Yet again we must
be grateful to Lyrita for re-introducing
us to some of the fascinating British
Council sponsored recordings from
the early 1970s, for so long unavailable.
These derive from three different
LPs and the sound, as it was on the
original LPs, is magnificent; bright
and clear with a wide dynamic range.
Both Hoddinott and
Searle were born symphonists yet we
seldom hear these works. All five
of Searle’s Symphonies are available
in fine performances directed by Alun
Francis on CPO, and six of Hoddinott’s
can be found on Lyrita reissues and
Chandos. Likewise we seldom hear these
concertos. But there are reasons,
excuses really, Hoddinott’s work is
dramatic and bold, requiring a soloist
of great virtuosity and stamina, whilst
Searle was a 12 note composer at a
time when that wasn’t acceptable in
the UK.
Their works, however,
can be heard in all their glory here.
Tuckwell is a magnificent soloist,
making light of all the fearsome difficulties
of the music. Hoddinott’s Concerto
is in three concise movements, a darkly
brooding Romanza, a scary chase of
a scherzo and a solo cadenza which
reintroduces the orchestra at the
very end. It’s lyrical throughout
– even the scherzo – and the orchestration
is full of Hoddinott’s beloved bells
and percussion. There is a wonderful
forward momentum to the music, and,
despite its brevity, makes a most
satisfactory piece. My only wonder
is why the composer chose not to exploit
the lower ranges of the instrument,
remaining firmly in the lyrical middle
and higher registers, but this does
make for a very lyrical and passionate
statement.
Humphrey Searle,
Webern’s only English pupil, adopted
the serial technique and used it throughout
his life, making it work for him and
his music. The short Aubade
is as romantic a work as you could
imagine. The language is 12 note,
to be sure, but Searle’s innate lyricism
lies at the heart of the work. A very
short piece with a fast middle section,
Searle never wastes a note and creates
a beautifully textured piece, like
the Hoddinott, lyrical and passionate.
Don Banks was born
in Australia but spent much of his
adult life in the UK returning to
Australia in 1973 to become chairman
of the music board of the Australia
Council for the Arts. Banks’s Concerto
is also dark and brooding, with a
long breathed lyricism, which takes
its time to tell you its story. This
is time well spent, for Banks was
a fine composer who really had something
to say. In eight sections, playing
continuously, and exploiting the whole
range of the instrument, we are taken
on a journey, the very large orchestra
accompanying us with a dazzling array
of sonorities. The fast sixth section
offers no respite, merely a continuation
of the, I almost wrote ‘nightmare’
but that is wrong, the dream-world
created for us. Much as I love the
other works on this disk this is the
most rewarding piece for it offers
so much and delivers an emotional
punch which is most unexpected.
It’s a shame that
Maw’s erotically romantic Sonata
for two horns and strings had
to follow such passion but where else
could it go? Maw has always been an
unashamed romantic: I am thinking
of the glorious Scenes and Arias
for three female voices and orchestra
- one of his first successes, written
for the 1962 Proms – it seems incredible
that it was 45 years ago! – not to
mention the six Personae for
solo piano, the astonishing Odyssey
(96 uninterrupted minutes for full
orchestra) and my favourite amongst
his works, the orchestral nocturne
The World in the Evening. He
has written much vocal music, songs
and operas, and his special strain
of almost vocal lyricism fills his
instrumental works. Sonata
is not a sonata in a structural sense
but a work combining three different
musics – slow, fast and very fast
– which alternate and develop. It’s
one of Maw’s most cogent scores.
All the performances
are totally committed, the sound excellent.
Paul Conway’s booklet notes are a
joy, full, generous and detailed.
This is a most interesting and satisfying
disk of British music - counting Don
Banks as an Honorary Brit - and should
be heard by all with an interest in
highly lyrical, concerted music from
recent modern composers. Mr Maw is
the exception: he is, thank goodness,
still with us and still writing. All
these men know exactly how to set
the wild echoes flying!
Bob Briggs
See also review
by Rob Barnett