In the nineteenth century it was Franz Liszt who really pioneered the idea 
      of piano transcriptions of major works by other composers. This was not 
      only with the aim of providing material for his own recitals but also with 
      the more laudatory intention of bringing to public attention music that 
      might otherwise have languished unheard.
       
      In the twentieth century this mantle has been prominently assumed by Ronald 
      Stevenson, who not only championed much music by unfashionable composers 
      who were neglected by the musical establishment – Alan Bush and Bernard 
      Stevens, for example, although there have been many others – but also added 
      his own contributions to the music to render it more pianistic in style.
       
      On this three-disc compilation Murray MacLachlan can only provide us with 
      a sampling of Stevenson’s achievements in this regard; and although the 
      music is not as naturally adventurous as Stevenson’s own compositions, everything 
      here still has his stamp upon it.
       
      There is indeed some surprising material here, not least the treatment of 
      Ivor Novello’s We’ll gather lilacs which forms the second movement 
      of Volume II of L’art nouveau du chant, which almost sounds like 
      an arrangement for some Palm Court or other but it is a very high quality 
      arrangement. Other music here is much more adventurous, such as the Scottish 
      Ballad No 1 which treats the theme of Lord Randall with a 
      degree of freedom that brings it close to Stevenson’s own music, with a 
      sprinkling of ‘wrong notes’ that sound positively Graingeresque. The Chopin 
      arrangements which form much of the content of the first of these three 
      CDs also have a decidedly Stevensonian spice to them which makes them much 
      more than simply virtuoso display pieces; the arrangement of the Andantino 
      prelude [track 16] is particularly winsome and irreverent. His combination 
      of Chopin with Rimsky-Korsakov’s bumble-bee [track 21] is glorious fun.
       
      The second disc offers more substantial fare, beginning with the ‘concerto 
      for solo piano’ Le festin d’Alkan – echoing Alkan’s own title Le 
      festin d’Ésope as well as his contribution to the solo piano concerto 
      repertoire. Like Alkan’s own music, this is a real tour de force 
      demanding the most virtuoso playing. In three movements Stevenson produces 
      a whole series of amazing variations and fantasias on various themes by 
      Alkan. He employs a crazy variety of extreme virtuosic writing which echoes 
      Alkan himself. Alkan’s cheeky sense of humour is also captured. The last 
      movement produces a raging torrent of scales and chords that challenges 
      MacLachlan to the utmost.
       
      The two Sonatas based on unaccompanied violin works by Ysaÿe inevitably 
      bring to mind Busoni’s similar transcriptions of Bach sonata and partita 
      movements for solo violin. Much more than simple transcriptions, they fill 
      out the music with pianistic figuration which enhances the content of the 
      originals. The employment by Ysaÿe of the Dies irae in the Second 
      Sonata (track 8) brings overtones of Rachmaninov, but Ysaÿe and Stevenson 
      treat the plainchant melody very differently from the obsessive Rachmaninov, 
      even when the music comes close to The isle of the dead just before 
      the end of the first movement or to the Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini 
      during the second.
       
      The Norse Elegy was written in memory of the wife of Percy Grainger’s 
      surgeon, and pays tribute to Grainger in the employment of a motif from 
      the Grieg Piano Concerto which Grainger had championed in its early 
      years. It is a beautifully poised piece with all the freshness of a Scottish 
      folksong, ending with some key-shifting harmonies that startle and enthral 
      at the same time. The Canonic Caprice draws on material from Manuel 
      Rosenthal’s Carnaval de Vienne (which in turn drew from Johann 
      Strauss, with Die Fledermaus much in evidence) and is much more 
      light-hearted, not to say effervescent, deconstructing the theme with all 
      the vigour of Ravel’s La Valse.
       
      The third disc opens with two basically straightforward Mozart transcriptions 
      which leave the originals harmonically undisturbed. The Melody on a 
      ground of Glazunov again hardly steps outside the parameters of the 
      original until some Stevensonian touches in the final bars. The Ricordanza 
      di San Romerio, described as a ‘pilgrimage for piano’, pays tribute 
      to Liszt’s Années de pélérinage but again remains faithful to its 
      model.
       
      The arrangements of Purcell which follow are described by the composer as 
      ‘free transcriptions’ but there is nothing in the harmonic treatment of 
      these pieces which Purcell himself would have failed to recognize. That 
      is until we get to the Little Jazz Variations – which may be more 
      bluesy than jazzy, but are certainly twentieth century although far removed 
      from Jacques Loussier.
       
      The Two music portraits are original pieces written for children, 
      miniature waltzes portraying Charlot and Garbo. Murray MacLachlan in his 
      booklet notes describes them as “among the smallest shavings from Stevenson’s 
      workbench” but they are delightful and welcome nonetheless. The final three 
      tracks give us three further ‘free transcriptions’ on Renaissance music, 
      this time of pieces by John Blow. Again there is nothing here which the 
      original composer would not have recognised.
       
      Murray MacLachlan has long been a champion of Stevenson’s music – his recording 
      of the two Piano Concertos has recently been reissued, and is a 
      magnificent achievement. His playing throughout these discs is as masterly 
      as one would expect, and he is superbly recorded in a properly resonant 
      and slightly distanced acoustic which nevertheless allows everything to 
      be clearly heard. In a review one has only room to notice a few of the many 
      felicitous touches in his playing, but his delicate filigree in the Chopin 
      arrangements cannot be allowed to pass without remark, nor his whirlwind 
      treatment of the left-hand ‘contrapuntal study’ on the Minute waltz 
      (CD 1, track 23). The pianist also contributes extensive booklet notes which 
      explore every facet of the music over a wide-ranging essay of some fourteen 
      pages, which add to the value of the issue.
       
      It might be thought that three CDs of piano arrangements and transcriptions 
      might be all too much to be digested at one sitting, but in point of fact 
      there is such variety and imagination in the various treatments of the material 
      that boredom or fatigue never becomes a factor. Indeed one might have wished 
      for more. One omission that I do regret is Stevenson’s beautiful arrangement 
      of the Song of the minstrel from Alan Bush’s magnificent opera 
      Wat Tyler, but that is already available in a performance by the 
      composer himself. Incidentally is it not about time that we had a recording 
      of Wat Tyler, or indeed of any of Alan Bush’s operas? There are 
      certainly performances of three of these in the BBC archives (Men of 
      Blackmoor and Joe Hill as well as the earlier work), and although 
      Alan Bush told me that there were a considerable number of errors in the 
      vocal performances in Wat Tyler these should certainly not stand 
      in the way of a commercial release. Another omission here is the Minuet 
      and Funeral March from Havergal Brian’s Turandot, also arranged 
      by Stevenson and recorded by him for the BBC. The BBC have at least two 
      complete recordings of Brian operas – The Tigers and Agamemnon 
      – in their vaults. Indeed they have an enormous archive of live and 
      studio performances of rare British music of all sorts; if only they could 
      be persuaded to release their tapes of some of them, it would be a rare 
      treat. Private tapes of some of these performances can be found on the internet, 
      but we really need properly re-mastered commercial transfers.
       
      Enough of tangential observations. Let us be grateful for what Murray MacLachlan 
      has provided us with here – a superlative collection of some superlative 
      arrangements and realisations by one of the great masters of the keyboard. 
      A big thank you to everyone concerned with this marvellous release.
       
      Paul Corfield Godfrey
       
      A superlative collection of some superlative arrangements and realisations 
      by one of the great masters of the keyboard. A big thank you to everyone 
      concerned with this marvellous release.
    
       
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