Vaughan Williams Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis (1910) Haydn Cello Concerto no.1 in C major Hob.VIIb/1 (c1761) Elgar Sospiri Op.70 (1914) Weinberg Flute Concerto no.1 Op.75 (1961) Britten The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra Op.34 (1945)
Sheku Kanneh-Mason (cello), Marie-Christine Zupancic (flute), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla
Symphony Hall, Birmingham Wednesday 6 October 2022
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
Shortly to embark on its first tour of the United States in almost a quarter-century, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra tonight played some of the pieces to be included there – a diverse selection that amounted to a cohesive and well-balanced programme on its own terms.
Opening the concert was one of those pieces heard on the CBSO’s album The British Project, and while this orchestra has performed Vaughan Williams’s Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis often, Mirga Gražinyte-Tyla relatively swift traversal compelled attention. The opening stages felt a little detached – the offstage ‘orchestra’, placed offstage-left, more a background presence than active participant – but the string quartet contribution was eloquently rendered while the approach to the main climax was as unerringly judged as that resonant final chord.
Sheku Kanneh-Mason has been playing Haydn’s cello concertos extensively, so there was no doubting the control and insight brought to the C major work – earliest of the pair and poised between the Baroque and Classical eras in its combining formal lucidity with melodic poise. Kanneh-Mason was mindful of the opening movement’s Moderato indication, maintaining a steady and never headlong tempo that allowed his tonal finesse and elegance of phrasing full rein. The Adagio could have had greater inward intensity, but not that stealthy transition into the return of the main theme, and the final Allegro had wit and incisiveness aplenty. A much-reduced CBSO was responsive in support – Kanneh-Mason offering an unlikely yet appealing pizzicato take on Bacharach’s I Say a Little Prayer (found on his new album Song) as encore.
There cannot have been many times when Elgar’s Sospiri began the second half, but it did so this evening to enticing effect. MG-T drew out its pathos without no trace of affectation, and if the organ part was missing, the strings’ burnished eloquence was more than compensation.
After last week’s public premiere of his Jewish Rhapsody, MG-T turned to (relatively) more familiar Weinberg with his First Flute Concerto. It also proved an ideal showcase for Marie-Christine Zupancic, longstanding section-leader of the CBSO, to demonstrate her prowess as soloist – whether in the energetic interplay of the initial Allegro, deftly understated threnody of the Adagio, or whimsical humour of an Allegro that anticipates Weinberg finales to come. The strings responded with alacrity to a piece now taking its place in a still-limited repertoire.
Britten‘s The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra has not been out of the repertoire in 77 years and it remains not just the finest educational work of its kind but an impressive showpiece in its own right. With the CBSO heard at full strength for the only time tonight, MG-T directed a performance which only fell short in the rather stolid rendering of the theme at the start. The traversal through the four orchestral sections threw up various distinctive cameos, while the closing fugue duly put the orchestra back together for what was an exhilarating apotheosis.
This was not quite the end, MG-T introducing the encore to feature on tour – Thomas Adès’s O Albion (from his quartet Arcadiana), here suitably evocative even if the irony of playing so -named a piece to a Birmingham audience can hardly have been lost on most of those present.
It is five years since we heard from Detroit-based producer Deepchord, aka Rod Lodell. The artist, who records for Glasgow label Soma Recordings, returns with the highly atmospheric album Functional Designs, described as ‘music born from the dusk; made for when the sun falls in a big city;.
Like much of Deepchord’s more recent music it makes use of field recordings and a wide range of electronic tones that take in the influence of dub, techno and folk. A keen photographer, Lodell takes great care in matching his music and art.
In this revealing interview, he talks Arcana through his compositional process, his musical upbringing and why the end of the day is a key point in his music.
Arcana: With it being five years since your last album release, have you been busy musically in that time?
Deepchord: There was a two-year hiatus from the studio due to some family/medical problems, but thankfully, those have been resolved entirely, and life is moving forward now. So back in the studio again. It’s great to feel inspired again.
What effect if any did the pandemic have on your music?
It’s funny, the music post pandemic is somehow different. Maybe a little more melancholy. Seems more like “listening music” rather than dance music. The last couple of years was a dark time. Friends succumbed to covid. It feels like we’re on the upswing now. Like we’re coming to the surface after being underwater for 2 years. Maybe the music reflects this. Melancholy from the past two years, but with a glimmer of optimism.
How has Detroit responded in the last few years?
There is actually a very small group of people into electronic music in Detroit. So, although not a big demographic, they are most certainly passionate, and their support and feedback is greatly appreciated. I was born and grew up in Detroit, and even though I’ve lived elsewhere over the years, it always feels like home when I get back.
What music did you grow up with? Out of interest did you listen to much dub and / or modern classical?
In my youth, I spent lots of time with my grandparents. They listened to artists like Andy Williams, Perry Como, and Percy Faith. I still listen to this stuff today for nostalgic reasons. Since the mid-80’s, I listened to primarily experimental music. musique concrete, sound-design, and early industrial. Haven’t listened to much dub growing up. Acquired a taste for this later. I did enjoy lots of modern classical. Lots of Philip Glass and Steve Reich. Music for 18 Musicians was one of my biggest influences.
What music do you listen to now, and take inspiration from?
Today, I listen to mostly field recordings and acoustic jazz music. Very little electronic stuff. I love field recordings. They are playing almost all the time in my home. Little sonic snapshots that I made around the world. I love how they make me feel. And jazz is the best for chilling out. It does what ambient music is supposed to do, but rarely does for me, because when I listen to it, I start to dissect it, and pay too much attention to it, and can’t relax. But with jazz, I don’t do that, so I just let it flow and enjoy it. I’ve really been into jazz the last several years. I don’t listen to anything mainstream. I like ethnic music. Middle Eastern music.This is influential for me. Persian music. In the electronic realm, I look forward to the next Hyperdub releases from London. They really seem to push envelopes in very interesting ways.
I really like Functional Design, it’s very atmospheric – and does what you wanted it to do, painting a picture of dusk falling in a big city. Did you have Detroit in mind when you said that?
Painting a picture of ‘dusk falling’ is a very accurate way to describe the album. Very accurate. I think all of my music is ‘night oriented’. I seem most influenced by night time. I like big cities at night. I’m definitely not a morning person. To me, “morning” is about 10am. I always get a second wind at midnight. I love night walks. And yes, this album has more Detroit DNA in it than any others that I’ve done. With the pandemic and everything else going on over the past few years, I was trapped here. During the pandemic, I would go to Belle Isle park in Detroit and sit. Or wander the (near vacant) streets downtown. And these moments got balled up into the new album. To be honest, I like the music that’s more influenced by favorite places like Amsterdam and Barcelona, because it takes me away from home. But this one is definitely steeped in “Detroit after dark”.
Your compositions often feel like weather systems. Is that intentional?
Maybe subconsciously. In the early days, my ambient music was very influenced by this. Weather has always been a big influence. Pressure zones and storms. And I think this is still buried in my head somewhere. I like air movement. I love stormy days. I prefer rainy days more than sunny ones. I like weather patterns. Weather is a bigger influence than any other music. Similarity, is architecture. I find the work of my favorite architects (e.g John Portman) more influential than any music.
Do you always make your music in the studio or do you go outside?
I haven’t been successful at recording music outdoors yet, but want to try more. I remember years ago, talking to Steve Roach on the phone, and he was telling me about how he’s been recording outside in his backyard (Arizona). May have been his Dream Circle or Slow Heat album. This blew me away. I loved the idea. I made a few attempts, but they didn’t work out. I would like to pursue this more. Or maybe have a greenhouse behind the house with a small studio.
This is a slightly nerdy question, but how do you get your bass drums so deep, as in Memories? Do you spend a lot of time perfecting your sound?
I’ve been asked this before, and I think it’s just through years of trial and error. I have a certain chain of compressors, EQ, and limiters that work for me. Also, I think it’s my idea of what a kickdrum should be. I’m not into sharp whacks. I think a kick should be almost subliminal. I like a deep whoosh of air in the room. A metronome to line up the other blurry elements with. But I want those “blurry elements” to take precedence. I think a loud kick takes away from the subtleties. So I keep it quiet. But, I wanted it to have more presence, so I do it by making them deeper.
Do you always think of the full album and place each track in context?
I’ll record a sequence of tracks influenced by a particular place, then arrange them to tell a story. I think it terms of a full length rather than singles. I like the full story. A concept. I’m most influenced by geographic locations, and they have multiple facets. So an album lets me describe those facets in 10-12 chapters. I find trying to get the picture across in one track is too restrictive. Many times, when you combine several tracks into album form, they strengthen each other. It’s definitely about the collection for me, rather than a single.
Are you traveling much and playing live or DJing?
We just got back from Barcelona last week, and spent some time in Amsterdam. But it was for pleasure rather than music. I was kind of scared to travel for the past couple years, but I think it’s time to venture out a little. I miss my favourite cities. There are a few EU shows scheduled in November and December. I think I will be making short trips to EU in the next year. Probably not staying there long-term in the near future. We’ll see how it goes. I do miss Amsterdam. It’s my true home.
The photography for the album is stunning – you take great care in how your music is presented.
Thank you. I always try to match photos that reflect the music. The image on the front of Functional Designs is in Detroit. It was shot near Broadway and Grand River, looking towards Woodward. It was a dreary autumn day at dusk. Damp, cold in the air. It felt like the music to me.
Was it your aim to release ‘dusk’ music as the summer is coming to an end in the Northern hemisphere?
Not specifically. But again, I do think dusk and night time is a recurring theme in my music. I make music for driving around at night. Music that just wouldn’t feel right in the mid-day. Unless it’s raining and dark maybe.
You can listen to clips from Deepchord’s Functional Design album, and view purchasing options, at the Soma website. Meanwhile the EP Functional Extraits 2 is due on 14 October – and you can view and order, also at the Soma website
Granados Goyescas Op.11 (1911) Janáček In the Mists (1912) Scriabin Piano Sonata no.9 in F major Op.68, ‘Black Mass’ (1913)
Orion Weiss (piano)
First Hand Records FHR127 [74’51”] Producer David Frost; Engineer Silas Brown Recorded 22-24 May 2014 at SUNY Purchase Performing Arts Center, New York
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
First Hand Records issues the first instalment of another planned trilogy (see also The Future is Female with Sarah Cahill), the Arc series being a traversal by Orion Weiss across a century of piano music with intermittent forays into conceptually related pieces by earlier composers.
What’s the music like?
Focussing on music from before the First World War, this first volume is dominated (at least in terms of length) by Goyescas – the cycle of piano evocations in which Granados both paid homage to the illustrious Spanish artist, while extending the potential for large-scale formal design associated primarily with Liszt. That the composer subsequently transformed this into a one-act opera says much for the original’s motivic interconnections, such as Weiss further emphasizes throughout an interpretation in which characterization and cohesion are as one.
The listener is guided from teasing melodic interplay in Flattery, via the (mostly) confiding intimacy of Conversation at the Window then encroaching fear of separation in Fandango by Candlelight and its pained experiencing in Laments, or The Maiden and the Nightingale. A tragic climax arrives in the ballade Love and Death; after which, Serenade of the Ghost offers an ironic epilogue. Weiss renders this methodical yet visceral sequence with no mean insight, drawing out that pathos seldom far beneath the surface of Granados’s mature music.
If the Spanish composer was realizing his vision despite – or even because of – his success as composer and performer, In the Mists finds Janáček combating those vicissitudes of personal and professional failure. Hence the tonally and expressively oblique nature of its initial three sections, such as Weiss articulates with notable emphasis on their volatile mood-swings and frequent welling-up of emotion. All of this is duly thrown into relief by the final Presto with its gradual yet, as here, inexorable tendency towards ultimate fragmentation and dissolution.
Much has been written over the past century about those occult and even satanic connotations of Scriabin’s Ninth Sonata, whose Black Mass subtitle was only added after the event and at the prompting of another. Once again, it is the harnessing of such fluid and increasingly violent expression to a formal follow-through as precise as it is fastidious which gives this music its uniqueness. Weiss ensures an audibly cumulative build-up that, in the closing stages, achieves a claustrophobic intensity which could be considered liberating or annihilating as one prefers.
Does it all work?
Yes. Although it is not hard to locate alternative recordings for each of these pieces of at least comparable value, their juxtaposition within this context makes for a programme absorbing in its overt contrasts yet satisfying in its overall cohesion. Whether or not Weiss has performed this in recital, the trajectory towards an even greater self-absorption and inward intensity feels as inescapable as the presentiments of world conflict which lie behind much of what is heard here. Future volumes will doubtless offer a changing perspective and maybe a ‘way forward’.
Is it recommended?
It is. The sound has a lucidity and detail ideal for piano music from this period, with Weiss’s annotations succinct but also pertinent to his interpretations. This series is a notable addition to his extensive discography, further information about which can be accessed at his website.
Listen
For further information on this release, head to the First Hand Records website, and for more information on Orion Weiss, head to his website
Beglarian Fireside (2001) Bon Keyboard Sonata in B minor, Op.2/5 (1757) Carreño Un rêve en mer (1868) Dillon Birds at Dawn, Op. 20 No. 2 (1917) Gribbin Unseen (2017) Jambor Piano Sonata ‘To the Victims of Auschwitz’ (1949) Kaprálová Dubnová preludia, Op.13/1 & 3 (1937) Kashperova Au sein de la nature – no.3: Le Murmure des blés (1910) Mendelssohn-Hensel Lieder Op.8/1 & 3 (1846) Watkins Summer Days (2020)
Sarah Cahill [piano, voice (‘Fireside’)]
First Hand Records FHR131 [71’32”] Producer/Engineer Matt Carr Recorded 15-28 August 2021 at St. Stephen’s Church, Belvedere, California
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
First Hand Records has issued the first instalment in a planned trilogy devoted to piano works by female composers ranging across the past three centuries, played by Sarah Cahill who has made both the reviving and commissioning of this music a mainstay of her performing career.
What’s the music like?
As Cahill relates in an introductory video (below), The Future is Female is a project to record music by women composers from the Baroque era through to the present-day. Loosely based around the theme of nature, this first volume opens with music from the cusp of the Classical era: Anna Bon, Venetian-born and Prussian-educated, whose primary keyboard work is Six Sonatas published as her Op. 2 – the fifth comprising three relatively substantial movements which finds influences from C.P.E. Bach being put to productive use.
The music of Fanny Mendelssohn-Hensel has now started to come into its own, her extensive output for piano well represented by two from a set of Vier Lieder published as her Op. 8 and akin to the Songs without Words of her brother Felix in their respectively limpid and poetic moods. Exerting considerable influence as pianist and administrator, the Caracas-born Teresa Carreño wrote little in later life, making this teenage Étude-méditation the more striking for its suffused intensity. Equally highly regarded as a pianist, Leokadiya Kashperova brings an impressionist deftness to this movement from her piano suite In the Midst of Nature, whereas Fannie Charles Dillon yields an even lighter touch through an extract from Eight Descriptive Pieces with its pioneering though always subtle approach on the notation of various birdsong.
Long remembered through her association with Martinů, the short-lived Vitĕzslava Kaprálová was an able composer whose piano output includes April Preludes – elusive miniatures which pivot around without ever losing a sense of tonality. The sure highlight is the Piano Sonata by Agi Jambour, its recollection of Budapest during the Nazi occupation inspiring a piece whose three movements take in fraught passion, an Epitaph of sombre poise, then a finale of stark resolve. Of the three living composers, Eve Beglarian features the recitation of a poem by the teenage Ruth Crawford-Seeger within the context of an improvisatory piano backdrop. Deidre Gribbin pens a forceful study of London at a time of social and cultural upheaval, then Mary D. Watkins’s capricious evocation of children at play ends the recital on a more hopeful note.
Does it all work?
Yes. Although not all these pieces are of comparable value, the chronological approach such as Cahill favours makes sense in terms of a stylistic evolution in writing for piano; a parallel (rather than alternative) trajectory through 250 years of Western art music. There can be few reservations concerning either the sound, as good as it gets in terms of clarity and perspective, or the pianist’s detailed and informative annotations. At least half of this selection should be featured in the repertoire of pianists, male or female, which says much as to its overall worth.
Is it recommended?
Indeed. The second volume is imminent with the third in preparation, making for a series as inclusive as it is wide-ranging. Cahill has already amassed a significant discography – further information can be found at her website, which also gives details of her forthcoming recitals.
Adrian Williams Symphony no.1 (2020) Chamber Concerto: Portraits of Ned Kelly (1998)
English Symphony Orchestra / Kenneth Woods
NimbusAlliance NI6432 [70’31’’] Producers/Engineers Phil Rowlands, Tim Burton Recorded 8 April 2021 (Chamber Concerto), 1-2 December 2021 (Symphony) at Wyastone Concert Hall, Monmouth
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
This latest release in the English Symphony Orchestra’s 21st Symphony Project features its most ambitious instalment yet in the First Symphony by Adrian Williams (b1956), coupled with a no less eventful piece by this ‘dark horse’ among British composers of his generation.
What’s the music like?
Although having written various orchestral works, Williams had never tackled the symphonic genre before prior to being the ESO’s John McCabe Composer-in-Association in 2019 (he is currently its Composer Emeritus) but has confronted the challenge head-on. Playing almost 50 minutes and scored for an orchestra including triple woodwind, five horns, four trumpets and four percussionists with harp, piano and celesta, the work is evidently a summation of where its composer felt he had reached over the course of his musical odyssey. Yet for all its textural complexity and its pervasive richness of thought, this is music created out of basic motifs; the initial three notes generating the first movement’s main themes, as well as essentializing that longer term tonal goal as remains a focal point towards which intervening activity is directed.
From its imposing Maestoso epigraph, the opening Stridente unfolds against the background of (without necessarily adhering to) sonata-form design – its motivic components drawn into a continuous and frequently combative evolution purposefully unresolved at the close. There follows a Scherzando that eschews ternary design for a through-composed format proceeding by tension and release to a decisive ending. The expressive crux of the whole work, the Lento evinces a plangent and desolate tone whose sparse textures and elliptical harmonies re-affirm that ‘less is more’ maxim. Despite its Energico marking the finale unfolds with slow-burning momentum, made the more cumulative by channelling its motivic evolution toward a Dolente apotheosis whose outcome proves as inevitable formally as it feels transcendent emotionally.
The artist Sidney Nolan was latterly a neighbour of Williams, his powerfully un-romanticized evocations of famed Australian outlaw Ned Kelly directly influencing this Chamber Concerto. Its pungent opening sets wind quintet against string quartet, with double-bass and harp adding subtle contributions as the piece unfolds. The inward central section builds towards a febrile culmination – after which, wind and strings are drawn into a monody which brings a resigned though hardly serene ending. A purposeful overall trajectory ensures cohesion at every stage.
Does it all work?
Absolutely. These are impressive piece in terms of their ambition but also realization. There are considerable technical challenges on route, but they are met with conviction and no little resourcefulness by an expanded ESO which is often tested but never fazed. Kenneth Woods directs with his customary attention to detail as goes a long way toward clarifying music that is ‘complex and luminous’ in spirit as by design. Williams has evidently been waiting for this opportunity to contribute to the symphonic tradition and his execution rarely, if ever, falters.
Is it recommended?
Indeed. The recording is as focussed and spacious as is necessary, and there are informative notes from composer and conductor. Next from this source is a release of concertos by Philip Sawyers, then one of symphonic works by the current Composer-in-Association Steve Elcock.
This recording is released on Friday 7 October 2022.
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