Gavin Bryars is a contemporary composer of rare integrity
and vision. This 60th birthday "best of" is a fitting tribute,
provided one accepts the (necessary?) absence of the early Obscure/Virgin/EMI(?)
material and that from the ECM sojourn (After The Requiem would
have surely otherwise been included). This composer-sanctioned selection
therefore focuses on music that first appeared on the Argo and Point
labels. On his website Gavin Bryars sets out the functional rationale
for the selections very eloquently, i.e. to keep as many pieces as possible
in circulation. Again by necessity, most of the music on this pair of
discs is either from the 1990s or was revised during that period.
Julian Lloyd Webber is someone who can be taken on
absolute trust where British music is concerned and his performance
of the Haydn inspired (but much more austere sounding) Cello Concerto
is, and no doubt will remain, definitive (and prove to be yet another
defining moment in the brilliant career of James Judd - Elgar, Lilburn,
Gershwin etc.). The concerto's wonderfully elegiac mood grates a little
against the following One Last Bar, Then Joe Can Sing, an undoubted
exercise in brilliant percussive arrangement but one that, to these
ears, rings rather hollow against some of the other music on this set.
Les Fiançailles is a pleasant piece but
its avowed Viennese feel is not one that I find brings out the best
in this composer. The fact it was composed for Robert Wilson's CIVIL
warS makes for an interesting comparison with Philip Glass but,
the ruminative melancholy of the concerto notwithstanding, the best
music on the CD is yet to come. The original 1975 version of Jesus'
Blood, from Brian Eno's Obscure imprint, was (fairly) recently re-released
and remains the benchmark for this piece (and The Sinking of the
Titanic, also included) but the two short derived pieces here (re-recorded
and featuring the gravel voiced Tom Waits alongside the long departed
tramp) are effective and communicative. The Titanic excerpt is
less successful and I would recommend hearing the entire piece, either
in its original incarnation or the full, indeed expanded, early 1990s
re-recording.
The Green Ray is a stunning musical evocation
of an occasional solar phenomenon experienced when watching the sun
setting over the sea, an artistic inspiration previously to Jules Verne
(Bryars took his lead from the great French writer's novel of the same
name), and, musically, the superb Bagad de Lann Bihoué (on their
Glann Glaz (Green Wave) album) and possibly even Van Morrison
(Celtic Ray? I concede that I may be stretching the imagination
here a little). Whatever its source, the ebbing and flowing music, predominantly
slow, builds to a highly evocative climax. Here Bryars shows how great
he can be. The maritime inspirations of Sibelius (Oceanides),
Nielsen (Helios, Faeroese Fantasy) and Bax (Tintagel)
plus those of the underrated British composer Philip Sainton (The
Island, Moby Dick), while more similar in feel than in form,
are all happily brought to memory. I haven't even mentioned, so far,
the contribution of soloist John Harle; suffice to say that it is up
to (and beyond) his usual high standards. The song cycle that follows,
settings of the Lebanese poet Adnan, is also highly evocative and expertly
realised. However Bryars’ music rings far truer, aforementioned reservations
aside, in the short excerpt/edit from The Sinking of the Titanic
and, especially, The North Shore. The latter was inspired by
the bleak, cliff-top setting of St. Hilda's Abbey in Whitby. Again often
slow, Bryars' music evokes the landscape without a hint of recourse
to melodrama (Bram Stoker is not on the map but Bryars namechecks Glenn
Gould and the pianist's Idea of North trilogy in his always
highly readable and informative notes.). Whereas The Green Ray
is an Atlantic idyll, here we can almost hear the fret billowing
in off the North Sea, establishing Bryars' credentials as a modern day
"sea composer" to rival even Maxwell Davies.
Here, as in all his music, Gavin Bryars reveals his
inner self, a combination of the truly innovative and a real respect
for tradition has generated something wonderful. Writing this now, I
am transported back ten years to The Grapes (Sheffield), with a guitarist
friend playing acoustic instrumentals of Gershwin songs. Both of us
were secure in the knowledge that Gavin would have approved, remembering
his sessions in the same establishment with Derek Bailey and Tony Oxley,
twenty years earlier, as a member of the improvising trio Josef Holbrooke
(named for the now critically rehabilitated "Cockney Wagner"). Later
a member of the creative circle which also included Brian Eno, Michael
Nyman, Harold Budd, John Cale etc. and then one of the stalwarts of
Philip Glass's Point project, Bryars has an impeccable pedigree. Whether
writing for the Hilliard Ensemble or jazz legend Charlie Haden (and
you will have to go beyond this disc to find those excellent collaborations),
he continues to produce music which both challenges and enthralls.
Neil Horner
Hubert Culot has also listened to this disc
I first came to know Bryars’ music through some of
his early works such as My First Homage (1978) or The
English Mail-Coach (1980) which were still much indebted to
Minimalism. Later works such as his First String Quartet had him departing
from Minimalism to explore new territories although his later music
retained much of its original simplicity and tunefulness. This trait
is still clearly evident in most pieces featured in this compilation
celebrating the composer’s sixtieth birthday. This music dates from
the decade 1990-2000, with the exception of Jesus’ Blood Never
Failed Me Yet of which the first version dates back to Bryars’
experimental years. The short Titanic Lament is also of
earlier origin and is adapted from The Sinking of the Titanic
of which the first version was available on Brian Eno’s Obscure Records
(that was during the LP era). Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet
from 1975 was reworked and extensively enlarged in its final full version
of 1993 (available on POINT MUSIC 438 823-2). That version, which is
the one to have if you are interested in Bryars’ work, is deeply moving
and makes its point by slow unfolding and by progressive accumulation
until it reaches its final climax bathed in searing intensity. This
long piece, however, may fascinate or irritate depending on the listener’s
frame of mind; but its global impact cannot be denied. Bryars was asked
to make a ‘single’ version compressing this long work into a five-minute
miniature that "follows the sequence of instrumental entries in
the original version in accelerated form" (the composer’s words).
The difference between both versions heard here is that Version A (CD1
– Track 12) opens with the tramp’s frail singing joined later by Tom
Waits’ voice whereas Version B (CD2 – Track 12) has it the other way
round.
Les Fiançailles of 1983 with revisions
in 1996 is heard here in the revised version, scored for piano, string
quintet and percussion. Both this work and the saxophone concerto The
Green Ray still display minimalist features though both are
characteristic of Bryars’ melodic, often elegiac, writing. That style
is still more evident in the overtly lyrical Cello Concerto
and the beautiful song sequence The Adnan Songbook in
which Bryars’ lyricism is effortlessly displayed in absolute freedom.
The Cello Concerto "Farewell to Philosophy"
was composed at the request of Julian Lloyd Webber who wanted a companion
piece to one of the Haydn concertos, hence the comparatively traditional
orchestral layout as well as the oblique allusions to two well-known
Haydn symphonies (Farewell and The Philosopher). A professional
bass player, Bryars writes idiomatically for strings, and his expert
scoring never obscures the ever present cello that is thus allowed to
sing unhindered all the way through. Bryars’ lyrical gifts are much
in evidence in the beautiful vocal cycle The Adnan Songbook
on words by the Lebanese writer Etel Adnan. The intimate nature of Adnan’s
verse is subtly echoed in the economical scoring for small instrumental
forces (2 violas, cello, double bass, electric/acoustic guitar [1 player]
and clarinet/bass clarinet [1 player]). This is a minor masterpiece,
as far as I am concerned, and the real gem here.
The North Shore, a tone poem in all but
name, is cast in the form of a concerto for viola, strings, piano and
percussion (originally for viola and piano). The present extended version
was made in 1994. Again, it is a predominantly lyrical, slow moving
piece evoking the cliffs by St Hilda’s Abbey and also alluding to Jules
Verne who also partly inspired The Green Ray.
One Last Bar, Then Joe Can Sing, written
for the American percussion ensemble Nexus, originates from the last
bar of the first part of Bryars’ opera Medea, "a
very short coda for untuned percussion". The composer also mentions
that the piece focuses more on Nexus’s musicality than their technical
skills, though these cannot pass unnoticed. This is no mere ‘banging’
percussion piece. It is, on the whole, rather restrained and moves on
in many subtle shadings (much bowing on the instruments) imparting a
song-like quality to the music.
Bryars’ is a quiet voice in contemporary music. His
more recent works, however, in spite of their superficial simplicity
and for all their direct expression, are often emotionally complex and
conceal sincere, deeply-felt human concerns. This is most evident in
the full version of Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet.
All these recordings have been available over the last
few years and are probably well-known to Bryars’ fans. Those new to
his music or still undecided about it may safely investigate this welcome
compilation. It provides a fair survey of Bryars’ personal sound world
and sincere music making. A splendid birthday present anyway.
Hubert Culot
A fair survey of Bryars’ personal sound world and sincere
music making. A splendid birthday present … see Full Review
Julian Lloyd
Webber, cello¹