Edgar Bainton: Celtic Sketches Op.23

I imagine that no-one alive today has heard this work. And I guess that unless the lost manuscript turns up, it will never be heard again. There were performances of this work at Newcastle, Bournemouth and the Henry Wood Promenade Concerts during 1912. It is one of many lost works of British Music that tantalise the inquisitive mind. I wonder if someone knows where the score is?

The reviewer in the Musical Times wrote,

“On October 10, the sea was shown in two of Mr. Edgar L. Bainton’s Celtic Sketches which depict, first the sorrow of women bereaved of husbands, sons, and lovers by the sea; secondly, 'Sea Rapture’; and thirdly, Pharais, the Celtic Paradise. These testify to a strong mastery of the technique of composition, but a looser grip of musical expression. They contain, however, much interesting and grateful music.”

From the Musical Times 1 November 1912

Montague Phillips: Charles II Overture

The listener does not need to be a historian to enjoy what is probably one of Montague Phillips’ masterpieces – the Charles II Overture. However an understanding of some of this great king’s achievements will certainly add to the perception of this work.

For one thing the King had a reputation as a fun-loving monarch who presented a complete contrast to the dour and quite oppressive atmosphere of Cromwell and his Commonwealth. It was the age that we can perhaps refer to as ‘Merry Olde England.’ The king enjoyed the sporting life, in particular horse racing. But it was not just entertainment that inspired him. He was a great patron of the arts and sciences. He launched a major rebuilding of that bastion of pageantry, Windsor Castle and laid the foundations of the Greenwich Observatory. He was patron for the Chelsea Hospital, founded for war veterans who even today wear their distinctive uniforms. He founded the Royal Society. But perhaps most significantly for the architectural skyline was his support of Sir Christopher Wren’s design and building of St Paul’s Cathedral. Of course there was the down side to his reign – he had to face the immense problems caused by the plague and the Great Fire of London.

And there was the romance too. Throughout his reign he had a string of ‘lady friends’ the most famous of these being Nell Gwynne. He was the father of some 13 illegitimate children, all of whom he supported financially.

All of this activity is well described in this overture –except perhaps his fecundity! I accept that in many ways it is like a film score. Not so much the costume dramas that the BBC would make nowadays – but more the nineteen fifties. It is not too difficult to imagine the images flicking past in an early example of glorious ‘Technicolor.’

The works starts immediately with a vigorous upbeat opening – it could almost be described as swashbuckling. There is definitely something of the sea about it. Soon there are some pseudo fanfares suggesting the approach of the Royal Party. However this mood dies away quickly and is replaced by what may be regarded as the heart of the overture. With music that is totally worthy of Sir Edward Elgar the mood becomes romantic. This section perhaps alludes to a secret meeting between Charles and Nell Gwynne at ‘The Dove’ public house in Hammersmith? Or maybe it is a view of Windsor Castle across the Great Park? Who knows? But this romantic string theme quite takes hold of the work. There is something about this music that reminds me of Percy Whitlock’s Organ Symphony, although I doubt any cross influence it must have been the music that was in the air at this time. Both works were composed in 1936. The romantic mood subsides a bit only to be replaced by a short passage for ‘string quartet.’ After some harp arpeggios the music gets back into the swing again. A rather good fugato for strings leads into music of pageantry. After another lull the bustle and ceremonial begins for the last time. With music that William Walton would have been proud to have composed, the overture reprises the opening material and a last restatement of the romantic theme. The build up to the impressive coda is made all the more impressive by the effective brass writing. The work concludes with the listener totally engulfed with joi d’vivre. Long Live the King!

Hear this work on Dutton 7158

Len Stevens: Lido Fashion Parade

To my mind, this piece epitomises much light music from the nineteen-fifties. Of course, if I am honest I was only around for the second-half of that decade and I was presumably hearing this music on the ‘Light Programme’- subliminally! However, later years and the explosion of CD releases of this underrated genre have allowed me (and many others) to gain a deeper understanding and a good appreciation of this era.

Now, when I first heard the title of this piece, it took me back in time. I was about 5 years old when my parents first took me to Morecambe in Lancashire. It was round about the same time that ‘Larry’ Olivier was making the 1960 film The Entertainer at that resort. Morecambe was in its last flush of glory before Majorca and Costa Brava caused it to become a shadow of itself. Please do not get me wrong, I still love the town – with its long promenade and stunning views towards the Lake District, the wide open expanse of the Bay and the impressive Victorian architecture. It is what is gone that distresses me: the piers –both of them, the old sailing ship, the amusement park with the big dipper and the miniature railway with locomotives by Bassett-Lowke. But most of all I miss the Lido. It was where I first learnt to swim in a somewhat splashy half-hearted manner. It was where I first mused over beauty contests and swimming galas - before they became politically incorrect. It is where I first marvelled at ‘older boys’ diving from the top board – how I envied them! I never did manage to reach the top board. And of course 'wiser' heads have now removed all such dangerous things from what few swimming pools are left in this country.

So this piece of music did not disappoint me. When I ‘spun the disc’ it brought all this back for me. Of course I do not know what Len Stevens actually had in mind when he wrote this tune – perhaps it was the Serpentine Lido, or the one at Hastings or Plymouth – I guess it was not Morecambe. Or, it may even have been named after it was written – simply as a tag for film directors who needed a piece of music to accompany a specific scene in their documentaries or features. Who knows? But to my ears this music recreates all that atmosphere of Morecambe nearly half a century ago – the fun, the excitement and the ice-cream, the cricket on the sands! It reminds me most particularly of my first visit to England (I was born in Glasgow) and my first visit to a ‘classic’ Lancashire sea-side resort. I have never forgotten that fort-night – and most probably never will.

The actual score of Lido Fashion Parade is a cornucopia of ideas and images. The mood of the music is positive, there is not an ounce of sadness, regret or introspection here. Naturally it describes a sunny day – not a cloud in the sky: not a drop of rain to dampen the proceedings. Of course why should there be! I guess the only tears at the fashion parade would be from the winner. The losers would hide their sorrow till after the crowds had gone…

Surely if music can bring all these memories flooding into my mind, it must be a sign of an impressive piece. The composer and the music have done their job well.

Hear this piece performed by the Crawford Light Orchestra, and many other attractive works on Guild GLCD 5142.

Benjamin Britten: an early review in the New York Times

The 1934 International Society for Contemporary Music was at the time probably most famous for the ‘Psalm for soprano and orchestra’ by Igor Markevitch and Alban Berg’s Lyric Suite with its “delicate caressing lyric quality” – which was a surprise to an audience that probably expected more dissonance and a sprinkling of quartertones. The latter work is justly famous and the former appears to have disappeared into virtual oblivion – although Marco Polo does have a release of that work in its catalogue.

From the perspective of 2008, the work that endured was the Ravel Piano Concerto for left hand. Arthur Honegger’s Symphonic Movement No.3 and Bartok’s Rhapsody for violin and orchestra is still in the repertoire.

From the British point of view there was only one work. This was by the young, nineteen year old Benjain Britten who was represented by his Phantasy for oboe, violin, viola and ‘cello.

The New York Times reviewer writing from Florence on April 7 1934 was not impressed. Writing about the second chamber music programme he says:-

“With the partial exception of the Sinfonietta for strings by the twenty-six year-old Swede Lars Erik Larsson, all of the second chamber program – Fantasy (sic) for oboe, violin, viola and ‘cello by Benjamin Britten (England, 1913): Trio by Heinrich Neugeboren (Hungary); Cantata on Old German Lieder for flute, oboe d’amore, lute, viola d’amore, viola de gamba, ‘cello and drum by Richard Sturzenegger (Zurich, 1905); Quartettino by Leopold Spinner (Austria); Violin Sonata by Jaroslav Jenek (Prague, 1906) and Five Songs for baritone and piano by Hans Erich Apostel (Vienna, 1901) – appeared styleless concoctions of old and new, hopelessly mediocre and tiresome, and in the case of the Jezek Sonata, downright ugly and exasperating in its interminable vacuity.” [New York Times 24 April 1934]

Our opinion of the Phantasy may be more nuanced some seventy four years later!

Malcolm Arnold: Scherzetto for clarinet and orchestra from ‘You know what sailors are.’

The Scherzetto began life as a part of the score to 'You Know What Sailors Are', which was a rather weak, but fun, comedy set in the days of the Cold War. The film starred Donald Sindon and Michael Horden. The plot of the film is contrived:- some British naval officers are on a bit of a wild night out. As part of the slightly drunken horseplay an old pram and pawn-broker’s sign are attached to the stern of a foreign vessel – the Agraria. The assembly is painted naval-grey. The following day, an officer sees the strange device and assumes that the pram and balls are actually part of the foreign power’s top-secret radar system. Immediately the British Admiralty demands that their ships receive a similar piece of equipment…the plot goes from bad to worse…

The Scherzetto is a very short piece, yet it has all the hallmarks of Malcolm Arnold’s art: engaging tunes, humour, a slightly reflective middle eight and superb scoring – all in the space of about two and half minutes.

Christopher Palmer states that this is 'Mickey Mouse' music in so far as the music “follows and duplicates every detail of the action.” This is a standard procedure in many comedy films and cartoons. Paul Harris writes in the Naxos programme notes that the composer “would always invite his friends to play for him in his film sections and …he wrote this bubbling showpiece for the great clarinettist Jack Thurston. Sadly Thurston was to die the same year as the film’s premiere so in many ways it was a fitting, if somewhat humorous tribute to his friend.

The stars of this somewhat tenuous plot, apart from the two mentioned above, are Akim Tamiroff and Dora Bryan. There are excellent character pieces played by Naunton Wayne, Bill Kerr, Shirley Eaton and Cyril Chamberlain.

Unfortunately the film does not appear to be available of DVD, yet listeners are lucky in having three versions of the derived work – on Chandos, Hyperion and on Naxos. The first two are arranged for clarinet and orchestra and the last for clarinet and piano. The true Arnold enthusiast will demand all three!

Fred Barlow: An Unknown Composer

I found this in an old copy of The Chesterian. I publish the article as it stands, but I do wonder what ever happened to him and his music. I do know that in 1926 he became a Quaker.

FRED BARLOW, an Anglo-French composer, was born on 2 October 1881. He did not begin to devote himself to composition until the comparatively advanced age of about a score of years, the career chosen by him being that of an engineer. It was not until he had reached the age of 36 that he came to the decision of devoting himself entirely to the art of music, which had hitherto been obliged to content itself with a secondary place, being somewhat dominated by the composer’s profession.

Fred Barlow at first worked at composition in an auto-didactic manner, availing himself merely of such advice as he happened to pickup here and there; but on having come to live in Paris, some ten years ago, he began very seriously to study composition and counterpoint under the guidance of Jean Huré, to whom he is indebted for the best part of his musical education.

Several of the works by Fred Barlow, which naturally enough betray a good deal of French influence, but which nevertheless possess some distinctly personal features, have been performed in France and elsewhere on the Continent with considerable success. Two of the most important and enterprising among the Musical Societies in Paris, the Société Musicale Indépendante and the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts in particular, have repeatedly made a feature of Fred Barlow’s works in their programmes.

The following are the most important works by Fred Barlow so far:-

Sonata for violin and piano (1909-1910)

Sonata for cello and piano (1911-1912)

Pater Noster for tenor solo, mixed chorus and organ (1913)

Ave Maria for voice and organ (1914-1915)

Five Chinese Poems for voice and piano (or orchestra)

Five Small Motets for female voices

There is a deal of incidental and other stage music, songs and other small works.

Fred Barlow died on 3 January 1951.

Arnold Bax: The earliest known article on his music.

Recently I located this article in the Monthly Musical Record. According to Lewis Foreman's magisterial biography of the composer it is the first know pen-portrait of the composer. There are a number of earlier notices of performances - but this is the first attempt at giving a brief outline of Bax's life and works at that time. I have published it as written with one or two minor editorial changes. I include a few footnotes for completeness.

We have great pleasure in publishing in this number a portrait [1] of Mr. Arnold Bax, who was born in 1883, and entered the Royal Academy of Music in 1900, where he studied composition for five years under Professor Frederick Corder. He made his debut as a composer in 1903 at the old St. James Hall. Since that date he has been prolific in the matter of composition. A Celtic Song Cycle [2] (settings of some of Fiona Macleod’s poems) was produced by Mr. Thomas Dunhill at one of his British chamber-music concerts in 1907, and several large works were included in the programmes of Mr. Balfour Gardiner’s two seasons of concerts at the Queen’s Hall [3] in 1912 and 1913, notably a large choral work, Enchanted Summer, which was subsequently performed at one of the London Choral Society’s concerts [4] under Mr. Arthur Fagge.

A new orchestral work in four movements, Spring Fire, [5] was down for performance at last year’s Norwich Festival, which did not take place owing to the war. Much of Mr. Bax’s music is steeped in the mysterious atmosphere of Celtic mythology. In this respect it has some affinity with the poetry of Mr. W.B. Yeats. Nearly all the orchestral works are, according to the composer himself, “based upon aspects and moods of external nature and their relation to human emotion.”

Mr. Bax’s latest compositions include a Piano Quintet and an orchestral poem, The Garden of Fand, inspired by the legend of enchanted isles in the Atlantic, off the western shore of Ireland: and some highly interesting piano solos, entitled In a Vodka Shop, The Princess’s Rose Garden, Sleepy Head and Apple-Blossom Time.

The Monthly Musical Record November 1 1915. (originally taken from the programme book of the Festival of Britain, 1915)

Notes:

[1] I have made an editorial decision to reproduce the photo that accompanied this article even though it does not scan to a particularly high quality!

[2] A Celtic Song Cycle (Fiona Macleod): Eilidh my Fawn; Closing Doors; The Dark Eyes to Mine; A Celtic Lullaby; At the Last. This was performed at the Queen’s Hall, London on 7 June 1907. The soloist was Miss Ethel Lister with Thomas Dunhill(?) at the piano.

[3] Included the Festival Overture on 27 March 1912 and Enchanted Summer 13 March 1912 The soloists for this work were Miss Caroline Hatchard and Miss Carrie Tubb. The London Choral Society and the New Symphony Orchestra were conducted by Mr. Arthur Fagge. On 4 March 1913 a performance of the Christmas Eve on the Mountains was given at the penultimate Balfour Gardiner concert of the season.

[4] Performed on 4 December 1914.

[5] Spring Fire was not performed until many years later - in 1970. It was given by the Kensington Symphony Orchestra under Leslie Head.

Geoffrey Bush: Symphony No.2 – The Guildford – a late anniversary!

I did not have my ‘blog’ at the end of 2007- however if I had I would have ‘noticed’ the half-century of one of the forgotten symphonies in the English music repertoire. Fortunately Lyrita have issued this work along with the Overture Yorick, the Music for Orchestra and the First Symphony on SRCD.252. So it is available for all to hear and to enjoy!

So approaching the 51st anniversary of its first performance…please read on!

The Second Symphony – The Guildford was commissioned as a part of the 700th anniversary of the granting of a Royal Charter to the city of Guildford. It was first performed in November 1957 by the Guildford Municipal Orchestra with the composer on the rostrum. I was unable to find any contemporary reviews of this work so I am not sure what the audience and the pundits made of it. However it did not regularly appear at symphonic concerts over the years and was not broadcast until the late nineteen-eighties.

The work is ‘officially’ in one continuous movement yet there are clearly four defined sections. The construction of the piece is more complex than that of the First Symphony although it does not really stress our musical appreciation. Bush has stated that this is really a ‘festive’ work – which should be listened to in that spirit. He is concerned that perhaps too much effort will be put into analysing the structure and the genesis of this piece rather than just simply enjoying it. He suggests that the listener gets ‘caught up in the prevailing atmosphere of jubilation.’

The work does not really require analysis – but a few words about each section will not be amiss. The Symphony opens with a kind of chorale theme for the various department of the orchestra. However it soon turns into a fanfare suggesting the Grand Old Duke of York or some other important person is about to arrive- although it may be a bit jazzy for some VIP’s taste. Soon the music evolves into an exciting allegro that contrasts two excellent tunes or perhaps allows them to enter into a dialogue with each other.

The ‘slow movement’ is quite definitely the heart of the work. Now I am not suggesting that there is an incipient ‘pastoralism’ in this work, but I do feel that this music evokes something of the countryside around Guildford- having spent a little time exploring the glorious Surrey Hills. But even this reflective music is interrupted by dramatic outbursts. So perhaps there is a little problem of balance in this movement? However, there are some lovely moments in this music

I am not quite sure what to make of the ‘scherzo.’ It is quite obviously a cheerful and exuberant movement with lots of ‘fun’ instrumentation, especially for woodwind. Yet somehow I am not convinced by it. Perhaps it just a little too light hearted, without pretending to be ‘light music?’

The composer describes the last movement as being a recapitulation of material from the first. Yet it seems to me that there is more energy and perhaps even more consistency of purpose in these last pages than in the rest of the Symphony. This is great stuff.

So in balance it is is an enjoyable essay but one that leads me to worry a little about the stylistic balance – yet as Geoffrey Bush insists, and I paraphrase, we need to sit back and enjoy.

With thanks to MusicWeb International

Elisabeth Lutyens: A singular Choral Work

The Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis by Elisabeth Lutyens was commissioned by Coventry Cathedral Choir in 1965. Unfortunately there is no written or even anecdotal evidence that this work was ever actually performed there.

Lutyens did not have much time for organised religion. Her mother had been a Theosophist and this had a negative impact on the young Elisabeth. Therefore, it is hardly surprising that she did not turn her mind to writing music for the Anglican, or any other, Church. This Mag and Nunc Dim is her only excursion into the field of liturgical music.

This piece is a fine example of modern choral music- with an apparent simplicity being revealed in the virtuosic complexity of rhythms and mood: Of course this work is not easy – there are great demands on the singer, and as one reviewer noted, the “dangerously exposed soprano lines”.

The work does owe much to serialism, but it would be invidious to deconstruct the tone row. However there cannot be too many Evening Services created with the twelve-tone idiom. The setting is fundamentally for SATB with a number of ‘divisi’ chords in all four voices. In spite of the ‘melody’ being derived from the tone-row, it appears to be eminently singable. Certainly the recording of this works displays no problems of ‘hitting the wrong notes.’

Yet is it not a particularly difficult work for habitués of Coventry Cathedral to have come to terms with. The litany of artists who have contributed to that place of worship read like a litany of 20th century endeavour – Jacob Epstein, John Piper, Graham Sutherland, Benjamin Britten and of course the architect himself – Sir Basil Spence. Whether one loves or loathes this cathedral, one has to accept that it has been inspirational across the board.

Listen to this work on NMC Recordings NMC - D124

Herbert Howells: An early appreciation

Recently, I found this article from the November 10 1917 edition of the Musical Standard. It is worth reprinting as it is one of the earliest profiles of Herbert Howells :-

The first performance of the Phantasy Sonata [1] for violin, of Mr Herbert Howells, by Miss Sybil Eaton, at her recital was a great success and followed the equal measure of success accorded to Lady Audrey’s Suite. [2] This young composer was born at Lydney, Gloucester, in 1892, and during the years 1905-1912 he studied piano, organ and counterpoint with Dr. Herbert Brewer, of Gloucester Cathedral. During three years he worked unassisted at composition, producing sonatas (one for violin and piano and another for organ), pieces for piano, settings of Irish poems [3] and part-songs. With these he competed for the open scholarship offered by the Royal College of Music in September, 1912, and won it.

During 1912-7 he studied composition with Sir Charles Stanford, organ with Sir Walter Parratt, counterpoint with Dr. Wood, and other subjects with Sir Hubert Parry and Dr. Walford Davies. He held successively the open, Grove and Bruce scholarships, was awarded the Sullivan prize, the Manns memorial prize, the Dove prize and the organ extemporisation prize. In 1915 he received the Tagore gold medal and the silver medal of the Worshipful Company of Musicians. He became a fellow of the Royal College of Organists in 1916.

Among the works produced at the R.C.M. concerts were the Suite for orchestra, ‘ The B’s’ Op.13, 1914; Five Songs for high voice and orchestra Op.10, 1915 the Dances for violin and orchestra Op.12, 1916; the Suite for Strings Op.27, 1917 and various chamber works.

The Piano Concerto in C minor Op.8 was produced under the direction of Sir Charles Stanford at the Queen’s Hall in July 1914.

In January, 1915, Mr. Howells began contributing articles and criticisms to the ‘Athenaeum’ and he wrote regularly for that famous journal until March 1917. In that month he accepted the post of sub-organist at Salisbury Cathedral, but was compelled to relinquish it the following summer due to ill-health.

He was one of the seven composers [4] who figured in the first list selected by the Carnegie Trustees, of those who are to have each a work published, and it is extremely probable that his Piano Quartet in A minor Op. 21 will enjoy the distinction of being the first work issued under the already famous Carnegie Publishing Scheme. Only one chamber work was selected this year.

The success of this work was responsible for the many requests Mr. Howells has received for the production in London and elsewhere of works of his composition.

This autumn the following will be or have been produced:

Lady Audrey’s Suite, for string orchestra Op.19 (by the British Quartet, Steinway Hall, October 18)

Phantasy String Quartet, Op. 25 (prize winner in 1917 Cobbett competition) by the London String Quartet, Aeolian Hall, October 25

Phantasy Sonata, violin and piano (by Miss Sybil Eaton and Mr. O’Connor Morris, Wigmore Hall, November 1)

Comedy Suite for clarinet and piano, Op.8 (by Mr. Charles Draper and Mme. Henkel, Steinway Hall, November 8)

Piano Quartet in A minor, Op.21 (at Oxford University Music Club concert, Oxford November 6)

Rhapsody for baritone solo, violin, ‘cello and organ, Op.28 [5] (at Dr. Darke’s Monday recitals, St. Michael’s Cornhill, November 26).

Elegy for stringed orchestra (at Bach Choir concert, Queen’s Hall, December)

Mr. Howells has been encouraged by Dr. R.R. Terry, of Westminster Cathedral, in composition of unaccompanied Latin choral music, much of which, including the Missa Sine Nomine, eight-part Nunc Dimittis and Gloria [6], and anthems, he has produced at Westminster Cathedral. Despite his work as a composer of Latin Church music, Mr. Howells is a Protestant.

From an unsigned article in the Musical Standard November 10 1917

Editorial Notes

[1] In 1917 Howells composed his Phantasy Sonata for violin and piano which was premiered at the Wigmore Hall by Sybil Eaton and O’Connor Morris, however in 1918 it was revised and found new life as the Sonata No 1 in E major, Op 18

[2] Lady Audrey Suite is one of the few major pieces by Howells to be unavailable on CD.

[3] Probably the Five Songs for low voice, 1911, (unpublished) The Twilight People (O'Sullivan);The Devotee (Keohler ); The Waves of Breffny (Gore-Booth); The Sorrow of Love (O'Sullivan) and The Call (Roberts)

[4] The seven works were:- Edgar Bainton’s Symphony ‘Before Sunrise’ for contralto solo, chorus and orchestra; Granville Bantock’s Hebridean Symphony; Rutland Boughton’s Opera: The Immortal Hour; Frank Bridge’s Symphonic Suite: The Sea; Herbert Howells’s Pianoforte Quartet in A minor; Sir Charles Villiers Stanford’s Opera: The Travelling Companion and Ralph Vaughan Williams’s London Symphony.

[5] This is actually Op.10 ‘By the Waters of Babylon’ Rhapsody written for Harold Darke at St. Michael’s Cornhill. The opus number has been wrongly attributed. Op. 28 is the Three Pieces for violin & piano. Thanks to the scholar Paul Spicer for this information.

[6] I cannot trace this piece in the list of works in Palmer's Herbert Howells a celebration.

Britten, Wittgenstein and Cash

Further to my review of the new Britten Piano & Orchestra CD, I received an email from Herr Martin Koch-Neutz. He gave me some very interesting information about Wittgenstein and the works that he commissioned. I quote the relevant section of my review from MusicWeb International:- “A number of works were written for the Austrian pianist Paul Wittgenstein. Perhaps the most famous of these is the Concerto by Maurice Ravel. However, there were other works by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Richard Strauss, Bohuslav Martinu and Franz Schmidt. Moreover, the story of Prokofiev’s Fourth Concerto is well known: when presented with the score of the new piece, Wittgenstein handed the work back to the composer saying –“thank-you for the concerto, but I do not understand a single note and I shall not play it.”

Paul Wittgenstein approached Britten’s publishers in 1940 with a proposal that he should write him a piece. Arrangements were finalised between the “somewhat imperious” pianist and the composer over dinner. Britten wrote to his sister, “I’ve been commissioned by a man called Wittgenstein – a one armed pianist- to write him a concerto. He pays gold so I’ll do it.” By October 1940 it was more or less complete: it was premiered on the 16 January 1942..."

Herr Koch-Neutz noted my citation of Britten concerning the payment "... He pays gold so I’ll do it." He pointed me in the direction of research by So Young Kim-Park (written in German with title "Paul Wittgenstein und die für ihn komponierten Klavierkonzerte für die linke Hand"): the relevant section of this dissertation noted that the fees for the most important compositions had been:-

Korngold (1923) $3000

Strauss - Parergon (1925) $25000 (who has been well known for his greediness)

Ravel (1930) $6000

Prokofiev (1931) $5000

Britten (1941) $700 -which seems to have been nearly half of Britten's total income in 1941!

Another composer who wrote a concerto for the pianist was Norman Demuth. He is not a name that is on the tip of every listeners tongue, with virtually no recorded music, yet somehow I feel that this piece would make an interesting discovery? One wonders how much he received for his contribution?

Benjamin Britten: works for piano and orchestra on Hyperion

"I first heard this new CD in HMV Oxford Street. I was browsing under the letter ‘B’ when I suddenly became aware of hearing a superb performance of the opening ‘Toccata’ of Britten’s Piano Concerto. It was one of the best renditions that I had ever heard – in spite of the noise in the shop and the sounds of less-challenging music percolating into the ‘classical’ section. Of course, I was brought up on Sviatoslav Richter’s fine performance of this work on the ‘old’ Decca recording with Mark Lubotsky and the English Chamber Orchestra. In addition, I have Joanna MacGregor’s notable release on Naxos. However, what I was hearing in the record-shop had a pizzazz about it that I found thrilling and thoroughly impressive. Of course, I went over to the assistant and asked him who was playing. He looked at me and said “Britten” – I was tempted to make remarks about ‘still in diapers’ etc. but I forewent sarcasm, smiled sweetly and said, “No, who is playing”? He found the cover and told me, “Steven Osborne”. Then the penny dropped: I remembered that Len Mullenger was sending me this disc for review. Now, I could not wait. Fortunately I still had a deal of browsing to do, so I heard the rest of the Concerto, Young Apollo and the first few Diversions – until my mobile went and my friend asked me where I was and when would I be arriving at The Gluepot...!"

Please read the entire review at MusicWeb International

E.J. Moeran: An Early Appreciation

I recently posted an article from the December 1924 edition of the Chesterian journal about the composer C.W. Orr. In the January number there was a similar introduction to the much better known (now) composer E.J. Moeran. It is worth re-publishing this, as it appears to be one of the earliest notices of the composer’s life and achievements. 

'On the programmes of recent chamber music concerts in London [1], a comparatively unfamiliar name has appeared frequently enough to awaken a good deal of curiosity among music lovers. It was the name E.J Moeran. Those who actually heard the performances of the works in question – a String Quartet and a Violin Sonata- soon felt their curiosity ripen into interest, and they proved anxious to know more of, and about, a composer who had, unknown to them, obviously long passed the stage of mere promise. 

E.J. Moeran was born at Spring Grove, in Middlesex, on December 31st 1894. His father was an Irishman, and his mother a member of a Norfolk family. He was educated at Uppingham from 1908 until 1912, when he left school in order to study at the Royal College of Music [1913]. In 1914, he joined the army, serving throughout the War, with the exception of a period in 1917, when he was wounded at Bullecourt. 

E.J. Moeran has lived a great part of his life at Bacton, in Norfolk, and he spent much time in collecting folk-songs there, a selection of which appeared in the Journal of the Folk-Song Society for 1923.

It is a curious fact that a composer, who now displays such a remarkable maturity at an age when many others are still groping after means of expression, should have heard no serious music in his childhood. Until the age of fourteen he did not know the sound of a full orchestra, and it was about the same time that he first made acquaintance with chamber music and choral works, drawn almost entirely from the classics. This was at Uppingham, then one of the few public schools where music was taken seriously, and where a complete Symphony was studied and performed every term.

At this time, E.J. Moeran began to study the piano, having previously received some elementary training on the violin. He made his first attempt at composition at the age of seventeen, and this was, significantly enough, a String Quartet. Since then he has written a considerable number of chamber works, practically all of which he considers worthless and prefers to withhold from the public. The String Quartet now in the press is his fourth work in that form, and he wrote two Violin Sonatas before he set to work on the one now published.

Apart from chamber music, E.J. Moeran had written some works for piano (published by Messrs. Schott & Co.), the most important of which is a set of Variations, and two orchestral works [2], one of which, a Rhapsody, was performed by Sir Dan Godfrey at Bournemouth at the Easter Festival of 1923, and will again be heard at Manchester on January 24th, under the direction of Mr. Hamilton Harty.'

The Chesterian January 1924 p.124.

Notes:

[1] Possibly refers to the concert at the Wigmore Hall on Jan 15th 1923. 

[2] Probably In the Mountain Country, 1921 and Rhapsody No.1, 1922; or possibly the Rhapsody No.2, 1924

Sir Edward Elgar: Salut d’Amour

I was listening to Sir Edward Elgar’s Salut d’Amour the other day. It is a work that is ubiquitous – especially on Classic FM. It is also a feature of many ‘samplers’ of the master’s music. Of course, this piece has appeared in so many incarnations that it is hard to know what was the ‘original’ version. I guess that it was a salon piece for fiddle and piano that somehow took on a life of its own. I have a piano arrangement at home, which I can just about bash my way through: I have heard it on the organ and also played by a brass band on the sea front at Lytham St Anne’s. However my favourite version is for a ‘light-ish’ string orchestra.

I have always found it rather amusing that the Elgar ‘heavyweight enthusiasts’ feel embarrassed about the fact that this work comes from the same mind and the same pen as Gerontius, the Second Symphony and the Cello Concerto. However, this is great and lovely music even if it is popular and better reflects the drawing room rather than the concert hall!

But the point of this post is to tell a reasonably well known anecdote concerning this piece which bears repetition. One night Elgar was arriving at a concert with a certain Fred Gaisberg “As we entered the Artists' Entrance," Gaisberg recalled, "we passed an itinerant fiddler giving a fairly good rendition of Salut d'Amour. The delighted composer paused and from his pocket produced half a crown. Handing it to the bewildered musician, Elgar said, 'Do you know what you are playing?' 'Yes,' he replied. 'It's Salut d'Amour, by Elgar.' 'Take this. It's more than Elgar made out of it,' responded the donor."

Benjamin Britten: ‘Winter Words’ lost songs.

The two songs that form the ‘appendix’ to Benjamin Britten’s great song cycle Winter Words are not usually heard when that work is performed. The songs were published in the latest score of this cycle, with the strict instructions that they are not to be given as an integral part of the work. In spite of their general lack of performance, they are worthy of our attention. Of course they can be played as separate entities, just so long as they are not sung back to back with the song cycle.

It is only quite recently that I heard these works, at least consciously, and my first reaction is to be quite glad that they are not included in the ‘official’ batting order of the song cycle. This would have surely upset the balance of the work which appears to be near perfect. Furthermore, it would be difficult to know where they would be slotted in, because in some ways Winter Words appears a complete journey for both the singer and the listener. So Britten’s admonition ought to be heeded. Yet, this is not to deny these two songs importance, interest and sheer attractiveness. Both are settings of ‘typical’ Thomas Hardy texts and are fine songs in their own right: they well deserve their place in the canon of English song. Both songs in their own way highlight the prevailing emotion of Winter Words – that of the inexorable passing of time. Both songs use typical Britten fingerprints, that are present in the song cycle: partial text repetitions, significant word painting and melismas.

The Children and Sir Nameless
Sir Nameless, once of Athelhall, declared:
"These wretched children romping in my park
Trample the herbage till the soil is bared,
And yap and yell from early morn till dark!
Go keep them harnessed to their set routines:
Thank God I've none to hasten my decay;
For green remembrance there are better means
Than offspring, who but wish their sires away."

Sir Nameless of that mansion said anon:
"To be perpetuate for my mightiness
Sculpture must image me when I am gone."
- He forthwith summoned carvers there express
To shape a figure stretching seven-odd feet
(For he was tall) in alabaster stone,
With shield, and crest, and casque, and word complete:
When done a statelier work was never known.

Three hundred years hied;
Church-restorers came,
And, no one of his lineage being traced,
They thought an effigy so large in frame
Best fitted for the floor.
There it was placed,
Under the seats for schoolchildren. And they
Kicked out his name, and hobnailed off his nose;
And, as they yawn through sermon-time, they say,
"Who was this old stone man beneath our toes?"

‘The Children and Sir Nameless’ has a kind of humorous irony that would have certainly have appealed to Britten. I am not sure how often this poem appears in Hardy anthologies, yet it is one of my favourites. How strange that ‘Sir Nameless’ ignores the children at his mansion only to be trod under foot by the Sunday school scholars! And of course we must never forget that the poet started out life as an architect –so he knew all about mid-Victorian restorations projects.

Britten mirrors the text in his setting superbly. After a short chordal introduction, Sir Nameless is introduced to the listener: little sympathy is generated for him. Britten indulges in some fine word painting - the loud and high ‘yap’ does suggest that perhaps the youth of the day were rather noisy and outspoken, disturbing the knight’s leisure and study. The key sentiment is that he knows a better way of preserving his fame than by begetting children. The second verse is much quieter and the accompaniment is more Spartan: arpeggios support an almost recitative-like vocal line. In this verse, the key emphasis is on the word ‘statelier’ –it was an effigy worthy of the man. Of course the irony is only fully revealed in the last verse. Musical allusions to the first stanza are combined with a tone suitable to the humour and perhaps, sadness of the final line - "Who was this old stone man beneath our toes?" The world and perhaps more poignantly, the local community had already forgotten this worthy.

If it's ever spring again,
Spring again,
I shall go where went I when
Down the moor-cock splashed, and hen,
Seeing me not, amid their flounder,
Standing with my arm around her;
If it's ever spring again,
Spring again,
I shall go where went I then.

If it's ever summer-time,
Summer-time,
With the hay crop at the prime,
And the cuckoos-two-in rhyme,
As they used to be, or seemed to,
We shall do as long we've dreamed to,
If it's ever summer-time,
Summer-time,
With the hay, and bees a chime.

The second poem is a love poem, and no doubt looks back to Hardy’s life with Emma. I feel that the key passage here is surely in the second stanza “As they used to be, or seemed to/We shall do as long we've dreamed to, (my italics). Summers are never quite as warm and enjoyable as we try to remember them; usually personal problems intrude on the sunshine.

The accompaniment is much simpler that for ‘Sir Nameless’ yet is entirely appropriate for supporting the reflective vocal line and adds to the sense of loss that is inherent in the poets thoughts. Both verses use similar material. Of course the piano part becomes more involved when the poet is describing his peregrinations in the countryside with his lover. Britten repeats the first two lines of each verse. Interestingly, there is a short epilogue for piano that allows the song to end in a mood of quiet reflection.

There are at least three fine versions of these two songs currently available – I list them in my order of preference.

Philip Langridge and Steuart Bedford on Naxos 8557201
Neil Mackie and Roger Vignoles on EMI 74346
Christopher Gould and Daniel Norman on BIS 1510

Geoffrey Self: Sonatina No.1

For me, Geoffrey Self is primarily the author of a study of E.J. Moeran – a book which has been an inspiration to me for nearly quarter of a century. I have been grateful for his fine biography of the neglected composer Julius Harrison. Over the years I have perused his ‘Hiawatha Man’ to try to understand Samuel Coleridge Taylor and his music and his In ‘Town Tonight’ which examines the life and work of Eric Coates is essential. There is also an instructive exploration of British Light Music...

Geoffrey Self was born in 1930 and has combined musicology with teaching, performance and composition. For a number of years he was County Music Advisor for Somerset. In 1964 he moved to Cornwall to become Head of Music at the Cambourne Technical College. During his time in Cornwall he was the principal conductor of the Cornish Symphony Orchestra.

Over the years he has composed works for the organ, the orchestra, choral and chamber ensembles and the piano, very little of which seems to be in the general public domain.

A couple of years ago I reviewed a CD of music by the Severnside Composers. I remarked there that apart from the fine collection of Preludes by Ivor Gurney, Self was the only composer I had come across before!

The Sonatina is an almost neo-classical work that is presented in three roughly equal movements. Yet there is an interesting anomaly here. Self writes about this work, “In the 70’s I amused myself by building a clavichord and wrote this piece to play on it.” I must admit, it hardly seems suited to that instrument, a view that Self admitted. He said that “subsequently it seemed to be more suited to the piano. A further comment by the composer is interesting. He suggests that what “I write what used to be called ‘light’ music.” Now perhaps he and I have different concepts of what light music is. This is certainly not Eric Coates or Robert Farnon – it is much more like Walter Leigh’s Concertino for Harpsichord and Strings – a point noted by Colin Scott-Sutherland in his review on his review of this work on MusicWeb International. 

This is an extremely attractive work that deserves its place in the repertoire. I guess that is probably a Grade 7 piece so is possibly in the gift of a competent amateur.

The Toccata is an impressive tour-de-force but I especially liked the slow Elegy – which to me is not 'light’ but actually ‘reflective’ and quite profound. The Rondo is fun, but once again a million miles away from Haydn Wood or Trevor Duncan. It is self-evident that there is a certain amount of internal thematic referencing –although this sonatina is not cyclic.

Severnside Composer’s Alliance Inaugural Piano Recital February 23rd 2005. Played by Peter Jacob. Dunelm DRD0238

Sir Arthur Sullivan: Motet - The Long Day Closes

Arthur Sullivan’s reputation as a composer has always been complicated by the fact that he is invariably seen as one half of G&S! However, recent years have enabled the listener to hear a number of works that have lain hidden for nearly a century. I can recommend the Irish Symphony and the Cello Concerto to anyone who has not heard music beyond the D’Oly Carte Operas. Yet Sullivan also wrote choral music suitable for perfomance in both churches and glee clubs.

Perhaps the most famous of all Victorian madrigals is the sad yet inspiring ‘The Long Day Closes'.

No star is o'er the lake,

Its pale watch keeping,

The moon is half awake,

Through grey mists creeping,

The last red leaves fall round

The porch of roses,

The clock hath ceased to sound,

The long day closes.

Sit by the silent hearth

In calm endeavour,

To count the sounds of mirth,

Now dumb for ever.

Heed not how hope believes

And fate disposes:

Shadow is round the eaves,

The long day closes.

The lighted windows dim

Are fading slowly.

The fire that was so trim

Now quivers lowly,

Quivers lowly.

Go to the dreamless bed

Where grief reposes;

Thy book of toil is read,

The long day closes;

The text was by a poet, librettist and art critic called Henry Chorley – he was a friend of the composer. As a meditation on death it is superb. Forget supposed Victorian sentimentality – this is profound stuff. And Sullivan’s setting matches itself to the words perfectly. The composer's reprise of the opening melody for “Go to the dreamless bed/ Where grief reposes/ Thy book of toil is read/ The long day closes,” is sheer perfection.

And remember that this was written some three years before W.S. Gilbert wrote the libretto for Cox and Box – the first fruits of that partnership.

Listen to this work on YouTube

Gerald Finzi: In Time of "The Breaking of Nations"

One of the finest of First World War poems must be Thomas Hardy’s In Time of “The Breaking of Nations” and of the handful of settings that have been attempted surely Finzi’s is the best known. The poem has been a favourite of mine since I discovered it in an old poetry book belonging to my late father.

It is a poem which deals with the futility of war, although the poet’s methodology is to use 'suggestion' rather than ‘shocking’ description. It is up to the reader to supply the ‘horror.’

The present song was originally used as the third movement of the early Requiem de Camera which was composed for baritone, chorus and orchestra. This work was penned in 1924. Apparently Finzi was not happy with the suitability of this piece. He later sketched out a ‘superior’ version for piano and soloist, but this seems to be cued for orchestra. A later partial orchestration of this song was found in the composer’s hand writing.

However it was the version on Hyperion’s 'War’s Embers' that recently caught my eye. It is sung here by Stephen Varcoe with Clifford Benson as the accompanist.

The Requiem and the present song were dedicated to Finzi’s erstwhile teacher of composition, Ernest Farrar, who was one-time organist at Harrogate. Farrar had been killed on active service in France in September 1918.

ONLY a man harrowing clods

In a slow silent walk,

With an old horse that stumbles and nods

Half asleep as they stalk.

Only thin smoke without flame

From the heaps of couch grass:

Yet this will go onward the same

Though Dynasties pass.

Yonder a maid and her wight

Come whispering by;

War's annals will fade into night

Ere their story die.

Thomas Hardy

This is certainly a bleak and ‘gaunt’ song. It lacks warmth although the last stanza has a little more light than what has preceded. In some ways the conclusion of the poem is actually quite optimistic – war’s come and go, yet the ordinary things of mankind must remain. The vocal part reflects the intropsctive mood of the text. Interestingly the piano interludes between stanzas are considerably longer than would be deemed as ‘proper.’ Yet surely this adds to the reflective nature of these fine words.

The scholar, Stephen Banfield seems to suggest that Finzi’s setting is weak and ineffective – that he had attempted to respond to a poem before he was technically able to produce an adequate setting of it. However, I must disagree with such a learned authority. And for two reasons – firstly, this setting moves me, and secondly I can hear intimations of the composer’s later style in a number of places, especially in the last stanza.

Listen to this song performed by Stephen Varcoe and Clifford Benson on Hyperion or as part of the Chandos issue of the Requiem de Camera

Geoffrey Bush: Trio for oboe, bassoon and piano

Sadly and certainly unfairly the composer Geoffrey Bush is not well represented in the CD catalogues: at present he has only some seven or eight works on disc. Of course his two symphonies are recorded on Lyrita and these are certainly impressive major works and deserve to be in the libraries of all English Music enthusiasts. Bush Symphonies

Bush’s reputation is generally (alas) confined to his vocal music- both choral works and solo songs- so any opportunity to hear a chamber or orchestral work is to be welcomed.

The Trio was written in 1953 when the composer was in his early thirties. The work opens with a declamatory flourish and soon gets into an impressive ‘adagio maestoso.’ This is powerful music. However after a short pause, the mood changes to one of a quicksilver scherzo-like ‘vivace.’ Here we find the typical Bush fingerprints of wit, precision, shifting tonalities and syncopated rhythms. Then follows a gorgeous tune. Jeremy Polmear of Oboe Classics, suggests that it nods to Walton and this is appropriate. It is first heard on the oboe before being repeated on the bassoon and developed contrapuntally. But soon the ‘scherzo’ music returns and this leads into ‘big music’ before the movement comes to a mercurial end.

The second movement is noted as ‘poco lento-tempo di vivace.’ This is deep music compared to that which has gone before. Actually I feel it is full of sadness. I was reminded or Finzi in the way that the melody unfolds with an almost Bachian poise and balance. Yet this mood cannot last for ever. Soon the music becomes much more exploratory before repeating the Finzian tune, albeit in a more Spartan guise. A reprise of ‘quicksilver’ music brings the work towards its conclusion. The work ends with a clever little figure from both oboe and bassoon.

Geoffrey Bush’s Trio is available on Oboe Classics ‘Melodic Lines’

John Ireland: Piano Works Volume 3 on Naxos

I recently reviewed the third volume of the Naxos Edition of the collected piano music of John Ireland. After noting my disappointment that there were a few omissions from the cycle – the Three Dances, an Indian Summer and the Sea Idyll- I conceded that perhaps I was nitpicking – as this CD is an excellent addition to the growing conspectus of John Ireland’s Piano Music which includes Parkin (two editions) Rowlands and lately Mark Bebbington.

The most important composition on this CD is the Piano Sonata. This demanding work was written between 1918 and 1920 and is one of the great Sonatas in the 20th century piano repertoire. I enjoyed Lenehan’s playing of this complex work. He manages to explore and even perhaps get behind some of the deepest mysteries in this work. The light and shade in this Sonata is well defined by the pianist and the interest never flags for a moment. I think the CD is worth purchasing for this performance alone.

My touchstone for any recording of Ireland’s piano music is Spring Will Not Wait which is actually an epilogue to the Housman song-cycle We’ll to the Woods No More. The piece is meant to summarise and comment upon the foregoing songs. I felt that the Lenehan version did not work for me. It seems a little fast in places and some of the detail manages to get lost: somehow my interest in the music seems to disappear mid-piece – and is not really recovered.

However, I concluded my review by suggesting that “I can certainly recommend this CD. I accept that John Lenehan would not be my first choice. The bottom line is that any recording of the piano music by a professional and accomplished pianist is interesting and deserves out attention. John Lenehan provides an important addition to the repertoire which is largely dominated by Eric Parkin.

Please see the full review on MusicWeb International