For those in the brass band world, Brett Baker is the face of
                Rath trombones. His (presumably lucrative) arrangement with the
                company includes the positions of ‘Featured Artist’ and ‘Clinician’,
                and his other job - as principal trombone of the Black Dyke Band
                - ensures the company the best publicity that money can buy.
                I only mention this because the liner-notes to this CD skate
                over Baker’s relationship with Rath in a bracketed clause
                of small print in his bio, which seems disproportionate considering
                the title of the disc, and considering that the cover shows Brett
                Baker’s face peering out from a letter ‘R’ in
                the distinctive font of the company’s logo.  
                
                But whatever the sponsorship machinations that keep the top bands
                afloat, this is a fine CD. Listening to Brett Baker it is clear
                why Rath want him representing their company, and equally clear
                why he is the principal trombone of one of the world’s
                most respected brass bands. He has a rich, mellow tone that virtually
                never falters, whatever the extremes of tempo, tessitura or dynamics
                he executes. The world of brass band trombone solos seems to
                divide between the fast, flashy ones and the slow, lyrical ones,
                and Baker excels at both. Stylistically, he achieves that curious
                balance of being able to perform convincingly in almost any idiom
                while always sounding like a brass player. Listeners from outside
                of the brass band movement may have some trouble with this; a
                legato trombone sound that is half way to a euphonium could be
                considered an acquired taste. And this is a performing environment
                where vibrato is 
de rigueur, so Baker’s (relative)
                restraint in that respect should be commended. He makes a bit
                of a point out of the vibrato in ‘I loves you Porgy’,
                but that’s the exception rather than the rule. 
                
                Most of the works are recent, so I suspect that most of the acrobatics
                in the solo part are written in. One effect that Baker uses a
                lot is slide up or down the harmonics on the lip. The eponymous 
Rathamataz uses
                that effect a great deal, in fact to the point where it becomes
                part of the musical fabric. Elsewhere it is clearly decorative,
                and in the case of the two Arthur Pryor works, ‘Annie Laurie’ and ‘Fantastic
                Polka’ it must surely be a later addition. Pryor was the
                trombone soloist in Sousa’s band, and while he was reputedly
                skilled at the fast passagework, these kinds of lip flexibilities
                are from a later age. In fact, the later additions made to Annie
                Laurie (the arranger is Keith Wilkinson) make it something of
                a compendium of soloistic trombone devices. There are multiphonics,
                fruity pedals, lip trills ... you name it. 
                
                For those who, like me, are most familiar with Brett Baker’s
                superhuman fast playing from his various youtube appearances,
                he is even more awe-inspiring when heard on a proper recording.
                That said, there is little here of extended, unadulterated virtuosity.
                It’s a brass band recording, so variety takes precedence
                over all else. There are a few longer works though, the most
                involved of which is the Concertino for Trombone subtitled (Nightmare)
                by Derek Bourgeois. Those familiar with his test-piece 
Blitz will
                know what to expect from this: relatively traditional brass band
                figurations, but given energy and edge through sharp, rhythmic
                articulations and plenty of percussion. 
                
                Other big names from the contemporary brass band scene are represented
                in the slower numbers. Peter Graham’s 
A Time for Peace uses
                his trademark tuba and euphonium support to create a warm, sustained
                chordal accompaniment for the soloist. Philip Wilby’s 
White
                Knuckle Ride demonstrates the composer’s uncanny ability
                to create a wide range of colours and textures from the brass
                band without any of the players doing anything particularly unusual.
                It’s not a very virtuosic solo part though, especially
                considering the title. Even Don Lusher makes an appearance, his 
DL
                Blues a skilfully comic turn of waa-waa mute, glissandi and
                growls. 
                
                The Black Dyke Band is on form thoughout, not that there is much
                to challenge it in this repertoire. It’s put through its
                paces in 
Rathamataz, but copes with the unusual scoring
                magnificently and (most importantly) without upstaging the soloist
                in the process. The sound is good. There is a bit of an abrupt
                edit at the end of the introduction in 
Rathamataz but
                otherwise it is a proficient post-production job. All in all,
                the disc deserves to do well, and certainly to do better than
                the specialist niche market for which even the best brass band
                recordings are destined.  
                
                
Gavin Dixon