Showing posts with label John Lenehan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Lenehan. Show all posts

Saturday, 21 September 2019

CD Reviews - September 2019

Violinist Tasmin Little is joined by pianist John Lenehan for a glorious programme of works by Amy Beach (1867-1944), Clara Schumann (1819-1896) and Dame Ethel Smyth (1858-1944). They open with Beach’s wonderful Sonata, Op. 34. Beach was an accomplished pianist, debuting at the age of seven, but curtailed her highly successful performing career at the request of her husband, who preferred that she concentrate only on composition.  Her Sonata is full of lyricism and great virtuosity in the violin part, but, understandably given her pianism, the piano part is no slouch. Little and Lenehan clearly relish the beauty of Beach’s lush writing, as well as enjoying the virtuosity and playfulness, particularly in the quixotic Scherzo. There is as ever a warmth in Little’s tone that is ideally suited to this expansive music, and the flourish they both bring to the fiery finale is glorious. Clara Schumann was another piano virtuoso, but interestingly she had the opposite experience to Beach, her composing more or less coming to an end following her marriage.  Her Three Romances, Op. 22 were her final chamber composition, and these three short movements are full of rich melodic invention, with rippling piano accompaniments, particularly in the lightly playful third Romance. Dame Ethel Smyth was active in the woman’s suffrage movement, and her composition career was relatively successful (Clara Schumann was in fact one of her greatest supporters), although she faced much prejudice, her music being either deemed ‘too masculine’ or ‘too feminine’, depending on whether it was dramatic, rhythmic and powerful, or lyrical and melodic. In fact her Sonata Op. 7 contains both, with a dancing Scherzo and a beautiful, lilting slow movement, flanked by a richly inventive Allegro moderato, and a fabulously unapologetic Finale. Little and Lenehan perform with pace throughout, never allowing the more lyrical moments to become over indulgent, yet the pianissimo conclusion to the slow movement has beautiful delicacy. The finale is full of spirit, yet there is subtlety in Smyth’s writing here, so this is not just a throwaway finish. Little and Lenehan respect this with great attention to detail, but do allow proceedings to build to thrilling finish. To close the disc, we’re treated to two more short works by Beach, firstly a beautifully expressive Romance, Op. 23, with its heart definitely on its sleeve, followed by Invocation, Op. 55, equally romantic, but a little more introspective. Both receive heartfelt performances from Little and Lenehan here. With Little announcing her retirement from live performance earlier this year, her vast recording output becomes all the more precious, and this is definitely one to treasure.


During his tenure as composer in residence for the Bournemouth Symphony OrchestraStephen McNeff (b.1951) wrote a number of works for the orchestra, and for Kokoro, the orchestra’s new music ensemble. He has also written music for Ensemble 10/10, the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic’s contemporary music ensemble. A selection of these works has been recorded by Kokoro, and their disc opens with Counting (Two), scored for an ensemble of solo wind, strings, piano and percussion. The rhythms are spiky and insistent, and there is a constant sense of energy in the fragments of virtuosic material passed between instruments. The central movement has a different feel, inspired by ‘an altogether different sort of ordered counting’, following a visit by McNeff to a war cemetery in Italy, and it opens and closes with a mournful, repetitive lament. Growing intensity builds to an outburst from the horn, before the lament returns. The rushing third movement brushes the sadness aside, concluding the work with a procession of winding material and persistent percussion. The Four Van Gogh Chalks are for a smaller ensemble, and open with a thoughtful, atmospheric impression, Mademoiselle Gachet at the Piano, with high violin, tinkling percussion and rippling piano and wind. Venus in a Top Hat is a quirky, slightly frenzied scherzo, and L’Écorché is darkly atmospheric. The collection ends with Couple Dancing, although their dancing is unsettlingly off-kilter, and ultimately collapses into nothing, the couple presumably exhausted from their efforts. The four pieces form a great miniature suite, performed here with great energy and precision by the Kokoro players. Next on the disc comes Strip Jack Naked, a vehicle for mezzo-soprano Lore Lixenberg. McNeff has written a considerable amount for opera and music theatre, and this is described as a ‘burlesque tragedy’ and a ‘contemporary comic opera’. The story, told in a libretto by comedy actor and writer Vicki Pepperdine, basically tells of a woman waking on her birthday and realising that people don’t like the way she now looks – so she embarks on a drastic course of cosmetic surgery, which goes horribly wrong with dark consequences. Lixenberg delivers the highly challenging mix of virtuosic singing, cutting speech and ‘Sprechstimme’ with startling command. The full work was performed on stage in 2007, and McNeff has produced a Song Suite, containing most of the songs, for this recording. The small instrumental ensemble adds moments of jazzy counterpoint and percussive emphasis, with some occasional chilling sound effects too, and despite obviously being a stage piece, this works remarkably well on disc, a testament to McNeff and Lixenberg’s impressive ability to communicate the chilling story. The final work here is Lux, for octet. McNeff explores light, how it changes and shifts, through eight sections that follow without break. The music has a spooky, ephemeral feel, fleeting and hard to pin down, like shifting shafts of light, and the faster sections have a strong sense of energy, assisted once again by driving percussion rhythms. The Kokoro players perform all this music with impressive virtuosity and clarity, and the rather dry recorded sound actually helps articulate McNeff’s complex writing, making this a fascinating exploration of his striking music.


Finally, in brief, another great recording from Edward Gardner, recently announced as new Principal Conductor of the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Here he is with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, performing three Symphonies by Schubert (1797-1828), Nos. 3, 5 and 8, the ‘Unfinished’. Gardner’s Schubert is quick-paced but never rushed, and there is a lightness of touch throughout. No. 3 has charm and Haydn-esque spirit, with a blistering finale. No. 5 is more Mozartian, and here Gardner infuses the ‘little’ symphony, scored for smaller orchestra, with grace and elegance, particularly in the slow movement, yet he gives the rather straightforward Menuetto a much needed edge, and the finale rattles by in a whirl of energy. No. 8 starts whisperingly quietly, and the woodwind melody emerges out of nothing. This is a fine performance, expertly paced, never feeling rushed, but equally never wallowing in Schubert’s tempting lyrical melodies, thereby preserving the crucial arc of momentum many performances lose, and the impact of the development section’s dramatic outburst is consequently all the more effective. The seemingly calm second movement has always a sense of underlying tension, which bubbles to the surface in the second theme, over a gently pulsing off-beat rhythm, which then bursts out in a full-on tutti explosion. The contrasts here are the key, and Gardner’s dynamic range is impressive. A great opening volume, I look forward to more.  

Thursday, 23 August 2018

CD Reviews - August 2018

I’ve seen Huw Wiggin (saxophone) perform solo and with the Ferio Saxophone Quartet in the Brighton Festival, and have always found him to be a highly engaging and entertaining performer, constantly expanding perceptions of what the saxophone can do.  The sax is often pigeonholed in jazz territory, but with his debut solo album, Wiggin aims to show that the instrument has much wider expressive possibilities, and he focuses on classical repertoire, much of which was composed before the saxophone was even invented in the mid 19thcentury. Consequently, most of the works are performed in arrangement, some by pianist John Lenehan, who accompanies Wiggin here.  One can only assume that some of the other arrangements are by Wiggin, but they are uncredited, so may be from existing arrangements for other instruments. However, Wiggin makes a strong case for the diverse range of works on offer here, presented broadly speaking in chronological order, from Alessandro Marcello’s (1673-1747) Oboe Concerto right through to Japanese composer Takashi Yoshimatsu’s (b.1953) ‘Sing, Bird’ from 1991. Marcello’s Concerto, possibly known better in Bach’s keyboard arrangement, works surprisingly well here, and Wiggin is able to show off with some intricate ornamentation – not particularly authentic, perhaps, but effective nonetheless.  Two arrangements of Schubert songs, ‘Du bist die Ruh’ and ‘Die Forelle’, follow.  The former works well, with its straightforward, touching melody given a simple, unaffected touch by Wiggin.  The latter I was less convinced by, the slightly four-square nature of the well-known tune sitting less comfortably with the instrument.  Lenehan’s arrangement of the Air from Grieg’s (1843-1907) Holberg Suite works very well, however, and Wiggin spins the expressive line beautifully here.  Camille Saint-Saëns’ The Swan from Carnival of the Animals never fails to delight, and the saxophone replaces the cello well, adding extra warmth to the beautiful, familiar melody.  For two arrangements of short piano works by Debussy (1862-1918), an Arabesque and the popular ‘The Girl with the Flaxen Hair’, Wiggin is joined by Oliver Wass on the harp. The cascading harp arpeggios combine with the simple melody given to the sax in the Arabesque, and The Girl with the Flaxen Hair is given a similar treatment, with Wiggin producing a long, liquid line over the harp’s subtle accompaniment.  The 7 Canciones populares españolas (7 popular Spanish songs) by Manuel de Falla (1876-1946) are beautifully atmospheric, and combine lively dance rhythms with eastern infused lyrical melodies, such as in the dark-toned Nana.  The piano writing here is not without challenges too, particularly in the final driving Polo, and Lenehan provides incisive support for Wiggin’s passionate, lyrical lines. They move to France for Paule Maurice’s (1910-1967) Tableaux de Provence.  This and Yoshimatsu’s piece are the only pieces here actually composed for the saxophone, although the Tableaux were originally conceived for sax and orchestra.  Like the de Falla, they combine atmospheric picture-painting with livelier dance-like rhythms, and again, give Wiggin the opportunity to show off the expressive range of the instrument, and Wiggin and Lenehan both relish the set’s joyful conclusion, ‘Lou cabridan’.  Two arrangements by Lenehan of well-know works by Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992) follow, the complex Fugata followed by the darkly mournful Oblivion, and Wiggin’s sensuous performance here makes this track the standout moment for me. Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Flight of the Bumble-Bee is an ever-popular and fun showpiece, and Wiggin has the opportunity to show off his impressive technical virtuosity here.  Closing the disc, Yoshimatsu’s ‘Sing, Bird’ exploits the saxophone’s ability to bend notes and ‘fly’ up and down its registers in a bird-like fashion, with the piano part providing a rippling support.  Wiggin’s delicate articulation, particularly in the piece’s quiet conclusion, is mesmerising.  This is an impressive collection, definitely achieving Wiggin’s aim of showing the saxophone has a lot more to offer outside its traditional jazz/pop pigeonhole.


Edward Gardner and the BBC Symphony Orchestra have followed up their well-received recording of Elgar’s (1857-1934) Symphony No. 1 with his Symphony No. 2, Op. 63, premiered in 1911 just three years after the great success of the first Symphony.  For this recording, as with the first, Gardner has paired the symphony with one of Elgar’s great works for string orchestra, this time the Serenade for Strings, Op. 20.  After the instant success of his first Symphony, the response to Elgar’s second was more of a slow burn.  Ostensibly dedicated to the late King Edward VII, it is in fact more personally inspired, Elgar saying ‘I have written out my soul’ in the work, along with the Violin Concerto and The Music Makers.  The mammoth opening movement is dominated by a passionate but stately theme, known as the ‘Spirit of Delight’ (a reference to Shelley).  Gardner and the BBCSO give this weight without ever getting bogged down, and the contrast between this and the more complex, reflective passages are all the more striking here.  The funereal second movement also has passion, but again Gardner keeps this under control, bringing out the poignancy of Elgar’s personal lament.  The short Rondo has fitful pace here, and Gardner and the BBCSO players present the finale’s complex fugal passage with taut precision.  As with all his Elgar recordings to date, Gardner never overindulges, but this is never dry or without passion either.  The Symphony is paired here with a warm reading of the youthfully charming Serenade for Strings.  Its three short movements combine lyricism and expression with gently rocking rhythms, and Gardner and the BBCSO strings give us a particularly tender slow movement here.  Another fine Elgar recording from Gardner, highly recommended.


(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, August 2018)