Category Archives: On record

Switched On – Bing & Ruth: Species (4AD)

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Species is the fourth album from Bing & Ruth, the New York-based project where the ever-present is David Moore. Previous album No Home Of The Mind was largely powered by flowing piano textures, but this time around the outlook is very different. As the cover art implies, the album was made in a hotter, drier climate, and this is reflected in the instrumentation. Moore wrote the music on a Farfisa organ, hooking up with friends playing clarinet (Jeremy Viner) and acoustic bass (Jeff Ratner).

What’s the music like?

This incarnation of Bing & Ruth feels more static than the previous model in terms of its harmonic and melodic movement. Yet it is every bit as compelling, and tracking the development of each track is a little like listening to the earlier Philip Glass of the Dance Pieces.

The colours are immediately appealing as Body in a Room and Badwater Psalm reveal. Time seems suspended in space as compact figures and loops oscillate on the Farfisa, spreading out over long, held pedal notes that support the framework. Moore sets out this deceptively simple material in a way that works really well, bringing out different and intriguing phasing effects from the mellow tones of the organ that prove very pleasing to the ear.

I Had No Dream emits a brighter light as Moore moves to the instrument’s upper register, but in response the short Blood Harmony gives out mellow, sonorous strokes. This prepares the listener for two tracks comprising half the album’s length. Live Forever develops a warm, reassuring loop of consonant harmony, blissfully layered and with beautiful mottled textures. The Pressure of this Water leads straight on with greater movement, its figures dancing in the mind’s eye.

Finally Nearer holds still, its relative lack of moment revealing a heart of greater substance, Moore’s simple bow strokes soft but emotionally penetrating.

Does it all work?

Yes. The longer pieces are the most effective, showing that Moore has really mastered the art of pacing a track that lasts almost a quarter of an hour while keeping it compelling to the listener. It is fascinating tracking the development of the material…but it is equally rewarding to zone out completely and allow the developments to take place in the background and set the mood.

Is it recommended?

Yes. David Moore has opened a fascinating new chapter of Bing & Ruth’s sound by switching to a different keyboard, one that wholly complements the previous piano-based work. Species is both intimate and expansive, so it will prove fascinating to witness it in a live environment – which, COVID-19 permitting, we should be able to do in the UK in December.

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You can read an interview with David on Arcana in the next few days…and in the meantime enjoy the playlist he put together for us

On record – Agnes Zimmermann: The Violin Sonatas (Toccata Classics)

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Agnes Zimmermann
Violin Sonata no.1 in D minor Op.16 (1868)
Violin Sonata no.2 in A minor Op.21 (1875)
Violin Sonata no.3 in G minor Op.23 (1879)

Mathilde Milwidsky, violin; Sam Haywood, piano

Toccata Classics TOCC0541 [84’36”]

Producer Michael Ponder
Engineer Adaq Khan

Recorded 6-7 April 2019, 10 November 2019 at Middlesex University, London

Written by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Toccata Classics continues its not inconsiderable coverage of women composers with this disc of the violin sonatas by Agnes Zimmermann (1947-1925), little recognized as a composer but whose achievements as pianist, teacher and editor were readily acknowledged by her peers.

What’s the music like?

Born in Cologne but largely resident in London, Zimmermann long enjoyed a reputation for her pianism throughout Europe. Her own output is not extensive and mainly from her earlier years, with these three sonatas a notable addition to British music of the mid-Victorian era.

Lasting around 28 minutes, the format of these sonatas is consistent without being predictable. Each begins with a finely proportioned Allegro, the First Sonata being most straightforward in its purposefully contrasted main themes. That of the Second Sonata is more understated, its main themes merging into a seamless continuity whose ominous import is briefly disrupted in the central development. As to the Third Sonata, this commences with greater expansiveness then maintains such deliberation through its intensive development and on to a fatalistic coda.

Each sonata has a Scherzo, placed second in the initial two sonatas. That of the First Sonata brings appealing animation and rhythmic subtlety, not least as regards its warmly ruminative trio. By contrast, that of the Second Sonata has a lively insouciance which is accentuated by some deft syncopation and a notably winsome trio. That of the Third Sonata is placed third (not entirely justifiably) and is itself closer to an intermezzo on account of its halting main theme, to which the trio offers only minimal contrast in its mixture of elegance and pathos.

The slow movements are all designated Andante. That of the First Sonata is an ostensible ‘song without words’ and evinces a distinctly Mendelssohnian poise. Whereas that of the Second Sonata centres on a hymn-like melody that proves capable of no mean fervour as it evolves over the course of music whose direct eloquence never risks becoming cloying. By contrast, that of the Third Sonata (placed third) feels more akin to an intermezzo in its lightness of texture and wistful main theme, not least as it heads towards a subdued close.

As to the Finales, these all tend toward the trenchant and unequivocal. Most notably that of the First Sonata, albeit with a wistful second subject to offset the prevailing impetus. That of the Second Sonata unfolds more stealthily in keeping, with the trajectory of this work taken overall, though the decisiveness of its ending is hardly in doubt. That the Third Sonata needs a finale to balance the weight of its first movement is undoubted and this does not disappoint in its eliding ardency and affection, before an elaborate though not over-wrought apotheosis.

Does it all work?

Yes, in that Zimmermann was essentially a consolidator of the chamber tradition stretching from Beethoven, through Schumann, to Brahms. Her violin sonatas are at least equal to those by such British contemporaries as Parry and Stanford in their conviction and craftsmanship.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. Mathilde Milwidsky is an unfailingly persuasive exponent and astutely partnered by Sam Haywood. Sound is unexceptionally fine, and Peter Fribbins pens a detailed analytical overview. Why the sonatas are featured on CD in reverse order is, however, anyone’s guess.

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You can discover more about this release at the Toccata Classics website, where you can also purchase the recording.

On record – Nash Ensemble – John Pickard: The Gardener of Aleppo (BIS)

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John Pickard
The Gardner of Aleppo (2016)
Daughters of Zion (2016)*
Snowbound (2010)
Serenata Concertata (1984)**
Three Chicken Studies (2008)
The Phagotus of Afranio (1992)
Ghost-Train (2016)

*Susan Bickley (mezzo); **Philippa Davies (flute); Nash Ensemble / Martyn Brabbins

BIS BIS 2461 SACD [79’22”]

Producer / Engineer Simon Fox-Gál

Recorded September 2018 at All Saints’ Church, East Finchley, London

Written by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

BIS continues its coverage of music by John Pickard (b. 1963) with an extensive overview of chamber works surveying more than three decades of creativity, in performances by the Nash Ensemble that do ample justice to this composer’s combative while always accessible music.

What’s the music like?

Earliest is Serenata Concertata, written when Pickard was still an undergraduate and his first paid commission. Essentially a concerto for flute and five instruments, it unfolds continuously from a haunting Cadenza I then a pensive Aria I to the Scherzo-Notturno whose accrued energy carries over into the climactic Cadenza II, before Aria II brings an emotional poise that gradually dies away towards the close. Whatever its passing influences, Pickardian traits are everywhere apparent and the composer was surely right to keep this work in his catalogue.

Philippa Davies makes a fine showing, as does Ursula Leveaux in The Phagotus of Afranio – the title that of a fanciful forerunner of the bassoon, whose Hoffnung-like presence evinces humour and no little pathos in this entertaining ‘capriccio’. Hardly less diverting, the Three Chicken Studies evoke its subjects respectively laying, feeding then fighting in miniatures, as rendered by Gareth Hulse, both winsome and insouciant (and fully deserving of inclusion in Pickard’s catalogue). Alone among these pieces, Snowbound has been previously recorded (Toccata Classics) – the new account being more spacious and more graphic in its depiction of a familiar landscape as rendered unrecognizable through music that cannily emphasizes those darker sonorities of bass clarinet, cello and piano on route to a ‘glacial’ denouement.

The remaining three works followed in the wake of the imposing Fifth Symphony and testify to the variety of Pickard’s approach irrespective of genre or instrumentation. Setting a text by Gavin D’Costa, Daughters of Zion relates the fateful decision of Mary and its consequences in music by turns ominous and plangent – superbly sung by Susan Bickley. No less resonant in emotional impact, The Gardner of Aleppo was inspired by an incident in the Syrian civil war, where a flower-seller continued to ply his wares in the face of heavy bombardment up until his untimely death. Here, too, flute, viola and harp make for a (surprisingly?) tensile combination across its trajectory of evocation, animation and recollection. By comparison, Ghost-Train might appear humorous in its (often graphic) portrayal of the once obligatory fairground ride; as represented by a perpetuum mobile whose stealthy refrain finds contrast with sundry episodes of a more or less grotesque nature, duly culminating in an apotheosis whose sombre equivocation suggests this to be a journey from which there can be no return.

Does it all work?

Yes, given the alacrity with which these musicians respond to music that, for all its textural and harmonic intricacy, conveys that expressive immediacy manifest throughout Pickard’s output. By so doing, moreover, the stylistic consistency of his idiom is no less in evidence.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. Sound is well up to BIS’s customary standards as to clarity and perspective, with the composer’s booklet note typical in its keen observation and wry humour. Further releases of Pickard’s music, not least his first three symphonies, will hopefully follow from this source.

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You can discover more about this release at the BIS website, where you can also purchase the recording.

On record – Joly Braga Santos: Chamber Music Volume One (Toccata Classics)

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Joly Braga Santos
String Quartet no.1 Op.4 (1945)
String Quartet no.2 Op.27 (1957)
String Sextet Op.65 (1986)*

Quarteto Lopes-Graça [Luis Pacheco Cunha, Maria-José Laginha (violins), Isabel Pimentel (viola), Catherine Strynckx (cello)] with *Leonor Braga Santos (viola) and Irene Lima (cello)

Toccata Classics TOCC0207 [78’48”]

Producer Brian MacKay
Engineer Romain Zémiri

Recorded 1-3 November 2017, 4-6 April 2018* at Live recording, 26 April 1993 at Centro Cultural de Belém, Lisbon, Portugal

Written by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Toccata Classics now turns its attention to Joly Braga Santos (1924-88), arguably the leading Portuguese composer from the twentieth century, for what looks certain to be an engrossing traversal of his chamber output and in the company of his native country’s leading musicians.

What’s the music like?

Like the Catalan composers Roberto Gerhard or Argentinian Alberto Ginastera, Braga Santos followed an eventful trajectory from folk-inflected traditionalism to purposeful engagement with mid-century modernism – a trenchant and engaging musical personality emerging in the process.

Cast on a sizeable scale, the First String Quartet opens with a moderately paced Allegro with ample indication of this work’s stylistic indebtedness to Debussy and Ravel, even Koechlin. An eloquent viola solo takes the place of any expected development, besides complementing that for first violin prevalent elsewhere. Next comes a tensile scherzo with much recourse to additive rhythm and contrapuntal agility, then an Andante whose long-limbed melodic lines highlight each of the instruments within a harmonic context of suffused modality. At almost 13 minutes, the finale is a culmination in every sense as it elides between sonata and rondo designs before heading into an expansive coda which brings the work elegiacally full circle.

At little more than half the length of its predecessor, the Second String Quartet enriches its modal tendencies with a harmonic astringency and rhythmic impetus derived from – if not indebted to – Bartók. The latter’s final quartet might be sensed in the opening movement’s soulful introduction then an unhurried course informed by underlying anxiety. The central movement is a scherzo-cum-intermezzo that alternates inwardly speculative passages with more animated episodes, each having recourse to soloistic writing or the deftest polyphony, while the finale pointedly revisits the work’s opening prior to an impulsive Allegro whose dance-like ideas underpin this movement through to its headlong and decisive conclusion.

Among its composer’s last works, the String Sextet finds Braga Santos mining an idiom that now incorporates atonal and even twelve-note elements (though never deployed serially) with considerable finesse. Alternately sombre and desolate, the initial Molto Largo must rank with his most impressive statements as it builds towards a culmination of probing intensity. There follows a trenchant scherzo notable for its textural intricacy and range of playing techniques that open-out rather than inhibit the music’s expressive range, and if the finale feels intent on inhabiting the same emotional terrain as at the beginning, the (overly?) compressed Allegro that ensues leaves no doubt as to the determined resolve confirmed by that concluding chord.

Does it all work?

Yes, in that the stylistic changes between the pieces are determined solely by the composer’s personal and emotional evolution rather than merely wanton desire to follow trends. Certainly, the latter two works are equally well deserving of a place in the post-war chamber repertoire.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. Performances by Quarteto Lopes-Graça (et al) could not be bettered for commitment or insight, despite a rather too resonant and unfocussed sound balance, while the overview by Piedade Braga Santos and notes on each work by Bernardo Mariano are highly informative.

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You can discover more about this release at the Toccata Classics website, where you can also purchase the recording.

On record – Tatyana Nikolayeva plays Bach: Die Kunst der Fuge (First Hand)

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Johann Sebastian Bach
Die Kunst der Fuge (The Art of Fugue) BWV1080 (c1740-50)

Tatyana Nikolayeva (piano)

First Hand Records FHR95 [87’58”]

Producer/Engineer Pekka Purhonen

Live recording, 26 April 1993 at Sibelius Academy, Helsinki

Written by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

First Hand Records follows its earlier release of Tatyana Nikolayeva (Athens 1989, FHR46) with this performance of The Art of Fugue, recorded in Helsinki just seven months before her death and capturing her singular perspective on Bach’s unfinished swansong to potent effect.

What’s the music like?

Fanciful notions of Bach labouring over this compendious sequence literally on his deathbed may have long been put to rest, but The Art of Fugue remains the last in a succession of ‘late’ works – following on from the Goldberg Variations and The Musical Offering – in which the ageing composer sought to distil a lifetime’s accrued knowledge into music of rigorous, some would say arcane abstraction. Certainly, what Bach himself seems initially to have envisaged as a technical manual for the perfecting of fugal technique duly became a treatise as has been likened to Cicero’s codifying of Latin – beyond which, no further evolution seemed possible. Even the means of realization has remained conjectural, but a keyboard instrument arguably ‘translates’ the content of these increasingly intricate constructions with the greatest clarity.

Uncertainty also surrounds the exact order of the individual components: specifically whether the four canons should be placed immediately prior to the final fugue, favoured by C.P.E. Bach in the first published edition, or interspersed between those fugues at regular intervals so as to demarcate actual groupings – as indicated by surviving autograph sources and followed with increasing frequency in recital. Nikolayeva rightly opts for this latter premise, and while one might have preferred for the Canon alla decima to have been situated after Contrapunctus 13 (itself rendered prior to Contrapunctus 12), the formal focus and cumulative expressive intensity of her performance cannot be gainsaid. Bach clearly intended a methodical increase of complexity to be perceptible ‘in real time’, and this is exactly what Nikolayeva conveys.

As to Contrapunctus 14, that likely quadruple fugue left unfinished by Bach at his death and which has been completed by numerous composers and musicologists (notably Donald Tovey from among the latter), Nikolayeva plays this as it appears in Bach’s manuscript – breaking off at bar 239 as though any continuation might be sensed though not realized. It is a credit to her sustained conviction that the audience, which has stayed with her for almost one-and-a-half hours, is momentarily caught unawares by the sudden silence which ensues – thereafter responding enthusiastically. Credit, moreover, to FHR in utilizing the extended duration that has long been feasible on CD and so presenting this account as the uninterrupted span it was experienced as at the time. Few musical works need to be heard thus, but this is one of them.

Does it all work?

Yes, despite a smattering of memory lapses (as detailed by Jonathan Summers in his booklet note) and rather dry sound whose perspective nonetheless renders Nikolayeva’s pianism with commendable naturalness. Those wanting her interpretation of the work need look no further.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. David Murphy has done an excellent job in opening out the original recording without detriment to the rapport between pianist and audience during what was a memorable occasion. Hopefully, there may be other such Nikolayeva performances still to be found in the archive.

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You can discover more about this release at the First Hand Records website, where you can also purchase the recording.