I have always warmed
to John Foulds. Firstly he is a Manchester
composer and I have a number of connections
– all of them happy - with that great
city. Secondly, I regard him as one
of the most undervalued of British composers.
And finally he is one of the very few
composers, along with Sorabji, Messiaen
and perhaps Ives whom I regard as (possible/probable)
geniuses.
There are precious
few CDs available of Foulds’ music.
Recent reviews on MusicWeb have explored
the two symphonic discs released by
the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra
under Sakari Oramo {Warner Classics
2564 61525
and 62999)
and of course the wonderful Cello
Sonata on the British Music Society
label (BMS
423 CD). The present Lyrita disc
was originally issued in 1993 until
recently only available at Harold Moore’s
record shop in London but now on general
release. There has always been this
worry that Lyrita would ‘fold’ as a
CD company and all the valuable British
Music archive be lost. So it is encouraging
that this disc and many others are to
be re-presented to listeners.
It has been suggested
by one reviewer that April-England
is ‘light-hearted’ – although that same
writer goes on to suggest that "the
scoring is transparent and masterly,
the sound world entirely of this isle."
Further he mentions the debt that this
music appears to owe Percy Grainger.
Yet why would this make it light-hearted?
This is certainly not the Gumsuckers
March or Handel strolling along
the Strand.
To my ear the nature
of Foulds’ work is a ‘paean of joy’
that spring has returned to the earth:
this is music revelling in the sheer
‘boundless fecundity (and) opulent burgeoning
of springtime.’ There is almost a mystical
quality to this piece that certainly
is out of place filed under the label
‘light’ even if the music is approachable.
Malcolm MacDonald states that this is
an ‘extravagantly virtuosic’ work.
Foulds has written
that "Such moments as those of
the Solstices and Equinoxes always seem
to be particularly potent to the creative
artist, and no less significant the
place in which he happens to be at the
time."
I do agree that
there are nods to Grainger here – especially
the ‘ebullient’ opening and closing
pages. And certainly the Australian
was never averse to using a folk-song
or two. But the philosophy of April-England
gives it a more serious intent. Foulds
stated that there are two main thematic
constructs for this work – the opening
fanfare type music which is supposed
to represent the idea of ‘April’ and
the folksong middle section symbolizing
‘England.’
This work, in its original
piano solo form, was composed (or at
least completed) on 21 March 1926 which
happened to be the Vernal Equinox.
It was orchestrated
in 1932 and received its first performance
in this version in 1934. Yet this is
not the full story. The orchestral version
expands considerably on the original
piano piece – especially in the complex
and even ‘riotous’ middle section. It
is here that we find the composer rejoicing
in the beauty and diversity and freshness
of spring.
Le Cabaret on
the other hand is ‘light hearted’
and I do feel that it would sit well
on any CD of ‘light music’ classics.
I understand that this very short overture
was once exceedingly popular with concert-goers.
However, like so much music it fell
into desuetude.
Apparently, it was
originally part of some incidental music
for a play based on the life of the
19th century mime actor Jean-Gaspard
Debureau. He was famous for creating
the character of Pierrot. Perhaps there
is little clowning in this work – however
the work is full of ‘verve and swagger’.
A nice little ‘find’ that deserves to
be played at concerts and on the radio
now and again.
I had never heard the
Pasquinade Symphonique No.2 before
preparing this review and I lean heavily
on Malcolm Macdonald’s sleeve-notes.
This is a truly wonderful and lovely
work. It was one of Foulds’ last essays
for orchestra and was written during
the composer’s sojourn in India. Foulds
had used the epithet ‘Pasquinade’
for a number of his works – apparently
it is an Italian word that signifies
a ‘satire or a lampoon’. Yet there is
nothing of these particular moods in
this music.
The Pasquinades
Symphoniques were to have been grouped
as an orchestral suite or even symphony
but the sequence was never completed.
The three movements were to have been
entitled ‘Classical,’ ‘Romantic’ and
‘Modernist’. It was never intended to
write pastiche music – but to compose
a kind of musical commentary on the
three styles. The present number was
to have been the slow movement. It is
actually very difficult to classify
this music – one could allude to Richard
Strauss, Frederick Delius or any of
the Post-Romantic composers. Yet it
would be wide of the mark. Foulds has
created a lovely, if slightly eccentric
soundscape that almost defies description.
The overall impression is of something
very attractive if at times a little
disturbing. I guess that the best two
adjectives would be ‘shimmering’ and
at times ‘overblown’. Yet this is not
a criticism. This is a piece of music
that cries out to be performed – both
in the concert hall and on the radio.
It distresses me to think that this
is the only recording of this music
available and that it has taken me 51
years to hear it. Absolutely stunning
and gorgeous!
This is also a work
new to me, but one which I could come
to really enjoy and appreciate. I must
confess that I do not usually warm to
‘Wardour Street Orientalisms’ or ‘faux
classicisms’ – however I can turn a
blind eye to this particular work.
In 1915 Foulds composed
a suite for piano - it was in five movements
and was seemingly written in ‘strict’
Classical Greek Modes. This work was
entitled Recollections of Ancient
Greek Music. The programme notes
tell us that this was a ‘slow, austere,
‘white note’ music (that was) exceedingly
varied in character’. It was perhaps
typical of the composer that he claimed
to have heard the piece ‘clairaudiently’
as if in a vision.
However the message
from beyond did not give Foulds the
complete picture. Apparently he saw
these pieces as being a stop-gap and
was subsequently engrossed in arranging
them for different media. The Temple
Chant appeared in an arrangement
for twenty wind instruments! Eventually,
in 1932, he scored them all for double
string orchestra, harp and percussion.
He added the fantastic last movement
Corybantes and finally renamed
the pieces to what we see today.
It would be very easy
to play ‘hunt the influence’ with this
work. In many ways it is written in
the great tradition of ‘English String
Music’. It would be hard to miss the
Vaughan Williams’ finger-prints in some
of this music. Yet it would be unfortunate
if we were to regard this suite as being
derivative. Malcolm Macdonald writes
in the programme notes: - "Foulds’
Hellas – in its grave antiphony,
skilfully varied textures, measured
tread and melodic restraint – is like
a beautifully composed Attic frieze,
powerfully evocative of ancient legend,
classical civilisation and clear Mediterranean
light".
The six movements explore
a variety of moods, including a Solemn
Temple Dance, a Processional,
a profound Dirge for a Hero and
a Temple Chant. But the romantic
side is not forgotten: The Song of
the Argive Helen is a beautiful
meditation that is perhaps more English
that Hellenic. The Temple Chant
is perhaps a little melodramatic – yet
all is forgiven in final movement. Corybantes
were priests in ancient Greece who accompanied
their religious rites with wild dancing.
Certainly Foulds approaches this abandon
with music of great feeling- it is just
a pity it is too short. It is perhaps
the perfect balance of complexity and
simplicity, existing somehow at one
and the same time, which makes these
short movements so attractive and meaningful
and moving.
Much discussion of
John Foulds’ Mantras seems to
revolve around its dependence or at
least relationship with Holst’s Planets.
I note previous reviewers have compared
the second Mantra with its trademark
wordless chorus of women’s voices to
‘Neptune’. The last movement
is reminiscent of ‘Mars’. References
are made to Holst’s Choral Symphony
and Vaughan Williams’ Flos Campi.
Stravinsky, Scriabin, Ravel and Bernstein
are noted as being musical references
to this work both from the past and
present. It is further noted that along
with Holst, Foulds was one of the first
composers to take an interest in Indian
music.
With any new or rediscovered
piece it is always easy to try to look
for exemplars – and perhaps this is
no bad thing as it allows listeners
to decide for themselves if they are
liable to like, or perhaps even loathe,
the work in question. Yet the down-side
is that, for the very same reasons,
it can prejudice the listener for, but
more likely against, a piece. And more
seriously it can suggest that the work
about to be listened to is somehow a
patchwork of six or seven composers’
styles.
The history, philosophy
and background to the Mantras
have been examined in these pages, so
I shall be very brief in my outline
of the work.
Throughout the 1920s
Foulds worked on a massive operatic
project called Avatara. Yet this
Sanskrit-based mystical opera was never
to be completed. All that survives of
the vast amount of music written are
the ‘preludes’ to each of the three
projected acts. John Foulds felt that
there was sufficient material here to
make a considerable symphonic work –
it is nearly 26 minutes long. The score
was completed in April 1930 but lay
unperformed until 1988.
The first Mantra
manages to balance the chaos of eternity
with the pandemonium of down-town New
York. Rob Barnett is right to hear ‘jazzy’
overtones and the ‘big city’ feel of
Lenny Bernstein. Frenetic is perhaps
the best description of this piece.
A friend described it as exhausting.
Perhaps the movement’s sobriquet of
‘Activity’ explains this energy.
The second Mantra
is devoted to ‘Bliss and Celestial Awareness.’
This movement is as long as the other
two Mantras put together but
enables the listener to be virtually
lost in the shifting time-world of these
pieces. Listening to it I was reminded
of the ‘time-bending’ properties of
some of Messiaen’s music.
The last Mantra
– Of Will – has ‘some of the
most barbaric and elemental music that
Foulds ever wrote’. Technically this
seemingly complex and chaotic music
is based on the minimum of material.
The score is marked ‘inesorabile’ and
this dynamic is certainly a good description
of this frankly frightening music. Quoting
Malcolm MacDonald, "The culmination
(of this movement) is a shattering explosion
of sheer orchestral power." Perhaps
it is fair to say that this music is
even more violent and compelling and
frightening than Holst’s ‘Mars’.
It never ceases to
amaze me that we have what can only
be regarded as a vitally important masterpiece
which has been hidden away for so many
years. And I guess that for every play
of the Mantras (or any of the
other Foulds’ works) we will hear a
hundred, if not a thousand renditions
of Mars and Venus!
I suggest that you
do two things. Firstly rush out and
buy this CD along with the two Warner
Classics discs (if you do not already
own them). Secondly, lobby the Hallé
Orchestra as to why they do not appear
to have John Foulds – a Manchester man
- in their repertoire.
John France
see also review
by Colin Clarke
The
Lyrita Catalogue
for
details
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Barry Wordsworth.
