…from the pen of Antonin Dvořák, who wrote two irresistibly charming works in the form – one for strings, and this Serenade for Wind Instruments in D minor, published as Op.44. It has quite a serious tone to begin with – but the wonderful sonorities come through, as in this performance from the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, filmed in Cadogan Hall in 2021:
Published post no.2,225 – Sunday 30 June 2024
George Lloyd
Piano Concerto no.1 ‘Scapegoat’ (1962-3)
Piano Concerto no.2 (1963-4, orch. 1968)
Piano Concerto no.3 (1967-8)
Martin Roscoe (piano), BBC Philharmonic Orchestra / George Lloyd
Piano Concerto no.4 (1970, orch. 1983)
Kathryn Stott (piano), London Symphony Orchestra / George Lloyd
Lyrita SRCD.2421 [two discs, 73’49” and 70’17”]
Producers Ben Turner (1&2), Chris Webster (3), Howard Devon (4)
Engineers Harold Barnes (1&2), Tony Faulkner
Recorded 9 & 10 February 1984 at Henry Wood Hall, London (Piano Concerto no.4), 25 & 26 September 1988 (Piano Concerto no.3) and 20 & 21 October 1990 at Studio 7, New Broadcasting House, Manchester (Piano Concertos 1 & 2)
George Lloyd
Violin Concertos no.1 (1970)
Violin Concerto no.2 (1977)
Cristina Anghelescu (violin), Philharmonia Orchestra / David Parry
Cello Concerto (1997)
Anthony Ross (cello), Albany Symphony Orchestra / David Alan Miller
Lyrita SRCD.2422 [two discs, 64’37” and 29’40”]
Producers Ben Turner (Violin Concertos), Gregory Squires (Cello Concerto)
Engineers Phil Hobbs (Violin Concertos), Gregory Squires (Cello Concerto)
29 June to 3 July 1998 at Henry Wood Hall, London (Violin Concertos), 22 April 2001 at Troy Savings Bank Music Hall, Troy, NY (Cello Concerto)
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Lyrita continues its ‘Signature Edition’ of George Lloyd recordings (originally for the Albany label) with two volumes respectively devoted to his concertos for piano and string instruments – all of them being played by soloists either conducted by or who worked with this composer.
What’s the music like?
His previous output having been dominated by the genres of opera, or symphony, Lloyd came belatedly to the concerto. An able violinist in his youth (and taught for several years by Albert Sammons), he had resisted his wife’s predilection for the piano until the early 1960s when he wrote four such works in barely eight years, followed at lengthier intervals by two for violin then one for cello. No less characteristic of their composer, these constitute a significant part of his development from a time when his music was still largely unknown to the wider public.
Hearing the young John Ogdon galvanized Lloyd into writing for the piano, with Scapegoat his striking first attempt at a concerto and his most performed work since before the Second World War – its 1964 premiere in Liverpool, Charles Groves conducting, soon followed with hearings in Bournemouth, Glasgow, Berlin then a BBC broadcast in 1969. A pity that Ogdon never recorded a piece ideally suited to his temperament – its single movement duly taking in elements of the soulful and sardonic in a close-knit structure with Lloyd’s motivic thinking at its most resourceful. Ominous, aggressive, ultimately fatalistic, this is one of the composer’s most cohesive works and urgently warrants revival. Lloyd had enough ideas for its successor but, for reasons unstated, Ogdon never played the Second Piano Concerto that went unheard until 1984. Its single movement yields a distinct progression from trenchant ‘first movement’ via lively ‘scherzo’ then, after an elaborate cadenza, threnodic ‘slow movement’ and resolute ‘finale’ as brings the whole structure into focus while not precluding a tangible equivocation.
Not to be deterred, Lloyd pressed on with his Third Piano Concerto. Brahmsian in scale, its three movements eschew both symphonic density and virtuosic flamboyance – whether in an opening Furioso whose relative brevity belies its wealth of incident, a Lento which sustains its expansive length through imaginative interplay between soloist and orchestra and with a keen sense of atmosphere, then final Vivace that pointedly fights shy of any grand peroration as it heads to a decisive if hardly affirmative close. The piece remained unheard until 1988, whereas the Fourth Piano Concerto had made it to the Royal Festival Hall four years earlier as part of the artistically lauded while commercially disastrous Great British Music Festival. The three movements find Lloyd attempting to banish painful memories in favour of a more relaxed but still restive discourse – hence the poignancy behind the geniality of the opening Allegro, suffused pathos of a central Larghetto that is its undoubted highlight, then animated final Vivace whose spirited ending is offset by the soulful Lento interlude which precedes it.
Hardly had Lloyd finished this last of his piano concertos when he wrote the first of his violin concertos. As the booklet note suggests, its scoring for woodwind and brass has the urbanity of a divertimento or serenade – which holds good for the sanguine opening movement and its plaintive successor, whose cor anglais melody is one of Lloyd’s most potent ideas, but less so for a rather prolix eliding of scherzo and finale. More convincing overall is the Second Violin Concerto, its resonant scoring for strings and obliquely spiritual programme demonstrably to the fore in the initial Lento with its plangent chorale. After an impulsive scherzo and eloquent slow movement, the final Vivace reaches a close whose joyfulness is never contrived. A fine piece, but the Cello Concerto is one of Lloyd’s finest. His penultimate work feels valedictory in tone, its seven continuous sections outlining a four-movement sequence whose clarity of expression is abetted by its scoring for modest forces, and whose subtle range of mood makes the final evanescence more affecting. A professional performance in the UK is well overdue.
Does it all work?
Pretty much. Those aspects of the piano concertos which do not quite succeed are due more to recordings which, scrupulously prepared and lucidly rendered, lack a degree of intensity in their execution. That 1969 broadcast of Scapegoat confirms what is lacking here, but Martin Roscoe is never less than attentive in the first three concertos and Kathryn Stott brings a deft touch to the fourth. Cristina Anghelescu plays with dexterity and no mean insight in the violin concertos, while Anthony Ross is fully attuned to the fatalistic restraint of the Cello Concerto.
Is it recommended?
Yes, but listeners unfamiliar with Lloyd’s symphonies and choral works should hear these in the first instance. Lyrita’s presentation, with objectively enthusiastic notes by Paul Conway, is up to its customary standards and those who are acquiring this series should be well satisfied.
Listen & Buy
For further information visit the dedicated George Lloyd page at the Nimbus website
Published post no.2,222 – Thursday 27 June 2024
English Symphony Orchestra, English String Orchestra (The Resurrection) / Kenneth Woods
Robert Saxton
Scenes from the Epic of Gilgamesh (2023)
The Resurrection of the Soldiers (2016)
Nimbus Alliance NI6447 [47’17’’]
Co-Producers Phil Rowlands and Tim Burton
Recorded 7 April 2021 (The Resurrection) and 7 March 2023 (Scenes) at Wyastone Concert Hall, Monmouth
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
The English Symphony Orchestra and Kenneth Woods continue their 21st Symphony Project with this major work from Robert Saxton, here coupled with one of his earlier pieces in what is a welcome and valuable addition to the discographies of composer, conductor and orchestra.
What’s the music like?
His output now as extensive as it is diverse, Saxton had written little purely orchestral music for several decades and few works that might be called ‘symphonic’, but listeners with longer memories may recall the Dante-inspired ‘chamber symphony’ The Circles of Light (1986) or taut incisiveness of the sinfonietta-like Elijah’s Violin (1988). Speaking only recently, Saxton stated a reluctance to call Scenes from the Epic of Gilgamesh a symphony and yet the piece, a result of many years’ thought about the musical treatment right for one of the oldest surviving written texts, has a formal cohesion and expressive unity which are demonstrably symphonic. Scored for pairs of woodwind, horns and trumpets with timpani and strings, its textural clarity imbues any illustrative aspect with an abstract focus amply sustained over its five movements.
Amounting to a continuous narrative, these head from the fluid motion of ‘Prologue’ to ‘The Journey to the Forest of Cedar’, whose passacaglia-like unfolding finds this composer at his most harmonically alluring, then on to ‘From dawn to dusk’ in a scherzo as animated as it is evocative. ‘Lament’ distils a tangible emotional impact from its gradual if inexorable build-up, moving into ‘Apotheosis’ which expands upon the melodic potential of earlier ideas and sees a powerful culmination with the ‘hero’ forced to seek immortality through other means.
Saxton’s approaching the issue of religious belief indirectly, or even obliquely, is as central to this piece as to the earlier The Resurrection of the Soldiers. Inspired by Stanley Spencer’s series of paintings which depict soldiers emerging from their graves on Judgement Day, this might be described as ‘prelude, fugue and threnody’ – the sombre introduction soon reaching an expressive apex, from where the intricate yet cumulative middle phase builds inexorably to a plangent climax; the ensuing slow section gradually ascends linearly or texturally to an ending whose affirmation feels pervaded by anguish. Both these works have the concept of redemption as their focal-point – albeit one which cannot be gained without effort and, even then, should never be taken as read. Tonality, indeed, as the corollary to travelling in hope.
Does it all work?
It does. Four decades on from those flamboyant pieces which established his name, Saxton here evinces an orchestral mastery which will hopefully find an outlet in further such pieces – whether, or not, ‘symphonic’. More overtly tonal it might have become, his music still poses considerable challenges whether technical or interpretative. Suffice to add these are met with finesse and conviction by Woods and the ESO, who are fully conversant with its elusive but always accessible idiom. The composer could hardly have wished for a more tangible QED.
Is it recommended?
It is, not least as enhanced by the composer’s succinct introductory notes and the conductor’s pertinent thoughts on ‘Conducting Saxton’. It reinforces, moreover, that the 21SP is not about retrenchment – rather, the enrichment of this most archetypal of genres is what really matters.
Listen & Buy
This album is released on Friday 5 July, but you can listen to samples and explore purchase options on the Presto website. Click on the names for more on conductor Kenneth Woods, the English Symphony Orchestra and composer Robert Saxton
Published post no.2,220 – Tuesday 25 June 2024
James Turnbull (oboe), Poppy Beddoe (clarinet), Mira Marton (violin), BBC National Orchestra of Wales / Matthew Taylor
Matthew Taylor
Symphony no.6 Op.62 (2021)
Oboe Concerto Op.60 (2020-21)
Clarinet Concertino Op.63 (2021)
Violin Concertino Op.52 (2016)
Toccata Classics TOCC0708 [69’32’’]
Producer Andrew Keener Engineer Andrew Smillie
Recorded 17 & 18 December 2022 in Hoddinott Hall, Millennium Centre, Cardiff
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Toccata Classics continues its now extensive coverage of Matthew Taylor (b.1964) with this coupling of his most recent symphony alongside three of his concertante pieces, two of them here played by the soloists for whom they were written and all with the composer conducting.
What’s the music like?
Those familiar with Taylor’s symphonic output will recall that the Fifth ended with an adagio of powerfully inward emotion, and the Sixth Symphony picks up on this directly. Dedicated to the memory of Malcolm Arnold in the year of his centenary, it is his contemporary Robert Simpson (a pervasive influence on Taylor’s formative years) who comes most to mind in an opening movement whose alternation between relative darkness and lightness is informed by a gradually cumulative momentum the more striking given this music’s textural transparency.
The second of three continuous movements centres on a fugal theme of affecting poise, one whose transformation is made more so by orchestration where piano and harp confirm their substantive rather than merely colouristic roles. Only with the finale does Arnold’s presence assert itself – the jazzy cast of its clarinet theme facilitating allusions to, if not quotations of, several of this composer’s salient works prior to a culmination that, launched by a crescendo of mounting anticipation, rounds off the whole work with a decidedly no-nonsense terseness.
Of the other pieces, the Oboe Concerto is most substantial. Imaginatively scored for Haydn-esque forces, with cors anglais instead of oboes, it inverts the expected order of movements with the first of these featuring a central section whose intermezzo-like deftness offsets the sombreness either side. There follows a Scherzo which further develops the primary motifs with dextrous virtuosity, before an Adagio affords not just closure but a sense of fulfilment through the emotional raptness such as pervades this most eloquent among Taylor’s finales.
Taylor having earlier written concertos for clarinet and violin, the present works are lighter in their overall mood but not slighter in actual content. Thus, the Violin Concertino intersperses respectively trenchant and lively outer sections with an ‘aria’ of wistful elegance, whereas the Clarinet Concertino frames its pert amalgam of slow movement and scherzo with an Andante of autumnal repose then a finale of artless naivety. Brahms is mentioned in the latter instance, though the late woodwind sonatas of Saint-Saëns and Poulenc might be felt equally apposite.
Does it all work?
It does, and not only because of Taylor’s sill in writing from a soloistic or orchestral vantage. Each of the concertante pieces confirms his feeling for the instrument in question, while the symphony reaffirms his status among the leading exponents of this genre from the past half-century. The three soloists are audibly attuned to his music, and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales continues the favourable impression it made with his Fourth Symphony (recorded by Kenneth Woods on Nimbus NI6406) by similarly responding to the composer’s direction.
Is it recommended?
It is, and not least when the booklet features informative notes by Taylor himself. This release is dedicated to the memory of Tom Hammond (1974-2021), trombonist and conductor whose untimely death deprived the musical world of a gifted musician and exemplary human being.
Listen & Buy
You can listen to samples and explore purchase options on the Toccata Classics website Click on the names for more on artists James Turnbull, Poppy Beddoe and Mira Marton, the BBC National Orchestra of Wales and composer / conductor Matthew Taylor
Published post no.2,219 – Monday 24 June 2024
BBC Symphony Orchestra / Martyn Brabbins, Sir Andrew Davis (Visions and Journeys)
Anthony Payne
Orchestral Variations: The Seeds Long Hidden (1992-4)
Half-Heard in the Stillness (1987)
Visions and Journeys (2002)
NMC D281 [62’15’’]
Producers Philip Tagney, Ann McKay (Visions and Journeys) Engineers Simon Hancock, Philip Burwell (Visions and Journeys)
Broadcast performances on 22 September 2006, Maida Vale Studios, London; live performance 9 August 2002 Royal Albert Hall, London (Visions and Journeys)
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
NMC issues a tribute to Anthony Payne (1936-2021) featuring three of the most representative among his mature orchestral works and so makes for a viable overview, featuring an orchestra and conductors who between them gave numerous performances of his music in his lifetime.
What’s the music like?
Earliest here is Half-Heard in the Stillness, a short yet evocative tone poem making use of the Memorial Chimes which Elgar wrote for the Loughborough carillon in 1923. By this stage in his career, Payne had evolved an idiom that effortlessly but meaningfully elides between post -war Modernism and a late Romanticism (not necessarily British in derivation) such as gives his later output its tonal and expressive lustre. The outcome is ‘landscape’ music that intimates far more than it states, to an extent which the senior composer would surely have appreciated.
Most extensive of these pieces, The Seeds Long Hidden is a sequence of orchestral variations which outlines an autobiographical trajectory. Other than the opening gesture from Brahms’s First Symphony (a hearing of which in 1947 determined the course of Payne’s life thereafter), the works alluded to over the course of its 10 variations are not quoted directly but rather flit across the music and so inform the context from which the ‘theme’ variously emerges. While there is a constant and productive eddying between relative stasis and dynamism, moreover, the overall cumulative thrust seems one of clarification towards an emotional climax of self-realization which quickly recedes into the calm equivocation of the closing bars. If this is, as the composer states, a ‘musical autobiography’, it is an overtly self-effacing and oblique one.
As the first major work that Payne wrote in the aftermath of his realization of Elgar’s ‘Third Symphony’, Visions and Journeys is inevitably bound up with the re-establishing of his own idiom: a statement of intent to be pursued over what became the final phase of his creativity. Nominally inspired by frequent journeys he and his wife – the soprano Jane Manning – made to the Isles of Scilly, this is in no sense pictorial or illustrative in intent. That said, its overall follow-through from unforced anticipation, via understated fulfilment, to underlying regret could not otherwise have been made explicit; the degree to which this is transcended being both the music’s purpose and its primary fascination. A blueprint, indeed, for the select few works that were to come and which reinforced Payne’s standing as a composer of substance.
Does it all work?
Yes, as long as one approaches these works not as compromise between competing aesthetic tendencies but as their synthesis in music which is often eloquent and always appealing. The playing from the BBC Symphony Orchestra could hardly be bettered, with Martyn Brabbins and the late Sir Andrew Davis always committed in their advocacy. Occupying that amorphous middle-ground between the rarified and accessible, Payne’s music neither rejects nor courts popularity but the rewards are considerable for those willing to spend time in its company.
Is it recommended?
Indeed, in the hope a follow-up release which features Spirit’s Harvest (initially intended for inclusion here) and Payne’s culminative statement Of Land, Sea and Sky may yet be possible. The composer’s introductory notes explain everything while giving absolutely nothing away.
Listen & Buy
You can listen to sample tracks and purchase on the NMC website. For further information, click on the names for more on Martyn Brabbins, the BBC Symphony Orchestra and composer Anthony Payne
Published post no.2,218 – Sunday 23 June 2024
Arcana.fm 