Ingram Marshall is a composer who refuses to be categorised. 
          He feels strongly that too many convenient ‘tags’ are placed upon artists 
          simply to make discussions of art easier; he resists attempts to lump 
          him together with minimalists (itself a term purloined from the visual 
          arts), downtowners, New Romanticists or the "California School". 
          In fact he is on record as saying, 'I hope my music is remembered for 
          its personality rather than its style or historical position … I feel 
          strongly now that music always points to something else, has other meanings, 
          and in that sense I am an ‘ expressivist’' 
        
 
        
These comments are interesting in the light of the 
          present disc, which probably represents the best of his current aesthetic. 
        
 
        
Anyone familiar with the ‘younger’ end of contemporary 
          American music may well recognise the title of one of these works. The 
          original Fog Tropes comes from 1982 and is probably his most 
          frequently performed and recorded piece, most recently cropping up on 
          an excellent disc entitled ‘American Elegies’ and featuring other 
          works by Ives, Diamond, Feldman and his friend John Adams, who also 
          conducted (Nonesuch 9 79227-2). The piece is essentially an atmospheric, 
          slow-moving tone painting in sound, with the live ensemble (originally 
          brass sextet, reworked for string quartet) underpinned by a taped collage 
          of sounds from the San Francisco Bay area, such as ship’s foghorn, seagulls 
          etc. Where the original was able to exploit the timbral similarities 
          of the brass and foghorns, the new version has sought to highlight the 
          difference in sonority of the taped ‘environment’( kept identical) with 
          the softer qualities of the strings. The result is undeniably effective, 
          even strangely moving. 
        
 
        
The title ‘Kingdom Come’ might also be vaguely 
          familiar from an earlier piece called ‘Peaceable Kingdom’, which 
          also shows the composer's love of mixing live instrumentalists with 
          taped sounds from the ‘real’ world. In this case the work has a very 
          personal significance, as it was composed in memory of Francis Tomasic, 
          the composer’s brother-in-law who, while working as a journalist in 
          Bosnia, was killed by a landmine near Mostar. This obviously accounts 
          for so many of the taped sections reflecting that troubled region, with 
          the looping and overlapping of a ‘Serbian’ section (soprano cantor, 
          priest and bells heard at different pitches) and a ‘Croatian’ section 
          (a congregational hymn slowed down to almost a 'rumble’). The resulting 
          collage has a strangely unnerving effect (possibly the intention) with 
          the serene beauty of the singing gradually being overtaken by more ominous 
          sounds. The piece is ‘book-ended’ by a more controversial idea, a quotation 
          from Sibelius’s elegiac tone poem The Swan of Tuonela. Presumably 
          the composer has his own specific reason for using this particular work 
          (he admits to using it before) and certainly the brooding melancholy 
          of that masterpiece suits the mood of his tragic subject, but the listener 
          is brought up short in the wrong way. Marshall’s own (very informative) 
          booklet note states, 'None of these "techniques" should draw 
          attention to themselves…’, but unfortunately using such a well known 
          concert ‘war-horse’ has precisely this effect. Still, the quote is short 
          and is soon overtaken by the first of the taped choir effects, making 
          an undeniable impact. 
        
 
        
Hymnodic Delays arose from Marshall’s working 
          relationship with Paul Hillier and his vocal ensemble Theatre of Voices, 
          a relationship that had spawned several compositions, most notably Sierran 
          Songs (on texts by Snyder, Kerouac and others). Hillier suggested 
          that the composer explore the repertory of the New England composers 
          of the 17th and 18th century – "singing masters" 
          – for his source material. The result is a ‘reworking ‘ of four pieces 
          that are given the titles ‘Bright Hour Delayed’ (pun fully intended!), 
          ‘Broad Road’, ‘Swept Away’ and ‘Low Dutch’, and hugely enjoyable it 
          is, with the simple tunes given the full studio treatment (looping, 
          digital delay, echoes etc.). In fact it’s fair to say that the early 
          vocal devices inherent in the originals, such as hocketing (‘hiccups’ 
          in the line), canonic entry, imitation and so forth, respond well to 
          this sort of treatment, and Marshall is careful to say that he doesn’t 
          consider his manipulations to be ‘improvements, but simply elaborations 
          that seek to pay homage to the 'straightforward, honest and often poignantly 
          expressive music of this era’. 
        
 
        
The overall standard of presentation is in keeping 
          with what we have come to expect from Nonesuch; the extremely informative 
          liner notes are by the composer, the performances by all the dedicatees 
          flawless, and the recording is in the demonstration bracket (in fact, 
          be warned about your speaker cones during the first tape entry in Kingdom 
          Come!). This is a disc which shows us a composer at his eclectic 
          best, and although his mode of expression has been fashionable in American 
          contemporary music for some time, the pieces on this CD show us the 
          most human and accessible face of this expression. 
        
          Tony Haywood