I had the good fortune to attend much of the first day of recording
sessions for this disc. As I noted in my session
report, during the time that I was there the first and third
movements of the Gurney Sonata were set down. Hearing the music
then for the first time made a very strong impression on me
and I’ve since been waiting impatiently to hear the complete
work in its world premičre recording.
Some four months later it’s been a marvellous experience to
hear again the two movements of Gurney’s sonata and to experience
for the first time the short scherzo and the finale. I don’t
mean to diminish those two movements, which contain some excellent
invention, but I feel I heard the very best music in the sonata
that day at Monmouth. One thing that I am in a position to do
is to assure potential purchasers of this disc that the recording
by Richard Bland offers a very truthful presentation of what
I heard when seated in the Wyastone Concert Hall that day. His
clear and very natural recording balances the two instruments
perfectly and gives just the right amount of space around the
sound that the performers produced.
Gurney’s sonata was written between August 1918 and September
1919 so much of it was penned during the time that he was able
to resume his studies at the Royal College of Music where he
came under the tutelage of Vaughan Williams. It was just one
of six violin sonatas that Gurney began at various times but
this was the only one that he completed. Knowing when the music
was written, not long after Gurney’s life-changing experiences
in the trenches of Flanders, I went to the recording session
half-expecting troubled, turbulent music but, in fact, though
there’s much intensity in the music angst is not really
apparent. In his excellent and very thorough note on the music
Rupert Marshall-Luck refers to the “dramatic breadth and sweep”
of the piece and draws attention to “the wide-ranging contours
(of the music) recalling in their outlines the undulations of
Gurney’s beloved Gloucestershire hills.” I think that judgement
is spot-on.
The manuscript of the sonata is in the Gloucestershire County
Archives in Gloucester. It was the composer, Ian Venables, who
is also Chairman of the Ivor Gurney Trust, who first put Rupert
Marshall-Luck onto the existence of the manuscript. He edited
the score for performance and he and Matthew Rickard gave the
world premičre at the English Music Festival on 30 May 2012.
The first movement opens with an easy flow though already there
are traces of wistfulness. Soon the music becomes confidently
romantic, the violin writing having a particularly lyrical sweep.
At 3:22 there’s a short ruminative episode, the first of several,
but the surging lyrical writing soon resumes. Gurney’s music
is most attractive, engaging and skilfully argued. My ear was
caught by a bewitching brief moment of stillness (6:09 – 6:31)
out of which the flowing principal idea re-emerges with wonderful
naturalness. This movement is a delight and tremendously convincing.
The conviction is the result not just of Gurney’s inspiration
and craftsmanship but also stems from the skill of the performers.
Rupert Marshall-Luck’s violin soars effortlessly and his tone
is warm, drawing the listener in, while Matthew Rickard is an
exemplary partner.
The Scherzo, which is offered in Gurney’s second version, is
brief. Indeed, I hadn’t realised previously just how short it
is – it plays for 2:43. Though it is entitled ‘Scherzo’ the
tempo marking is not swift: it’s Andante con moto.
The music is unusual in that for quite a lot of the time the
violin plays pizzicato and is thereby cast almost in a subsidiary
role to the piano. We learn from the notes that in the original
version the roles were reversed with the violin assigned the
melodic line and the piano playing staccato notes; it would
have been interesting to hear this as an appendix though I appreciate
that Marshall-Luck takes the view that the version played here
represents Gurney’s final thoughts. He sees this miniature movement
as “a large-scale dominant anacrusis” to the substantial Lento
that follows – one of several unifying devices that he identifies
which bind together the structure of the sonata. This slow movement
impressed me hugely at the recording sessions. It was the last
of the four movements to be written. It opens with an extended,
expansive violin melody. This beautiful tune seems suffused
with nostalgic melancholy. It sets the tone for a movement that
depends on long-breathed melodic flow. It’s a very lovely creation
at which all who love Gurney’s songs will surely thrill. Throughout
its eleven-minute span Gurney sustains his invention and holds
the listener’s attention. The performance could hardly be bettered:
both musicians play with fine feeling and sensitivity and truly
bring out the poetry behind the notes.
In another structural link the finale begins with a slow, ruminative
introduction which is rooted in the movement we’ve just heard.
The main Allegro begins after a brief pause (1:10)
and its initial turn of phrase will strike a chord with those
who know the songs. It seems to me that this is music of the
open-air – one is reminded of Rupert Marshall-Luck’s prescient
comment linking the music with the topography of Gurney’s native
county. In this movement – and indeed throughout the sonata
– Gurney displays a natural affinity with the violin, favouring
the instrument with long, singing lines. This movement makes
a very satisfying conclusion to a fine sonata.
Having now heard the complete piece I consider that this Gurney
sonata constitutes a very significant addition to the repertoire.
I do hope other artists will take up the work and in that connection
it’s excellent news that Rupert Marshall-Luck’s edition of the
sonata is being published by E M Publications and I expect that
details will appear soon on the website.
The other important function that this recording fulfils is
to open another window for those of us who, to date, have known
Ivor Gurney only through his wonderful, evocative songs and
poetry. The sonata receives the best possible advocacy in this
splendid and dedicated performance.
Lionel Sainsbury’s Soliloquy for Solo Violin was completely
new to me. It’s an impressive work that mixes rhetorical, declamatory
passages with stretches of more private, confiding music. It
packs a lot into a short time span, both technically and in
terms of musical content. I found that it grabbed my attention
from the opening rhetorical flourish and sustained it thereafter.
Mind you, I’m sure that was also due in no small measure to
the bravura playing of Rupert Marshall-Luck. I must seek out
Sainsbury’s Violin Concerto (review)
without delay.
In some ways the Elgar Sonata, one of his trio of late chamber
works, needs less introduction than do the other pieces on this
disc. Yet despite the advocacy of several fine players down
the years, not least Hugh Bean (review)
I still feel that it’s undervalued. It was composed in 1918
and so is contemporaneous with the Gurney; that, together with
Gurney’s admiration for Elgar’s music, makes the coupling highly
appropriate.
Elgar’s first movement contains a good deal of harmonic and
emotional turbulence though there are also passages where the
tone is gentler and nostalgic. Marshall-Luck and Rickard display
both passion and poise in a deeply-felt reading. The opening
and closing pages of the second movement, entitled ‘Romance’,
are elusive and strange. We hear little fragments of music and
there are several hesitations; one is never quite sure where
the music may lead next, especially at the beginning. At 4:24,
in the midst of the movingly eloquent central section, Elgar
quotes briefly the ‘Committal’ theme from Gerontius,
something I’d never realised until reading the notes. I think
that the players are perhaps at their best in this central section
but overall theirs is a highly distinguished account of this
movement in which I think they capture its spirit. Though on
the surface the music of the finale is rather more outgoing
than that of the previous movement one has the impression that
Elgar never quite throws off the shackles of melancholy. The
music seems troubled and unable to settle. There’s a reminiscence
of the slow movement – shades of the Cello Concerto! – before
the music gathers itself for what appears to be a positive,
outgoing conclusion. However, Rupert Marshall-Luck is surely
right to suggest in his notes that this is rather forced.
The performances of all three works on this disc are out of
the top drawer. If attention focuses, understandably, on the
Gurney discovery that should not overshadow either of the other
two works or of the respective performances of them. As I’ve
indicated already, the recorded sound is excellent. As usual
with this label the documentation is excellent: Rupert Marshall-Luck
writes knowledgeably and with enthusiasm about the music itself
while Andrew Neill of the Elgar Society and Ian Venables contribute
notes on Elgar and Gurney respectively, which both are eminently
qualified to do.
EM Records has already issued several excellent and important
discs of neglected English music. However, this disc, which
unveils Gurney’s Violin Sonata to a worldwide audience,
may be their most important release to date, I fancy.
John Quinn
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Rupert Marshall-Luck (violin)/Matthew Rickard (piano)