The
backbone of David Matthews’ varied and substantial output
rests in his symphonic works: seven symphonies, several
concertos and a handful of symphonic poems. That said,
one should not ignore his ten string quartets. The three
works featured here reinforce the importance of symphonic
thinking in Matthews’ music-making. All three are clearly
conceived on a large symphonic scale and all three add
considerably to his well-deserved reputation as a born
symphonist. Even if these works bear titles suggesting
some subliminal programme, none of them is overtly programmatic
or descriptive, if one excepts a short, almost graphic
episode in the early stages of
The Music of Dawn Op.59 in
which sizzle cymbal, caxixi, metal maracas and rainstick
suggest the ebb and flow of the water on the pebble beach
[track 2]. On the other hand, in spite of its title,
A
Vision and a Journey is best experienced as purely
abstract music. Indeed, the music in these three works
is tightly knit and worked-out in a truly symphonic manner.
The
composition of
The Music of Dawn Op.59 was partly
triggered by Cecil Collins’ eponymous painting that adorns
the cover of this release and by Collins’ altarpiece
Icon
of Divine Light in Chichester Cathedral. The music
unfolds unhurriedly from the first ray of light over the
sea towards the final blaze of light all through a series
of episodes progressing wave-like, while gaining in energy
and movement. The scoring is just magnificent throughout
with many felicitous orchestral touches, not least in the
glowing coda.
A
Vision and a Journey Op.60 was
composed in 1992-3 and drastically revised between 1996
and 1999. The composer likens it to Sibelius’s
Pohjola’s
Daughter, thus laying emphasis on the journey’s idea
although several more withdrawn episodes (the visions)
interrupt the journey without ever losing sight of the
ultimate goal.
The
cello concerto
Concerto in Azzurro Op.87 is in one
single large-scale movement, or rather three-movements-in-one
(Allegro, Scherzo and Lento Finale) that – again – emphasises
the symphonic structure of the work, the more so that the
soloist is more a
primus inter pares than an isolated
individual battling against the orchestra. This, however,
does not mean that the solo part is easy. Far from it,
and Guy Johnston has the right measure of virtuosity and
musicality in his projection of the solo part.
Matthews’ music
clearly belongs to a broad 20
th century mainstream
in which he always has something fresh to say which makes
his music immediately appealing and ultimately rewarding.
It is easy to spot a number of “influences” on Matthews’ music
- one could mention Debussy, Ravel, RVW, Bax and Tippett
- but the composer moulds them into a thoroughly personal
and convincing whole.
Although
it has been reasonably well served so far, in terms of
commercial recordings (see
the
NMC collection), his music is now having a field
day not only with his very fine release but also with the
forthcoming complete recordings of the symphonies (Dutton)
and of the string quartets (Toccata Classics). I hope that
Chandos and Rumon Gamba may be persuaded to record Matthews’ substantial
choral-orchestral
Vespers Op.66.
Rumon
Gamba conducts vital, carefully prepared and fully committed
readings of these engaging and attractive scores. The recording
and production are up to the best Chandos standards. This
very fine release is my record of the month.
Hubert
Culot
Guy Johnston
(cello) 
