required the same approach.’

Is this Requiem designed for liturgical use or the concert hall? It has been used during the All Souls Requiem Eucharist at Gloucester Cathedral, with considerable critical acclaim. On the other hand, I believe that if it were orchestrated it would neatly fill the first or second half of a ‘secular’ orchestral/choral concert in one of our large venues.

Finally, although, I ‘get’ the whole concept of ‘Requiems’ as liturgical events, I feel that this work, written in Worcester and premiered in Gloucester, is equally evocative of the River Severn, which flows through both towns. I recall Herbert Howells’s masterpiece, the Missa Sabrinensis, which I believe is a ‘tone-poem’ evoking the mystery of Sabrina’s River as a metaphor for an approach to God or the ‘Ground of Being’. This is delivered through ‘nature mysticism’ and a connection to history, both Christian and Pagan. I think that Venables’s Requiem provides the listener with an equally tangible connection to the numinous. I for one, would be happy to approach Eternity listening to the beautiful ‘Lux æterna’ from Venables’s Requiem whilst spending my last moments on the banks of the Severn near Framilode.

My favourite anthem on this CD is John Sander’s ‘Dedication’ written in 2003 for a wedding celebration. The text is by the American Congregationalist Minister Howard A Walter (1883-1918). This a near perfect fusion of words and music that rises and falls to two restrained climaxes. It is a positive affirmation of a ‘plan for life’, ending with the lines ‘I would look up, and laugh, and love, and live.’ What more can we ask of living? John Sanders was organist and Master of the Choristers at Gloucester Cathedral between 1967 and 1994.

If I am honest, John Joubert’s ‘O Eternal God’, op.183 is my least favourite piece on this remarkable CD. The anthem was composed to celebrate his 90^th birthday during March 2017. The text, which is a short prayer, was written by the English cleric Symon Patrick (1626-1707), onetime Bishop of Ely. The anthem seems to me a little unbalanced between the perfect repose of the opening and the anguished cry of the dissonant harmonies and the high-pitched melismatic phrases in the middle and concluding sections. This does not reflect the tenor of the text. Interestingly, Ian Venables studied orchestration with Joubert in the early 1990s. 

Ivor Gurney’s ‘God Mastering Me’ is a rare opportunity to hear a choral work from his pen. Best known for his large number of song settings, Gurney wrote precious little for choir. The liner notes mention a Psalm chant and two anthems: ‘Since I believe in God the father almighty’ (1925), and the present work composed between 1921 and 1922.  Gurney set the first verse of Gerard Manley Hopkins’s well-known, but I guess rarely read poem, ‘The Wreck of the Deutschland’. I have not seen the score for this work, but clearly Gurney eschews counterpoint for a largely chordal setting. The organ part is impressive and important. The anthem was edited for performance by Venables and was premiered in 2015 by the present choir.

Ian Venables ‘O Sing Aloud to God’ (1993) is a rare treasure. In fact, it is the composer’ earliest choral composition. It was commissioned by Cantorus Novi and their musical director David Sorward and was premiered in Cirencester Parish Church on 29 January 1994.The anthem is a setting of a text drawn from three psalms, 77, 81 and 107. The work balances ‘jubilant’ opening and closing sections with a deeply felt mediation. The listener will hear echoes of Howells and Vaughan Williams in this anthem. Strangely, I was unable to tie the text down to the relevant psalms.

The liner notes explain that is anthem dedicated to Christopher Palmer (1946-95), who was a musical polymath, best recalled, perhaps, for his Herbert Howells: a centenary celebration published by Thames in 1992, editing The Britten Companion (1984) and his masterly Impressionism in Music (1973).

The liner notes give a great introduction to all these works as well as setting them in context. There are short biographies of the composer, the Choir of Gloucester Cathedral, their director Ian Partington and Assistant Director and Cathedral Organist, Jonathan Hope. The texts of all the works are included with an English translation of the Latin Requiem. The centrefold features a black and white photograph of the choir. The recording, made in the Cathedral, is ideal in every sense. Sitting in the ‘music room’, close your eyes and you are in there in the nave. And the performances are always sympathetic, clear sounding and exquisitely poised.  

This is a CD to be recommended. I enjoyed the anthems, with one exception. The main event is clearly Ian Venables transcendent Requiem, which surely takes its place with Fauré, Duruflé and Howells. It is truly a work of devotion, both to God and the topographical ambience of the Three Choirs Festival landscape.

Track Listing:
Ian VENABLES (b.1955) Requiem, op.48 (2018)
John SANDERS (1933-2003) Dedication (2003)
John JOUBERT (1927-2019) O eternal God, op.183 (2017)
Ivor GURNEY (1890-1937) ed. Ian VENABLES God mastering me (1921/2)
Ian VENABLES O Sing Aloud to God (1993)
Choir of Gloucester Cathedral/Adrian Partington; Jonathan Hope (organ); Catherine Perfect (alto) (Kyrie); Arthur Johnson (treble) (Pie Jesu); Charles Lucas (treble) (Joubert); Alex Taylor (treble) (Kyrie); Matthew Clark (baritone) (Libera Me)
Rec. Gloucester Cathedral on November 12 & 13, 2019
SOMM SOMMCD 0618

Promenade Concert British Novelties for 1920 Part 4

This concluding review of Proms Novelties (Premieres) from a century ago looks at three rarities. None of these pieces has completely caught the musical public’s imagination with only one having had a professional modern recording. To be sure, Montague Phillips Piano Concerto No.2 did have a certain caché in the pre-Second World War years, and had a revival in the early 1960s, under the baton of Vilem Tausky.  A recording of Tausky and the BBC Concert Orchestra dating from December 1963 has been uploaded to YouTube.

Over the past 25 years or so, many ‘romantic’ piano concertos by British composers have been recorded. I guess that the initial impetus to this was the novel CD issued by (Hyperion CDA66820) which featured Hubert Parry’s Piano Concerto in F sharp major and Charles Villiers Stanford’s Piano Concerto No.1 in G major, op.59.  Since then concertos by Alexander Mackenzie, Donald Tovey, Josef Holbrooke, William Alwyn, Haydn Wood, Stanley Bate,  William Sterndale Bennett, Francis Edward Bache, York Bowen, Howard Ferguson, Julius Benedict, Walter MacFarren, Arthur Somervell, Frederick Cowen, Cyril Scott, Cipriani Potter and Roger Sacheverell Coke have been recorded by Hyperion or other innovative record companies such as SOMM, Dutton Epoch, Lyrita and Naxos.

On September 9 1920 Montague Phillips conducted the first performance of his Pianoforte Concerto at the Queen’s Hall. The Musical Times (1 October 1920) reported that the work ‘has many attractive qualities and boasts at least two good tunes, which is quite an ample ration for a Concerto in these days. It suffers rather from an attempt to say too much and to make the foundation bear a superstructure too heavy for its strength. The orchestration is rather too voluptuous and too thick…but there are several places in which particularly good use is made of violoncello tone. The pianoforte part is brilliantly written, but there is a certain sameness in the making of the patterns for the passage work. Mr. William G. James played it very effectively.’

In 2008 Montague Phillips First and Second Piano Concertos were issued on the Dutton Epoch label (CDLX7206). They were coupled with a rarity by Victor Hely-Hutchinson, The Young Idea: Rhapsody for piano and orchestra.  Rob Barnett, reviewing this disc for MusicWeb International (8 July 2008) suggested that ‘The Second Concerto…[had] a slightly more tangy harmonic edge [than the First]. The music is still high on rhetoric with good ideas not in short supply. Some stock romantic gestures will be recognised but there is plenty to engage the attention and the heart. Phillips' writing in this work sometimes recalls the Bliss Piano Concerto. The second movement is more relaxed but still has a lean energetic charge. The finale has a mariner's swagger and something of Elgar's sweeping ‘nobilmente’ but with more of a surrender to sentimentality and a redolence of Harty's Piano Concerto.’

Frederick Laurence’s The Dance of the Witch Girl for orchestra was premiered on 12 October 1920. It was its first and last Prom performance.  There is no recording of this work available. The press reported that the music was ‘clever and on modern lines’ (The Strad, October 1920).  The Musical Times considered that ‘Mr Frederick Laurence is another young English musician who has all ultra-modern music at his fingers’ ends, and in his Dance of the Witch-Girl he made effective use of his knowledge. It is well put together, and some of the orchestral effects are fresh and picturesque. Here too the music affords no grounds for prophesying as to his future. The public liked the work extremely.’  I wonder if the score of this work is lurking in an archive somewhere. Looking at the information available on the composer suggests that there is considerable unearthing of his life and work to be undertaken.

Landon Ronald’s Orchestral Suite The Garden of Allah began life as incidental music for a melodrama adapted from Robert Hitchens’s eponymous novel. The plot of the play would barely pass muster one hundred years on. Stories of recusant monks setting off in search of life experience and enlightenment seem passé, although some of the stage effects may still have some appeal. There were umpteen live animals on stage including sheep, goats, and camels. During one performance, the special effects creating a sandstorm failed. The front rows had to be ‘dug out.’ Clearly play, scenery, props and music reflect contemporary received notions of what life and times were like in ‘mystic’ Arabia. The derived Suite of music contains four movements: ‘Prelude’, ‘In an Eastern Garden’, ‘Kyrie Eleison’ and ‘Dance of the Ouled Nail’.  The Musical Times (October 1920) reported that ‘it is good incidental music - that is to say, it is picturesque and intelligible - and goes along very easily. It is difficult now to say anything new in the Oriental idiom, and the composer himself would probably be the first to disclaim any ambitious intentions in that direction.’ The first concert performance of this suite was given on Tuesday 14 September at the Queen’s Hall.  A performance of The Garden of Allah played by the Royal Albert Hall Orchestra conducted by Landon Ronald has been uploaded to YouTube. The violin soloist in the second movement is played by Arthur Beckwith. The recording was made on Saturday 17 July 1920. This Suite is probably worth the occasional revival, and possibly a new recording, if only for the subtle echoes of Gustav Holst’s Beni Mora written ten years previously in 1910.

Concluded.

Promenade Concert British Novelties for 1920 Part 3

Eugene Goossens’s The Eternal Rhythm is believed to have been composed in 1913, although there seems to be no definite date. The work received its first performance at the Promenade Concerts on 19 October 1920. There were two further performances: firstly, at one of the composer’s ‘contemporary concerts’ in June 1921 and secondly, at the inaugural concert of the International Society of Contemporary Music (ISCM) during December 1922. 

Certainly, there appears to have been few further hearings of this work after that performance. In fact, Goossens suggests in his autobiography, Overture and Beginners, that the work had been lost or perhaps even destroyed. Fortunately, a copy of the score and the orchestral parts turned up at J.& W. Chesters and allowed Vernon Handley and the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra to make the ‘World Premiere Recording’ in 1995.

The CD liner notes of the only recording make a very pertinent comment: they suggest that if Sir Charles Villiers Stanford, Goossens teacher at the Royal College of Music, had ‘set his pupil the task of creating a Franco-German tone poem, with Debussy, Ravel and Richard Strauss glowing on every page, The Eternal Rhythm would have fitted the bill magnificently.’ I would go a little further and suggest that Goossens has taken cues from Frank Bridge, Fred. Delius and, perhaps more vitally, Arnold Bax, in the genesis of this work. However, this piece is not about ‘hunting the influence.’ It is not a parody or a pastiche of anyone’s music.

From the first bar to the last, The Eternal Rhythm shimmers with a kind of impressionism that is relatively rare in music- especially English music. Perhaps Bridge’s Summer or Enter Spring are called to mind. It is unfair to suggest that it does not have an ‘English’ feel to it although at times the mood of this work seems more ‘Celtic’ that ‘Gallic’, but was still in the tradition of early 20th century English music. The musical imagery may as well suggest a hazy day on the Downs as much as a jog round the Rings of Kerry. It depends on the listener’s mood.

The Eternal Rhythm can be heard on ABC Classics 476 7632. The author of the CD notes wonders why the composer chose to suppress, or even consider to destroy this work. Perhaps it was due to criticism that he somehow lacked his own voice? Maybe he felt that this work ‘played into their (these critics) hands?’ For example, R.H. Hull wrote in Music & Letters (October 1932) ‘An early concern with rhythmic devices which had attracted him in the music of foreign contemporaries had incited Goossens to a similar ingenuity in a number of somewhat imitative writings. In The Eternal Rhythm he utilises previous knowledge to speak his own mind very much. This composition is a vital summary of artistic experience up to the moment combined with resolute promise of release from external influence’. Yet even here Hull in not suggesting parody. He admits that it is a synthesis rather than a copy.

All these concerns do not trouble the listener after 100 years have passed. We are fortunate in having a piece of music that is well constructed, brilliantly scored, and downright interesting. It is a work that both entertains and moves the listener. What more can anyone ask of a work? One thing is for sure - if The Eternal Rhythm had been composed by a Frenchman or a German it would have been in the repertoire, both in those countries and in British concert halls. It is that impressive! The Handley recording has been uploaded to YouTube.  

Herbert Howells’s Merry Eye was written in 1920 whilst the composer and his newly wed wife were staying at Soudley in Gloucestershire: it was their honeymoon. The sleeve notes from the Lyrita CD quote Howells's diary: - ‘Merry-Eye occupied me often on brief and early walks on the hilltops. Dorothy and I legged over Bailey Hilland saw miles of the Cotswolds and Severn’.

Howells had received a commission for a new work for that years Promenade Concert and, ‘unfortunately’, the wedding had delayed work on this piece.  The listener can only wonder as to what Mrs Howells felt about Herbert’s workload at this time!

In his programme note for the concert, Howells wrote that ‘This piece has not necessarily a program; but if an idea of such be entertained, it can be supposed that the listener meets with an average-type character out of the domain of folklore - called ‘Merry-Eye’ - who reveals more about himself and his personality than folklore itself ever tells of him or his kind. Much that he relates is true to his name and to such part of his history as is common reading - public property; much else, on the other hand, contradicts this.’

The work is a small tone poem, lasting just under nine minutes. The critic Marion Scott, reviewing the Prom premiere (Christian Science Monitor, 30 October 1920) considered that Merry Eye was ‘what may be called a big-little work and possesses qualities which pique the listener's attention. Short as to length, delicately handled, and scored for a small orchestra, it achieves a music effect as if it were a symphonic poem. Upon the surface it appears to be light music; beneath there runs a vein of deep seriousness.’

Two recordings of this work are currently available: Lyrita SRCD245 and Dutton Epoch CDLX7317. The former has been uploaded to YouTube.

To be concluded...