A quick question: who
was the first person to record Beethoven’s
Fourth Piano Concerto? Schnabel maybe?
Well, no, that’s far off. Backhaus?
Getting closer – he was a pioneer on
disc but not in this work. Well what
about William Murdoch, another trailblazer
in the studios? Getting warmer but he
recorded the C minor concerto acoustically.
The answer, perhaps surprisingly, is
York Bowen who recorded it for Vocalion.
Bowen was in fact quite active in that
recording company’s studios though he
recorded, I seem to recall, more Chopin
than anyone else, and actually relatively
little of his own works. Apart from
a 1926 NGS traversal of the Brahms Horn
Trio with Aubrey Brain and Spencer Dyke
I’m not aware that he recorded commercially
again until these very late Lyritas
made the year before his death – though
I think off-air performances may have
survived.
And here are those
fabled 1960 Lyritas revealing Bowen
as a still agile and wholly impressive
exponent of his music even at the age
of seventy-six. The main prize is the
cycle of Preludes of which he recorded
ten of the twenty-four. They’re not
presented in consecutive order and that’s
reasonable enough since they form a
fine unity as they are. The First is
vital and tangy, the second has a rocking
plangency whilst the fifteenth (which
comes next) has French insouciance.
A beautiful running water motif courses
through 10, Rachmaninoff’s shade embraces
the last, No.24, and despite the valiant
effort of note writer Jonathan Frank
in claiming only a ‘superficial resemblance’
the Russian looms behind No. 7 as well.
No. 8 is a pensive study, Schumann animates
No.19 and No.20, a stormy petrel, rightly
ends this selection in a suitably galvanizing
and virtuosic way. Despite the boxy
acoustic Bowen’s pianism and personality
shine through.
His Op.156 Partita
was written in 1960 and was hot off
the press when he recorded it. Couched
in baroque forms but playfully subverting
anticipations and expectations Bowen
embarks instead on fluent Late Romantic
excursions spiced up with some playful
writing. The Sarabande is especially
winning, with rich harmonies and a suggestive
trill. The Minuet even goes so far as
to feint with popular song; Bowen had
a tremendous gift for melody. The Moto
Perpetuo is the third movement of his
1915 Suite Mignonne Op.39. Debussy was
an influence but there’s a sturdy English
impress cross-pollinated with Rachmaninoff.
The Toccata Op.155 meets the genre head
on in this exciting and virtuosic performance.
It ends a session that was in the nick
of time, preserving the composer-executant’s
performances for posterity. It’s the
same kind of dedication that, say, Michael
G. Thomas showed when privately recording
Frank Merrick and all the more to be
saluted now in disc format.
Because of the original
LP sides Lyrita has devoted a CD each
to Bowen and to the composer-executant
who shares this disc, Franz Reizenstein,
who was recorded in 1958. Reizenstein’s
music is less overtly expressive and
forthcoming than Bowen’s, being couched
in a more Hindemith-inspired locale.
The main focus here is the 1944 Sonata.
The first movement’s relative length
– eleven or so minutes – is conveyed
with superior architectural control,
the span measured with acute perception,
the moods conveyed perfectly and the
harmonic interest seldom flagging. The
aloof profile of the slow movement is
a slow-burner but by no means obviously
ingratiating, whilst the confident even
gruff finale embodies a sturdy figure
which tends to obscure the occasionally
academic workout nature of the fugal
writing. A rather imposing work – not
granitic, but not effusive either –
the product of a synthesising mind,
brilliantly performed by its composer.
The smaller works will
probably be as little known. The Legend
for instance is a refined study which
slowly ascends to quite an assertive
pitch. And there’s wit and grotesquerie
in the Scherzo Fantastique with its
slower more clement central panel.
Again, all credit to
Lyrita for having had the guts and acumen
to record both these then unfashionable
composers at the piano and to ensure
that their own legacies are lasting.
At a time when vaults are being locked
and copyright extension mooted we should
be more than thankful for this kind
of thing.
Jonathan Woolf
John France has
also listened to these discs
Both York Bowen and
Franz Reizenstein belong to a very small
group of composers, who, in my musical
experience never fail to please. There
are plenty of works by RVW, Elgar and
Britten. that leave me cold or that
I positively dislike. Yet, with the
two present composers I have yet to
hear any work that has not impressed
me and, more often than not, moved me.
There are a few others: Cyril Scott
and Frank Bridge being the two main
contenders. It seems that somehow these
four composers are completely on my
wavelength – or is it vice versa?
I discovered Bowen
and Reizenstein by way of the original
vinyl releases of these recordings back
in the late seventies. Banks Music Shop
in York were still able to order these
discs, in spite of the fact that they
must have been twenty odd years old.
And they are still in my ‘small but
select’ residual LP collection. Yet
now that they have been released on
CD there is little need for me to endure
the somewhat rocky sound that my records
seem to have acquired over the past
thirty-five years!
York Bowen’s Ten
Preludes are actually a selection
from the superb set of Twenty Four
Preludes in all the major and minor
keys. Bowen has obviously chosen what
he regards as the most appropriate numbers
to make up a recital set. And with this
he is entirely successful. Although
I am an enthusiast of the entire set,
it is a long haul to listen to all of
them at a sitting, no matter how good
they are. This present selection acts
as a fine introduction and will, it
is to be hoped, encourage listeners
who do not know this work to find and
listen to the complete edition. My personal
favourite of the set is No. 7
in Eb major. Surely this is one piece
that justifies Bowen’s nickname as the
‘English Rachmaninov’? Yet it is a delicious
piece that is full of colour and downright
‘heart on sleeve’ romance. When one
considers how late these pieces were
written, if not published, it is perhaps
not surprising that some critics regard
them as derivative and old-fashioned.
The Partita
is a case in point – being written in
1960. Once again it would be easy to
see this work as being somewhat ‘retro’
– certainly compared to some of the
‘long haired’ music that was appearing
on the scene at that time. However,
from the first note to the last, this
is a happy and fortuitous composition.
The title could suggest that this is
inspired by baroque music, yet there
is nothing of pastiche about this piece.
In fact, the mood is quite definitely
romantic in almost every detail. That
said, there are some moments in this
work, for example the ‘minuet’ and the
‘gigue,’ that have a suggestion of the
‘salon’ about them. Yet the artistry
and the technique is well beyond that
required by the ephemera of that particular
genre. The attractive Berceuse,
which was composed in 1928, nods to
Chopin, yet is not a parody as such.
However the shifting harmonies - Billy
Mayerl sprang to mind! - situate this
work in the twentieth century rather
than the nineteenth. It is a lovely
piece.
The Moto Perpetuo
from the Suite Mignonne is a
show stopper. Rob Barnett rightly states
that it "sweepingly doffs its cap
to Sergei". This is a complex piece
of music that, as the sleeve-notes state,
"requires the lightest and most
delicate playing…" This piece was
written during the First World War in
1915 - it seems a million miles away
from Ypres and the Western Front. The
last piece, a Toccata, was composed
some 42 years after the Moto perpetuo
– yet it is similar in that it is virtuosic
and requires a huge piano technique.
It would make a fine encore to a recital
of Bowen’s or anyone else’s piano music
for that matter.
Franz Reizenstein is
an honorary English composer – and perhaps
one of that large band of unjustly neglected
masters. I did a little straw poll amongst
a few of my musical friends. None of
them hard heard his name – never mind
any of his music. Yet I am prepared
to stick my head above the parapet and
state that the Piano Sonata in
B is one of the finest essays of this
form in the literature. The work was
composed in 1944 and was dedicated to
William Walton. It is a considerable
piece that lasts for nearly half an
hour and explores a wide range of emotion
and ‘imagination.’ Contemporary reviewers
were a little mixed in their reviews.
On the one hand there was a recognition
of inspiration and ‘more-than-competence’
in the technical layout of the music.
Yet there was a direct criticism of
the composer’s use of "unassimilated
styles" throughout this three movement
work. It is easy to find references
or perhaps even nods to a range of composers
– Hindemith for one and perhaps Alan
Rawsthorne. Interestingly Reizenstein
studied with Vaughan Williams but there
appears to be virtually no influence
from that direction.
Listening to this work
some sixty-odd years after its publication
lends a fine opportunity to put aside
any suggestion of cribbing, of lack
of originality or confusion of styles.
Surely this work can only be seen as
the masterpiece that it surely is –
from the technical as well as the aesthetic
point of view. Yet I doubt that it will
ever become popular in the recitals:
the reason why, is that it more of a
cerebral work than one of sheer virtuosic
display. There is nothing in this work
that should deter the listener: it is
written in a language that is both appealing
and satisfying.
The Legend is
a good introduction to Reizenstein’s
music. It is a relatively straightforward
‘cantabile melody’ that is subjected
to a number of interesting metamorphoses.
There is a darker and more intense middle
section, before the main tune is reprised
and the original mood is restored. The
Scherzo Fantastique is quite
a long piece and makes considerable
demands on the soloist. It would be
easy to suggest that Chopin was the
model here – both for the construction
of the work and the pianistic figuration.
Yet this piece was written in 1950 and
has a number of features that were more
prevalent in that time than in Chopin’s.
Without the score I cannot quite decide
if there is a ‘series’ present in this
piece – but certainly the melodic structure
sounds as if there is an emphasis on
atonality rather than a defined key.
The last two works
in this conspectus of Reizenstein’s
music show various aspects of the composer’s
craft. The programme notes state that
the Impromptu is "without
technical difficulties" – yet the
listener must surely be impressed by
the variety of moods and pianism that
are the hallmark of this lovely piece.
Just now and again I was reminded of
John Ireland in this number – yet I
am sure there is no conscious reference.
The last work is the Scherzo
in A. This is so full of life, excitement
and exhilaration – exactly as a scherzo
should be. It is well written and has
an abundance of invention: musical ideas
seem to tumble over each other as the
work progresses. This Scherzo
would make an fine recital piece, if
only pianists would be brave enough
to explore this repertoire in the concert
hall.
Certainly with the
Franz Reizenstein disc this set ties
up a number of loose ends. Currently
there is another version of the Piano
Sonata available. However
the other pieces here appear to be the
only available recordings. York Bowen’s
piano music is slightly better represented
on CD with at least two complete recordings
of the Preludes (Stephen
Hough and Joop
Celis) on disc. The only piece not
available elsewhere is the Partita.
However, availability is not really
the point of this great re-release from
Lyrita. It is surely sufficient to have
recordings of the two composers playing
their own music - and playing it with
such technical skill, aplomb and panache!
see also review
by Rob Barnett
for details
Franz Reizenstein (piano) 
