Today is known as Blue Monday, the day where New Year’s resolutions have traditionally worn off…and people have had enough of January. It happens also to be the name of one of the best electronic music songs ever made…so it seems right to make it the launch day for Our Friends Electric!
This will be Arcana’s celebration of electronic music in all its forms, where I will be listening to and writing about electronic music across the spectrum. It will be an expedition from early ventures in the 1920s to the most recent tracks from present day technology. Along the way there will be interviews, playlists, thoughts and music – so much music.
Lev Termen demonstrating the theremin, December 1927 by Bettmann, Corbis
It would be great to think we could cover all the electronic music there is, but that’s clearly impossible – so the focus will be on key works and albums, listening chronologically from early on in the 20th century. We will move from Varèse to Kraftwerk, from Delia Derbyshire to Kelly Lee Owens, taking in classical and pop pioneers side by side. We will also moving off-piste here and there, to take in all manner of successful – and failed – experiments with early computer music. There will be interviews, too!
To start, I plan to take a look at the music of Erik Satie and his influence, a composer who opened his mind to using mechanics and technology in music, and who looked to embrace new inventions. I will try to do the same.
My perspective is a Western one, so viewpoints from across the globe will be especially welcome. Please do contribute as much as you would like, from listening along on the playlists provided, to commenting on the findings and sharing in the delights we uncover. It promises to be a huge amount of fun.
So let’s switch on, power up and get listening!
Ben Hogwood, editor Arcana.fm
P.S.…for those of you following the Beethoven project – thank you! – I can promise you it hasn’t been cancelled but will resume in the composer’s ‘other’ anniversary year, 2027.
This is the second album from Ben Marc, the pseudonym for Neil Charles – who uses it to bring together two split musical personalities. ‘Ben’ covers his jazz side, playing bass, guitar and keys as a member of the groups Tomorrow’s Warriors and Zed-U, with Shabaka Hutchings and Tom Skinner, as well as touring experience with Mulatu Astatke. ‘Marc’ brings in the hip-hop, reggae and soul from Birmingham, where he grew up, and covers the appropriations of J Dilla that worked so well in debut album Glass Effect.
Who Cares Wins is a play on the British SAS motto, and captures Marc’s musical personality, featuring carefully thought-out instrumentation and subtle humour. It is perhaps telling that one of his key influences in writing the album was Peter Falk’s detective Columbo.
What’s the music like?
Consistently engaging. This is music for the brain and the feet, with spoken word that is both thoughtfully compiled and instinctive. At times there is a classical purity to Marc’s scoring, which we hear in the extended string quartet episodes of the title track, or even the long-breathed guitar line on Love.
The musical language is fresh and interesting, a cosmopolitan approach that isn’t afraid to mix it up between West Coast warmth, a bit of East Coast grit and English humour. At times the music is reminiscent of Arrested Development, which is fitting as Back Again, the album’s choice track, features them alongside Speech.
Confucius MC is a telling presence on Days & Nights, which closes out the album, but by the time we get there Ben Marc has given us plenty of music and words for thought.
Does it all work?
It does, thanks to an ideal ebb and flow between each track that benefits the greater good. Profound insights and humourous asides sit comfortably hand in hand.
Is it recommended?
Enthusiastically. Who Cares Wins might have been lost in the release schedule, dropping as it did at the start of December, but it is a fine album that deserves to grace many a player.
Peter Moore (trombone), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Kazuki Yamada (above)
Mahler Blumine (1884) Fujikura Trombone Concerto ‘Vast Ocean II’ (2005/23) [UK Premiere] Mahler Symphony no.1 in D major (1887-88, rev. 1889-98)
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Thursday 15 January 2026
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse Photo (c) Andrew Fox
Mahler has not been absent from the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra’s schedule since those halcyon years of Simon Rattle, though even he never undertook a chronological traversal of such as the orchestra’s current music director Kazuki Yamada duly commenced this evening.
Although the First Symphony was heard in its customary four-movement version as finalized for a Vienna performance in 1898, the so-called Blumine taken over from earlier incidental music and included as second movement in the earliest performances was given as an entrée to this concert. With its lilting trumpet melody – effortlessly unfolded by Holly Clark – and its aura of rapt inwardness, this elegant intermezzo was audibly out of place given the transition from symphonic poem to symphony, but it retains an appeal that was winningly evident here.
Two years ago Yamada and the CBSO gave the premiere of Wavering World by Japanese-born composer Dai Fujikura, and it was heartening to see the association continued with this first hearing in the UK for Vast Ocean II. Not so much a reworking as the reconceiving of a piece from 18 years earlier, this trombone concerto unfolded within the context of an orchestra rich in alluring sonorities yet streamlined in texture. This latter entered gradually while remaining focussed on (if never beholden to) a soloist whose role is almost that of a ‘cantus firmus’ that guides the music, through waves of increasing activity, towards a fervent culmination before a suspenseful closing evanescence. It helped to have in Peter Moore a soloist who manifestly believed in the music and contributed greatly to the impact of this memorable performance.
And so to Mahler’s First Symphony that, following on from Yamada’s accounts of the Fourth and Ninth in recent seasons, drew a suitably visceral response from conductor and orchestra. Not that this traversal was without failings: the ‘coming of spring’ in the opening pages was unerringly judged, as too the transition into its genial main theme, though this first movement rather lost focus in the mounting intensity of its final stages which felt rather rushed through. There were no provisos about a scherzo whose impetuous outer sections found ideal contrast with its ländler-informed trio of winning poise. The ensuing funeral march was equally well judged, bassist Anthony Alcock setting in motion this unlikely processional whose pathos is tinged by irony and even ambivalence before its jaunty climax then withdrawal into silence.
Launched with piercing clamour, the finale may ultimately have been no more than the sum of its parts, but the best were indeed memorable. So if the expressive second theme sounded overly generic, the approach to the central peroration was astutely handled, with the hushed recollection of earlier ideas never less than spellbinding. Nor was the stealthy build-up to the apotheosis lacking purpose, even if this latter emerged as less than majestic given Yamada’s headlong rush to those brusque closing chords. Audience response was accordingly effusive.
One person who would no doubt have wanted to be present was Andrew Clements, who died just four days earlier. A regular CBSO reviewer for the Guardian, his laconic while considered observations were always centred on the premise that music, whether in or of itself, mattered.
This is the first chance for Mary Lattimore and Julianna Barwick to realise their ‘musical telepathy’ in recorded form. The two artists, who have been friends for years, use their own instruments of voice and harp, but augment them with contributions from the instrument collection of the Musée de la Musique in the Philharmonie de Paris.
Tragic Magic was recorded in the space of nine days in 2025, just after the two friends had arrived in Paris from Los Angeles and is in part a response to the wildfires in California that they witnessed first-hand.
Instrumentally, Lattimore uses harps that trace the instrument’s evolution from 1728 to 1873, while Barwick, along with her vocal contributions, used analogue synthesizers including the Roland JUPITER and Sequential Circuits PROPHET-5. There is a striking cover in the form of Rachel’s Song, from Vangelis’s soundtrack to Blade Runner, while Roger Eno contributed Temple Of The Winds specially for the album.
What’s the music like?
Magical. It is clear there were some very special musical happenings in these sessions, with an unusual synergy between the two forces that reflects both their long-standing friendship and their pained response to the natural disasters occurring on America’s West Coast.
And yet much of the music here has a restrained beauty that is immensely soothing. This comes in part from the freeform improvisation, but also from the sheer space producer Trevor Spencer helps to secure. Barwick’s vocals move in perspective from foreground to a spacious backdrop, while Lattimore’s gently oscillating harp lines are often supported by drone-like bass movements, as in The Four Sleeping Princesses.
Haze With No Haze is richly expressive, Barwick’s harmonies like snowflakes falling slowly towards the ground, while Eno’s striking Temple Of the Winds looks east in its musical focus. Stardust has a thrilling rush of synthesizer colour at its outset, panning far and wide, its massive sound enveloping the ears, while Lattimore’s intricately plucked harp line makes Melted Moon a special epilogue.
Does it all work?
It does. Voice and harp have always made for a winsome musical combination, but the addition of electronics gives Tragic Magic a rare, ethereal quality.
Is it recommended?
Wholeheartedly. Already Tragic Magic can be declared one of the albums of the year, a document of often stunning beauty where the musical chemistry between Mary Lattimore and Julianna Barwick is laid bare.
Robert Simpson String Quartet in D major (1945)a Songs – Trocknet nicht!b; The Cherry Tree (both c1942)b Clarinet Trio (1967)c Quintet for Clarinet, Bass Clarinet and Three Double Basses (1981)d
Toccata Classics TOCC0701 [70’59’’] English/German texts & English translation included Producer / Engineer Michael Ponder
Recorded c3 June 2021 & d20 November 2023 at St George’s, Pinner View, London; a7 February 2023 at Studio TQHQ, Ruislip; b12 August 2024 at Lehmann Studios, Stuttgart
Released in January 2025
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Toccata Classics issues the first of two releases intended to ‘plug the gaps’ in the survey of Robert Simpson’s chamber music recorded by Hyperion in the 1980s and 1990s, featuring mainly younger musicians who demonstrate keen understanding of this composer’s idiom.
What’s the music like?
Although hardly a cohesive collection as such, this album provides an alternative overview across the greater part of Simpson’s output. Nothing here could be considered inessential, while one of these pieces most likely ranks among his finest compositions from any period.
Composed (and duly accepted) as an examination exercise for Simpson’s Batchelor degree at Durham, the String Quartet in D thereafter remained unpublished and unheard until this recording. At just over 20 minutes, the modest dimensions belie its formal deftness and its expressive subtlety – a trenchant initial Allegro followed by an Adagio where Haydnesque wit makes way for Beethovenian profundity, an ingratiating Allegretto closer to intermezzo than scherzo then a final Presto of an exhilaration effortlessly sustained through to its close.
Simpson was always uneasy with the setting of texts (his two published choral works solve this issue in different though equally ingenious way), but these early settings of Goethe and Housman suggest a distinctive and, moreover, convincing approach which could well have become more so had he persevered. Interestingly, both have an almost confessional quality that the composer, still in his early twenties, might have felt better conveyed in instrumental terms. Something that can never be known for sure, but the attraction of these songs remains.
The late 1960s found Simpson writing two major chamber works with clarinet. The Clarinet Quintet has long been regarded among his finest works, but the slightly earlier Clarinet Trio has seldom been heard and is something of a revelation. From its spellbinding introduction, the initial Allegro makes a virtue of abrupt contrast between impulsiveness and remoteness, with the slow movement a fugitive if searching interlude making the final Allegro the more unequivocal as this builds to a powerful apotheosis offset by the otherness of its closing bars.
Simpson afficionados will be familiar with the Quintet for Clarinet, Bass Clarinet and String Trio (Hyperion CDA66626), though maybe not the original incarnation with its three double basses. In fact the musical content sounds, for the most part, better suited to those arresting sonorities – not least the ethereal chorale-like texture of an opening Adagio which, after the mounting energy of a central Allegro, is infused with appreciably greater eloquence on its return and sees the whole work to an ending the more inevitable for its deep-seated repose.
Does it all work?
Pretty much throughout. The present accounts lack little in overall conviction, nor does the sound lack anything in clarity or perspective, while the annotations by Matthew Taylor are as informative as might be expected from one for whom Simpson was a significant mentor.
Is it recommended?
Yes, with the follow-up (Sonata for Two Pianos and Brass Quintet) duly awaited. Incidentally, Taylor recorded the Flute Concerto (with Susan Milan) and Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Bach for the Simpson centenary in 2021 but which is yet to be released. Maybe this year?
Listen / Buy
You can hear excerpts from the album and explore purchase options at the Toccata Classics website
Published post no.2,768 – Thursday 15 January 2026
Arcana.fm 