James Ellis Ford has a most impressive musical CV, whether on the front line or behind the scenes. As an active member of Simian, Simian Mobile Disco and The Last Shadow Puppets, he has never been short of a burning riff or two. These two very different musical outfits enjoyed a more progressive form of rock and then a searing, acidic complement to The Chemical Brothers.
As a producer, Ford has lent production savvy to the likes of Arctic Monkeys, Foals, Klaxons and Jessie Ware among others, and most recently played a big part behind the scenes on Depeche Mode’s new album Memento Mori. He has also produced the upcoming Blur album, The Ballad Of Darren. With all that work in the bank, his first solo album proper – on which he plays all the instruments – could be seen as time off from the day job! Yet it is a meaningful achievement, and clearly good enough for a label as illustrious as Warp to sign him up.
What’s the music like?
Largely unscripted – in the best possible way. Ford’s musical diary to date has shown his ability to move between genres with no effort, and The Hum does this while sticking to a principle of pure musical enjoyment. On occasion the approach is reminiscent of his early days in Simian, when they used to support bands such as Emerson Lake & Palmer.
It is good to hear James singing as well as playing all the instruments, for his voice fits in well with either the psychedelic approach or the pastoral one. I Never Wanted Anything is quite sweetly harmonic in this regard, while The Yips is a brilliant contrast, its creeping riff leaning towards progressive rock.
Pink Floyd cast an attractive shadow – Us and Them especially – as Tape Loop #7 and Pillow Village establish the mood of the album, and on Golden Hour a rich multi-layered vocal comes forward. Squeaky Wheel glints with a touch of the industrial – with passing references that flit between pastoral contentment and the abrasion of Cabaret Voltaire.
A pair of instrumentals in the middle hit the spot. The woozy title track lulls the listener into a false sense of security before Ford goes all-out funk and prog in equal parts, a loping groove and chunky synthesizers giving Caterpillar rich slabs of colour.
Ford moves through the gears on Emptiness, another eventful number, before the soft, warm postlude Closing Time, with a melody that uncannily shadows the Neighbours theme tune.
Does it all work?
Yes. There is very little padding here, and Ford has plenty of interesting ideas – so the mind and ears are always stimulated.
Is it recommended?
Yes, with enthusiasm. Pretty much everything Ford has been involved with has musical vitality and progression, and this solo album is no exception. With any luck it is the start of a series, rather than a one-off.
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Robert Treviño
Mahler, ed. Cooke Symphony no.10 in F sharp major (1910)
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Thursday 18 May 2023
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra has a notable association with Mahler’s Tenth Symphony – realized by Deryck Cooke – having given memorable performances with Simon Rattle and more recently with Sakari Oramo. This evening’s account was to have been taken by Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, but her indisposition brought American conductor Robert Treviño to the helm for what was a memorable performance that vindicated (if such were needed) this ‘performing edition’ and hinted at what might develop into a notable partnership in the future.
The quality of string playing these days means the initial viola melody no longer poses quite the risks it once did. Treviño went on to shape this opening Adagio with a sure sense of how its contrasting themes are drawn into an evolution whose unpredictability is informed by an emotional candour, heard at its most explicit in the climactic dissonance (evidently added at a late stage) such as makes the beatific coda the more affecting. Nor did he fail to tease out the underlying continuity of music shot through with the knowledge of its own dissolution.
Such an issue is more graphically present in the first Scherzo, its contrapuntal texture fitfully realized in the score but here achieved with a deftness making the trade-off between its polka- and ländler-like ideas the more potent. Not least during the later stages of a movement where these themes alternate with ever increasing frequency, as if in a stretto of activity, on the way to the most decisive and even affirmative conclusion found in Mahler’s late music. Treviño’s opting not to tone down those more unlikely percussive touches proved its own justification.
Almost Mahler’s shortest symphonic movement, the Purgatorio is yet crucial to the overall design – the ‘treadmill’ motion of its outer sections exuding acute irony, with the histrionics at its centre firmly held in check so their implications were made more than usually evident.
Performances of this work most often founder in the second Scherzo, but not here – Treviño launching it with anguished intent, while maintaining a persuasive balance between this and the more consoling element which informs its progress. The brief central interlude conveyed exquisite pathos, tension barely receding as the expression gradually and inevitably subsides into crepuscular activity with its fleeting intimations of what went before and what is still to come. Just one bass-drum stroke, surely, is needed to separate this movement from the finale.
That said, the unfolding of this latter left nothing to chance – whether in the sepulchral gloom of its initial bars, the poise of its indelible melody for flute, or a central phase of activity that here emerged as the natural consequence of what went before. Treviño (rightly) retained the additional percussion necessary to make the return of the first movement’s climax the more shattering – the sheer eloquence of what followed building to a rapturous culmination which, as with the closing emotional wrench, drew an unfaltering response from the CBSO strings.
A memorable performance, and one that met with an enthusiastic response. Treviño brought the soloists and sections to their feet, but might have started with trumpeter Jason Lewis and flautist Marie-Christine Zupancic – their contributions typifying the excellence of the whole.
Hazel Mills has built up an impressive body of work as a keyboard player and backing vocalist for Goldfrapp, Florence + The Machine and Blur’s Dave Rowntree, appearing on his fine album Radio Songs from earlier this year. As a live performer she has recent stints alongside Hannah Peel on her Fir Wave live dates under her belt, and is currently performing with Will Gregory’s Moog Ensemble in Australia.
This EP represents her first dip into solo waters, exercising her songwriting talent on a quartet of tracks that by her own admission take Eurythmics, Kate Bush, Steve Reich and Delia Darbyshire as part of their inspiration.
Joining Hazel is multi-instrumentalist TJ Allen and drummer Alex Thomas, while Gregory and Tim Bran add extra synths to Fragile Creature and Enclosure respectively.
What’sthemusiclike?
Richly evocative and full of character. The well-chosen songs follow a theme of nature vs modernity, and form a self-enclosed unit. They show Mills to be an impressive and urgent writer and vocalist.
The crushed velvet production of Enclosure is matched by Mills’ descriptive vocals, a combination of euphoria and regret. The Embrace is a complementary ballad, full of yearning and with more than a little drama. Mills’ voice has elements of Kate Bush for sure, but Alison Goldfrapp and Tori Amos are also to be found, while her work on the live circuit has given her a strong sense of timing in the musical storytelling.
Hold The Water is poised but tense, the multi-layered voices set against a harmonically restless, stuttering groove. Fragile Creature is certainly that, but there are hints of unrevealed menace, the wordless sighing of backing vocals adding an icy edge to the picture.
Does it all work?
It does. There is much to savour here, and repeated listening – preferably at volume – reveals impressive attention to detail in the sonics and the production, as well as the depth of Mills’ vocals.
Is it recommended?
Enthusiastically. Fans of all the acts mentioned above will want to hear this, for Hazel Mills has an original voice and intensity. It will be interesting to chart her progress for sure.
Schumann Violin Sonata no.1 in A minor Op.105 (1851) Violin Sonata no.2 in D minor Op.121 (1853)
Wigmore Hall, Monday 15 May 2023 1pm
by Ben Hogwood
It is only in relatively recent years that the violin sonatas of Robert Schumann have begun to get their proper dues. Schumann wrote three such works, sitting at the mature end of his output, and each is shot through with concentrated feeling.
The Violin Sonata no.1 was written in an unfortunate climate, Schumann admitting that it was reflecting a period when he was ‘very angry with certain people’. Certainly its beginning here, with Alina Ibragimova deep in concentration, had a furrowed brow and a darker mood. Yet it was not long in this performance when shafts of sunlight appeared, especially when the harmony moved into the major key. A period of intense reflection was followed by a drive to the finish, propelled by Cédric Tiberghien‘s flowing piano.
The second movement, effectively a slow movement and a scherzo combined, had an appreciably lighter mood with which to begin but cut to a more agitated frame of mind for the scherzo, its contours ideally negotiated by these two fine performers.
The relatively short sonata finished with a busy and determined third movement, digging in but also drawing back to reveal lighter colours and moods. Schumann’s dispute, it seems, was resolved.
The ViolinSonatano.2 is almost twice the length of its predecessor, and is perhaps beginning to reach the status its musical content deserves. To begin with it is an imposing proposition, and Ibragimova brought a granite-like surety to the double stopping, revealing hints of Bach in the responding recitative. In spite of the first movement’s substantial dimensions, it was consistently compelling in this performance, with passionate violin and flowing piano responding really well to each other and maintaining a really satisfying balance. The opening theme coarsed with drama but the broad phrases of the later theme became assertive and ultimately dominant.
The scherzo showed typically energetic Schumann figure, but remained anxious around the edges until its final acclamation. Meanwhile the third movement presented an opportunity for reflection in the plaintive but highly expressive pizzicato with which it began, both performers enjoying the hymn-like nature of the theme even in its loosely strummed form. Gradually the substance of the theme revealed itself, beautifully expressed in natural phrasing, especially in the second variation, with double stopping from the violin.
The finale pushed forward with great urgency, Ibragimova pushing the relentless theme forward while Tiberghien gave a substantial and weighty supporting voice. The two finished each other’s sentences as Schumann’s motifs passed between the instruments, before an emphatic and rapturous finish in the major key.
The musicians were not quite finished, treating us to a beautifully weighted account of Schumann’s song Abendlied as an encore.
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There is a famous, unattributed quote that ‘writing about music is like dancing about architecture’. How, then, to interpret a concert in celebration of a magazine? The conclusion, when that magazine is 100 years old, is that surely its writers are doing something right!
The magazine is the esteemed Gramophone, formed in 1923 and reaching its centenary without a break, not even an issue missed during the Second World War. Gramophone has reflected the growth of the classical record industry, proving something of a bible for classical music listeners and buyers, with its recommendations of recordings and interviews / thought pieces to put them in context. Music old and new is covered, and not all of it classical – indeed, as we found out during James Jolly’s revealing and entertaining narration, the magazine reviewed pop music in the 1960s.
Jolly is the magazine’s Editor in Chief, and has been with the magazine since starting as editorial assistant in 1985. He gave a debt of gratitude to the Gramophone founder Sir Compton Mackenzie and the Pollard family, where the large part of the night’s story lay. Modestly, the magazine did not dwell on their current state, which would have been easy – for Gramophone is one of those rare things, a publication where subscription is done without the bat of an eyelid, and each issue read cover to cover – either physically or online, where you can enjoy the entirety of its archive in digital form.
How to celebrate such a publication in a concert? Choosing the Wigmore Hall was a smart move, honing resources and ensuring the celebrations were done with quality as well as quantity. The move did of course eliminate larger scale forms – opera and orchestral – but it retained the magazine’s sense of musical exploration through five centuries of music.
Violinist Alina Ibragimova and pianist Cédric Tiberghien began with a concentrated performance of Debussy’s Violin Sonata, completed just six years before the magazine’s first edition. This was a thoughtful and virtuosic performance, Ibragimova fully inhabiting each phrase while Tiberghien successfully harnessed Debussy’s coloristic effects and sleights of harmony. The spectre of war was close at hand – as it was in Gramophone’s early years.
Next up was countertenor Iestyn Davies, a late replacement for soprano Fatma Said. It was a privilege to hear his Purcell, refracted through the eyes of modern composers, showing how access to the composer’s music has boomed since Gramophone started. Davies had a particularly arresting delivery for Britten’s Lord, what is man, before a deeply passionate vocal in the Thomas Adès setting By beauteous softness, Malcolm Martineau phrasing its postlude with exquisite shaping. Britten reappeared for a jubilant I’ll sail upon the Dog Star.
In Gramophone’s tenure the guitar has established itself as a central part of the classical repertoire. We heard two very different soloists – Milos in Mathias Duplessy’s bluesy Amor Fati, which though originating in France seemed to be looking over the Spanish border on occasion. Its full bodied chords were brilliantly declaimed. Sean Shibe, meanwhile, cast his eyes further east as partner for tenor Karim Sulayman in three songs of Arabic origins. Here was a striking alliance, Shibe’s exquisitely quiet playing a match for the tenor’s husky delivery. The two finished each other’s sentences, reflecting a musical chemistry of unusual quality found on their recent album Broken Branches.
We also heard three very different pianists, dazzling with virtuosity but also showing impeccable control. Nearest to the edge was Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, whose compelling excerpts from Ravel‘s suite Miroirs revealed rougher contours. These suited the storm of Une barque sur l’océan, while Alborada del gracioso was rustic and danced at quite a pace, the pianist relishing its whirling figurations.
Martin James Bartlett showed a painter’s touch to a pair of Liszt arrangements – the composer’s keyboard paraphrase of his son-in-law Wagner’s Liebestod especially fine. Bartlett’s phrasing was immaculate, each tune clear as a bell in spite of the myriad accompanying colours. The Schumann transcription Widmung also retained a songful air, powerful at its climactic passages.
Bisecting the keyboard soloists was soprano Carolyn Sampson and regular partner Joseph Middleton. Sampson will shortly reach her 100th album release, a remarkable achievement in a discography adorned with Gramophone accolades. We heard a well-chosen and varied selection taking us from Purcell and Britten to Saariaho via Poulenc and Régine Poldowski, the latter composer indicative of record companies’ efforts to include more female composers at last. Daughter of Polish composer Henryk Wieniawski, Poldowski made a very strong impression with L’heure exquise, while Sampson gave a ringing endorsement for Saariaho’s Parfum de l’instant, due in a future recording. Here she was aided by a fountain of cascading treble notes from Middleton.
Finally we heard Bernard Chamayou in a tour de force account of Liszt’s Venezia e Napoli, an apt choice in its inclusion of the city of Naples, looking out to a former home of Sir Compton Mackenzie on the island of Capri. Liszt added the Venezia e Napoli triptych as a footnote to the second book of his cycle Années de Pèlerinage, reflecting the impact of his travels around Europe as a virtuoso pianist. Its music is far from trivial and Chamayou, who recorded the complete cycle in 2010 brought unusually clear definition to the undulating figures of Gondoleria. The Rossini-themed Canzone was deeply intoned, majestically voiced with a sense of wonder projecting right to the back of the hall. Finally the Tarantella was a virtuoso affair, but Chamayou never lost sight of the thematic material in the tempestuous surroundings.
It was the ideal way to conclude a high-quality concert, though an encore saw the assembled artists sing ‘Happy birthday’ to the publication that has served them so well. Here’s to another 100 years, Gramophone!
Purcell, realised Britten Lord, what is man (1945); Purcell, realised Adès By beauteous softness (2017); Purcell, realised Britten I’ll sail upon the Dog Star (1943)
Ravel Miroirs: Une barque sur l’océan; Alborada del gracioso (1904-5)
Jean-Efflam Bavouzet (piano)
Trad arr. Sulayman & Shibe La prima vez; Arab-Andalusian Muwashsha arr. Shibe Lamma Bada Yatathanna; Sayed Darwish arr. Shibe & Sulayman after Ronnie Malley El helwa di
Karim Sulayman (tenor), Sean Shibe (guitar)
Wagner arr. Liszt Isoldens Liebestod (1867); Schumann arr. Liszt Widmung (1848)
Martin James Bartlett (piano)
Purcell realised Britten Sweeter than roses (c1945); Britten Fancie (1965); Poulenc Fancy (1959); Régine Poldowski L’heure exquise (1917); Saariaho Parfum de l’instant (from Quatre Instants) (2002)
Carolyn Sampson (soprano), Joseph Middleton (piano)
Arcana.fm 