A Bag of Bagatelles
Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
Fantasie Op. 77 (1809) [9:35]
Harrison BIRTWISTLE (b. 1934)
Variations from the Golden Mountain (2014) [10:33]
Ludwig van BEETHOVEN
Bagatellen Op. 126 (1824) [18:25]
Harrison BIRTWISTLE
Gigue Machine (2011) [15:47]
Ludwig van BEETHOVEN
Allegretto in B minor, WoO 61 (1821) [2:45]
Harrison BIRTWISTLE
Dance of the metro-gnome (2006) [1:46]
Nicolas Hodges (piano)
rec. 19-22 November 2019, WDR Köln, Klaus-von-Bismarck-Saal.
WERGO WER68102 [59:11]
“A Bag of Bagatelles” is Harrison Birtwistle’s alternative name for his Variations from the Golden Mountain, and this programme is described as “a collection of pieces and a creative collision between composers... [which is] really a journey towards profound questions about musical coherence and continuity - ar rather, unpredictability and discontinuity.” So writes Tom Service in his booklet notes for this release, pointing towards the inherent unexpectedness and surprise in Beethoven’s music, a quality also appreciated by Birtwistle. This, alongside the shared “rough-hewn strength” felt by pianist Nicolas Hodges, is a further connection to Birtwistle, who has stated that “I like the idea of writing things where you don’t quite know what the direction is.”
Beethoven’s Fantasie Op. 77 is a good starting point, being a “sequence of styles and ideas that crash into each other”, from the startling drama of the opening which might remind us of C.P.E. Bach, to the operatic jocularity of the theme on which a series of remarkably bonkers variations are subsequently based. Birtwistle’s Variations from the Golden Mountain was composed when he was listening a lot to Beethoven’s Bagatelles, and connections are drawn which may or may not allow you to find connections with Beethoven’s Op. 126 set. In any case, this is a typically monumental piece in which microscopic gestures exist alongside grand statements, and grand statements can both whisper and cast imposing shadows. Abstraction exists alongside imagery, “like the pencil drawing at the front of the score, which is the composer's own. A tiny-seeming sailing boat is dwarfed by a mountainous island and a simultaneous sunset and moonrise behind the skyline.” You have to let your mind wander inside this piece, to allow the subconscious its say in how the music communicates. The Golden Mountain is not a particularly welcoming place, but on leaving it in the distance perhaps we’re able to reflect on our good fortune in being able to free ourselves from its spell.
Beethoven’s Bagatelles are full of much more musical weight than their title suggests, and the Op. 126 set is a rich source of fascinating music; “a six-part universe of fragments that distils Beethoven’s late writing for piano.” The remarkable nature of these pieces is something you have to experience for yourself, but a feature of their sonic texture is another connection to Birtwistle pointed out by Nicolas Hodges: “You have these very widely spaced chords, where there’s a hole in the middle between the hands on the keyboard… this kind of imagination is a very modern idea of the sound of the piano. And it’s something Harry uses a lot as well.”
Gigue Machine is dedicated to Nicolas Hodges, and its gestalt is as “a musical machine which is driven by a flighty mechanics whose operation defies logic, whose systems and patterns - if they exist - remain just out of reach, unknowable.” Birtwistle has long had a fascination with clocks, but the rhythm and complexity of this is beyond even multiple layers of ticking. It is a piece that has its own propulsion, but it is also by no means relentless in its pace. The music slows and at times almost lumbers along so that, if the machine imagery keeps hold of your imagination, you are also hearing music in terms of size and weight alongside everything else. You can hear the thing wind down and power up, but even in troughs there is no repose: “it never sits down” is Hodges’ summary of the work, and he’s not wrong.
There are two short pieces to conclude the programme. Beethoven’s brief but varied Allegretto, which was written for his friend Ferdinand Piringer and is full of in-jokes. To finish, we have Birtwistle’s Dance of the metro-gnome which is written to be played by children. It starts and finishes with the ticking of a metronome, and as well as playing rhythmic notes in tempo the player also has a speaking part.
Nicolas Hodges is a tireless performer of contemporary music, but his Beethoven is colourful and vividly communicated. Superbly played and recorded, this is a piano album that has plenty to offer the open-minded listener. It is always interesting to hear familiar music in a different context, but Beethoven’s pieces here are by no means his best known work. In many ways he is heard here at his most quirky, which goes along with Harrison Birtwistle’s enigmatic theatricality very well indeed.
Dominy Clements
