Ensemble MidtVest give strong performances of engaging chamber works & arrangements by Matthew Owain Jones

Matthew Owain Jones (b.1974) is a renowned violist, violinist and musical educator, as well as composer. He has also trained as an Alexander Technique and a Yoga teacher, with a strong emphasis on promoting wellbeing in musicians, prompted by his own career-threatening experience of RSI. As a performer, he has many significant viola recordings to his name, and is Head of Chamber Music and Professor of Viola at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. His composing output has been relatively sparse, but includes a String Quartet and Wind Quintet, both of which have been recently recorded by the Danish chamber group, Ensemble MidtVest. The original version of the String Quartet No. 1 was compossed when Jones was just 19, and had four movements, but he later revised the work down to two movements, adding the title ‘Deletia’. In this recording, Jones himself takes the first violin part. The opening movement is wistful, full of expression, with a pastoral feel, and the lyrical, winding melodies sing out. The climax is more heartfelt, before a return to the quieter musical language for the quiet ending. The second movement has more of a bouncing, rhythmic pulse, although melodic lines dominate once again. As with the first movement, there is a build to a more passionate section, with a unison crying idea, and elements of minimalist repetition. Harmonics calms things down, and the conclusion is quiet and subdued. This is an attractive work, given a clear and warm performance here. The Wind Quintet is a more recent work, composed for the Ensemble MidtVest in 2016. Comprising single movement of nearly seventeen minutes, it has a confident, atmospheric feel, making good use of the different wind timbres. A distant horn call opens, before different instruments join, crossing each other with distinct entries. After the various lyrical lines have emerged, the clarinet heralds quicker movement, joined by the oboe, and perkier rhythms bubble along. There are many filmic passages here, including a lilting waltz-like andante section. Once again, the Ensemble MidtVest do Jones proud, with clear articulation and smooth, lyrical lines from all five instruments. The rest of the disc is given over to Jones’ arrangement of excerpts from Carl Nielsen’s (1865-1931) Aladdin, Op. 34. The complete score runs to some 80 minutes, composed for Adam Oehlenschläger’s 1805 five act play, and is scored for soloists, choir and orchestra. Nielsen also conducted performances of extracts, and a suite of seven parts was published in 1940. Here, Jones has arranged nine extracts, for string quartet plus wind quintet, and piano (with occasional additional tambourine and bells). Jones distils the atmosphere of Nielsen’s imaginative score well, with swirling energy in the dance movements, and deft articulation and effective use of col legno (the wood of bows hitting strings) and bouncy string spiccato to add texture, the addition of the piano also adding drive and weight. The precision of Ensemble MidtVest’s performance here brings vibrant life to this effective arrangement. A Beautiful Square in Isfahan is the most unusual and atmospheric of the excerpts here, with the eastern infused slow melody over a low drone against a hurdy-gurdy-like violin at cross rhythmic pulse, and weird horn and bassoon chords. Like a busy market square, there is lots going on, and Jones’ taut arrangement captures this well. The final Oriental Festival March is perhaps the most familiar music, with its lively and intense swagger. This is an interesting disc, contrasting Jones’ own engaging compositions with the lively Nielsen arrangements, all performed with energetic commitment by Ensemble MidtVest.

Various. 2024. Matthew Owain Jones: String Quartet No. 1 / Wind Quintet, Nielsen: Aladdin, Op. 34. Ensemble MidtVest. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR163.

 

Adventurous, virtuosic and highly expressive celebration of 15 years of the Canellakis-Brown Duo

Cellist Nicholas Canellakis and pianist-composer Michael Stephen Brown, met in their early twenties some fifteen years ago and have been performing as the Canellakis-Brown Duo ever since, as well as maintaining their separate solo careers. They clearly have a close friendship which has also stimulated compositions and arrangements  from both, a number of which receive première recordings here. 
 
First, let’s get the album title, ‘(b)romance’ out of the way. Now celebrating male friendship is no bad thing, but the term ‘bromance’ is unfortunately problematic for me. The implication is always that such a friendship between two presumably straight men needs a label, however tongue in cheek, lest we ‘misunderstand’. And just in case we are in any doubt, it is confirmed that Canellakis has a girlfriend, whilst Brown’s website informs us that he has two Steinways with female names (really?). Now there’s clearly a play on the term here, with reference to the numerous Romances for cello and piano amongst the eclectic and expressive repertoire, and their friendship and professional partnership of 15 years is worthy of celebration. But still…
 
Anyway, closeness of communication and warmth of connection are immediately evident in the Saint-Saëns Romance opener, with Canellakis in particular producing a glorious cantabile sound. Brown is equally expressive in the Romantic piano solo of the Romanze from Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto, with Canellakis joining for the expressive, luxurious duet that emerges. Fauré’s Romance has a wonderful flow in the meandering, expressive cello melody, with Brown providing the necessary sense of motion from the piano. The rich, lower register opening from Canellakis is particularly striking here too. This is followed by Romance à GF, composed by Canellakis himself. He doesn’t clarify whether GF is his girlfriend, or the former composer’s initials, but regardless, it is an evocative piece, with the cello on long sustained piano notes of a rising scale emerging from the quiet mysterious piano opening. Once the melody gets going there is definitely a nod to Fauré here. Brown picks up the pace and intensity to support Canellakis’ outbursts, before it all dies away, leaving Canellakis at the heights of the fingerboard. Brown’s compositional offerings here include 35 Chords for Nick (a 35^th birthday present). The score (reproduced in the notes) indicates that the tempo, character and dynamics of the chords is up to the performer, and should be different every time – whilst setting down a recording obviously limits us to one version. But Canellakis’ mixture of spread chords, multiple stoppings, pizzicato and harmonics is engaging, and he again puts that richness of tone to great effect. There is also a Prelude and Dance from Brown, originally written as a solo cello piece for Canellakis, but with Brown adding the piano part later. The Prelude is an expressive, questioning conversation, in which the cello part’s repeated notes in particular get more insistent. The Dance that follows is wild and relentless, with most of the drive coming from the cello, with the piano adding complexity to the rhythms, before they swirl towards its frenzied conclusion.
 
The longest piece here is Sibelius’ dark Malinconia, and at just over 11 minutes in a programme of largely miniatures, it feels epic in proportions. Full of anguish, written in response to the death of the composer’s infant daughter, from the dark mysterious cello opening rising in anguish to the piano cascades, and then the folk-like cello lament over the piano’s rhythmic pulse, this certainly packs an emotional punch. As the intensity rises, Brown’s crashing piano is matched by Canellakis’ heart-wrenching full sound, followed by a quietly raging conclusion, making for a highly moving performance of this astonishing piece. Ginastera’s Pampeana No. 2follows this with the bell-like piano and extended dramatic cello flourish leading into a swirling dance and long passages of extreme expressive outbursts, then just when you think it’s almost over, there is a wild dance to finish, with both Canellakis & Brown showing their virtuosic prowess. 
 
Elsewhere, Canellakis makes the melody of Rachmaninov’s Lied sing alongside the relatively simple piano accompaniment, whilst Copland’s Poème, a contrastingly reflective piece, is given a peaceful, almost sensual reading. Debussy’s song Beau soir, here transcribed by Canellakis, is limpid and warm, with a beautifully controlled high ending from Canellakis. And Lukas Foss’ (1922-2009) Capriccio is full of American folksy melodies, galloping pace and train-like rhythmic energy, once again allowing both players to demonstrate their virtuosity. 
 
They end the disc playfully, first with 3 Preludes by Gershwin, arranged by Canellakis. The first is great fun, and the third is a joyful romp, whilst the central prelude is sultry, with a bluesy (if a little ‘clean’ here) second half. But they finish with a wild, virtuosic and crazy dance, Don Ellis’ (1934-1978) Bulgarian Bulge, originally for big band, in another Canellakis arrangement. Its 33/16 metre is fiendishly infectious, and Canellakis and Brown swirl and spin with sparkling energy to bring their programme to a glorious close. All in all, a great programme, performed with style, virtuosic command and expression – just a shame about that title!

Various. 2024. (b)romance. Nicholas Canellakis, Michael Stephen Brown. Compact Disc. First Hand Records. FHR134.

 
 

Smock Alley - Italian meets Irish in 18th century Dublin, with richly resonant performances from Irlandiani

I’m catching up on a few releases from First Hand Records from the last year. The first of these was prompted by also seeing the ensemble, Irlandiani, perform at this year’s Brighton Early Music Festival. Irlandiani were formed by cellist Carina Drury in 2020, and they describe themselves as a collective of historical and traditional instrumentalists who explore Italian and Irish musical connections in the 18^th century. So they were a great fit for this year’s BREMF, its theme being Connections. But first the disc. Titled Smock Alley, it focusses on Italian and Irish music with connections to the vibrant theatre scene in Dublin centred around the Smock Alley Theatre. 

 

A core of the recording is a set of Six Duos for Two Cellos, Op. 18 by Tommaso Giordani (1730-1806), performed here by Drury and fellow cellist Poppy Walshaw. Giordani moved to Dublin in around 1764, and worked as musical director at the Smock Alley Theatre. He briefly moved to London, where these duos were composed, but returned to Dublin for the rest of his life. The duets are light and graceful, and the deep tones of the two cellos combined create a warm soundworld. Each in two movements, the opening movements generally dance along, with singing lines, the two instruments chasing one another in thirds. When the second cello is given more supporting, accompanying rhythms, they are delivered here with delicacy, never laboured, despite the arpeggio movement. But it is in the faster, second movements where greater invention occurs. In Sonata No. 2, the Allegro (Tamborino) is an energetic romp, with instructions to hit the string with the bow, Drury and Walshaw delivering precise articulation as the music races along. Sontata No. 3 has a swinging Giga, and Sonata No. 6’s spiky Allegro bounces along playfully. Another Italian, Franceso Geminiani (1687-1762) is represented here. He also spent periods of time living in Dublin, including the last four years of his life. His Cello Sonata in A major, Op. 5, No. 1 receives a stylish performance from Walshaw here, with Drury supported by Nathaniel Mander on harpsichord for the continuo part. The opening movement has an expressive line, delicately ornamented by Walshaw, followed by impressive virtuosity in the Allegro that follows, with the harpsichord brightly jangling along. There’s more dramatic expression in the third movement, and the final Allegro contains moments of melodic interaction between the cello and harpsichord. Mander also gives us some solo pieces on the recording, with two of Domenico Scarlatti’s (1685-1757) Keyboard Sonatas, prefaced by a brief Introduction to Scarlatti’s Lessons by Thomas Roseingrave (1690/91-1766). Roseingrave was an organist in Dublin, but having dropped out of Trinity College Dublin, he was sent to Venice, where he met the Scarlatti family. He published an edition of Scarlatti’s Keyboard Sonatas, and that’s where the Introduction appeared. A graceful enough prelude, it is no match in terms of invention for Scarlatti’s rushing, rhythmic Sonata in G major, K13, or his fugally complex Sonata in G minor, K30. Mander is bright, energetic and precise in the former, and brings steady clarity to the latter. He also plays a very brief Prelude for Keyboard in A major, Op. 33 No. 11 by Giordani, playful but so short it flies by in a moment.

 

So, in contrast to the Italian fare, the disc is bookended with arrangements (by Drury and the ensemble) of traditional Irish tunes. Gallway’s Lament opens the disc, with the rich, resonant cellos joined by light percussion from John-Henry Baker. Baker switches to violone (or double bass viol) for Drury’s arrangement of Francis Hutcheson’s (1721-1784) To sleep. Hutcheson was an amateur composer, and wrote using the pseudonym ‘Frances Ireland’, and this three part glee works well with the three string instruments here, dancing along playfully in the rich, lower registers. At the other end of the disc come arrangements by the ensemble of Irish tunes Molly St George and The Rakes of Westmeath, both found in Burke Thumoth (c. 1717-1747)’s 12 Irish and 12 Scotch Airs with Variations of 1748. Thumoth was a musician, performing in London theatres, as well as performing a few times at the Smock Alley Theatre, but sadly died at the young age of 29. Molly St George’s mournful melodic line over droning and gentle pizzicato from the second cello and violone is rendered even more beautifully mournful in these lower registers, while The Rakes of Westmeath brings a sudden breath of fresh air with the dancing Irish flute, played by Eimear McGeown, with Baker providing percussion on the spoons and drum. And finally, the disc ends with Carina Drury’s own composition, Caoineadh, which draws on the Irish air Caoineath na dTri Muire. A distant, mournful lament is given a dark edge with shifting, thick chords and unexpected harmonic shifts from the cello and violone beneath Drury’s melodic cello line. A fascinating disc, exploring this unusual repertoire, and the Italian and Irish connections, as well as the different soundworld created by the lower, resonant instrumentation.

 

In concert at BREMF, the line-up was slightly different, with Aileen Henry’s delicate harp replacing the harpsichord, and guest, Irish fiddle player and singer Úna Palliser injecting another stylistic influence into proceedings. The Rakes of Westmeath, with Palliser on fiddle, had a different, yet equally engaging colour here, and this also returned as their encore. A few more traditional tunes made an appearance, and there was only space for a selection of the Giordani duos. Palliser’s keening vocals brought yet another element to their fascinating mix. A talented group of performers for sure – live, a few more upbeat numbers could lift the overall mood created by the lower, moody registers of the instruments, but that’s a minor quibble. Check out the disc, but also look out for them live if you can.

Various. 2023. Smock Alley. Irlandiani. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR144.

Baillie & Yandell impress in striking Crosse, restless Fauré, and lyrical Ravel

Cellist Alexander Baillie studied with André Navarra and Jacqueline du Pré, and has had an extensive career as a soloist, chamber musician and teacher, and has recently returned to the UK after his tenure as Professor of Cello at the Hochschule für Musik in Bremen. On his recent disc with First Hand Records, he was joined by pianist Nigel Yandell, who has an equally varied career, as soloist, collaborative pianist and teacher. Both worked with the London Sinfonietta, and it was their partnership that led to the desire to realise a new performing edition of Gordon Crosse’s (1937-2021) Wanderings. The work was originally recorded by Baillie with pianist Andrew Ball when it was composer back in 1983. This revival was originally intended for Crosse’s 80^th birthday in 2017, but delays and then COVID delayed the project, and sadly Crosse died aged 83 in 2021. Crosse had a relatively successful period in the 1960s and 1970s, writing choral and operatic works for the Three Choirs Festival and Sadlers Wells, as well as orchestral, chamber and vocal pieces. He moved into computer programming and music technology, but returned to composition later, completing four more symphonies and four more string quartets.

 

Crosse’s Wavesongs is a fascinating work which begins with a long introduction, Deep Sea. From empty space, glassy cello harmonics emerge, with rumbles and a persistent semitone pattern. It’s so quiet and mysterious, it’s initially hard to discern what’s happening, and low piano tolls hint of something in the distant depths of the ocean. Slow movement on both instruments develops, with fluttering from the cello and changing from the piano. Sea Shanty then emerges, with a lilting melody developing on the cello. Agitated repetition on the piano is taken over by the cello, building to wild piano scales and high wailing from the cello in Troubled Waves. Storm which follows is actually quieter, with rumbling turbulence, before piano strikes of lightening break through. The swinging shanty rhythms return over relentless movement in Cruel Sea, before calm arrives in Aria, cluster chords releasing into a soothingly harmonic melody. Turbulence returns in Tempest, with wild running piano scales and violent cello explosions. By now, the cello is screaming in its upper registers against repeated high piano notes in Lost at Sea. Homeward Bound is spiky and fragmentary with slithering, glassy cello. A train-like rhythm gets going, and there’s little let-up, until the piano slows first, and finally they both stop. Calm returns in Peace and Enlightenment, and the high cello harmonics of the very opening are back. Everything slows, with a final cry of the shanty tune from the cello, and quiet piano chords bringing the journey to a close. This is a highly effective piece, with evocative use of both instruments, and Baillie and Yandell’s performance is engaging, making coherent sense of this complicated and ever shifting score. 

 

First on the disc comes a rendition of Fauré’s Cello Sonata No. 1. Both of his sonatas for the instrument came from the latter period of his life, when he was plagued by distortion of sound and increasing deafness. The first Cello Sonata, from 1917, is a compact work of three movements. The jumpy, impetuous start sets the mood of restlessness, and lyricism when it comes has edgy harmonic twists, meaning the music never relaxes. Despite the intensity, Baillie is never too weighty, and Yandell rises to the demanding persistence of the piano part. The central Andante is warmer, and here Baillie’s lyricism is underpinned by delicate chords from Yandell. The sense of turbulence from the opening movement creeps in, and the middle of the movement moves into wistful sadness. The Finale has greater drive, and a conversation dances along between the two instruments. Baillie’s melodic line sings, if occasionally becoming a little astringent at the top, and both drive through to a spirited, joyful finish. 

 

They end their recording with an arrangement for cello and piano of Ravel’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in A minor. This was a very early work, but was not published until 1975. It works very well on the cello, particularly in the wistful, wandering opening, with the piano responding with rippling textures. There are lots of lyrical lines for the cello, and plenty of rhapsodic development of the material from both instruments. Emphatic octaves from the cello lead to a yearning climax, then as the opening materials returns, substantially transformed, a more relaxed, summery mood is established, leading to a light, major key conclusion. Baillie and Yandell make a great case for this arrangement here.

 

The two French works provide an interesting contrast to the striking work by Crosse, and allow Baillie and Yandell to demonstrate their command in varied repertoire for cello and piano.

Various. 2023. Fauré, Crosse, Ravel. Alexander Baillie, Nigel Yandell. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR152.

 

 

Delightful performances from David de Winter and The Brook Street Band in 'Schütz: A German in Venice'

Tenor David de Winter and The Brook Street Band released their album, Schütz: A German in Venice in April, and it has received well-deserved acclaim for its imaginative programme but also for their stylish performances. German composer Heinrich Schütz (1585-1672) studied with Giovanni Gabrieli in Venice in his twenties, and then returned to Venice for some time in the late 1620s. So de Winter has put together a programme here of some of Schütz’s sacred solo chamber works, alongside works by Venetian composers of the day, highlighting the Italian influences on Schütz’s work, at the cusp of the late Renaissance and into the high Baroque. Schütz’s works here all date from after his return to Germany, but it is clear that his time with Gabrieli, and presumably alongside these eminent Italian composers in Venice (there are suggestions that he met Monteverdi, although there is little actual evidence to confirm this) had a profound influence on his music. So there is music by Monterverdi here, as well as Cavalli, Grandi, Rossi and Sances. 

 

The disc opens with Schütz’s Lobet den Herrn, SWV 350, from his Symphoniae sacrae II, Op. 10, and it sets the scene well, with de Winter’s bright, clear tone delivering Schütz’s bouncing, straightforwardly communicative style with elegance, and The Brook Street Band matching this with energy and charm. Monteverdi follows, with Confitebor tibi Domine, SV 193 from his Messa a quattro voci et salmi concertati. In contrast to the sprightly opener, this begins with solemn strings, before the recorders then join for a livelier tempo. De Winter’s flowing lines, with frequent changes in tempo and mood are again complimented by graceful playing from the band. Of the seven other Schütz works here, there is great variety, from the mysterious, chromatic O süßer, O freundlicher, SWV 285, and the dancing Exultavit cor meum, SWV 258 to the swinging triple time Ich werde nicht sterben, SWV 346 and the more operatically virtuosic Cantabo Domino in vita mea, SWV 260, with its lengthy Alleluia. Throughout all, de Winter demonstrates his range, with complex decoration and virtuosic flourishes, as well as highly expressive and tender singing. The rising Amen at the end of the Monteverdi is simply beautiful, and leads so well into the mysterious opening of Schütz’s O Süßer, O freundlicher.

 

The Brook Street Band give us two playful trio sonatas from Salamone Rossi (1570-1630), the Sontata sopra l’aria di Ruggiero, with its dancing, intertwining violins playing tag, and the Sonata ottava sopra l’aria è tanto tempo hormai, with more chattering, shimmering violins and stately bass from cello and organ. Giovanni Felice Sances’ (1600-1679) sombre Stabat Mater, the longest piece on the disc, sits at the centre, with its darkly lugubrious tone and falling bass line, and highly expressive text-setting. De Winter relishes the tremulous ‘tremebat’, as well as a beautifully smooth melisma on the final syllable of ‘complaceam’. This is a real gem, and the pared back accompaniment gently supports de Winter’s expressive range, right to the highly decorative Amen to finish. Alessandro Grandi’s (1586-1630) Lauda Sion Salvatorem opens with mournful tenor recorders, contrasting de Winter’s bright, forwardly projected text, and his Decantabat populus Israel is full of virtuosic display and dancing Alleluias. And Francesco Cavalli’s (1602-1676) O quam suavis es is beautifully intimate, with de Winter again giving expressive, lyrical lines against the delicate lute, before the cello and organ join, and de Winter’s prayerful leap up on filium at the very end is effortless.

 

Schütz’s Ich danke dir Herr, SWV 347 ends the disc, with its triple time, lilting dance and increasing virtuosity from the full ensemble bringing things to a suitably celebratory finish. Aside from the fascinating insights into this repertoire (with excellent notes from de Winter), this is a beautifully constructed and varied programme, with delightful performances throughout. 

Various. 2024. Schütz: A German in Venice. David de Winter, The Brook Street Band. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR145.

Confidence and precision from St Albans Cathedral Choir & Andrew Lucas make this survey of Bruckner's motets a must

Choral singers will be familiar with most of Anton Bruckner’s (1824-1896) Motets, but possibly not all of them. So it’s great to hear such an extensive selection, and especially when they are performed with the confidence and precision of a choir like the St Albans Cathedral Choir, conducted by Andrew Lucas. The most well known stem from his late Vienna period, and all the full choral settings are here. Locus Iste is brief but perfectly formed, and the choir here give a pure sound and smooth flow. The crescendo to the climax is tastefully handled, and the tuning of the falling chromatic lines that follow is precise, leading to a poised and gentle, if very slow, conclusion. Christus factus est is more substantial and complex. Lucas takes the opening slowly, only picking up the pace at ‘Propter quod’, possibly to enable greater precision in Bruckner’s slightly fiddly semiquavers. The dynamic contrasts here are crucial, from ppp to fff, with the full range in between, and Lucas and the singers achieve well this in the resonant cathedral acoustic, apart from a tiny bump as the trebles hit the final ppp ‘Quod’. Tota pulchra est contrasts the tenor solo with choral sections and sparing but dramatic use of the organ (played by Dewi Rees). I’m not sure if tenor Philip Salmon moved around for his different sections, but he achieved really effective contrasts between his more distant opening and the fuller, more present ‘Ora pro nobis’. Os justi has the most glorious falling lines and suspensions, and here the trebles in particular produce a wonderful ringing sound. Lucas picks up the pace again for the central polyphonic section, and ensemble is managed well here. Baritone William Houghton gives the strong solo in Salvum fac populum tuum, and again, Bruckner uses constant contrasts (solo plainchant, unison chant and choral textures) in his setting, and the unexpected chord at ‘speravimus’ after relatively straightforward harmnonies is a great moment. The blend of voices in the chant, and Houghton’s clear focussed tone make for a strong performance here. Vexilla regis and Virga Jesse both receive equally solid performances here. The former flows along nicely, although tuning in Bruckner's B major swerve of the second verse isn’t as secure as elsewhere. Lucas manages a wonderfully smooth crescendo through the opening section of the latter, then the tenors deserve mention for a beautiful piano top G following the general pause, as do the trebles for their pianissimo falling sixths on ‘in se’. 

Probably less familiar, due to its unusual scoring for choir, organ and three trombones (Joe Arnold, Matthew Lewis & Becky Smith here), is Ecce sacerdos magnus. Its huge dramatic impact makes it a great opener to the disc, yet there are huge contrasts here too. The moments for organ and trombones enforce Bruckner’s harmonic shifts, whereas the choral lines allow the text to soar, with secure top B flats from the trebles. Given the fullness of the sound and the acoustic, diction is impeccable, as it is throughout the disc. The trombones return for Afferentur regi, an interesting miniature, with tricky polyphonic entries for the choir, and the trombones providing underpinning at various points. Particularly noticeable here is the tenor control, avoiding pinging out of the blend at the top of their range. The other work with the trombones, Inveni David, sees them accompanying just the lower voices in four parts, here beautifully blended. The trombones provide great moments of drama here, making the harmonic progressions especially exciting. Lucas observes the changing dynamics throughout, and new to me, this turns out to be the highlight of the disc.

The Ave Maria here is one of three of Bruckner’s choral settings, this one from his Linz period. There is a smooth blend between the trebles and altos here, with the tenors and basses providing a contrastingly warmer sound when they come in. The trebles’ first high A could be a tad brighter, but on the whole, apart from the occasional hiccup into those high notes, they are solid and secure at the top. Lucas pays attention to all the details, such as accents and dynamics, throughout. Pange Lingua also stems from the middle Linz period, and the choir give its three verses a tender reading, ending with a beautiful Amen.

In his earlier years at Sankt Florian monastery, Bruckner made four settings of Tantum ergo, and two are included here. Their simpler, more hymn-like style provide a nice contrast to the more dramatic works, and allow the choir to show off their smooth, gentle blend. The two organ works included here come from Bruckner’s time at Sankt Florian too. In the Prelude and Fugue in C minor, the emphatic Prelude is followed by a Fugue with a long, drawn out melody, and here Dewi Lees makes great use of different registration to provide variety of texture, with a wonderful rumbling bass at the conclusion. Similarly, the Postlude in D minor has a dramatic introduction, flowing fugal lines and a rattling climax to show off Lees’ commanding playing and the St Albans instrument.

This survey of these wonderfully dramatic and varied choral gems is a must for choral singers and enthusiasts alike.

Bruckner, A. 2023. Bruckner Motets. St Albans Cathedral Choir, Dewi Rees, Andrew Lucas. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR143.

CD Review - The Stradgrass Sessions - Tessa Lark

Kentucky born violinist Tessa Lark’s debut CD Fantasy in 2019 (my review here) combined her classical and folk roots admirably, but she has taken this further into American folk styles with her latest disc, The Stradgrass Sessions. She coined the term ‘Stradgrass’ back in 2015, when she was lucky enough to have a Stradivarius on loan for a few years, and was experimenting with playing bluegrass on the instrument. Moving on some years, on this disc, she combines some of her own compositions with those of other contemporary American composers, and she adds Eugène Ysaÿe’s (1858-1931) Sonata for Solo Violin No. 5 into the mix, along with three of Béla Bartók’s (1881-1945) 44 Duets for Two Violins, here recast for violin and mandolin, played by Sierra Hull (b.1991). But proceedings begin with Lark’s own Jig and Pop, a wild, moto perpetuo piece, with driving, obsessive minimalist rhythms. Incredibly fast, it has a quieter central section which dies away to a thrum, and finally halts. Hints of the motif then get things going again. This clearly sets Lark’s stall out in terms of energy and virtuosity, and it is followed by Sierra Hull’s Chasin’ Skies, a funky, jazz-infused joyful piece, originally written by Hull just for the mandolin, but clearly a great collaboration for both here, with wild virtuosity from both players. Lark follows with two more of her own fiddle tunes, Le Soka and Cheese in the Wine. The former takes inspiration from the opening line of Ravel’s Violin Sonata No. 2, with Lark swinging a melodic line with panache, whereas the latter has more of connection to Irish fiddle style. She then joins with Edgar Meyer (b.1960) for Meyer’s Concert Duo for Violin and Bass. Its gently lilting opening contrasts with the initial darkness of the bass, before the pace picks up. There are shiny, ethereal harmonise, echo effects and use of canon between the instruments. Copland-esque chords contrast with the wilder, virtuosic displays from both instruments. The second movement dives straight into rapid, shifting rhythms in unison melodies. The violin then takes up a two bar ostinato, while the bass gives wild flourishes, then the process is reversed, the violin taking over the virtuosity. Towards the end there is a fascinatingly unexpected polytonal section, almost like the instruments are unravelling, before they rejoin for the driving finish. Ysaÿe’s Sonata also has two movements, opening with L’Aurore (Dawn), where wispy signs of life move into sliding double stops, then increasingly widely spread rippling arpeggios lead to the energy and brightness of a blazing sunrise. The Danse rustique that follows begins with spread chlorides bringing out a melody, highly technically challenging, and it is a while before the dance really gets going, via lots of rhapsodic, fleeting gestures, but when it does, crazy virtuosic wildness takes hold and drives to the finish. Lark’s Hysedelje calms things down with a distinctly Nordic feel (despite the fact that she made up the title, with no apparent meaning), and its swinging rhythm is playful, right to Lark’s final ‘whoop’ to finish. Another collaboration follows, this time with fiddler Michael Cleveland (b.1980), in Lazy Katie, a gloriously energetic ‘twin fiddling’ display, with tight harmonies and fast rhythmic lines, exuding joy from beginning to end. John Corigliano’s (b.1938) STOMP follows, a competition test piece written for the 2011 International Tchaikovsky Competition. Complete with an opening theatrical train horn, non standard tuning and bluesy slides, it has moments of sad lament, before the horn returns and leads into wild stomping and scratching. The blues slows, still with added stomping, before a fast, crazy finish. In the Bartók, we have thrumming rhythms from the mandolin and a twisting violin melody in No. 35, with ethereal glassy effects on the violin before the finish. No. 39 has pizzicato on the violin matching the plucked mandolin, although the two instruments’ different timbres add an extra dimension to the gently lilting and nagging repetitions. No. 45 is a rapid swirling dance, with incredibly nimble playing from Hull on the mandolin, despite being less prominent in the texture. The disc closes with something much more contemplative and actually very touching. Lark collaborates again, this time with pianist Jon Batiste (b.1986), with their rhapsodic arrangement of Stephen Foster’s (1826-1864) My Old Kentucky Home. After a bright, high piano opening and violin harmonics, the melody emerges almost spontaneously, and the resulting exploration is conversational, with rich, evocative chords on the piano, and fragments of melody creating the sense of distant memories. Batiste gives a luxurious jazzy solo, before Lark joins again with nostalgic melodic lines. After a disc so full of energy and show, this is a bravely intimate conclusion to a fabulous showcase of Lark’s diverse talents.

Various. 2023. The Stradgrass Sessions. Tessa Lark, Sierra Hull, Edgar Meyer, Michael Cleveland, Jon Batiste. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR100.

CD Reviews - March 2023

Jonathan Dove (b.1959) has composed many operas, as well as orchestral, chamber and film music, but I am personally most familiar with his choral works, ever since singing in performances of his oratorio, There Was a Child, with Brighton Festival Chorus and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Simon Halsey, back in 2011’s Brighton Festival. A few of the BFC tenors were then invited to join the CBSO and the CBSO Chorus for a performance of the work in June of that year, at Symphony Hall in Birmingham. That concert was recorded, and it was great to have the opportunity to really get inside this striking work for soprano & tenor soloists, adult & children’s choruses and orchestra. I remember then being particularly impressed with Dove’s effortless choral writing, presenting singers with rhythmic and harmonic challenges, but always within very ‘singable’ music – understanding choral singing is still surprisingly rare among composers. And so it was a great pleasure to explore a new disc of Dove’s settings of texts by the Greek poet Sappho (c.630-c.570 BC), commissioned by the Cambridge based choir, the Fairhaven Singers, conducted by Ralph Woodward. Sappho Sings consists of six settings of fragments of verse, and are scored for the choir and orchestra, and the Fairhaven Singers are joined here by the London Mozart Players. There is great contrast here, with pastoral flutes and perpetual motion underpinning long vocal lines and falling cascades in the opening ‘From Heaven to here’, to driving string energy, vocal jabs and repetitive rhythms reminiscent of John Adams in ‘You burn me’. Dramatic timpani and brass, and racing strings create a stormy background for ‘Love shook my heart’. Then the upper voices are given richer textures from the strings and horns to underpin their tender rendition ‘Of Love’, with its sensual climax left hanging. In contrast, the lower voices have boisterous rhythmic energy in the

racier ‘Night’. The set then concludes with more long sustained vocal lines, and building, layered choral textures, in ‘Stars around the radiant moon’. There is some lovely word painting here, with falling vocal clusters on ‘stars’, a build to radiant high chords on ‘She’ and ‘silver’, and shimmering high strings left in the air at the very end. These are very effective pieces, with ample variety of textures and vocal styles in a relatively short set (around 19 minutes). The Fairhaven Singers give strong performances here, managing well the challenges of the sustained lines and tricky clustered harmonies, and there were only a couple of points at which the orchestral textures were in danger of overwhelming them in the balance. They sustain the long lines well, and give energy and drive to the more rhythmic passages. These pieces certainly deserve to be picked up by other choirs, adding to Dove’s growing catalogue of strong choral repertoire.

Dove, J. 2022. Sappho Sings. Fairhaven Singers, London Mozart Players, Ralph Woodward. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR076.

Dove, J. 2012. There was a Child. Joan Rodgers, Toby Spence, CBSO Chorus, CBSO Youth Chorus, CBSO Children's Chorus, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, Simon Halsey. Compact Disc. Signum Classics SIGCD285.

 

American composer George Crumb (1929-2022) passed away last year, and shortly before his death, recordings from a concert of his works given in Holland in 1978 had just been rediscovered. Ensemble Dreamtiger (Kathryn Lukas (flute), Alexander Balanescu (violin), Rohan de Saram (cello), Douglas Young (piano) and James Wood (percussion)) were formed in 1973 and were dedicated to performance of new and old music from around the world, although American music featured prominently, including the music of George Crumb, and in that concert in 1978, they performed three of his works. The ensemble gave their last concert in 1989, but they have offered up these remastered recordings in tribute to Crumb. First of all is a remarkable piece, Dream Sequence (Images II), for violin, cello, piano, percussion and off-stage glass harmonica. There are four groupings here – four tuned wine glasses, percussion, piano and strings. The groups play independently of each other, so every performance will be different – a recording can therefore only be one option for performance. The ringing from the glasses goes on pretty much throughout the seventeen minutes, creating a slightly disturbing tinnitus-like effect after a while, with glassy string shimmers and insect-like slides, squeeks and birdlike pecking. Shaking bells and bowed crotales add further effects, and the cumulative effect, once you get used to the constant ringing, is definitely dream-like, with thoughts flitting in and out of consciousness. The sudden crashing piano interruption towards the end is certainly a wake-up call, before the piece ends on a single glassy note and then disappears. The three movement Sonata for Solo Cello that follows provides a welcome contrast, and is the earliest work here, from 1955. Cellist Rohan de Saram delivers the opening movements guitar-like pizzicato followed by its dramatic exposition with passionate expression, and the central movement’s set of variations on a gently swinging siciliana combines improvisatory expression with racing pizzicato and singing harmonics. After a slow introduction, the finale races off in a moto-perpetuo gallop, with only occasional halts in its insistent rhythm. The disc then ends with Vox Balaenae (‘Voice of the Whale’), an eight section work for flute, cello and piano, progressing from the beginning of time, through successive geological eras, to the very end of time. The flute opens with fluttering and singing into the instrument, evoking Andean pipe music, before the piano crashes in and then delivers Jaws-like scrapings on the strings. There is extensive use of harmonics from the cello, as well as some falling, whistling firework effects. In the later sections, the piano is used to imitate the gamelan, and high crotales introduce the final section. Like Dream Sequence, this is a haunting piece that captivates once you settle into its world, and the expressive cello and flute duet and slightly more secure harmonies that follow in the final section give some sense of resolution. This is a fascinating window on Crumb’s music, and this disc is an important record of Ensemble Dreamtiger’s relationship with the composer and performances of his work. 

Crumb, G. 2022. Dream Sequence, Cello Sonata, Vox Balaenae. Ensemble Dreamtiger, Rohan de Saram. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR130.

Jean-Efflam Bavouzet and the Manchester Camerata, conducted by Gábor Takács-Nagy, have reached Volume 7 of their project to record all of Mozart’s Piano Concertos. And their project is special for other reasons. Firstly, their ‘Mozart, made in Manchester’ project centres on the acoustically acclaimed Stoller Hall at Chetham’s School of Music, and they have also involved string students from the school in the project. The recordings also pair the concertos with some of Mozart’s opera overtures, so on this latest disc, two late concertos are joined by the Overture to Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro). As with previous volumes, the matching of Bavouzet’s energetic precision and fresh articulation with Takács-Nagy and the Camerata’s nimble playing makes for recordings that positively fizz. The woodwind of the Camerata stand out particularly in the chamber, serenade-like passages, such as in the slow movement of the Piano Concerto No. 24, K491. There is an alertness in the players’ responses, so that the relationship with the pianist feels so much more conversational. In the opening movement of No. 24, Bavouzet’s playing has bite in the articulation, with the timpani, the perky horns and the fresh woodwind solo passages responding in kind. Yet there is real grace in Bavouzet’s slow movement here, beautifully paired with the chamber, pure-toned woodwind serenade. And then all concerned have a great play with the seemingly four-square, almost martial finale, always giving shape and nuance to Mozart’s simple theme, and the strings in particular get to play with the pianist here. The strings are also particularly sprightly in the opening of the Piano Concerto No. 25, K503. Bavouzet makes the rapid passagework flow beautifully, and the play on the Marsellaise in Broberg’s cadenza is a joy. Again, his grace is gloriously matched with the woodwind in the slow movement, which has a very laid back, relaxed feel, before the slightly spiky strings set off the finale with driving energy, setting things up for the racing piano entry, and here Bavouzet takes full advantage of Mozart’s playing with the sense of the downbeat. These are lively and illuminating performances, with a freshness and real sense of joy in Mozart’s glorious invention. The disc begins with a positively fizzing Overture to Le nozze di Figaro, with great dynamic contrasts from the quiet opening to the explosion that follows, and the precise articulation throughout from the players, without ever sounding laboured, is highly impressive.  

Mozart, W. A. 2023. Mozart: Piano Concertos, Volume 7. Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, Manchester Camerata, Gábor Takács-Nagy. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20192.

 

CD Reviews - January 2023

The first volume of pianist Orion Weiss’ series focussed on piano works leading up to the First World War, and with the second volume, Arc II we are into times of war and grief, with works by Ravel, Brahms and Shostakovich. Ravel’s (1875-1937) Le Tombeau de Couperin was composed between 1914 and 1917, and each movement of the suite is dedicated to friends who died in the war. The idea of the ‘tombeau’ is a 17th century term for a memorial piece, and Ravel is also paying homage to Couperin in its imitation of a baroque suite. The opening Prélude has a watery flow, yet Weiss’s articulation is always crystal clear, and this is a feature of his playing throughout, never allowing the impressionistic soundscapes to obscure the detail. The angular, meandering Fugue becomes more insistent as it progresses, and the Forlane has a swaying, almost jazzy energy. The quirky energy of the Rigaudon’s opening is contrasted well with its darker central section, and the Menuet moves from a gentle feeling of longing to a huge climax, and then a delicate ending. The rapid repeated notes of the Toccata never feel hammered, and Weiss has incredible lightness here, despite the waves of building turbulence. Brahms’ (1833-1897) Variations on a Theme by R. Schumann, Op. 9 take us back to 1854, and again a memorial to a friend, although he was still alive at this point, but following his attempted suicide, he had entered the sanatorium where he would subsequently die. The piece is in fact dedicated to Robert’s wife Clara, and as well as the theme (from Robert’s Bunte Blätter, Op. 99), he quotes from other compositions by both Robert and Clara, and it is a deep expression of grief for the loss of the relationships he had developed with the couple. Across the 16 variations, there is a wide range of styles and emotions, but there is an ever present longing and lyricism, to which Weiss is constantly alert. Yet he also brings out Brahms’ jerky rhythms, Mendelssohnian fairy lightness and weightier complex textures. The final variation’s tolling bass line with hints of the melodic motifs on top has a particular disintegrating poignance which Weiss captures perfectly. Shostakovich’s (1906-1975) Piano Sonata No. 2, Op. 61 moves us forward to 1943, and it is dedicated to his friend and teacher, Leonid Nikolayev, who died in the mass evacuation from Leningrad. Its opening movement starts deceptively easygoing, with a simple melodic line emerging from dancing rapids, but it quickly develops into a kind of nightmarish world, with an eerily distant march and then a steady build in ferocity. Weiss brings out the sense of unease in the moments of seeming calm, as well giving full power to the violent climaxes. The strange, jazzy half waltz of the middle movement is full of questioning sadness and an ominous throb on the first two beats of the bar, and Weiss leaves the final pianissimo line hanging in the air. The finale, with its long angular theme is pure Shostakovich, with its Bachian invention and increasing complexity, with repeated notes and spiky dotted rhythms. After such exhausting tension, Weiss finishes with two of Brahms’ Chorale Preludes for organ, in Busoni’s piano arrangements. ‘Herzlich tut mich verlangen’ has a warm, even-toned sadness in its longing, and ‘O Welt, ich muß dich lassen’ sums up the overwhelming sense of grief here, with its moments of more assertive certainty swept away by faltering sadness and a pianissimo conclusion of resignation. This is a powerfully emotive programme, performed with such sensitivity and passion, and I look forward to the final volume that promises times of joy.

Various. 2022. Arc II. Orion Weiss. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR128.

 

The Mariani Klavierquartett return with the second release in their cycle pairing Brahms’ Piano Quartets with those of Friedrich Gernsheim (1839-1916). Gernsheim’s music suffered from a ban in Nazi Germany, and never really recovered, and it still deserves greater exposure than it receives, so this cycle is to be welcomed. In the first pairing, Gernsheim’s quartet stood alongside his friend’s admirably. Here, perhaps Gernsheim suffers a little next to Brahms’ mammoth A major Piano Quartet, Op. 26, weighing in at nearly 50 minutes. The opening movement is full of passion and is of epic proportions, yet the Marianis ensure there is a lightness of touch where needed, and Gerhard Vielhaber on piano never overly dominates the texture, which is also testament to the excellently balanced recording here. The piano is freed a little in the romance of the slow movement, with comments from the strings pulsing around it. Again, the Marianis achieve admirable lightness in the Scherzo, despite Brahms’ weighty approach, and they give the Finale energetic drive, with its stomping second beat rhythms, yet pull back expertly for the lighter moments, and the slowing train is beautifully judged before the final race to the end. Gernsheim’s Piano Quartet, Op. 47 is much lighter in mood, and the Marianis bring out the hints of ballroom swing in the opening movement. There is plenty of invention throughout, and galloping energy in the second movement is contrasted with warm lyricism. The slow movement is warm and lilting. Here Gernsheim ruminates on his melodic material to the point of slightly rambling, but the ending is sublimely touching nevertheless. The finale’s jaunty theme is treated to lots of fugal treatment and running accompaniments in its variations, with the piano in particular getting to show off with racing, cascading scale passages, and hefty chords are combined with more wild scales for the exuberant finish. Another illuminating release, and I look forward to the final volume. 

Various. 2022. Brahms & Gernsheim Piano Quartets. Mariani Klavierquartett. Compact Disc. Audax Records ADX11202.

In the sixth volume of his survey, pianist Barry Douglas tackles the second set of Impromptus, D935 and the Piano Sonata in A minor, D845 by Schubert (1797-1828). The Sonata was the last of three in the same key, and the most substantial of these. Douglas takes a weighty approach here, giving the opening movement the heft of a Chopin Polonaise, emphasising the drama. His tempi throughout tend towards the slow side, and this holds up some of the second movement’s variations, yet there is a spring in his step for the third movement scherzo, and the finale has suitable wildness in places. For the Impromptus, the first has smoothly flowing hand crossing and bell-like tone at the top, but the second is taken at a very slow tempo indeed, which means that the central bubbling triplets lose their urgency, particularly for the plunge into the minor key for its second half, and the return of the opening is in danger of grinding to a halt. The Rosamunde-esque dance of the third has poise and delicacy, but again could benefit from a little more flowing tempo, although the tempo does pick up as the variations’ complexity increases, and by the end there is a delightful flow in the rapid motion of Schubert’s decorative writing. The fourth has incredibly virtuosic running scales, and Douglas takes this at a suitably furious lick, making me wish there had been more of this fire elsewhere. After the exuberance of this comes Liszt’s gloriously rich transcription of Schubert’s Ave Maria to finish, and Douglas gives this great warmth and expression, as well as effortless virtuosity. Overall, a mixed contribution to his otherwise exemplary Schubert survey so far. 

Schubert, F. 2022. Schubert: Works for Solo Piano, Volume 6. Barry Douglas. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20253.

CD Reviews - November 2022

Pianist Clare Hammond’s new disc (realised 4 November) of Études by Hélène de Montgeroult (1764-1836) is a complete revelation. Eight years younger than Mozart, Montgeroult, from a noble background, led a dramatic life involving a secret diplomatic mission, kidnap and imprisonment. Despite this, she was made professor of piano at Paris Conservatoire de Musique, and published nine sonatas, three fantasies, and her ‘Cours complet’ containing 114 études and over 900 exercises, as well as various other pieces. The style is so ahead of her time, in terms of what we might expect, that it is hard not to think that her work was not heard by the likes of Beethoven, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Brahms and Chopin. It is often the case that we fall into the trap of listening to unknown music composed by women and constantly liken it to that of male composers, as if to say they must have been the prime influence. Here it is so clearly the other way around, as many of the characteristics of her compositions, in terms of adventurous harmonies, complexity of texture, tempo changes and singing melodies, are foretastes of what we hear in the Romantic composers that followed her. The études were composed from around 1788 to 1812, by which time Schumann and Chopin were just 2 and Mendelssohn 3 years old. Yet if you didn’t know otherwise, the singing melodies over perpetual motion accompaniment of Études nos. 26 and 41, or the dancing energy or percussive textures of nos. 35 & 65, or the virtuosic trilling and insistent rhythmic energy of nos. 100 & 103, could be mistaken for Mendelssohn, Schubert or Chopin respectively. There are Beethovenian bagatalles, Field-like nocturnes, poignancy foreshadowing late Schubert, and even Brahmsian impromptus. Yet there is a clear individuality too in her expressive use of melody and her dense, rapid-moving textures. Did all of these composers know her work? There are possible connections to Mendelssohn via one of his teachers, and Clara Schumann’s father used the Cours complet in his teaching. But beyond that, we can’t be sure. We can only conclude from the quality and creative invention of her compositions that, had she not been a woman, her work would surely be better known today. Hammond has absorbed her soundworld and performs these gems with nuance, warmth and virtuosic fluidity throughout. Given that there are 29 études from the 114 here, there is surely scope for a follow-up, which would be greatly welcomed.

Montgeroult, H. de. 2022. Études. Clare Hammond. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. BIS Records BIS-2603. 

American pianist Sarah Cahill returns with the second volume of her survey of keyboard music composed by women, The Future is Female. As with the first volume, the choice is eclectic, ranging from the late 17^thcentury to the present day, and the loose theme this time is The Dance. She opens with the delightful Suite No. 1 from Élisabeth Jacquet de la Guerre’s (1665-1729) Pièces de clavecin. If we put to oneside any concerns about this being performed on a modern piano, Cahill’s approach is light and delicate, with rippling ornaments and the five short movements bounce along with a gentle lilt. The middle Sarabande is quiet and contemplative, whilst the final Gigue, whilst not overly extravagant, is pacier, within an overall introspective soundworld. Clara Schumann (1819-1896) is next, and her Variations of a theme of Robert Schumann, Op. 20. Written as a present for her husband’s 43^rd birthday, it was one of her last compositions for the piano. The theme itself is rather mournful, almost funereal – and it was her husband’s last birthday before entering the asylum where he would end his days. However, she creates romantic passion in the variations that follow, increasing the intensity and rhythmic energy and moving the melody around in the texture. Yet she returns several times to the chorale-like plainness of the theme, and the six variation is particularly poignant and questioning. Cahill captures the atmosphere of this deeply personal composition with understated affection. We leap forward to 1957 for Germaine Tailleferre’s (1892-1983) Partita, with its wandering melodic lines and jazzy harmonies, and a playfully balletic dance to end. We move through the latter half of the twentieth century with a mournfully nostalgic Rhapsody from Zenobia Powell Perry (1908-2004) and two evocative movements from Madeleine Dring’s (1923-1977) Colour Suite, full of cabaret-style swing and dance rhythms. Elena Kats-Chernin’s (b.1957) Peggy’s Rag is delightfully nostalgic, and Betsy Jolas’ (b.1926) Tango Si deconstructs elements of the dance, with stop-start hints of tango rhythms. The St Petersburg Waltz by Meredith Monk (b.1942) swirls around repeated chords with Eastern European inflections and distant cries from the top of the keyboard. Mexican composer Gabriela Ortiz’s (b.1964) Preludio y Estudio No. 3 has a mysterious, free prelude with high outbursts contrasting with a drone-like bass, and the virtuosic Estudio is full of insistent driving rhythms, splashing chords and metallic use of the very top of the instrument. The disc ends with a dramatically expressive piece, ‘She Dances Naked Under Palm Trees’, by Theresa Wong (b.1976), with haunting use of the pedal to create ringing notes, thundering textures, glissandi and a deeply unsettling 13-beat metre. As with the first disc, with such a fascinating and well-chosen selection of diverse works, it is easy to forget the pianist here, and once again Cahill demonstrates an impressive command of such a wide variety of styles, so as well as being a great testament to the women composers here, high praise is deserved for these performances too.

Various. 2022. The Future is Female, Vol. 2, The Dance. Sarah Cahill. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR132.

Ruth Gipps (1921-1999) was an English composer, oboist, pianist and conductor, studying the oboe at the Royal College of Music with Léon Goossens, and composition with Gordon Jacob and Vaughan Williams. Her music eschewed serialism or atonalism and as such, perhaps fell out of fashion somewhat – and of course she sadly suffered at the hands of a misogynistic and male-dominated world of composition in the early to mid-twentieth century. Thankfully, her music is experiencing something of a revival, and Chandos’ second volume of her orchestral music further demonstrates the inventiveness of her orchestration and her understanding of orchestral colour. Her youthful Oboe Concerto, Op. 20, expertly performed here by Juliana Koch, along with the BBC Philharmonic conducted by Rumon Gamba, is full of lively writing for the oboe, along with lyricism in the slow movement, folksy dancing melodies in its finale. But its strengths also lie in the delicacy of the scoring, with just muted strings in the central Andante, and mysterious string textures in the opening movement. There are two short orchestral works here too, firstly an Overture to a never completed opera, Chanticleer, Op. 28, with atmospheric wind writing and surging strings, as well as rasping brass evoking the cockerel of the title. There is also a dark elegy on war, Death on the Pale Horse, Op. 25 (written in 1943), drawing inspiration from Blake’s painting of the same name. Here, gently pulsing timpani build to the climactic moments, and the opening horn solo, repeated at various points, adds to the sense of doom. The rest of the disc is given over to Gipps’ Symphony No. 3, Op. 57. Written in 1965, the style was surely running against the fashions of the time, which might explain its relative obscurity, but the wealth of expression and orchestral colour on offer here is immediately attractive. The shifting tonalities of the opening movement, with rich string writing, builds to exhilharating, surging climaxes, and the Theme and Variations second movement is warm and lush, with highly imaginative use of percussion. Again, unusual orchestral colour is on display in the Scherzo, with an ostinato (repeated figure) for harp and glockenspiel, against skittish string writing. The finale is jaunty, with some striking moments for the brass – she certainly knows how to make the most of all parts of orchestral textures, and Gamba and the BBC Philharmonic exploit this to the full. I missed Volume 1, and will certainly now be seeking it out.

Gipps, R. 2022. Ruth Gipps Orchestral Works, Vol. 2. Juliana Koch, BBC Philharmonic, Rumon Gamba. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20161.

 

 

 

CD Reviews - October 2022

There have been a crop of recordings coming out of musicians’ exploits during lockdown, and violinist Sara Trickey is a strong addition to the field (released 21 October). Trickey posted weekly videos of solo violin music via YouTube, and as well as bringing her performances to new audiences, she enjoyed the communication from listeners too. As the world returns to some sort of normality of performance, that intimacy of connection is something many performers are now missing. Trickey has recorded a range of repertoire here from those weekly videos, the majority being contemporary works, with several world première recordings and a number of compositions specifically written for her. She begins however with Albéniz’s (1860-1909) popular Asturias from his Suite Española No. 1, Op. 47, in a strong arrangement by Jane Gillie. Written for piano, but also well known in the guitar version, it works remarkably well on the violin, and the instrument has the additional advantage when it comes to sustaining the melodic lines. Trickey communicates the dramatic rhythmic energy, but also adds this element of sustain to the melodies. Telemann’s (1681-1767) Fantasie No. 1 receives a pleasingly light interpretation, with introspection in the slow sections, and an energetic bounce in the faster movements. Her Prokofiev (1891-1953) Violin Sonata, Op. 115 is full of playfulness, dancing through the outer movements, with a light-footed approach to the variations in the middle movement. Norwegian composer Bjarne Brustad (1895-1978) was new to me, and his wistful Lento from his Fanitulsuite No. 1 is beautifully played here, with an ethereal breathy tone in its repeated patterns, often echoed by glassy harmonics. Sally Beamish’s (b.1956) The Wise Maid is folksy and playful, with a surprise towards the end as the harmonies suddenly shift and slide into its quirky conclusion. James Francis Brown’s (b.1969) Soliloquy, written for Trickey, is evocative and improvisatory, again with that introspective feel that speaks of lockdown and isolation. Errollyn Wallen’s (b.1958) Bertha, for which Trickey is joined by Rosie Bergonzi on the handpan is a curious mix of racing, scratchy energy that almost can’t be contained by the gentle insistence of the handpan, followed by a move into more gently rocking rhythms and a delicate song melody from the violin, before the earlier energy returns. David Matthews’ (b.1943) Prelude no. 12 from his set of 15 was written for Trickey’s birthday, with delicate lyricism and birdlike trilling packed into its brief two minutes. Lyell Creswell (1944-2022) sadly passed away just after the recording of his Lento, written for Trickey back in 1994. It has a moving simplicity, played with touching intimacy, and Trickey also played this at Creswell’s funeral earlier this year. The disc ends with a more flamboyant encore piece from Aleksey Igudesman (b.1973). His Applemania is full of energetic, insistent rhythms, with an infectious build which almost bursts out at its conclusion – a fitting celebration perhaps of an end to lockdown. Overall, this is a fascinating survey of varied solo violin repertoire, and speaks of intense commitment and a desire to communicate, as well as clear virtuosic command from Trickey. 

Various. 2022. From an Empty Room. Sara Trickey. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR139.

Pianist Louis Lortie has reached Volume 7 of his Chopin survey, and this volume contains a good spread of the Mazurkas, perhaps the quirkiest genre of Chopin’s (1810-1849) output. Lortie immediately sets out his store with a stylish swagger in the first of the Op. 17 set. The second is suitably wistful, and then he manages well the slightly seasick, circling repetitions of the third, giving the sombre fourth a delicate poignancy, with some relief in its gently throbbing central section. The Op. 68 set is a more mixed bag – the first is a little on the weighty side, but the sombre mood of the second has a lightness contrasting with its thrumming central section. The third has an authoritative command, with light echoes. Lortie saves back the fourth, the most wistfully exploratory, to the end of the disc. For the Op. 30 set, we’re back in sombre territory for Nos. 1 and 2, whilst No. 3 has a ballroom swagger, and the fourth pushes chromaticism the furthest. From Op. 63, No. 1 has a gently meandering central section, surrounded by more ballroom swaying. Lortie gives the nostalgic second a gentle sway too, and the third follows in the same vein. He brings a great delicacy of touch to the delightful Rondo à la Mazur, Op. 5, composed by Chopin aged 16, and full of youthful exuberance, but equally poise and control in its lighter sections. The Boléro, Op. 19, after an opening flourish, settles into a gently lilting melody, before the boléro proper arrives, with its polonaise-like, bouncing accompaniment under its infectious melody. The Rondo, Op. 16 has a highly dramatic introduction, and Lortie lets this develop with virtuosic command, before giving the rondo theme a gently playful bounce, enjoying the gradual build in virtuosic display. The Tarantelle, Op. 43 is a swirling whirlwind, given great energy here by Lortie. The ‘Héroïque’ Polonaise, Op. 53 carries suitable weight, but Lortie avoids overegging the pudding, maintaining a sense of dance amidst the heft. Another great volume in this strong survey.

Chopin, F. 2022. Louis Lortie plays Chopin, Vol. 7. Louis Lortie. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20241.