This week the BBC have started showing the intriguing drama Marriage, which has superstar quality from its two lead characters, Sean Bean and Nicola Walker.
The series has split opinion in its accurate portrayal of every life in a marriage lasting 27 years – largely played out in real time. As the series has developed the many subtleties have combined to a plot that is gathering substance and meaning as time goes on, rather like life itself.
One of the most striking elements of the drama is its bold choice of signature tune, which again has divided opinion sharply. The chosen music is by composer Caroline Shaw (above) – the first couple of minutes of her Partita for unaccompanied choir, specifically the first movement Allemande.
Initially the voices sound like an extra part of Marriage, especially as the plot continues to play out, but as the voices come together in a firm pitch so too do the images, and the end credits roll.
You can listen to the full movement, which lasts six minutes, below – and enjoy Shaw’s wonderful layering of the voices, with spicy harmonic clashes and some vibrant writing for the small choir:
The Partita continues with three further movements, each based on an old dance form. The Sarabande is initially soothing and enchanting, before really letting rip with primal power halfway through. The Courante, the most substantial of the four movements, has a number of hypnotic effects and fresh faced harmonies, especially halfway through as it soars to unexpected heights.
Finally the Passacaglia has a lilting base to its music, and a spoken word commentary resumes as it did at the start of the piece, before the voices end powerfully in unison.
Here is a live performance, given by the dedicatees Roomful of Teeth – with whom the composer sings:
Aside from this high profile appearance, Shaw has been making quite a name for herself in recent years. In 2021, Nonesuch released the album Let The Soil Play Its Simple Part, written and performed with Sō Percussion:
Meanwhile the choral piece And the Swallow lingers particularly long in the memory:
You can discover more of Caroline’s music at her website
I can well remember my first encounter with the music of SirHarrisonBirtwistle, as it left me with a headache. It was part of Sir Simon Rattle’s groundbreaking Towards The Millennium series with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, back in the 1990s at the Royal Festival Hall.
After a first half of Gubaidulina’s Offertorium had moved me to tears, I was not quite prepared for the sheer force of Sir Harrison’s EarthDances. The work hit me square in the face, and not in a good way – I found it industrial to the point of confrontation, and could not see a way in to liking his music in spite of many admirable qualities.
More fool me. As time has gone on I have realised how it is possible to respect a composer’s music without necessarily liking it. I could sense the craftsmanship running through Birtwistle’s work, the expert hand in knowing the forces he was writing for, the drama unravelling in each of his pieces. More and more, I realised respect was turning into admiration and – in some cases – appreciation.
An encounter with SilburyAir at the Proms was a memorably mysterious occasion, falling under the spell of some beautifully written music – as English as Vaughan Williams, it seemed to me, and wholly descriptive of the countryside in a very different way to what we usually call ‘pastoral’. Verses, too, I found to be intensely dramatic, full of interesting event and persuasive musical phrase.
I also warmed to the MothRequiem, premiered at Cadogan Hall in the same year, a touching piece with remarkably pictorial textures. To me it implied a slight mellowing of older age.
At this point I sense I have not yet spent enough time or effort with the music of Birtwistle to fully appreciate it, but it is clear that this is not music that gives up its treasures easily. Its respect has to be earned. I am full of admiration for Birtwistle, and can see how he has come to be revered in the way he has. I look forward to the penny dropping in the future.
Earlier this week the very sad death of Nicholas Angelich was announced, at the age of just 51. Thankfully the highly-regarded pianist made a good deal of recordings for Virgin Classics and later Warner, many of which included the music of Beethoven and Brahms, at whom he excelled.
This playlist includes the late set of Fantasias published by Brahms as Op.116, then a sparkling clip from Prokofiev’s arrangement of music from his ballet Romeo and Juliet. I was lucky to see Angelich perform Brahms’s Piano Quartet no.1 in G minor at the Wigmore Hall with violinist Renaud Capuçon, viola player Antoine Tamestit and cellist Gautier Capuçon, around the time of their excellent recording for Virgin Classics. You can hear that as part of the playlist, which ends with Angelich in Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto, a lean account with the Insula Orchestra and Laurence Equilbey:
Yesterday was a particularly sad day in the world of classical music, and over the next few days Arcana will be paying tribute to three musical figures.
Sadly the death of Romanian pianist Radu Lupu (above) was announced, at the age of 76. A full tribute can be found on the Gramophone magazine website, where Lupu’s standing as an artist of great repute and dignity can be fully appreciated.
I did not see him perform live, sadly, but have looked back over Lupu’s relatively small and perfectly formed discography to choose a few personal favourites. I have chosen purely solo piano music, as this is where I have encountered his wonderful storytelling most often – and include music by Schubert, Schumann and Brahms. Here the extent of his storytelling ability can be witnessed – not to mention his instinctive musical phrasing.
Very recently we learned of the incredibly sad news that singer Mark Lanegan has died, aged 57. Lanegan was an integral part of grunge when it surfaced in the 1990s, both in a solo capacity and as vocalist for his band Screaming Trees. He went on to enjoy a richly creative career for the next three decades.
He did so in the face of great adversity, for Lanegan’s adolescence was riddled with crime and dependency on alcohol and drugs. He faced these with remarkable strength, reaching a long period of abstinence, with those struggles detailed in his recently released autobiography Devil in a Coma. The title is a reference to a prolonged bout of Covid in 2021, which left him hallucinating and in a coma.
All these elements of his life can be felt in his music, his voice often painting pictures of unfathomable darkness, but also using the power of music as a release to help him out of those holes.
My first encounter with Lanegan’s voice was relatively late in his career, after his work with Screaming Trees and Queens of the Stone Age and just as he started collaborating with Soulsavers in 2007. The song Kingdoms Of Rain stopped me dead in my tracks and lingered long in the mind, for although there was darkness at its heart there was a spiritual element that spoke of hope and light around the edges:
The next Soulsavers collaboration, Revival, was even more explicit in its search for redemption, offering spiritual solace in the company of a troupe of gospel singers. A majestic song, seemingly modelled on Bob Dylan’s Knocking At Heaven’s Door, it is a musical treasure – and seeing it live at Bush Hall, London in 2007 it is a memory I will never forget.
A year later I was booked in to do an interview with him to talk about his new album as one half of The Gutter Twins with Greg Dulli. In hindsight, I should not have agreed – it was 10am on a Saturday morning and I was to phone him at a hotel in Amsterdam. It was quickly clear that he was not enthusiastic about the idea, and I got the impression he had been given a busy program of interviews he did not feel happy about. He was entirely professional, but we got through 15 questions in five minutes, and the answers, though unfailingly polite, were monosyllabic. We said an amiable goodbye, but the interview was never written up.
Lanegan’s happy place was clearly in the music, and a wealth of tributes from fellow artists confirm he was a joy to work with. He became so prolific that it was hard to keep pace with all his endeavours. The need to make music was primal, filling the gaps he had previously crammed with other stimulants. Three albums with Isobel Campbell were made, cementing a special partnership that saw their first album, Ballad of the Broken Seas, nominated for a Mercury Prize. The Gutter Twins collaboration, Saturnalia, left a powerful and more guitar-fuelled impact.
Lanegan’s voice was always at the forefront of anything to which he contributed, instantly recognisable. It was shaded like the finest bourbon, but with a cracked upper register that regularly let the light in, like a deeper blend of The Band’s Robbie Robertson and Nick Cave.
He continued to work with Soulsavers, and another album, Broken, moved him from occasional guest to centre stage vocalist.
It exceeded the creative heights of the first, headed by the remarkable Death Bells:
However it was now time to move to a solo setting, yielding another rich vein of creativity that Lanegan mined with 4AD, Vagrant and latterly Heavenly Recordings. With them he made the Gargoyle, Somebody’s Knocking and Straight Songs Of Sorrow albums, consistently fulfilling records that had moments of wide-eyed optimistic in their outlook.
Songs like Beehive were building on the promise shown by Harvest Home, an example from the Phantom Radio album of 2014. This gives a good example of Lanegan singing higher over a much more energetic beat:
Lanegan’s voice made him suitable for guest slots with electronic music producers. Sadly my wish to see him do a collaboration with Massive Attack was not fulfilled, but vocal turns on the music of Bomb The Bass, Moby and UNKLE brought previously unseen elements to their music as well as his. The singer’s stage presence continued to be magnetic, as those lucky enough to see him at London’s KOKO in 2017 would surely agree. Brooding, dark as night for sure – but smiling more now, totally at home in charge of another batch of majestic songs.
Given the troubles and obstacles he faced in life, it is remarkable that Mark Lanegan made it as far as 57. That he did is testament to the healing power of music, and thankfully he has left us with some truly wonderful material to savour, for which we are extremely grateful.
You can read a obituary for Mark Lanegan written by Will Burns, on the Heavenly Recordings website: