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 Orchestra, Stephen 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.
Having recorded four volumes
of British Works for cello and piano, the brothers Paul Watkins and Huw Watkins (cello and piano respectively) have turned
their attention to American works for the same forces. Their disc includes
works by five American composers (incidentally, three of whom were gay), and
the works span forty or so years of the twentieth century. The earliest work is by Samuel Barber (1910-1981), his Sonata
Op. 6. Barber composed the work
after playing Beethoven & Brahms’ cello sonatas in Italy with Domenico
Menotti, the brother of Gian Carlo Menotti, Barber’s subsequent life
partner. It is a strongly romantic work,
with clear influence of Brahms, and perhaps without the individuality of his
mature output. However, Barber cuts
through the lush lyricism of the Adagio with a central scherzo-like Presto, and
the Watkins brothers handle this contrast expertly. Similarly, the impassioned finale is
controlled with frequent tempo changes, which can threaten the work’s
coherency, but not so here. Next up are Three Meditations by Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990), arranged
by the composer from his monumental and highly controversial Mass from 1971, a
musical theatre piece which intersperses settings of Latin mass movements with
contrasting sections in English, drawing on several choirs, a rock band and a
marching band. Not particularly well
received at the time, it still divides opinion on whether its mash-up of genres
works or not. Even in these three short
Meditations, Bernstein combines earnest, almost yearning writing, and glassy
harmonics for the cello in the first, spiky chromaticisms drawing on a theme from
Beethoven’s Ninth Sypmphony in the second, with an unexectedly bouncy, folk
dance (with Huw Watkins adding bongos rather than Bernstein’s instructions for
using the piano lid for percussive effect) in the final Meditation. A somewhat bizarre mixture of styles, Paul
and Huw nevertheless make a convincing case for the work, particularly in the
complex second Meditation. Elliott Carter (1908-2012) was an
incredibly prolific composer, particularly in his latter years, before his
death at the age of 103. His Sonata for Cello and Piano dates from
1948, and marks a shift in Carter’s output from a more popular neoclassicism to
the beginnings of his exploration of what he called ‘temporal modulation’,
where the relationship of pulse lengths become a key structural element of
composition. Once again here, the
Watkins duo navigate this with expert precision, and their commanding
performance here is the stand out moment of the disc. Huw then gets a rest as Paul performs George Crumb’s (b.1929) Sonata for Solo
Cello. Composed in 1955, he
dedicated the work to his mother, an accomplished cellist. Drawing on baroque traditions in its Fantasia
and Toccata outer movements, there are also strong influences of Bartók evident
here. Paul Watkins is particularly
impressive in the rapid Toccata, with its almost perpetual motion
throughout. The brothers join for the
final piece, the Waltz and Celebration from
Aaron Copland’s (1900-1990) Billy the
Kid, arranged by the composer for cello and piano. I am not a fan of Copland in his faux-folksy
mode, and after the intensity and complexity of some of the other works on the
disc, these two short, rather light movements feel a little out of place, but
they receive articulate and sensitive attention here. Overall, very strong performances, and a
fascinating survey of such varied composers, despite being broad contemporaries.
A few years ago I reviewed
an excellent disc of mezzo-soprano Clare McCaldin singing works written for her by Stephen McNeff (b.1951), and she has returned to disc with a
collection exploring the theme of female ‘madness’, entitled ‘Notes from the Asylum’. McNeff’s and McCaldin’s working relationship
has continued, and in 2013 McNeff wrote his opera in six songs for
mezzo-soprano and piano, Vivienne,
which McCaldin performed with pianist Libby Burgess. The work explores the life of Vivienne
Haigh-Wood, who married T. S. Eliot in 1915.
The relationship was difficult to say the least, and after Eliot decided
on a separation, effectively then shunning her from his life, Vivienne’s mental
and physical health finally led to her brother having her committed to an
asylum in 1938, where she remained until her death in 1947, never visited by
Eliot. McNeff’s six songs, using texts by Andy Rashleigh, move from Vivienne in
the asylum remembering her life before her relationship with Eliot, through the
turbulence of their relationship, as well as her affair with Bertrand Russell,
leaving Vivienne at the end imagining Eliot visiting her and coming back to
her. McNeff writes strikingly nostalgic
music, perfectly evoking a sense of the time, particularly in the spoken lines
of Bertie, à la Walton’s Façade. Yet there is a highly individual voice here
too, particularly in the sense of disintegration McNeff creates in the final
song, Belladonna, as the voice is
left increasingly alone. As is often the
case when performers have premiered a work of this nature, McCaldin has clearly
inhabited the world of Vivienne, and her performance communicates a strong
sense of truth and honesty, throughout the highly virtuosic demands put on her,
with real extremes of range and dynamics.
A real tour de force. Vivienne actually closes the disc, and before
this McCaldin moves through a good three centuries of repertoire exploring her
theme and how composers, mostly but not quite all male, have portrayed in their
music women with perceived madness.
Useful sleeve notes by Paul Conway discuss the prurient 17th
century obsession with mental illness, and how this was reflected in the
popularity of the Restoration ‘mad’ songs, of which Purcell’s ‘Mad Bess’ is a prime example, describing ‘poor senseless
Bess’, presumably as a result of lost or unrequited love. Here, it is performed in the arrangement made
by Benjamin Britten (1913-1976),
which adds a harder edge to the song, and McCaldin matches this accompaniment
with a fuller sound than might be expected in Purcell. Two sets of songs by Brahms (1833-1897) and Hugo
Wolf (1860-1903) (who also ended his life in an asylum) are preceeded by a
brief song by Harriet Abrams
(1758-1821), ‘Crazy Jane’, a rather quaint setting of a text more anguished
than the music might suggest, once again reflecting the image of a woman driven
mad by the falseness of men. Brahms’ Ophelia Lieder draw on texts from
Ophelia’s ‘mad scene’ in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and despite their brevity,
Brahms packs an emotional punch, particularly in the final song of the set,
‘Und kommt er nicht mehr züruck?’ (‘And will he not come again?’). Wolf set many poems by Eduard Mörike, and here McCaldin sings five, all sung from the
perspective of an Ophelia-like character, Agnes. The harmonic language is denser and more
dramatic here than the Brahms songs, with strong touches of Wagner. McCaldin’s full tone is well suited to these
affecting songs, and the emotional climax of ‘Wo find ich Trost’ (‘Where shall I find comfort?’) is particularly
powerful. Jumping forward to 1971,
McCaldin and Burgess are joined by clarinettist Catriona Scott for American composer Ned Rorem’s (b.1923) Ariel,
Five Poems of Sylvia Plath. These are highly virtuosic settings, for all
three perfomers, which capture the sense of anger and turbulence of the poetry,
written shortly before her suicide at the age of 30. The
Hanging Man has a particularly challenging cadenza for clarinet, and Lady Lazarus pushes the bounds of
technique for the singer, ending ‘with a loud gasp’. This is a powerful disc,
and McCaldin demonstrates the wide range and adaptability of her voice across
such a broad range of repertoire, but it is in Vivienne that her dramatic
abililties are most impressively in evidence.
Libby Burgess (piano) also
deserves praise, showing great command throughout the wide-ranging repertoire.
(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, August 2016)
The Brodsky Quartet have released ‘In
the South’, a collection of works designed to evoke a sense of sun, passion
and dance. The largest work here, and
central to the disc’s programme is Verdi’s
(1813-1924) Quartetto, his only string quartet, in fact his only extant
chamber composition. Despite the fact
that Verdi rather talked it down, it is a strong work, showing his excellent
command of sonata form, as well as a more expected capacity for melodic
invention, and ends with a triumphant fugal finale. Prior to this, the Brodsky Quartet give us
the Italian Serenade from Hugo Wolf (1860-1903), followed by Puccini’s (1858-1924) touching Cristantemi (Chysanthemums). The Italian Serenade is full of joy and
playful dance, in contrast to the heart-rending sadness of Cristantemi, and
both are performed here with consummate ease.
After the Verdi, we have La
oración del torero (The Toreador’s prayer) by Spanish composer Joaquín Turina (1882-1949), an enjoyable
one movement programmatic work for string quartet, evoking the scene of a
bullfighter praying and receiving the holy sacrament before entering the
bull-ring. Then comes a greatmature
work, Four, for Tango by Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992), originally
written for the Kronos Quartet.
This shows
how far Piazzolla took his own Nuevo Tango,
with extremes of dissonance and rhythmic effect. They end the disc with viola player, Paul Cassidy’s arrangement of two
movements from the 24 Caprices for solo
violin by Nicolò Paganini
(1782-1840). The slow, sixth caprice
is followed by the famous final theme and variations. The arrangements work remarkably well,
although the virtuosity is diluted in the sixth, where the challenging multiple
stopping is spread out between the instruments. However, the range of effects on display in
the finale is great fun, and this finishes off another enjoyable programme from
these great players.
Back in March, I was sent a
wonderful CD of mezzo soprano Clare McCaldin singing music by British composer Stephen McNeff (b.1951) – you can find
a review of this here. On the back
of this, I’ve been listening to a CD of his larger scale orchestral works,
performed by the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Dominic Wheeler. Between 2005 & 2007, McNeff was composer in residence with the
Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, during Marin Alsop’s tenure as Principal
Conductor. All four pieces on this CD
were written then, and premièred in Bournemouth. The first work, Sinfonia, is in three movements, with a mysterious opening
(‘Quietly and oddly’), followed by a beautifully warm and lyrical slow movement,
with touches of Copland or even John Adams.
The final movement, ‘Boisterous’ has a real sense of fun, making great
use of the percussion section.
Apparently, the brief for this was to ‘make it lyrical and fun’, which
this definitely is. Heiligenstadt was composed to accompany Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony
in concert, and the title refers to the Heiligenstadt Testament, which
Beethoven wrote at the height of his despair about his deafness. McNeff uses brief, poignant and almost
longing references to various Beethoven songs, which build to a climax, with
jubilant horns claiming victory, before the work subsides into an uneasy close,
almost in preparation for Beethoven’s Fifth to follow. For Weathers,
the BSO are joined by the Bournemouth Symphony Chorus, in a work drawing on the poetry of Thomas
Hardy. Sadly, the CD does not include the words – I
had to look them up, as the words are not always clear from the otherwise
proficient chorus (the text can however be downloaded from the Dutton website here). This is a great
showcase choral work, with some challenging moments for the chorus. It’s good to know that composers such as
McNeff, and notably others such as Jonathan Dove, are still composing ambitious
works for large chorus and orchestra. With
only occasional tuning issues, mainly in the unaccompanied opening and quieter
passages of the fourth section, this is a convincing and dramatic performance,
and McNeff’s imaginative and varied orchestration add to an accessible yet engaging
work. The final work, Secret Destinations, was dedicated to
McNeff’s friend, the poet Charles Causley, who died in 2003, and represents
three places of significance to Causley – the Rocky Mountains, the Basilica in
Assisi, and Eden Rock. Once again,
McNeff’s varied use of the orchestra creates constant interest, particularly
his use of percussion and the brass section.
Overall, a great showcase for a British composer I would definitely like
to hear more from.
(These reviews first appeared in GScene, September 2013).
