Choral Contemplations - The Phoenix Consort under Adam Whitmore excel in a broad collection of effective sacred settings

I very much enjoyed the Phoenix Consort’s debut recording back in 2024 (review here), and they’re back on Convivium Records with their third recording, Choral Contemplation, an album of sacred introits and motets by a range of contemporary composers. Adam Whitmore founded the Phoenix Consort during the pandemic at Durham University, since then expanding to draw on young choral artists from across the UK. In their short time together, they have already won a couple of competition prizes and toured in northern Spain, and once again I am struck by their strong command of blend and tone.

This new disc has close connections with their record company too. Adrian Green (b.1985), Convivium’s Managing Director, is also a composer himself, and the connecting thread between all the composers on this disc is the influence of the self-taught polymath and teacher, Leon MacLaren (1910-1994), who set up the Music Group at the School of Philosophy and Economic Science (which he also founded). That Music Group looked at the nature of sound and silence, and the connection between music and the meaning of text – in his words, what matters is ‘not what the words say, but where they’re coming from, and music has the capacity to connect us with this’. As someone who has sung chorally all my life, inevitably singing many settings of sacred texts, despite not having any religious belief, I do find this interesting, as I know from personal experience the power of music to move and touch one’s ‘soul’ on a deep level, regardless of one’s beliefs.

 

With 19 works from 9 composers (just one woman amongst them), most coming in at around two minutes long, it’s not possible to comment on every piece. Suffice to say the standard is consistently high, with clarity of text-setting in common across the board. This clarity is enhanced throughout by the crystal precision of the Phoenix Consort, with a purity of tone that nevertheless gives expressive weight when needed, thus avoiding the somewhat anodyne purity that can characterise even the best of choirs. Harmonically there are few shocks here, with many pieces centring strongly around a fixed tonic, and minimal modulation. Yet the settings are mostly effective and seldom lacking in interest. 

 

Picking out a few highlights, David Fletcher’s (1931-2024) Set me as a seal contrasts weaving lines with sections of closer homophony, and O Oriens by David Goymour (b.1946) is one of the more polyphonic offerings, in contrast with John-Paul Bowman’s (b.1985) homophonic, simply set A new commandment, which follows it. Noel Skinner’s  (1947-2019) For the Fallen is a touchingly contemplative setting of Binyon’s familiar poem, here arranged for SATB from Skinner’s original for young voices by Matthew Coleridge. Rosemary Broadbent’s (b.1950) And he arose combines tenderness in its outer sections with a more playfully dancing central section. Gillian Thompson joins on piano to accompany the singers for Peter Blumson’s (1942-2026) What is man?, which combines its straightforward melody with the steady motion of the piano to simple effect. 

 

Green’s The Absorbeat (Prayer of St Francis), the longest, and most striking piece here, contrasts sections for upper or lower voices with pulsing harmonies below a soaring soprano line. Falling sequences of suspensions, richly sung by the Phoenix Consort lower voices in particular, increase in intensity, adding urgency to the prayerful pleas. Derek Saunders’ (b.1966) Be still, and know that I am God uses drones, mostly in the lower voices, to underpin the gently moving parts, creating a successful sense of stillness. Skinner’s The earth is the Lord’s is for upper voices, which shine brightly here. Baritone Will Pate impresses in Green’s Every good gift, his Latin chant initially alone then set against effective choral writing, and the choir further excel in Bruce Ramell’s (b.1939) declamatory O Adonai which follows this.

 

Strong solos from within the choir enhance a few pieces, adding further interest to an otherwise relatively homogenous soundworld, perhaps inevitable in such an extensive collection of short sacred settings. Of course ‘contemplation’ is in the disc’s title, but greater rhythmic variety and energy would have been welcome to break things up a little. Nonetheless, this is an impressive collection of works that choirs looking for new repertoire would do well to explore (with free downloadable scores here). And I look forward to hearing more from Adam Whitmore’s Phoenix Consort.

Various. 2026. Choral Contemplations - Sacred Introits & Motets. Phoenix Consort, Adam Whitmore. Compact Disc/Download. Convivium Records CR130.

Easter Rising - a striking and evocative set of String Works by Hugh Shrapnel from the Tippett Quartet

Last summer I had the pleasure of meeting with composer Hugh Shrapnel to discuss his music (see here), and he talked then of his next project, a recording of string works with the Tippett Quartet. The recording, Easter Rising, is now out on Convivium Records, and contains four works, with a thread of protest, political struggle and striving for social justice and peace connecting them. Easter Rising 1916, which gives the recording its title, is the most overtly political piece, and has an additional part for the Irish fiddle, played her by Jo Cooper. It was composed in 2016 for Cornelius Cardew Concerts Trust at Morley College London to mark the centenary of the Easter Rising, a rebellion by Irish Republicans that was brutally suppressed by the British. The subsequent execution of sixteen of the leaders of the Rising, as well as the civilian casualties, and internment of prisoners, galvanised support for independence, leading to the Irish War of Independence (1919-21) and the creation of the Irish Free State in 1921. Shrapnel’s piece, in five sections, begins with a mournful Irish song melody on the violin, over drones from the lower music, evoking the long Irish history of Irish struggle and song. The other instruments join and entwine with the melody, and then more insistent repeated rhythmic figures increase the intensity, as if in debate, as the preparations are made for the Rising. The swirling tune of the song We Only Want the Earth by James Connolly, one of the Rising’s leaders, dominates the middle section depicting the Rising itself, before the music subsides into sadness for the Aftermath, a lament for the executed leaders (including James Connolly). Then the folk tune, The Foggy Dew emerges on the Irish fiddle, with simple background from the other instruments, save the occasional echo from the quartet’s first violin. The reemergence of Irish song takes the work full circle, with a quiet defiance and recognition of Ireland’s history of struggle, with an equally defiant energy from the quartet to finish. Overall, this is a highly engaging and striking piece, somehow capturing feelings of frustration, despair and loss, as well as anger, defiance and hope. Appropriately, the work is followed on the recording by a new work, For Peace, written for and dedicated to the Tippett Quartet for this recording. It is described as ‘an expression for yearning for peace in our increasingly troubled and divided world’, signalling that the struggle for justice and peace goes on. It begins quietly, and a long sustained violin line emerges over even longer notes from the lower instruments. Yearning and crying comes from insistent, rising repetitive figures. Rather than a soothing, peaceful piece, in its brief five and a half minutes, this is an elegiac yet pained plea for much needed peace. 
 
The disc opens with another work composed for a CCCT concert at Morley College, for which the theme was One World, with two accompanying poems writte by Carol Rumens, this time for piano quintet. The first, The Hazel Nut (Posing The Problem) draws on one of Julian of Norwich’s Revelations of Divine Love, in which she dreamt that the world was contained in a hazel nut in the palm of her hand. Her second poem, Circling the Square (posing the Solution) expresses a hope that people rediscover the importance of all matter and reconnect with the world and each other. Shrapnel’s piece opens with dancing, circling rhythms from the strings, then the piano enters with ethereal chords over a drone from the cello, as the violins continue to skitter above. Then the energy slows, with the piano taking over the role of skittering about. The piano takes up the repeated figures and the violins sing more lyrically above, before the piano shatters the mood with more dramatic stabbing, with the strings following. String harmonics over low piano and cello drone add to the overall sense of mystery, before the opening dancing material returns, before being finally transformed into a more joyful folk dance with ringing bells from the piano which ultimately subsides into a gently peaceful conclusion. Again, Shrapnel successfully captures moods and emotions without being tied down to anything too literal in terms of the poetry.
 
Nascence, for string quartet and piano, was composed for the CCCT concert at Morley College in 2017, the theme being Born to Society, a poem written by Canadian communist Hardial Bains, which calls for a ‘world which is humanised’, with an end to ‘anger and strife’. Shrapnel’s work is driving and energetic, and in fact opens full of ‘anger and strife’, with driving rhythmic figures and astringent harmonies. Whilst the central section hints at calmer waters, it soon regains the frenzy of the opening section. It is only as the piano’s repeated low tolling reins the strings into calmness that lyricism from the violins and then the rest of the quartet can emerge, yet the piano continues to toll defiantly to the end. It’s a subtle shift perhaps from ‘anger and strife’ to ‘the expression of what is alive’ – but then, in the context of some of the other themes on this recording, maybe an element of anger is still needed to keep the struggle for peace and justice alive.
 
Throughout this recording, the Tippett Quartet play with incision and energy, as well as warm tone in the more lyrical moments. Lynn Arnold brings resonance and authority to the piano parts in the two opening works, and Jo Cooper’s contribution on the Irish fiddle at the close of Easter Rising 1916 adds a beautifully evocative touch. Clearly, some of these pieces have direct roots in poetry, and in his interview with me, Hugh described his work as often ‘descriptive, of a mood – poems in music’. The importance of the environment, community and political issues also shines through once again here, making for another fascinating and diverse selection of his music, a welcome addition to previous recordings of his piano and chamber works (links for these can be found here). 

Shrapnel, Hugh. (2025). Easter Rising: String Works. Tippett Quartet, Lynn Arnold, Jo Cooper. Compact Disc/Download. Convivium Records. CR125. 

Highly engaging performance of Tarney's effective Lux Stellarum from The Choir of Royal Holloway

It’s a crowded field these days for new choral music, which is good news for the genre, but it does make it harder for composers and their compositions to stand out from the rest. Thankfully, this new recording by The Choir of Royal Holloway, directed by Rupert Gough of Oliver Tarney’s (b.1984) Lux Stellarum is a welcome addition, with its combination of familiar and less familiar texts, and use of varied choral textures. This is assisted by the strong showing from the choir here, with Andrew Dewar on organ. Tarney was new to me, but he clearly already has a body of music behind him, with several recordings of his works also already in the catalogue. Lux Stellarum is a short requiem for choir and organ, which he wrote for the choir of the American Cathedral in Paris, and biblical passages are mixed with texts by John Donne and the Canadian writer Marjorie Pickthall. With its focus on light, the stars and the universe, it sits in the more positive, hopeful camp of requiem interpretations – no hell and damnation here, but more reassurance in perpetual light and eternal rest. And so to the music. Tarney writes smooth lines and mixes use of plainchant melodies with fuller choral settings, and soaring intertwined soprano voices open the first section, followed soon by the organ heralding the full choir. The setting of the Requiem text is confident, with plainsong elements reminiscent of Duruflé, followed by more rhythmic writing for the Amos text. The Kyrie is gentler, and the choir’s diction here is exemplary, as well as the purity of the high sopranos. The third section sets a Pickthall poem focussing on the vastness of the stars above. The setting is clear, and once again the choir’s diction allows the text and Tarney’s word painting to come across effectively. There’s a beautifully controlled high chord on ‘soft infinite’, and the harmonic shift for ‘unafraid’ stands out within the otherwise relatively straightforward harmonic language. There’s a bit more movement in the Sanctus, and the Hosanna is warmly joyful, ‘excelsis’ ringing out. The Agnus Dei is the most effective of the movements for me, with the combination of chant of the psalm text interspersed with the Agnus Dei text, with more and more layered, falling lines. The lower voices also get more of a showing here, with a particularly strong tenor chant section, but attention returns to thinned out upper voices for the conclusion. The final section, with the In paradisum text combined with John Donne, contains some of the most crunchy harmonic writing, delivered with impressive blend from the choir here. There’s a hefty, powerful organ solo, and rich tonal chords spread out into more complex textures. Sometimes full albums of choral music, especially from one composer, can mean that works get lost within a homogenous soundworld, however well written. With just the one work here, at just under half an hour, this is a short release, but this allows this effective piece to stand out on its own, leaving us wanting to hear more from the composer rather than less. Gough and The Choir of Royal Holloway also deserve credit for their clarity and rich blend, as do the team from Convivium for their generously warm recording. 

Tarney. O. 2025. Lux Stellarum. The Choir of Royal Holloway, Andrew Dewar, Rupert Gough. Compact Disc and Download. Convivium Records. CR111.

Hugh Shrapnel shares thoughts on his music, influences, and life as a composer

Hugh Shrapnel

Having reviewed three albums of composer Hugh Shrapnel’s music now, it was a pleasure to have the opportunity to sit down with him recently and discuss his music, his influences, and his life as a musician and composer.
 
We began discussing what pointed Hugh in the direction of music and composition in the first place. He was born in Birmingham in 1947, but grew up in Stockport (as, coincidentally, did I). His father Norman Shrapnel was a journalist with The Guardian, his older brother John an actor and their mother Myfanwy an artist. Norman Shrapnel was a great music lover and good amateur violinist, often playing chamber music with friends. Hugh began playing the recorder aged seven, went on to play the oboe from the age of 13, and then began to play the piano in his mid-teens.

Hugh Shrapnel
credit: Phoebus Apostolide

Composition came early - he was inventing tunes as a boy, and he remembers a marching tune that he used to sing all the time, driving his mother mad! He started composing seriously at around fourteen, and was fascinated by modern music, inspired by hearing a performance of Schoenberg’s Serenade on the radio and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. So he already knew he wanted to be a composer at that time. His father, and Mary Stott, a musician friend and fellow Guardian journalist (the founder of the paper’s women’s page) encouraged him, although initially, academic studying of music took a back seat to his keenness for listening to new music and writing. He went to the Battersea College of Technology for a year, studying with Hans Heimler, the Austrian composer and musicologist, who had studied with Berg and Weingartner. From there, he went on to the Royal Academy of Music, where he initially studied composition with Norman Demuth, whose main interest was French music. Shrapnel’s interest lay in avant garde, serial music, so he moved to study with Cornelius Cardew, and this was a better fit, opening many opportunities for him in experimental music. He joined Cardew’s Scratch Orchestra, and they took their experimental music out of the concert halls, touring in the North East, Wales and Cornwall. ‘What they thought of what we were doing is something else!’, says Hugh, but he says that their mission was partly to rebel against the musical establishment of the time. 

 

Collaborating with other musicians has always been important for Hugh, from those early days with Cardew and other important British experimental composers such as John White, Chris Hobbs and Alec Hill, with whom he formed the quartet, the Promenade Theatre Orchestra, right through to more recent piano duetting with fellow composer John Lewis. This led to Elements of London, the first recording of his work (and Lewis’) by the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble. It’s also worth mentioning that Cardew directed many of those early experimental pioneers, including Hugh, in the UK premiere in 1968 of Terry Riley’s In C. Along the way, Hugh’s compositions have often been for the musician friends around him, and unusual combinations of instruments have always interested him. On mentioning in conversation that I had played the euphonium at school, Hugh immediately referred to his piece for euphonium and two electric keyboards, West Pier, and he’s currently working on completing a long cycle of pieces for accordion, trumpet, piano, percussion and cello. Other collaborators include the BBC Radio 3 presenter and pianist Sarah Walker and composer pianist Robert Coleridge (who passed away in 2019), who recorded his South of the River suite of piano duos in 1998, and have been great supporters of his work. The Cornelius Cardew Concerts Trust, led by composer Michael Chant has been also very significant, with Hugh’s compositions receiving frequent performances at their Morley College concerts.

 

Promenade Theatre Orchestra, 1972

Aside from the South of the River suite, and a 1972 Promenade Theatre Orchestra recording, the more recent Convivium Records albums are the only available recordings of Hugh’s work. However, there are a number of performances of some of the earlier experimental works on YouTube, including several of Raindrops, a work ‘for any number or kind of tuned and untuned percussion, guitars and other plucked strings’. These include one for flutes, guitars and keyboards, as well as one for glockenspiels. Following those early experimental years, like a lot of other composers, Hugh gradually moved towards more ‘conventional’ music, as he describes it. ‘It (experimental music) had run its course, and I wanted to write tunes again. Looking back on the experimental music, it was a short-lived phenomenon’. Whilst he has still performed such works more recently, it now somehow ‘feels like going back in time’.

Raindrops (1970) by Hugh Shrapnel

performed by Jost Nickel et al.

Hugh says he rarely starts from a purely musical idea when composing, but often more of a poetic image. He describes such pieces as ‘descriptive, of a mood - poems in music, if that’s not too pretentious’. It is that ability to capture this in small form, distilling an image, a thought or an idea, that is so impressive in his work. There is a clear thread of connection with local environment, community and political issues in much of his work. ‘During the experimental time, it was all to do with concepts, in its own little world’. That’s not to say that politics weren’t important then too. Hugh played oboe in the Peoples’ Liberation Music, a political music group in the 1970s, playing folk and ‘agit-pop’, and they often played on demonstrations against cuts, supporting the miners’ strike, the Irish Struggles and anti-fascism. 

Hugh feels rooted in the geographical area of South East London, where he has lived for most of his life. He moved from Stockport to Blackheath when he was 12, and apart from a few years in Birmingham, he has remained in the area. Why? ‘Well, force of habit. But I like it – there are lots of parks and open space, and I’ve always loved the countryside and nature’. Oxleas Wood, the first piece in South of the River, was written in support of a successful local campaign against a motorway being carved through this ancient wood. Like many, composing has not been his sole profession from necessity. In the 70s and 80s he taught music in schools and further education colleges, but then spent many years working part time in a council housing department. Teaching was demanding, with marking and preparing eating into his time. The housing job, whilst demanding in its own way, it gave more free time for composition, but it also brought him into the outside world. New music circles can become somewhat isolationist, whilst Hugh feels that music is very much ‘to do with everyday life’. He thinks more and more about the idea of music being expressive, in contrast to the earlier experimental view of music as pure sounds. In essence, he is ‘more and more concerned with melody’.

 

With three recordings of his music on Convivium Records under his belt, a fourth is on the way. Following on from piano duos, solo piano works and wind chamber works, the new album will be music for strings, including a new work for string quartet. He’s also working on orchestrating some of his earlier works, including the South of the River piano duets. So there’s still more to come, and I for one will be looking forward to hearing more very soon.

At the Rivoli by Hugh Shrapnel, 

performed by the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble

Recordings of Hugh Shrapnel's music on Convivium Records:

Various. 2020. Elements of London. Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble. Compact Disc. Convivium Records. CR055.

My review here.

Shrapnel, H. 2023. Hugh Shrapnel: Piano Works. Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble. Compact Disc. Convivium Records. CR087.

My review here.

Shrapnel, H. 2025. Chamber Works. Camarilla Ensemble. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR097.

My review here.

An impressive debut recording from Birmingham's chamber choir, The Elgar Scholars

The Elgar Scholars describe themselves as Birmingham’s newest pre-professional chamber choir, and is conducted by co-musical directors Jim Bate and Laura Bailie. Bate & Bailie are both graduates of The University of Birmingham’s choral conducting masters programme, and the singers are students and alumni from the university, the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire and elsewhere. As you would expect, therefore, they produce a sophisticated sound, with precise tuning and clear diction a given. What is more interesting perhaps on their short debut recording is the variety of contemporary styles across just eight tracks. 

One piece gives a nod towards their name, in John Cameron’s arrangement of Elgar’s ‘Nimrod’, as ‘Lux Aeterna’, but otherwise all the other pieces are by living composers. Starting with the Elgar, they take this at a good pace, avoiding any self-indulgence that can creep in, and they  keep their powder dry until the big climax, when the ringing sopranos really burst out of the texture, before retreating to deliver a touchingly fragile ending. There are two works here by ex-King’s Singer and composer Bob Chilcott (b.1955). Firstly, there is Even Such is Time, a setting of a Walter Raleigh text, with a falling repeated pattern that here leads towards a rich, full homophonic sound from the choir, and a beautifully pure-toned soprano solo line from Alice Martin. The other Chilcott piece comes from his Song of Harvest. Gratitude is a prayerful hymn, with a warm blend from the singers here. Judith Weir (b.1954) is represented here by Drop Down, Ye Heavens, From Above, her setting of the Rorate Coeli text, often set to plainsong for Advent matins. Weir starts with a bare sound of just two lines, then adds lines to the texture, building to a thicker homophonic texture, with a particularly richly dense chord on the word Fear. There is an eery wedding anthem, And I Will Betroth You, from Michael Zev Gordon (b.1963), once again relatively homophonic in texture, but with closely clashing parts requiring precision of tuning and balance from the singers, and they sustain the long-held chords with impressive steadiness. The album’s title, Finding Your Home, comes from Millicent B James’ work, which was commissioned by the National Youth Choir. James was a member of their Young Composer Scheme in 2023, and this piece demonstrates a highly impressive command of a variety of choral techniques, moving from jazzy close harmony into a more playful rhythmically driven style, with improvisatory solo lines and finger-clicking creating a joyful and richly textured celebration, and the singers clearly had fun with this one. 

But the two highlights here for me include Laura Mvula’s (b.1986) own choral arrangement of her song Sing To The Moon, originally composed with Steven James Brown who sadly passed away in 2024 for Mvula’s debut studio album in 2013. Mvula also studied composition at the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, and this choral arrangement was performed by the BBC Singers at the Last Night of the Proms in 2019. The choruses have simpler, thicker harmony, with a glorious solo rising above from soprano Evelyn Byford, whilst the verses allow for more interesting textures from individual lines and falling figures from the sopranos. And my other highlight is Jonathan Dove’s (b.1959) In Beauty May I Walk. It was written as a present for Anthony Whitworth-Jones on leaving Glyndebourne Festival Opera, where Whitworth-Jones had been General Director and had commissioned various works by Dove, including his opera Flight. It uses anonymous Navajo text, translated by Jerome K Rothenberg, and Dove expertly combines chanting with repeating figures and layering of parts to create a haunting piece. Here The Elgar Scholars basses rise up slowly beneath the busier upper parts, their slow scale underpinning the build to the work’s climax, before falling away to a quiet, delicate conclusion. It is in these more complex works, the Dove, Mvula and James pieces in particular, that The Elgar Scholars demonstrate their assured command, and conductors Bailie and Bate have clearly worked hard with them to create a highly accomplished choir that I look forward to hearing more from.

Various. 2025. Finding Your Home. The Elgar Scholars, Jim Bate, Laura Bailie. Compact Disc & Download. Convivium Records CR110.

 

Fantasias for Piano - Martin Cousin presents some unexpected treats, performed with effortless and expressive virtuosity

The Fantasia is a form that has been used by many composers since the sixteenth century, and has its roots in a sense of improvisation. There are therefore many choices a pianist could make when forming a programme around the genre, but pianist Martin Cousin has certainly taken us down an unexpected path on his latest recording. He begins with Kenneth Leighton’s (1929-1988) Fantasia Contrappuntistica, Op. 24, not a well-known work, but one of great interest across its five linked sections. From a majestic opening Maestoso, it quickly moves to a virtuosic, even wild Toccata, full of angular lines, and ending with pealing bells before dying away. This leads into a lugubrious Chorale, beginning in intense lower registers of the instrument, before working its way steadily upwards, the hymn-like line threading through the chordal textures. The work ends with not one but two fugues, the first darkly jerky, developing into constant, running movement, and the second races on faster, before returning to the dramatic maestoso mood of the opening briefly to end the work. Cousin’s playing is clearly articulated, and he contrasts well the almost intellectual starkness of the fugal writing with the more dramatic chordal textures. The mood of Lawrence Rose’s (b. 1943) Piano Fantasia, Op. 24 (dedicated to Cousin) that follows is not dissimilar, its six movements embracing angular, fugal writing within a constantly shifting chromatic soundworld. But there is perhaps a broader range of styles here, from the almost whimsical, light opening to the weightier, almost Brahmsian variations in the Largo, and the bouncier, almost quirky conclusion to the fourth movement Allegro. Cousin drives through the rhythmic, Bach-like second movement  Allegro, with tight articulation of the angular lines, and his rapid finger work high up the keyboard in the second Allegro is highly impressive, as is the tender Andante in the final movement. From there, we jump into a completely different world, with Rachmaninov’s (1873-1943) five Morceaux de Fantasia, Op. 3. Cousin now relishes the thicker, more sustained textures, yet still gives the opening Elégie a singing, swinging lilt, to contrast with the more passionate movement of the central section. His energy at the conclusion is thrilling, as is the fiery central section of the famous Prélude that follows. The Mélodie’s melodic line is initially slightly on the heavy side, but he builds the texture well, and the Polichinelle is great fun, with orchestral textures and impressive virtuosity. The Sérénade that ends the set certainly has a mediterranean feel to its rich, swinging waltz, which provides a perfect link to the final work on the disc, Manuel de Falla’s (1876-1946) Fantasia Baetica. It was dedicated to Artur Rubenstein, but apparently he abandoned it after playing it a few times, deeming it too long and not playable enough. However, Cousin makes a strong case for it here, and what it lacks in melodic line, it makes up for with imaginative textures, from the guitar-like opening, through harp-like glissandi to more percussive repeated note patterns and weighty statements. There are plenty of cascading, dramatic flourishes, certainly evoking that improvisatory sense of a fantasia, and its insistent, hammering repetition builds via more watery glissandi and limpid clustered chords to an astonishingly virtuosic conclusion. Cousin takes us a long way from the more inwardly intellectual world of the Leighton and the almost Shostakovich-like Rose, via richly expressive Rachmaninov to the wildly expansive de Falla, all the while demonstrating effortless command virtuosity in the highly varied styles. 

Various. 2025. Fantasias for Piano. Martin Cousin. Compact Disc/Download. Convivium Records CR103.

Variety & atmosphere in chamber works by Hugh Shrapnel, performed with energy & sensitivity by the Camarilla Ensemble

I’ve reviewed two discs previously of piano music by English composer Hugh Shrapnel (b.1947) (here & here), and have been impressed by his ability to capture diverse moods and atmospheres, often in very short pieces. So I was certainly interested to hear some of his music for other instruments, and was pleased to find the same variety of mood and style, combined with some strong idiomatic writing for wind and brass instruments. The Camarilla Ensemble is a wind quintet (Julian Sperry (flute/piccolo), Rachel Harwood-White (oboe), Nicholas Ellis (clarinet), Louise Watson (bassoon) & Jonathan Farey (horn)), and for this recording, they are augmented with the addition of Simon Wills on alto & tenor trombones, and Alison Rhind on piano. So here we have various duo pieces for a wind instrument plus piano, a trio, a quartet and the most extended work, a six movement Wind Quintet. All written in the last twenty or so years, the pieces were composed for a variety of individual performers or for festivals, particularly the London New Wind Festival. The disc opens with a light Sonatina for Horn and Piano, with a playful, music-hall feel to its opening Allegro, with relaxed, lyrical playing from the horn over bouncing piano rhythms. The central Adagio is more mysterious and introvert, with the piano offering high, quiet echoes to the horn’s yearning figures, before the Con Moto trots along to a fun finish. The next work, Objets Fixes for Oboe, Clarinet, Horn and Tenor Trombone, is a little more challenging, with its insistent, spiky rhythmic figures that persist throughout the first four of its five short movements. Often one or two instruments have fixed, almost mechanical repetitions, whilst the other instruments slide, even dance around. It is only in the final Grave that the forced rhythms fall away, and the work ends in a more reflective mood. Political inspiration comes in with Coalition Blues for Alto Trombone and Piano, a short piece written in response to the 2010 Coalition Government and a reaction against the effects of their austerity programme. A short ‘People’s Theme’ is varied and transformed, with dramatic, even angry effect in the piece’s brief three minutes. A Trio for Flute, Clarinet and Piano follows, with playful, twisting lines, all three instruments chasing each other, then coming together at times. The mood develops into darker, more nocturnal territory, with the flute and clarinet flying about almost moth-like over mysterious piano rippling, leading to a quiet, almost static ending. Belladonna for Flute and Piano opens with dark, dreamlike piano textures, before the Debussy-esque liquid flute joins, and the resulting duet is effectively atmospheric. In contrast the Sonata for Clarinet and Pianothat follows begins in a joyful mood, with a light opening clarinet melodic line, soon taken over by the piano, with echoes from the clarinet in return. A darker intensity develops, and the movement concludes in a less certain mood, to be followed by a Satie-esque, lugubrious slow movement, with ebbing and flowing climaxes. The piano’s relentless 3+2+3 rhythm drives the final movement, with angular lines from the clarinet making for a somewhat moody, edgy and even fraught climax. The final, and most substantial work, Hilly Fields for Wind Quintet, is much more overtly programmatic and conjures up a variety of scenes in areas of South East London where Shrapnel lives. There is a bustling, easy feel to Morning Run that opens the work, soon followed by relaxed nostalgia in Reverie, then Games presents a series of playful sports and games, with chasing rhythms, before Blythe Hill returns to a quieter, more atmospheric mood, although not totally idyllic, with dark moments and birds sounding somewhat anxious. Dusk follows, and there’s a lot going on here, surprisingly busy, with nocturnal creatures emerging. But Fayre to end the work is bustling and lively, bringing this evocative piece to a happy conclusion. Throughout all these works, Shrapnel once again demonstrates his ability to create a wide variety of atmospheres in miniature form, and the Camarilla Ensemble and friends’ playing communicates the lively and quirky rhythms with precision, as well as capturing those mood swings from piece to piece.  

Shrapnel, H. 2025. Chamber Works. Camarilla Ensemble. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR097.

Impressive debut from the Phoenix Consort & Adam Whitmore in effective and evocative choral works by Alexander Campkin

I Saw Eternity is a new release on Convivium Records, in fact a debut release from choral ensemble Phoenix Consort, directed by Adam Whitmore. The group were founded during the pandemic, and comprises current or former students at Durham University. In their short time together, they have already won a couple of competition prizes and toured in northern Spain, and for their debut disc, they have recorded a collection of choral works by Alexander Campkin (b.1984). The music charts a personal journey from darkness to light for the composer, who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, aged just 17. The diagnosis brought a possible career as a viola player to an end, and led Campkin to focus on composition. He has composed numerous choral, orchestral and chamber works, and has been the composer in residence with the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra ensemble, BSO Resound. Some of the choral works here have been previously recorded, but a number are premiere recordings. 

 

As is somewhat inevitable with a whole album of similar scale choral works by one composer, there is a certain homogeneity of style that emerges throughout the collection. Settings of the various Christian or spiritually inspired texts are predominantly relatively homophonic, and tempi are on the slower side on the whole. There is frequent use of choral parts diverging from a single note, building up a cluster, before returning to the core single note. And ringing, often challengingly extended, soprano lines at the top of the texture are common. However, this might imply a complete lack of variety, and this would be unfair. Calm me, O Lord, for example, departs from the simple homophonic opening with independent voices repeating fragments of text over the lower voices moving at a slower pace. This piece contains some of the most intense of Campkin’s settings, along with Dazzling Darkness, a setting of Henry Vaughan’s (1621-1695) The Night. Here, there is a little more energy in the tempo, with quicker rising scales and even whistling creating more varied textures. But those clusters built up over scales do abound – in Bright Apollo they ring out clear and appropriately bright, and similarly in Bright Shadows (after another Vaughan text), appearing once again in I flying, although here combined with an effective twisting triplet figure. There are three pieces with I Saw Eternity in the title, all again setting texts by Vaughan. That technique of moving away from a single note to a cluster and back is used as a kind of motif here on the word eternity, although the harmonies in I saw Eternity like a shadow are more adventurous. There is one arrangement here too, Campkin's choral arrangement of Ivor Gurney's (1890-1937) Sleep, with Campkin highly effectively replicating the lilting piano accompaniment in choral textures, Gurney's darker harmonic language also shining through. The final works on the disc provide some elements of departure from the mould, with more energy and pace, and an impressive build to the final chord in Tommy’s Carol, and a lively rhythmic energy in Awake, Awake!, an effective setting of The Bellman’s song, a traditional hunting song, also known as The Moon shines bright. There are certainly some strong choral works here that would benefit exploration by choral groups capable of meeting their challenges, and I am also prompted to explore more of Campkin’s compositions in other genres. 

 

The Phoenix Consort demonstrate strong command throughout, embracing the soundworld and managing the tuning of those dense clusters well. The sopranos do ring out bright at the top, although very occasionally the extended nature of the high lines leads to a slightly brittle sound which would benefit from a little more bloom in the recording. The extended techniques of whistling and humming are confidently executed in Dazzling Darkness, as is the improvisatory individual repetition in Calm me, O Lord. 

Campkin, A. I Saw Eternity: Choral Works by Alexander Campkin. Phoenix Consort, Adam Whitmore. Compact Disc & Download. Convivium Records CR100.

From the Celestial Hills - The University of Glasgow Chapel Choir perform a fascinating range of sacred Scottish choral repertoire from across five centuries

The University of Glasgow Chapel Choir was reestablished in the 1950s, but choral singing at the university goes back centuries. The choir have recorded a fascinating collection of sacred Scottish choral works, much of it little known, including a number of first commercial recordings of recent works. The title of the album, From the Celestial Hills, comes from their opening track, Abbeville. Composed by Elisha James King (1821-1844), it had an alto line added later, and has been arranged here by the Director of Chapel Music and conductor of the choir, Dr Katy Lavinia Cooper. The choir immediately demonstrate their secure and full sound, with bright sopranos on the long lines of this strong opener. This is immediately followed by a bouncing seventeenth-century carol, Ecce Novum Gaudium, arranged by Kenneth Elliot (1929-2011) a former lecturer at the university. The choir show themselves to be adept in the smooth plainchant of Arora Rutilat, which also features a fine solo from soprano Eve Harling, and in Sheena Phillips’ (b.1958) arrangement, the harmonies grow more complex, without detracting from the purity of the original line. What, Heard Ye Not? was composed by Frederick Rimmer (1914-1998), who was responsible for reestablishing the choir, and sets an old English carol. Angular sopranos are set against the organ (played here as on other tracks by Dr Kevin Bowyer (b.1961)), with other voices joining, all delivering the text with precise diction. There are only moments of imitative ends of line, the upper and lower voices remaining mostly in unison with striking interjections from the organ. Other highlights here include Katy Lavinia Cooper’s (b.1979) own Like a Lost God, beginning with lower voices over a kind of drone from upper voices, then roles are switched. Two solo sopranos (Eve Harling again, with Sophie Boyd) intertwine beautifully as the choral textures build up. James MacMillan (b.1959) of course had to be represented here, and his strikingly effective For a Thousand Years, with its murmuring repetition and constant movement from unison through clashing seconds to complex crunchy chords and back again, building to a glorious climax, then a dying ending. The singers confidently manage the challenges here, and Cooper shapes the dynamic trajectory well. Jumping back more than five centuries, The Sang of the Thrie Childrein by John Angus (fl.1543-1595) is a spirited hymn, setting verses from the Benedicite. It has great energy, and Cooper and the choir inject effective dynamic variety across the verses. Here and elsewhere it would be nice to have seen the texts – the singers’ diction is exemplary throughout, but the text here is a little trickier! Martin Dalby’s (1942-2018) Et Resurrexit is the most substantial work here, some six and a half minutes long, and begins and ends with quiet organ. The choir, particularly the sopranos manage their sudden entries and edgy, short rhythmic phrases well, as well as smoothly blended sound on the longer lines. In contrast, Rory Boyle’s (b.1951) O Sacrum Convivium is a mostly close syllabic setting, with crunchy harmonies and a mood of mystery, which the singers convey successfully here. There are lots of other gems to be discovered here, but the disc ends with a sweet and gently lilting setting of Ave Regina Caelorum by Kenneth Tay (b.1992), also a bass in the choir. It builds pleasingly to allow the choir to produce a full sound, and the tenors deserve particular mention for their poise at the end. This is a fascinating collection, demonstrating the choir’s clear command across a variety of repertoire, and there are many works here that other choirs may wish to investigate. 

Various. 2024. From the Celestial Hills, Sacred Scottish Choral Works. University of Glasgow Chapel Choir, Dr Kevin Bowyer, Dr Katy Lavinia Cooper. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR088.

The University of Glasgow Chapel Choir

 

Expressive and passionate playing of French repertoire from Miriam Davis & Michael Bulychev-Okser in 'Ode to Lost Time'

Violinist Miriam Davis and pianist Michael Bulychev-Okser have recorded a beautiful selection of French music under the title Ode to Lost Time, a reference of course to Marcel Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu, and its fictional composer, Vinteuil, and perhaps the musical influences on Proust. They open with Eugène Ysaÿe’s (1858-1931) Poème Élégiaque in D minor, Op. 12. This is a highly Romantic and expressive piece, written in 1892-3, and its scordatura (the G string is tuned down to F) adds an additional rich depth to the sound. Davis’ tone is immediately open and forward, matched well by expressive playing from Bulychev-Okser, and they capture the turbulent lyricism and unrest well here. 

 

César Franck (1822-1890) was a favourite of Proust, and the story goes that he turned up at violinist Gaston Poulet’s house at midnight, demanding to hear Franck’s String Quartet. They gathered the rest of the quartet in a taxi, and they performed the Franck for Proust in his bedroom, when Proust then immediately asked to hear it all again. Franck’s Sonata for Violin and Piano in A major was a wedding present for Ysaÿe, and moves from a sunny opening Allegretto ben moderato into a highly turbulent Allegro molto second movement. Here the piano opens with rapidly virtuosic forward propulsion, played here with exemplary drive by Bulychev-Okser, and Davis responds with equal energy. In contrast, the Recitativo-Fantasia third movement has frequent sections for unaccompanied violin, full of sadness and nostalgia. Sunlight returns with the Finale, however, with its canonic lines ringing out. Here Davis and Bulychev-Okser achieve just the right balance to make their echoing lines sing equally, making this a strong performance of Franck’s evergreen masterpiece. 

 

Claude Debussy’s (1862-1918) Violin Sonata in G minor, L140 dates from 1917, the year before he died, and was his last work, the third of an unfinished proposed cycle of sonatas for different instruments, the other two completed ones being for cello and piano (L135), and flute, viola and harp (L137). The Violin Sonata was premiered by Gaston Poulet and Debussy himself. Davis gives the opening Allegro vivo a particular sultriness here, and the central Intermède, with its frequent changes of pace, has a playful spirit. Bulychev-Okser opens the Finale with bright energy, and Davis immediately responds with Debussy’s virtuosic flourishes dashed off effortlessly. Again, there is a sultriness in the central louche waltz, before virtuosic energy from both drive to a blazing finish. 

 

They end their disc with Ernest Chausson’s (1855-1899) rhapsodic Poème, Op. 25, full of sadness and longing, and written for Ysaÿe, who was involved at the composition stage, no doubt influencing its double-stopping passages and virtuosic display. Davis again demonstrates strong control of the virtuosic demands here, and she and Bulychev-Okser give a fine performance, bringing their programme to a more introspective, sombre conclusion. The pair bring out well the contrasts between these works here in highly expressive and passionate readings, making this release worthy of strong recommendation. 

Various. 2024. Ode to Lost Time. Miriam Davis, Michael Bulychev-Okser. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR091.

Engaging solo piano works by John Carbon given strong performances by Steven Graff

I have reviewed Chicago born pianist Steven Graff playing piano works by fellow Chicago composer John Carbon (b.1951) before (here), as well as a disc of Carbon’s orchestral works (here). On his latest disc, Graff has recorded two solo piano works by Carbon. The first is a set of 24 short pieces, Short Stories, composed over a period from 2013, with the whole set being revised in 2017-2018. Although there was an original intention to follow Bach in terms of rigorous coverage of major and minor keys, and a prelude/fugue alternation, Carbon eventually moved away from that rigour, but nevertheless still aimed for a broad range of chromatic, tonal, atonal and modal languages throughout the 24 miniatures, mostly around one or two minutes long each. The ‘stories’ are enigmatic – more of a suggestion of mood, with titles such as Quantum Hobgoblin, Convocation and Paean not revealing a great deal about any programmatic meaning. Quantum Hobgoblin is playful, with cartoonish perpetual motion, whilst Convocation, with its tolling first 3 notes and fugal entries building in insistence to a dramatic, declamatory ending. Paean has a simple bare melody, and like the gently turning, pastoral Heather Bells that opens the set, reminded me a little of some of John Ireland’s solo piano works. There are pieces that reference composers, such as the lilting Tea with Claude and Maurice, full of impressionistic seconds and rippling sweeps, and Czerny’s Id, its jumpy rhythms like a slightly off kilter exercise. George Sand’s Dream is the longest piece, at around seven and a half minutes, and is a beautifully conceived piece, from a circling idea at the start, rising and falling, through a slow waltz with ringing high notes, moving into a dreamy wandering central section, before tonality finally brings certainty at the end. A winding tune emerges from dancing octaves in Guadeloupe Calypso, whilst Joplin’s Tic is spiky, and pushes the sense of ragtime into a less tonal harmonic world, before winding down to a slow stop. There is such a variety of styles and sound worlds here, and Graff is alert to every change of mood, with grand weight in the thicker textures of Momentum, as well as soft-toned, dripping smoothness in Chocolate Velvet. Coming in at just under an hour in total, this is a set packed full of interest, and Graff brings the stark stylistic shifts to life throughout. The disc then ends with a single movement work, Icarus. Dating back to 1988, it is a highly virtuosic piece, and captures a sense of the danger and folly of the Greek myth. From a glassy, atmospheric opening, the rippling rises and falls, and driving rhythmic energy builds in intensity to thundering and crashing at the midpoint. There is a sense of falling, then a more rhapsodic episode, before the thundering returns, building to a final, scarily viruosic display at the end. Highly dramatic, it is much more overtly virtuosic than the Short Stories, and shows another side to both Graff and Carbon’s command of the instrument. All in all, this is another great insight into Carbon’s varied and engaging music.

Carbon, J. 2023. Short Stories. Steven Graff. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR085.

Stylish performances of Clive Osgood’s Three Shakespeare Songs from the Sofia Vokalensemble and Bengt Ollén

In 2008 the Esterházy Chamber Choir in Lewes commissioned a set of Three Shakespeare Songs from composer Clive Osgood (b.1977). They’ve now been recorded by the Swedish choir, Sofia Vokalensemble, based in Stockholm, and conducted by Bengt Ollén. It’s a short set, coming it at around twelve and a half minutes for the three songs, but they are given a bright and secure reading here, with beautifully blended singing throughout. The texts all come from Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It’, and have all been set by many composers, from contemporaries of Shakespeare right through to the modern day. ‘Blow, blow, thou winter wind’, with its penetrating clusters and semitone clashes, is a striking opener, and the bell-like sopranos atop a rich, resonant recording are very effective. However, Osgood doesn’t just rely on the cluster harmonies here, with contrasting rhythmic movement for the ‘Heigh ho! sing’ chorus. ‘Under the greenwood tree’ has more straightforwardly warm choral harmonies, and a bright soprano solo rises out of the second verse. Here, the thicker choral textures could be brought down in the balance a little to allow the solo to fully shine through, but there is warmth of tone from all here. The set concludes with ‘It was a lover and his lass’, in a swingy, playful setting from Osgood, with hints of barber-shop. Here, the light, clear sopranos would benefit from a little more confident weight in places, but Ollén shapes the varied textures well. Osgood has certainly employed contrasting styles in the three songs here, with ‘Blow, blow, thou winter wind’ being the most convincingly successful. The set certainly offers a choir the opportunity to demonstrate range, and the Sofia Vokalensemble definitely achieve this. I reviewed an enjoyable album of Clive Osgood’s Sacred Choral Music back in 2019 (here), but there is a greater variety of compositional style on display in this short set here. As it did for the Esterházy Chamber Choir, this set would sit well within any programme of Shakespeare settings, of which there are of course many to choose from.

Osgood, C. 2024. Three Shakespeare Songs. Sofia Vokalensemble, Bengt Ollén. Digital Download. Convivial Records CR092.

Atmospheric and expressive piano works from Hugh Shrapnel performed with virtuosic command by the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble

I reviewed a recording from the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble (pianists Natalie Tsaldarakis and Panayotis Archontides) performing piano music by composers John Lewis (b.1947) and Hugh Shrapnel (b.1947) back in 2020 (here), and I very much enjoyed their atmospheric yet virtuosic performances. They’re back, with Piano Works, this time just by Hugh Shrapnel. On the previous recording, I was struck by the variety of Shrapnel’s mostly miniature pieces, from moody and atmospheric to energetic and at times even aggressive, and this new recording confirms that variety in Shrapnel’s writing for the piano. Again, there are few pieces here longer than a few minutes, yet within this miniature form, Shrapnel captures a mood instantly. A pecking Robin, a weird unidentified creature (insect? small rodent?) in Jump, or comedic, even slightly chaotic Jugglers, all feature in his Piano Set No. 1, alongside the darker, more introspective moods of Shade and Wood at Night. On this disc, in fact there are only two pieces for the duo – the rest are works for solo piano, and they are split fairly evenly between Tsaldarakis and Archontides. So Tsaldarakis takes the Piano Set No. 1, and captures beautifully those mood swings from one momentary movement to the next, some under a minute long. There is a lazy, bluesy tiredness to Small Hours, and Red Queen’s minimalist running on the spot is delivered effortlessly. Archontides plays Shrapnel’s Sonatina, ostensibly more formally structured, but still with now familiar elements such as rippling movement and subtly shifting harmonies, but Archontides also captures the lilting yet plangent mood of the central movement, written as a memorial to Shrapnel’s father. Archontides also takes Love-Hate, contrasting an almost violent opening with more introspective, reflective passages, and his tone is rich and resonant, with a deep tolling bass. And in Esquisse mécanique, written for a volume of piano music inspired by Alkan, Archontides’ virtuosity shines through, its playful, perpetual 5/8 rhythms rippling along without much let up, and exploiting the extreme registers of the keyboard. He also takes two of the three movements of Le Temps Perdu, giving the second movement’s slightly sarcastic, tango-esque rhythms quite dramatic weight, contrasting with the calmer yet darker mood of the slower third movment. Tsaldarkis’ opening movement of this set is playful with hints at dance rhythms within a jazzy, cabaret-style mood. Tsaldarkis performs Sphinxes (drawing on the sets of cryptogram notes Schumann laid out in the middle of Carnival), which is full of silence and hanging resonance, with just a brief moment of outburst adding to the mystery. Premonition is full of foreboding, with its contrary motion between the hands and tolling bells, and For Bob, a tribute to Robert Coleridge, a friend and colleague of Shrapnel’s, shares some of the same bell-like tolling, with repeating falling cries, which later become more chordal in texture, possibly even slightly angry in tone. The players join for just two pieces. In Follow me up to Carlow, Shrapnel pays tribute to his composition teacher Cornelius Cardew, drawing on an old Irish tune celebrating victory over English soldiers at the Battle of Glenmalure. The longest track here, at nearly eight minutes, this is a piece full of dramatic rhythmic energy, and its cross-rhythms build in intensity over insistent rumblings in the bass. The two pianists circle each other in the virtuosic sections, yet retreat into a more reflective mood, before everything comes together for a slightly frenzied climax, before subsiding into ringing chords and tolling bass notes. And they end the disc with For an Alternative, another piece honouring Cardew, with clamorous, resonant bells to open, before driving rhythmic energy takes hold, and here the duo’s virtuosic timing is particularly impressive. This is a great showcase for the variety of expression and mood in Shrapnel’s piano writing, as well as for the virtuosic command of these two pianists, alone or as a duo. 

Shrapnel, H. 2023. Hugh Shrapnel: Piano Works. Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble. Compact Disc. Convivium Records. CR087.