John PURSER (b. 1942)
Consider the Story
Recording information not supplied.
Private Release [79:17]
The first piece on this retrospective disc of Scottish composer John Purser’s music is a remarkable string quartet with a disturbing subtitle. Kalavrita was the site a most brutal massacre of Greek citizens in 1943 during the occupation. In reprisal for the partisans shooting 76 Wehrmacht soldiers, the Germans rounded up the entire village. Many women escaped but 696 boys and men were machine-gunned to death. The village was looted and burnt to the ground. Purser writes that he borrowed a theme from incidental music he had written for a Glasgow Arts Theatre production of Charlotte Delbo’s play Kalavrita des mille Antigone (Kalavrita with One Thousand Antigones); the theme crops up in the slow second movement.
The harrowing historical allusions makes the quartet emotionally depressing and draining from the first note to the last. Purser says that the four movements progress from the despair of opening through tragedy to anger and resolution. The scherzo is particularly aggressive despite its allusions to a rare form of Scottish or Irish folk dancing. Wonderful glissandos here, and the trio section gives a little relief from hostility. The ceum nan sitheach – the fairy paths – give the music a more Celtic feel. I am not convinced that Purser achieves resolution in the final movement: the pain and sadness endure.
It does not matter whether you regard this work as a threnody for the massacred or as deeply disconcerting absolute music. This is the masterpiece on the disc, one of the finest compositions I have heard from Purser’s catalogue. The quartet was commissioned four decades ago by the Glasgow Chamber Music Society to celebrate the retiral of one of their leading members. The Society may have gone the way of all flesh: I could find only historical references to it on the Internet. At least, this accomplished String Quartet is a solid memorial.
Purser’s key to appreciating his Sonata for Trombone and Piano is to regard the brass instrument as an extension of the human voice. He notes its long melodic singing lines and vast emotional range. Like all good sonatas, this is a dialogue between equals rather than an accompanied solo. There is a subtle balance between aggression and innocence, and sometimes both emotions occur simultaneously. The single movement is never devoid of interest despite its uniform tempo. The Sonata is dedicated to Purser’s son Seán.
The cycle Six Sea Songs sets nautical poems by John’s father, J. W. R. Purser. These are some of the best and most evocative seaside poems I have ever read. From buckets, spades and coloured balls to beaus and belles strolling along the prom, they evoke the sea from Blackpool seafront to the North Pole, and from a human presence to the sea anemones and squirting lugworms. You will notice the dominance of the vocal line with a typically lightweight piano accompaniment. The songs were composed for the tenor Alexander Oliver, a friend and fellow student of Purser at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. The dedicatee sings them brilliantly.
The only work here that left me cold is the long-winded Love my Lewd Pilot, based on a text drawn from Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queen. Even so, there are several lovely moments here, especially the interplay between the vocalists and the flautist, Matthew Studdert-Kennedy.
The commissioner of Silver Reflections for cello and piano asked for something with a “feel of the Scottish tradition”, but this is no piece of tartanry. The tune, heart-on-sleeve romantic, avoids the ubiquitous Scotch snap or Hielan’ Mist. The basic material was a tune called Drinan, which was written for Purser’s wife. (Drinan is a wee clachan on the Isle of Skye.) This is a beautiful, ageless dialogue between cello and piano.
Puna for taonga puoro and bassoon is “far out”. It employs several Māori musical instruments and vocals. Wikipedia explains: “[Taonga puoro] fulfils many functions within Māori society, including a call to arms, dawning of the new day, communications with the gods and the planting of crops. They are significant in sacred ritual and fulfil a story-telling role. Many of the sounds of the instruments and tunes are imitations of the sounds of nature, including the wind, the seas, and the natural world of birds and insects.” The brilliant soloist Rob Thorne also plays the jade gong, the gourd and the putorino (a kind of flute).
This is a perfect, utterly coherent fusion of world music and the Western wind instrument. Purser writes: “Puna is Māori for spring, well or pool: the puna which inspired this piece is an incomprehensibly vast up-welling near Rotorua, shaded by magnificent trees, and putting out over a million gallons an hour with scarcely a ripple on its surface. It is a sacred place, icy cold, life-giving.” This is a remarkable discovery, ageless in both its stylistic unity and in the bending of time itself.
I did not know that a chickadee was a North American bird of the tit family. Purser writes: “I was a resident lecturer at [Iowa State] University in 1998 and was walking in the snow beside the carillon tower listening to the mournful calls of the chickadees in the neighbouring trees.” He was invited into the tower to inspect the instrument, and this led to the present “lament as a memory and a tribute to those little birds so tenacious of life in such bitter cold”. Lament for a Chickadee is a frosty piece, evocative of a winter’s landscape. Tin Shi Tam, the carilloner at the University, plays it magically.
The final number on this diverse disc is Ave atque vale. Purser writes that this was originally conceived for solo trumpet and featured in his radio play The Secret Commonwealth. It is performed here on trombone, giving the music a more “thoughtful character”. The Latin phrase (I salute you, and farewell) often appears in eulogies to a hero. The plot of the original play sounds a little too agonising for my taste.
The booklet, never mind the succinct and helpful programme notes, is my big problem. It is nearly illegible. I will never understand why graphic designers insist on white font on dark or dappled backgrounds. It might look cool but it is impractical. (I was unable to find any recording dates or venues.)
No one can argue that John Purser’s music is not eclectic. Here we explore world music, carillons, a sonata for a little-used solo instrument, an absorbing song cycle and a well-wrought string quartet. One of the reasons for this diversity is John Purser’s skill in responding “to commissions for many different instruments and ensembles in a variety of styles”. On this disc, we are asked to “consider the story”. Take each composition for what it is, and explore this wide-ranging study of Purser’s music, written over a forty-year period.
John France
Details
String Quartet “Kalavrita” (1981) [21:52]
Brodsky Quartet (Gina McCormack (violin), Ian Belton (violin), Paul Cassidy (viola), Jacqueline Thomas (cello))
Sonata for trombone and piano (2001) [14:30]
John Kenny (trombone), Paul Keenan (piano)
Six Sea Songs to poems by J. W. R. Purser (1966) [12:32]
Alexander Oliver (tenor), Bernard Sumner (piano)
Love my Lewd Pilot (1978, 2002) [12:45]
Susan Hamilton (soprano), Ben Parry (baritone), Matthew Studdert-Kennedy (flute), Peter Evans (piano)
Silver Reflections for cello and piano (2013) [5:48]
Philip Norris (cello), Lynda Green (piano)
Puna for Taonga puoro and bassoon (2005) [8:05]
Rob Thorne (Taonga puoro: jade gong, gourd, putorino, male and female voices, conch), Ben Hoadley (bassoon)
Lament for a Chickadee (1998) [2:43]
Tin Shi Tam (carillon)
Ave atque vale (1996) [1:02]
Gary MacPhee (trombone)
