Thomas Adès
is certainly the man of the moment.
His ascendancy from teenage prodigy
of a few short years ago, to classical
household name, seems complete. The
timing of this compendious portrait
of some of the composer’s vocal and
choral works is certainly astute. His
latest opus, a grand, lyrical opera
based on Shakespeare’s The Tempest,
has been wowing them at Covent Garden,
even making the leader columns of some
broadsheets (review},
so what better time to give us more
of this incredibly productive musician,
even if some items have been available
before. It shows beyond doubt that he
was no flash-in-the-pan, and the virtuosic
handling of a variety of genres is well
displayed on this disc.
The title work, America:
A Prophecy, was commissioned
by Kurt Masur and the New York Philharmonic
as part of their ‘messages for the millennium’,
for performance on the eve of 2000.
Setting a couple of ancient Spanish
texts that deal with themes of conquest,
clash of culture and innocence destroyed,
turned out to have frightening prescience.
How can we listen to the strident mezzo
and ghostly chorus intone such words
as ‘On earth we shall burn…We shall
turn to ash…weep, weep, weep, but know
this well – Ash feels no pain’ and not
sense the extra dimension that is now
inescapable? This feeling is heightened
by Adès’s edgy, nervous music
that uses a colourful harmonic framework,
effortlessly mixing simplicity and complexity
and dressed in an instrumental garb
that is recognisably the same as that
of Asyla, his most assured orchestral
work to date. As with much of Adès’s
music, a lot is packed into a short
span, in this case a mere 16 minutes,
proving that with the best composers,
less is more.
The choral items are
equally assured, managing to sound modern
yet from an established tradition. January
Writ, in particular, has a beguiling
harmonic delicacy that completely draws
the listener in, especially in Polyphony’s
gripping rendition.
All the vocal items
work in their own individual, eclectic
ways. The Lover in Winter
is as sensuous as anything in early
Berg (it reminded me at times of the
Seven Early Songs, which
are similarly rapturous) whilst maintaining
a Tippett-like clarity. Life
Story, available before
on EMI’s Debut Series (before Adès’s
star really rose), is, according to
liner note writer Paul Griffiths, ‘a
morning after, face-in-the-mirror, sobered-up
reflection for soprano with two bass
clarinets and string bass’. The composer’s
direction for the singer to think of
the late style of Billie Holiday as
a model tells you the world this inhabits
– a blowsy, smokily melancholic rumination
on life and love. Claron McFadden’s
performance is astonishing, particularly
as the last time I heard her was in
Purcell’s The Fairy Queen!
Adès’s manic
reworking of the Madness rock classic
Cardiac Arrest is just
that – madness - and sounds a bit like
it’s out to outdo Michael Nyman. This
punchy, two minute dance scherzo is
great fun, to be played loud or not
at all!
The curious little
finisher is entitled Brahms,
and is a setting of an Alfred Brendel
poem for the pianist’s 70th
birthday. I think it tells us something
of Adès’s ambivalence towards
Brahms (along perhaps with Brendel’s),
with its ghostly echoes of the composer
that are not quite quotations, rather
half-remembered wisps of memory. The
sheer quirkiness of the text is more
than matched by the setting, which sounds
like Brahms filtered through Schoenberg,
or possible Berg (again).
Recordings are all
excellent, as are the absolutely authoritative
performances. Typically readable notes
from Paul Griffiths and full texts make
up a highly recommendable disc of music
by one of the UK’s most exciting young
composers.
Tony Haywood
Claron McFadden (soprano), Susan Bickley (mezzo-soprano);
Robin Blaze (countertenor), Christopher Maltman
(baritone); Huw Watkins (piano) 