The
quartets were written on the crest of a wave for Boughton –
musical and personal. His huge success with The Immortal Hour
was paralleled by domestic happiness in his marriage – his
third – to Kathleen. Both quartets followed in rapid succession,
the A major first and the F major soon afterwards. Hyperion leads
with the latter work so let’s start there.
In four broad movements and subtitled 'From
the Welsh Hills' this is propelled by radiant lyricism. The
opening movement is warmly melodic, taking in some mild chromaticism,
but essentially easeful and relaxed. The folk tunes are enforced
by thinning the quartet textures to just the two fiddles or by
having a drone cello animate the colour of the writing. The second
movement is Boughton’s “Green and Gold” movement
– he added colour descriptive titles along with the idea
of Welsh topography (Landscape from the Hilltops and Song of the
Hills are two of the four titles). Here we find a more rarefied
command of melody and timbre whilst in the third he bemoans the
visitor-trampled hotel on Snowdonia with facetious metropolitan
chatter in Satire - subtitled Conversation – which surely
features laughter, in the shape of fast trills, and a bit of ballsy
fugato just to rub it in. Darkly burnished folk melody emerges
in the finale – note especially the viola – but it
gradually lightens in tone and ends in radiant affirmation. I
can imagine that some, say those now enjoying the quartets of
John McEwen, will find the similarly neglected quartets of Boughton
rather unconvincing in terms of depth and breadth of influence
and allusion, but enjoyed on their own terms they still offer
real rewards.
The same is true of the Greek Quartet,
which is less obviously outgoing than the Welsh work but cleverly
laid out for the four instruments and once again saturated with
folkloric influence. The first movement, marked Apollonian runs
straight into the Dionysian second. But rather than the heady
sound world maybe suggested we get instead a folk like scherzo,
with plenty of unison and answering figures, infectious accents
and rhythmic variety; things are vaguely Greek sounding, at a
pinch, since it was partly derived form music Boughton wrote for
a 1922 production at Glastonbury of Sophocles’ The Tracinae.
Perhaps the most exotic moments are in this movement – an
exotic melody line over thrummed pizzicati. The third movement
is a memorial to Sheerman Hand, a friend of Boughton’s,
which utilises a strong cello tread and is measured, moving but
not too much of a threnody to unbalance the formal structure of
the work. Fresh and bracing the finale sweeps it all away.
We also have the Oboe Quartet No.1 written for
Joy, the composer’s daughter. There’s plenty of VW
lyricism here in a first movement of regular sonata form, brightened
by a perky little fugato. The second movement’s a slip of
a scherzo, joy-fully bright indeed, whilst the finale is a clever
and rewarding series of variations. Textually this is much the
richest movement, though it still takes in that old folk lyricism
as well, and ends a well-crafted and thoroughly enjoyable work.
To end there are the Three Songs Without Words again for oboe
quartet. Listen to the pixie ring swagger of the second or, most
unusually in the context of this disc, to the wash of impressionism
that animates the Barcarolle third. Hypnotic ease is guaranteed.
There’s no faulting the skill and sensitivity
of Sarah Francis and The Rasumovsky Quartet in this repertoire.
Their rhythm never merely basks in Boughton’s melodies;
they’re always attentive to nuance and colour. They keep
things alive. If you like this Cobbett Prize generation of British
quartet writers you’ll love Boughton. Come on record companies,
William Fenney, Joseph Speaight and Waldo Warner next please!
Jonathan Woolf
Sarah
Francis (oboe)
