George Benjamin looks somewhat older in his photographs on the
cover and in the booklet of this disc than he did in the earlier
Nimbus collection A mind of winter. He was some fifteen
years older than when he wrote the precocious works included
on that disc although the Octet on this release pre-dates
any of the works in that compilation. Indeed it was the work
with which he made his London début in 1979.
That Octet clearly shows the influence of Messiaen.
Sketching for it was begun only months after Benjamin had concluded
his period of study with that composer. It does not have the
sheer overwhelming impact of his similarly influenced Ringed
by the flat horizon included on the earlier compilation,
but there is plenty of variety of texture. Also the performance
is excellent even if the celesta is perhaps a bit too loud to
be truly realistic.
This CD gives us two performances of the Yeats setting
Upon silence. Both are sung by Susan Bickley. The one
with the original scoring is for viol consort. The other is
with seven modern strings: the increased number required because
strings nowadays only have four strings, while viols had six.
The composer informs us that in the later setting he added occasional
extra lines, but otherwise the piece remains unchanged. The
two settings open and close the disc, but to be honest the differences
are so minimal that the duplication is to be regretted. Obviously
the scoring for modern instruments makes a more practical consideration
for live performances, but in recording terms the original viol
consort gives us all that is needed. Susan Bickley’s voice is
slightly clearer in the later version, but in both performances
we are grateful for the text provided in the booklet as the
words are otherwise far from distinct. The manner in which the
music echoes the thoughts of the poem are clearly dramatically
significant. Benjamin’s settings of the words do not help us
to understand the meaning of Yeats’ already somewhat cloudy
thoughts. The composer avers in his booklet note that the verses
are set “in a syllabic manner”, but the extensive melismata
given to the soloist must inevitably render clarity of diction
next to impossible even with the best will in the world.
The other two works on this disc comprise the Three inventions
for an ensemble of 24 players, and Sudden time for
full orchestra. The first of these consists of two short movements
followed by a third about half as long again as the previous
two combined. The first movement returns us to the musical world
of the Octet with a leading solo for a flügel horn
nicely played by John Wallace. The second and third movements
bring a greater variety of textures, but in all honesty the
clearly closely considered music does not cohere to make a unity.
The “remorselessly regular” pulse which the composer informs
us underpins the texture, and which might help to bind the music
together, is not immediately apparent even after several listenings.
The gestation of Sudden time occupied Benjamin for
some ten years, embracing one of the periods of ‘writer’s block’
which have afflicted him throughout his composing career. It
employs extravagant orchestral forces including a quartet of
alto flutes, but the effect is of a transparency more characteristic
of chamber music. There is no conventional orchestral doubling,
which means that the contrapuntal lines are heard clearly and
sometimes loudly, thanks to the analytical acoustic of the Royal
Festival Hall. The composer in his booklet note draws an analogy
with the dreamed sound of a thunderclap stretched to an elastic
length, and this does help the listener to appreciate the effects
that he achieves. Here there is a real sense of unity,
and this is the most impressive piece on this disc. The playing
of the London Philharmonic Orchestra under the composer is quite
simply superlative, with some stunningly forceful playing in
the second of the two continuous movements.
Unlike the earlier George Benjamin compilation, this release
comes not only with full notes in English but now also with
translations into French and German. By the way, both translations
of the Yeats text make substitutions for the poet’s original
“long-legged fly” which becomes “une arraigné d’eau” in French,
and a “Libelle” – which is something different again – in the
German version - which is very poetically free indeed. This
is an excellent promotion for a composer whose music has justifiably
obtained an international reputation, even if his output remains
small.
Paul Corfield Godfrey