If you have any interest in song, particularly
English song, then I cannot recommend this disc highly enough – and if you
don’t think you like English song, give it a go anyway, I’m sure you will be
converted. Baritone Roderick Williams’ beautiful honeyed tones, accompanied expertly by
pianist Susie Allan, communicate
this repertoire in a way I’ve rarely heard it before. George
Butterworth’s (1885-1916) ‘Six Songs from A Shropshire Lad’ that open the
disc are achingly moving, not least with the added poignancy of Butterworth’s
death in the First World War aged 31, just five years after composing the
songs. Williams’ heartfelt sadness in ‘The Lads in their Hundreds’ is almost
unbearable, and his characterisation of the ghostly apparition and his old
friend in ‘Is my team ploughing’ is
deeply affecting. I have to confess to
shedding several tears when I heard them perform this at the CD’s launch, and
the recording is no less affecting. There’s
so much here – twenty-eight songs in total – that it’s hard to single things
out. Ireland (1879-1962), Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) and Britten (1913-1976) are all represented
here, but also Ivor Gurney (1890-1937)
– another casualty of the war, his already fragile mental health never
recovered, and he ended his days in a mental hospital. His setting of ‘Sleep’ by John Fletcher that ends the disc again has added
significance perhaps, with its plea for peace and joy through sleep. There are lighter moments too, with Gurney’s
jolly ‘Captain Stratton’s Fancy’,
and Peter Warlock’s (1894-1930)
brief ‘Jillian of Berry’, and
Williams relishes the chance to let loose.
And two songs from the only living composer represented, Ian Venables (b.1955), confirm the art
of English song is still alive and well – his fleeting expression of a
butterfly in flight, ‘Flying Crooked’
is a delightful miniature, and Williams enjoys the melodic twists and turns,
with delicate support from Allan. Vaughan Williams’ ‘Silent Noon’ and Britten’s ‘The Salley Gardens’ receive
particularly touching renditions from Williams – I could rave about every song
on this disc, there are truly no fillers here, but space restricts me to urging
you to seek this recording out.
Various. 2017. Celebrating English Song. Roderick Williams, Susie Allan. Compact Disc. Somm SOMMCD 0177.
French harpsichordist Philippe Grisvard has taken part in many recordings, including several
with Audax Records’ founder, Johannes Pramsohler, and his Ensemble Diderot. But the latest Audax recording,
a wonderful collection of works for keyboard by Georg Friedrich Handel (1685-1759), is Grisvard’s solo recording
debut. Whilst the Suites are the most well-known and
established of Handel’s keyboard works, Grisvard has also included a number of
rarities, and a few pieces by lesser-known contemporaries. This is a wise move, as it offers the
listener much needed variety on a solo instrumental recording. A particular gem is the arrangement by William Babell (1690-1723) of ‘Lascia ch’io pianga’ from Handel’s
opera, Rinaldo – Babell’s arrangement of the opera’s overture is also here – in
which Grisvard really makes the instrument sing out the aria’s familiar tune. In his informative notes, Grisvard speculates
as to whether these were arrangements by the English composer, or possibly even
transcriptions of performances by Handel himself – the bell-like Prelude Presto from Babell that opens
the disc certainly sounds like an improvised introduction to such a performance.
The Suite
No. 2 has an almost mournful opening Adagio,
and the E minor Suite has a
delicate, graceful Sarabande. As well as showing his virtuosic command in
the showier movements (such as the E minor Suite’s final Gigue), it is in these subtler moments that Grisvard communicates
most directly with poise and grace. A
lively if a little formulaic Capriccio
by Wilhelm Zachow (1663-1712), Handel’s
teacher, a brief Prelude from
contemporary Johann Mattheson
(1681-1764), and a pleasing Toccata
by Johann Krieger (1649-1725) serve
to further demonstrate the imaginative superiority of Handel’s compositions,
and the wonderful Chaconne in G major
here includes variations from several versions of the work, making it the most
substantial piece on offer, and Grisvard clearly enjoys the virtuosic
challenges, building through the increasingly complex variations to an
impressive conclusion. This is a delightfully
varied and impressively commanding debut from Grisvard.
Various. 2017. Handel: Works for Keyboard. Philippe Grisvard. Compact Disc. Audax Records. ADX 13709.
Ralph
Vaughan Williams’ Sinfonia Antartica, his
seventh symphony, has its origins in the composer’s music for the film Scott of
the Antarctic in 1948. The symphony followed
in 1951, and it makes use of a wordless soprano soloist (Mari Eriksmoen here) and a female chorus, also worldless (the
singers here drawn from the Bergen Philharmonic Choir and the Edvard Grieg Kor) – hauntingly ethereal here, without being overly intrusive. But the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, under Sir Andrew Davis are the stars here, with some breathtakingly taut and
controlled playing, perfectly capturing the desolation and desperation of
Scott’s ill-fated expedition. There is a
real sense of the expanse of the landscape, and impending doom, and the
crashing entry of the organ at the end of the third movement is truly
terrifying. Vaughan Williams wrote his Four Last Songs, settings of poems by
Ursula, his second wife and longtime muse, shortly after their marriage in 1953
(although their love affair had begun in 1938).
The songs were orchestrated by Anthony Payne (b.1936) in 2013, and were premiered at the Proms by mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnston, but here they receive their premiere recording by a male voice, none
other than baritone Roderick Williams. Payne’s sensitive scoring, and Williams’
aforementioned rich tones, bring these brief romantic gems to life. The disc is finished off with Vaughan
Williams’ Concerto for Two Pianos. This started life as a Concerto for Piano,
but his piano part proved overly challenging, and the suggestion of a version
for two pianos followed. Pianist Joseph
Cooper (1912-2001) was charged with the arrangement, but Vaughan Williams changed the
ending and added a new cadenza. It opens
with crashing, percussive explosions from the pianos, setting up a lively,
energetic Toccata. The central Romanza
is more lyrical and romantic, with some subtle writing for woodwind, and the
final Fugue and Finale, separated by a cadenza, return to the opening’s lively
extrovert style. Canadian pianists Hélène Mercier and Louis Lortie add great muscular attack and bite to the outer
movements, as well as bringing sensitivity, lush lyricism and subtlety to the
Romanza. Once again, Davis and the
Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra provide sumptuous orchestral textures in
support.
Vaughan Williams, R. 2017. Sinfonia Antartica, Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra, Four Last Songs. Louis Lortie, Hélène Mercier, Roderick Williams, Mari Eriksmoen, Bergen Philharmonic Choir, Edvard Grieg Kor, Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Andrew Davis. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. Chandos CHSA 5186.
(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, January 2018)
Last month I reviewed Canadian pianists Louis Lortie and Hélène Mercier in a great recording of Rachmaninov – this time it’s
music by Francis Poulenc (1899-1963). Poulenc is one of those composers whose music
is so distinctive that it could be by nobody else. There is a certain combination of quirkiness
and wit, but combined with such imaginative use of harmony, and he often sneaks
in sudden moments of heartfelt beauty that creep up and surprise you. The Piano
Concerto from 1949 was composed as a showcase for a tour in America, with a
tongue in cheek reworking of ‘Way down upon the Swanee river’ in the finale,
and it is certainly great fun and somewhat light in spirit. Yet even here,
there is subtlety in the understated slow movement, to which Lortie and the BBC Philharmonic, under Edward Gardner, are certainly wise. In the Aubade,
a ‘Concerto choréographique’ the balance is perhaps the other way around –
there are lighter moments, and his spirited style makes appearances, yet the
music is altogether more dramatic, despite the sparse scoring for just the
piano and 18 instruments. The story of the huntress Diana and her doomed love
is told through sparse and often harsh orchestration, but the final dénouement
is highly sensitive and affecting. Here Lortie and the BBC Philharmonic players
perform with great ensemble and precision, perhaps focusing on the harsher side
of Poulenc’s writing. In the Concerto for Two Pianos, the
combination of Poulenc as slightly crazy joker with a more introverted,
emotional soul is perhaps at its most extreme.
In the first movement we go from madcap film chase music straight into a
heartfelt, highly romantic central section. Lortie and Mercier capture these
mood changes well, and support from Gardner and the orchestra is at all times
spot on. The Balinese gamelan effect
from the two pianists at the end of this movement is enchanting, the theme
anticipating the riot that is the finale. But before that comes a seemingly
simple Mozartian movement that gradually morphs into something darker and
slightly twisted. Lortie and Mercier
don’t overstate this and allow the music to flow towards its dramatic peak
before falling back to the Mozartian conclusion, now somehow underpinned with a
sadder atmosphere. The finale is action
packed, full of great tunes, and all concerned have great fun here,
particularly when the gamelan theme appears transformed for the climactic
conclusion. The disc is rounded off with
three works for just the pianists, firstly the Sonata for Piano Four Hands, and then two short pieces for two
pianos. Poulenc wrote the Sonata aged
19, although he revised it some twenty years later. Its pleasantly simple ‘Naïf’ central movement
is sandwiched between two energetic and spiky movements. The late Élégie
is altogether more romantic and lush, a memorial to a close friend,
Marie-Blanche de Polignac, who died the year before. Finally, L’Embarquement
pour Cythère, at just over two minutes is a jolly waltz and a perfect
encore piece, delicately and expertly performed by Lortie & Mercier here to
round off a great collection of performances of such individual music – if you
don’t know Poulenc, this is a great place to start.
Composer Kenneth Hesketh (b.1968) was born in Liverpool, and has a strong established
career, composing music in many genres, including opera, orchestral and vocal
music. He also trained as a pianist and
percussionist, and pianist Clare Hammond,
for whom he wrote the central work on her new disc of his music, points out
that this is apparent in his writing for the instrument. The disc opens with a literary inspired short
work, Through Magic Casements, and
draws on Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale. It
has a dreamlike quality, with the nightingale singing from the upper reaches of
the keyboard with increasing feverishness. Horae
(Pro Clara) (‘Breviary for Clare’), the most substantial work here, is a
sequence of twelve short pieces, together forming a breviary, or book of hours.
Hesketh employs a startling array of sonic techniques, using the extremes of
the keyboard (notably in No. 8) and pushing the pianist to incredibly virtuosic
displays. He creates ghostly soundworlds
(such as in No. 1), and has the ability of shifting from evoking the ‘tiniest
humming bird’ (No. 2), to creating disturbing, anxious moods (No. 6). In No. 8 he explores ‘intertwining chime
clocks’ which gradually become out of sync, once again unsettling the
listener. This also includes moments
where the pianist has to pluck and brush the strings inside the piano. No. 10 has a darkly relentless sense of
movement, ‘like an evening full of the linnet’s wings’ (a reference to a Yeats
poem). Hammond seems fearless in achieving the requirements of these incredibly
challenging pieces. Despite also being somewhat
challenging for the listener, when taken as a whole, this set is highly
effective and offers a wide range of effects and moods. Notte
Oscura is a piano transcription of an interlude from Hesketh’s opera ‘The Overcoat’,
after Nikolai Gogol, and very effectively conjures up the vast icy landscape
and a sense of menace to come. The Three
Japanese Miniatures that complete the disc again push the bounds of
technical limits for the pianist. They
are in fact fragments from a larger puppet ballet in progress, and one can
immediately imagine the images of sprites and daemons conjured up here, bringing
the disc to an imaginative close. If you
want to hear fearless virtuosity from an expert pianist, in music that pushes
the boundaries of what you might expect from the instrument, then this is
highly recommended.
Hesketh, K. 2016. Horae (pro Clara), etc. Clare Hammond. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. BIS Records, BIS-2193.
(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, June 2016)
Rachmaninov wrote two major
works for two pianos: the Fantaisie (Tableaux), Op. 5 (also known as Suite No.
1) and the Suite No. 2, Op. 17, and then also transcribed his Symphonic Dances,
Op. 45 for two pianos. Canadian pianists
Louis Lortie and Hélène Mercier have recorded all three, and the results are
delightful. It is immediately clear
these pianists have played together for many years, right from the mercurial
rippling of the opening movement of the Fantaisie, through to the whirling
exchanges between the two pianos in the sweeping waltz of the Suite No. 2. The thundering bells of Easter in the
Fantaisie’s final movement are hypnotic, and Lortie and Mercier emphasis the
percussive nature of Rachmaninov’s writing here to great effect. Yet they show great sensitivity and emotion
in the operatic Romance of the second Suite. This movement, and the Tarantelle
finale especially are highly reminiscent of Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 2,
composed just a few months earlier – others perhaps take this Tarantelle at a
faster pace, but Lortie & Mercier’s energy and precision cannot be
faulted. The Symphonic Dances, Op. 45
are in some ways from a different world, being the last work to which Rachmaninov
gave an opus number, published in 1942, at the end of his compositional
career. He is clearly looking back here,
with many references to his own work as well as hints at other composers, as
well as the Dies irae chant that crops up so often in his music. Composed as an
orchestral work, he premiered his own transcription for two pianos with
Vladimir Horowitz in 1942. A sad air of
nostalgia runs deeply through the music, and the pianists here capture this touchingly,
still giving bite to Rachmaninov’s occasional outbursts of anger too. There are many strong recordings of these
works, and Argerich/Friere or Ashkenazy/Previn take some beating, but this
recording certainly holds its own in such exalted company.
I was lucky enough to
recently catch the early music group Alamire, directed by David Skinner (see my review here),
performing music from their latest recording project, drawing on music from
Anne Boleyn’s Songbook. Their live
performance of music from their 2 CD collection was exceptional, and immediately
led me to seek out the recording. The
songbook contains collected motets, mostly sacred, but also a few chansons, and
whilst the exact provenance of the collection is uncertain, the connection to
Anne Boleyn is broadly accepted. The chansons
are performed with great poise and elegance by contralto (and member of the
consort) Clare Wilkinson, accompanied by Jacob Heringman (lute) and Kirsty Whatley (harp). Alamire’s sound is arresting, and
noticeably different from many of the other early music consorts around,
despite drawing on a number of familiar faces amongst the vocal forces. Skinner
elicits a more direct, assertive sound, with the individual lines more prominent,
particularly in the lower voices. Whereas other groups aim for a purity of blend
above all else, Skinner allows the structure of the music to speak, and is
never afraid to allow the sound to carry some weight. Highlights
include the small scale, Mouton’s (c.1459-1522) dark-toned Tota pulchra es, for mens voices, through to the glorious larger
scale Stabat Mater settting by
Josquin des Prez (c.1450-1521). Often Skinner’s pitch choices are low, again
accentuating the richness of the lower voices, and this is particularly evident
in Josquin’s wonderful Praeter rerum
seriem. The disc is nominated for a BBC Music Magazine Award, and by the
time you read this, the result will be known – despite being up against TheTallis Scholars and Tenebrae in the choral category, they stand a very strong
chance of winning (update: Tenebrae won...). Highly recommended.
Pianist Barry Douglas is now
up to his fifth volume of the Works for Solo Piano by Brahms (1833-1897), and
the standard remains impressively high. As with all the previous volumes, he
mixes and matches larger scale works (here, three sets of Variations), with
shorter works taken from various sets, rather than keeping those sets
together. If you are familiar with the
sets of Intermezzi, for example, it takes getting used to not hearing them in
juxtaposition, but on the other hand, it makes the ear perhaps focus more on
their individual beauty. So here, as
well as two Intermezzi each from the Op 76 & Op 118 sets, there are two
Sarabandes, and three of the Hungarian Dances, first composed for piano four
hands. The first of the sets of Variations here is the second book using the
famous Paganini theme – he recorded Book 1 in the fourth volume CD. Brahms
repeats the theme at the start of this second book, and then sets off on
another 14 wide ranging variations, covering all the extremes from light
filligree detail to real barnstorming virtuosity. The chorale-like original
theme of the next set of variations here, the Op. 21 No. 1 set, is a great
contrast, and the variations that unfold are perhaps more subtle and less
obviously showy to begin with at least, allowing Douglas more opportunity to
demonstrate his warm tones, through the slow build to the dramatic ninth
variation, before the surprisingly subdued yet touching final variations. The firey Scherzo is given full weight, in
contrast to the sombre second Sarabande and the beautifully delicate Intermezzo
No 3 from the Op 76 set. The lively
Variations on a Hungarian Song are joined appropriately either side by three of
the Hungarian Dances, and Douglas performs these with joyful panache. Another great volume in this increasingly
singificant survey of Brahms’ piano music.
(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, May 2016)
