On record – Martyn Hill, Meriel Dickinson & Peter Dickinson: James Joyce’s Favourite Songs (Heritage)

Chamber Music: Thirty-Two Songs by G. Molyneaux Palmera The Joyce Book: Thirteen Songs, by Moeran, Bax, Roussel, Hughes, Ireland, Sessions, Bliss, Howells, Antheil, Carducci, Goossens, C. W. Orr and van Dierenb

bMeriel Dickinson (mezzo-soprano), aMartyn Hill (tenor), Peter Dickinson (piano)

Heritage HTGCD175 [71’28”]

Producer Jillian M. White
Remastering Engineers John Marsden, Peter Newble

Recorded 7 December 1981, BBC Broadcasting House, London (The Joyce Book); 18 November 1986, St. George’s Brandon Hill (Chamber Music)

Written by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Heritage further expands its Peter Dickinson discography with these song-cycles in which he appears as pianist, setting poems from James Joyce’s two collections of verse; both heard in recordings which were first broadcast in the 1980s and now rescued from the BBC archives.

What’s the music like?

The major rediscovery here is an almost complete traversal of Chamber Music by Geoffrey Molyneaux Palmer (1992-1957), English born but long resident in Dublin where he worked as church organist and composer. Despite the author’s enthusiastic endorsement, Palmer was never to finish the project, despite his leaving blank pages for those four poems (Nos. 12, 29, 32 and 33) still awaiting music. Through the tenacity of Myra Teicher Russel, the manuscript was located at Southern Illinois University in 1981 with a studio broadcast on BBC Radio 3 seven years later (preceded, as this author recalls, by a fascinating introduction on the Music Weekly programme). Thanks to the foresight of BBC producer Jillian White, that broadcast was subsequently archived and can finally enjoy a welcome if belated commercial release.

In stylistic terms, Palmer settings are very much ‘turn of the century’ in their melding of an inherently English lyricism with harmonic subtleties redolent of Fauré or early Debussy. As ordered by Joyce’s brother Stanislaus, these 36 poems pursue an ‘innocence to experience’ trajectory via a relationship which is tentatively envisaged before being passionately lived then regretfully abandoned. Throughout the sequence, Palmer is acutely attentive to those flights of fancy with which Joyce opens out his poems’ expressive potency – tailoring his response to the intricacies of the text at hand while running several songs together so as to accentuate cumulative intensity overall. A pity the climactic XXXIII remained unset, but    the composer’s response to the stark seascape of XXXVI yields a suitably plangent close.

Also included is The Joyce Book, 13 settings taken from Joyce’s subsequent collection Pomes Penyeach which was published in Paris in 1927 and accorded musical treatment thanks to the prompting of Irish editor Herbert Hughes. That the resultant settings included two American, a French and an Italian composer confirms the international standing Joyce by then enjoyed; further underlined by the deluxe edition with which this collection was issued in 1933, a year after its public premiere in London. Stylistically the settings are as diverse as the composers represented: among the most distinctive are the lilting wistfulness of Hughes’s She weeps over Rahoon, easeful rapture of Arthur Bliss’s Simples and suffused ecstasy of Bernard van Dieren’s A Prayer on which both this ‘cycle’ and Joyce’s collection reach their close.

Does it all work?

It does, given the expressive consistency of Palmer’s settings as also the diversity of those in the later miscellany. Martyn Hill was among the leading lyric tenors of his generation, with Meriel Dickinson seldom equalled for her conveying of the emotional sense behind the text.

Is it recommended?

Indeed, not least when Peter Dickinson is an insightful accompanist and provides the detailed commentaries, while the sound has come up well in remastering (the latter collection a shade reverberant). Required listening, not only for admirers of Joyce or the English song tradition.

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

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You can read about Peter Dickinson at his website

Let’s Dance – Róisín Murphy: Róisín Machine (Skint / BMG)

Róisín MurphyRóisín Machine (Skint / BMG)

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

A new Róisín Murphy album is always a cause for celebration – whether it has been with her band Moloko or, in more recent times, a solo record in collaboration with a number of electronic music luminaries. This time around Róisín Machine, her first long player in four years, sees her working once again with Crooked Man aka Richard Barratt.

As if the new album was not enough Murphy has been busy making visual complements to the music under lockdown.

What’s the music like?

It is difficult to imagine a more stylish artist than Róisín Murphy. Even with Moloko it felt like her expressiveness matched the music in an effortless way, which made the finished result even more stylish and cool. Little has changed under her own name, though if anything the music is more dance based and the vocals even more meaningful.

Róisín Machine tells a story, threaded beautifully from start to finish, and as a result it works best when heard in a complete span. There are many telling lyrics, but the opening gambit, “I feel my story’s still untold, but I make my own happy ending”, sets the scene perfectly, after which Murphy and Barratt concoct a persuasive, loping groove.

Questions are asked as the album progresses. Kingdom Of Ends finds the singer “waking up every morning, thinking what the hell am I doing?”, while even during the cool chic of Shellfish Madamoiselle, with its bumpy beats and warm synthesizers, she feels that “I shouldn’t be dancing at a time like this”.

Difficult, though, when the music is so persuasive. The groove and vocal of Something More are a perfect match, the stylish slow disco-house brilliantly done. The same, too, goes for the effortless groove of Incapable. For the last two tracks, Narcissus and Jealousy, the tempo quickens and the pulse rate too, Róisín more obviously on the dancefloor.

The most compelling stories are told in Murphy’s Law, however, where she sings of how “I’d rather be alone than making do and mending”, but finds her instincts are pulling her in different directions.

Does it all work?

Yes – either as a single whole or as individual tracks, Róisín Machine is brilliantly worked through. The singer sounds completely at home, but at the same time there are thought provoking lyrics and feet-provoking grooves.

Is it recommended?

Wholeheartedly. This is an album that embodies the saying ‘Style never goes out of fashion’. Róisín Murphy remains one of our finest vocalists, and like a fine wine is just continuing to improve with age. Richard Barratt proves the ideal match in the production department, and together the two have made one of the best pop albums of the year.

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Switched On – Mary Lattimore: Silver Ladders (Ghostly International)

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The harpist Mary Lattimore has been busy in the two years since her last album release, Hundreds Of Days, with a good deal of touring and a remix package from that long player featuring work from Julianna Barwick and Jónsi among others.

For Silver Ladders she decamped from her Los Angeles home to the studio of Slowdive and Mojave 3 lynchpin Neil Halstead near Newquay, in Cornwall, working with him in sessions over an intense recording period of nine days.

What’s the music like?

Rather magical. The very different starting points of Lattimore and her producer are ideal, for the twinkling colours of the harp find their ideal match in Halstead’s very subtle guitar and studio work.

The harp remains the most prominent instrument and sets the tone with the beautifully poised Pine Trees, Lattimore’s silvery colours punctuated with pinpricks of intensity.

The album unfolds over seven tracks, with the centrepiece Til A Mermaid Drags You Under. This substantial piece of work begins in the lower register of the harp but gradually takes flight, the upper register adding wider perspectives and a twinkling edge. Halstead’s production touches reinforce the bass with sonorous notes and boost the reverberation, the listener given a sound picture akin to hovering over a vast bay.

Don’t Look is another extended meditation, Lattimore exploring the deep twang of a string in the harp’s lower register but with dreamy guitar from Halstead. The producer also provides thoughtful counterpoint to Sometimes He’s In My Dreams, then murmuring electronics to Chop on the Climbout, Lattimore’s harp flickering in the half light.

The closing Thirty Tulips is particularly beautiful, shifting phases and gently undulating, with a range of different sounds from the harp and broader electronic notes in the background.

Does it all work?

Yes, and repeated hearings only enhance the positive experience this album can bring. For an extra dimension, try the visual score accompaniment by Rachael Pony Cassells, which adds a further layer of enchantment to this already beautiful music:

Is it recommended?

With no hesitation. In these rather fraught times the subtleness of music like this can work wonders – though that’s not to say Mary Lattimore is without expression or imagination. Silver Ladders evokes starry ripples on the nocturnal waters with effortless ease, the listener borne away on the waves.

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On record: Weinberg: Wir Gratulieren! (Congratulations!) – Vladimir Stoupel (Oehms Classics)

Weinberg arr. Henry Koch
Wir Gratulieren! (Congratulations! orig. Mazl tov!) Op.111 (1975)

Beylya – Olivia Saragosa (contralto), Reb Alter – Jeff Martin (tenor) Khaim – Robert Elibay-Hartog (baritone) Fradl – Anna Gütter (soprano) Madame – Katia Guedes (soprano), Kammerakademie Potsdam / Vladimir Stoupel

Producer Hein Laabs Engineer Henri Thaon
Recorded 23 September 2012, Werner-Otto-Saal, Konzerthaus, Berlin

Oehms Classics OC990 [two discs, 80’23”]

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Oehms Classics issues this first recording of a one-act opera by Mieczysław Weinberg, taken from a live performance in Berlin to the German translation by Ulrike Patow, as adapted by the composer from the drama by Sholom Aleichem (indirectly of Fiddler on the Roof fame).

What’s the music like?

Those having heard Weinberg’s first opera, the powerfully dramatic The Passenger (Neos or ArtHaus), or his last, the darkly inward The Idiot (Pan Classics) will find Mazl tov! something different again.

By the mid-1970s, the composer felt able to pen an intrinsically Jewish opera with recourse to the song and dance idioms familiar from the Yiddish theatre of his Warsaw youth, and a decidedly sardonic tone not far removed from the interwar stage works of Weill or Eisler. Any risk of provoking Soviet officialdom was offset by a vein of Socialist optimism in the ‘masters versus servants’ scenario, culminating in a ‘things will be different’ outcome. Divided into two acts (55 and 25 minutes), the narrative allows for incremental though subtle development of the four protagonists as they move as if pre-destined to their double wedding.

Does it all work?

Yes, inasmuch that this music, played in an adept reduction for chamber orchestra by Henry Koch, is itself characterful as well as ideally suited to the domestic tragicomedy at hand. Each of the four main singers is allotted their share of the limelight, without these soliloquys either detracting from or impeding the onward flow of the drama, and those familiar with Weinberg will detect various motifs or phrases that re-emerge in the symphonies and string quartets he was to write across the next decade – making for a work as central to his output as any other.

As to the cast, Olivia Saragosa brings no mean pathos to the cook Beylya, recently widowed and in thrall to an ungrateful mistress, while Jeff Martin evinces humour and no little stealth as Reb Alter, the travelling bookseller whose radical thinking motivates all those around him. Robert Elibay-Hartog is no less persuasive in the role of Khaim, servant from a neighbouring estate whose charm and panache gradually win over the maid Fradl, whose initial monologue summons the most affecting music of the entire opera and who arguably emerges as the most liberated by the close. Katia Guedes is equally arresting as Madame, her cameo appearances galvanizing the drama not least in the final scene as she is faced down by her moral superiors. Note that Weinberg’s alternative, more expressively ambivalent ending is used at this point.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. Vladimir Stoupel secures a vibrant response from the musicians of Kammerakademie Potsdam, heard to advantage within the confines of the chamber hall at Berlin’s Konzerthaus, even if those demands of a live performance mean balance with the singers is not consistent. The booklet is attractively produced with full artist biographies and production sketches, but Arno Lücker’s introductory note is only adequate and the German-only libretto has numerous entries printed under the wrong singer. An English translation is available online (see below).

Hopefully, an alternative recording or production of Mazl tov! – preferably with the original orchestration and in Russian – will emerge in due course. For now, however, this lively and capable production should engage and amuse listeners as audibly as it did its Berlin audience.

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For further information, audio clips and purchase information visit the Presto website

On Record – Rick Wakeman & The English Rock Ensemble: The Red Planet (Snapper)

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The Red Planet marks a much-heralded return to progressive rock for Rick Wakeman. The prolific keyboard player and composer has been working on the album for a good while, having been captivated by the three missions currently in progress from Earth to Mars, not to mention some of the pictures received by NASA.

Wakeman, who has made three albums previously about the universe beyond Earth’s orbit, has enlisted the talents of three prodigious talents – guitarist Dave Colquhoun, bassist Lee Pomeroy and drummer Ash Soan. The English Rock Ensemble, as they are known, are given equal billing with the keyboard player.

What’s the music like?

Some of Wakeman’s strongest in years. There is a great deal of passion and imagination here, with Wakeman’s characteristically brilliant keyboard work more than matched by his protagonists and friends. It is important to recognise the connection of personalities, because as Rick told Arcana in an extensive interview, their creative spirit and comradeship were big elements of The Red Planet’s success.

The album works really well because of a really good balance between excess and restraint! The familiar strengths of progressive rock are exploited in prodigious drum fills, creative keyboard solos, twisted bass lines and epic guitar work, but each of the four musicians knows when to pull back and concentrate on evocative scene-setting. The latter quality means the likes of Arsia Mons and The North Plain, both portraits of their respective areas on Mars, are more descriptive and have the necessary light and shade.

As Wakeman admits, a lot of fun was had with the making of this album, and it comes through right from the off, and the imposing church organ of Ascraeus Mons. Meanwhile in the final and most extensive picture, Valles Marineris, the spirit of Holst is channeled through the oblique rhythms and stabbing counterpoint.

Between the two imposing outposts there is much good music. The descriptive Tharsis Tholus has attractive flute voicing, while Arsia Mons has one of the album’s most memorable riffs, not to mention superb drumming from Soan. Wakeman himself comes right to the fore on Olympus Mons, with some typically probing keyboard athletics near the end, while he leads with a soaring synthesizer on Pavonis Mons. Meanwhile a wonderfully gritty keyboard sound takes over on The North Plain, shaking off the mysterious, ghostly piano of its opening strains.

Does it all work?

Yes. Anyone with an interest in Wakeman or his on / off band Yes will recognise the keyboard style but will also applaud the attention to detail and relative restraint shown in the course of this hour-long triumph.

Is it recommended?

Yes, as a thoroughly enjoyable album. Anyone with an interest in progressive rock will want to hear it – but happily The Red Planet gives us the notion of getting away from our own habitat for a while, which I’m sure we’ve all fantasized about in the last few months!

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You can buy The Red Planet from Rick Wakeman’s website here