Hubert Culot's review elsewhere on these pages had me eager
with anticipation, having described the slow movement of Stephen
Plews' The Future of an Illusion as "one of the most
moving musical elegies that I have ever heard." Having heard
some of his other compositions, I was less surprised than I might
have been by the colourful jazz chords which punctuate the first
movement of this piece, which in some ways can be heard as a highly
extended prelude to that central elegy. Indeed, the entire piece
has an intended chronological pathway - that of "an existential
biography of an imaginary soul, from birth to death through a
terminal illness." I can't say I was particularly moved by
the work, even with this added associational narrative. While
the idea of 'a life' in music is an interesting one, my mind tends
to jump around too much, asking if, in fact, it was an imaginary
life worth living - so much melancholy, so little solid engagement
with worldly emotions - too much self-involved moping around.
It might have been more convincing if the more energetic material
had appeared as the central movement, the 'elegy' being representative
of the final resignation of old age and spiritual discovery. This
might have worked, in place of the more imposed 'Possibility of
hope' aspect we're encouraged to hear in the music. Don't get
me wrong, I don't actively dislike this piece, but I do believe
programmatic content of an existential nature has either to be
dealt with on a different plane, or preferably be left to the
listener's imagination.
The solo violin really has very little to do in
The Future of an Illusion, but opens Geoffrey Kimpton's
Concerto for Violin and Chamber Orchestra with a fine solo
cadenza. Inspired by the poems of Kathleen Raine, this is another
work with at least some extra-musical associations, and these
the composer hints at through the titles of each movement, unfortunately
not given in the booklet or liner. Like Plews, Kimpton's idiom
is essentially romantic, though while his language is less involved
with lush added notes both works seem to share a stop-start difficulty
with really getting 'off the ground' in some way. There are some
cinematic, illustrative passages which clearly have some programmatic
content, but nothing hangs around long enough to develop into
a 'big tune', or something upon which you can hang your hat and
say, 'ah, this is good.' But, I hear you say, Janacek did similar
things and he's one of your favourite composers. Yes, I answer,
but with a rhythmic verve and quirkiness of language which plants
other worlds onto your psyche like a rich but itchy robe, rather
than just occasionally wafting it in your general direction like
an incense stick hidden at the back of an exotic restaurant. Much
of this piece is like a pleasant walk in a well manicured rose
garden: a lovely experience with one or two prickles, but essentially
something which is no more likely to remain with you in the longer
term than the bus ride home afterwards.
Kevin Malone's Eighteen Minutes comes in at 19:42
in this recording, highlighting the risks of giving works durational
titles, unless it's 4:33. In fact, the piece is a dramatic
commentary on the events of September 11th 2001, with the vocal
patterns of some of the recorded statements of witnesses at the
time. To labour a reference, Janacek was one to use the rhythms
of voices and language in his work, but in this case I was reminded
more of Steve Reich's work in this area, though his voices tend
to appear as explicit samples as well as musical shapes. Literal
references like the wails of sirens appear, and the double-bass
has an extended solo closely following the rise and fall of voice
patterns. A quote from Tchaikovsky's 'Elegy for Strings'
is cleverly incorporated, and while some of the more heart-on-sleeve
musical statements can sit a little less easily against some of
those of a more powerful origin this is a fair technique to be
applied - especially when those melodies are strained through
the unnatural and always uneasy 'singing voice' of the double-bass.
From Penderecki's Threnody to Bartók's Divertimento
and many others, the string orchestra seems eminently suited
to expressing human anguish and emotion. While as previously mentioned,
Malone's work has more of the strange disembodiment of Different
Trains than the sheer jaw-grinding grip of something like Martinü's
Double Concerto, it is in my opinion very much the strongest piece
on this disc.
The New World Ensemble plays well enough in these
pieces, maintaining an intimate, chamber-music feel to the music,
more often than not bringing off some of the more tricky corners
and keeping intonation as tight as can be with reduced forces
of strings. Andy Long's solo violin is very capable, and the recorded
balance is good, if not, I suspect, entirely free of a little
acoustic manipulation somewhere along the line. Double-bass intonation
is always a hit and miss affair when it comes to solos, but both
David Heyes and Dan Styffe do very well with the speech-pattern
shapes of Eighteen Minutes. If you are looking to go beyond
the well beaten paths of more commonly recorded material than
this is an interesting cul-de-sac to delve into: I doubt much
of it will be appearing anywhere else soon.
Dominy Clements
see also review
by Hubert Culot
Andy Long (violin)a;
David Heyes; Dan Styffe (double bass)b; 
