Ronald STEVENSON (1928-2015)
Piano Music - Volume 2
Frank MERRICK (1886-1981)
Hebridean Seascape (c.1935/1986) [13:05]
Three Scots Fairy Tales (1967) [3:15]
A Carlyle Suite (1995) [20:18]
Rory Dall Morison’s Harp Book (1978) [17:04]
Three Scottish Ballads (1973) [9:48]
Savourna STEVENSON (b.1961)
Lament for a Blind Harper (1986) [3:01]
All works transcribed by Ronald Stevenson
Christopher Guild (piano)
rec. 5 & 12 June 2016(?), Turner Sims Concert Hall, Southampton
TOCCATA CLASSICS TOCC0388 [66:37]
I was confused. When I knew that I was receiving a CD of Ronald
Stevenson’s piano music to review, I mistakenly assumed that it was
a second volume to Murray McLachlan’s outstanding triple-disc set on
Divine Art (dda21372). I had already reviewed
this CD back in 2013. As it turned out, the CD in question was the second
instalment of Christopher Guild’s survey for Toccata Records. Preparing
for this review, I was reminded that there is yet another exploration of Stevenson’s
music underway. The first volume of Kenneth Hamilton’s study of the
composer’s music appeared in July 2016 (Prima Facie PFCD050). I have
not heard this disc. Add to this five versions of the magisterial DSCH
Passacaglia and several other discs devoted in whole or part to this
repertoire, it seems that Ronald Stevenson’s piano music has suddenly
become hot property.
The rule of thumb for appreciating Ronald Stevenson’s music is to understand
that his style is an amalgam of Scottish inspiration, alongside a profound
understanding of contemporary Western musical developments as well as an encyclopaedic
knowledge of a wide range of indigenous music from around the world. Importantly,
Stevenson was equally at home in making transcriptions of other composer’s
music as he was in producing original scores.
I noted in my review of Divine Art (dda21372): A good summary of Stevenson’s
place in the musical sphere is given in the liner notes: - ‘If we reject,
as too superficial, the standard distinctions between transcription and free
composition, one comes close to understanding Stevenson’s outstanding
corpus of music. Of course, individual pieces vary enormously both in terms
of approach and in terms of style. It is as though Stevenson’s music
as a whole becomes a kind of meeting place for kindred and diverse spirits.’
For this reason, I believe that it is not possible to describe what Ronald
Stevenson’s music ‘sounds like. I hold to this view.
I began my exploration of this present disc with the ‘Three Scots Fairy
Tales’ which were composed in 1967. These pieces were written specifically
for young players, and complement his better-kent ‘A Wheen Tunes for
Bairns tae Spiel’. These three ‘tales’ explore music ostensibly
from a piper, a harpist and a fiddler: all are fairies, which does not imply
tiny creatures with wings from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s
Dream. The first is a march-cum-jig which cannot quite make up its mind
what it wants to be. The second piece is a lullaby which, as the liner notes
suggest, could have come from the pen of Debussy. It is truly beautiful. The
final number looks across to Central Europe for its inspiration. This short
piece is could be classified as ‘Bartok goes to Ballachulish.’
All three pieces are technically demanding for ‘children’: all
explore a variety of moods, rhythms and pianistic devices.
A few words about Bristol-born Frank Merrick (1886-1981). He is most often
recalled as a teacher and concert pianist but he also composed several important
works. He was enthusiastic about then-modern developments in music and regularly
played the piano music of John Ireland, Arnold Bax and Alan Rawsthorne. Merrick’s
compositions include two piano concertos (c.1935), a cello suite for small
orchestra, a Celtic Suite for orchestra, a piano trio and a considerable corpus
of piano music and songs. For many years, Merrick was a friend and colleague
of Ronald Stevenson. The liner notes relate how he suggested to Stevenson
that he make a transcription of the slow movement of his Piano Concerto No.2
in E minor. Merrick had called this movement ‘Seascape’ which
was duly modified by Stevenson to ‘Hebridean Seascape.’ The reason
for the inclusion of the word ‘Hebridean’ in the title was that
Stevenson divined that Merrick had used a Skye fisherwoman’s song in
the central section of the movement. Apparently, he had ‘collected’
this tune whilst on a visit to the island in the early years of the 20th
century. Listening to Merrick’s concerto (which I enjoyed immeasurably)
I felt that there was little that was Scottish in these pages: even the slow
movement seems to be ‘universal music’ despite the obvious lilt
of the Hebridean Song.
Ronald Stevenson’s transcription is perfect ‘sea-music’,
although I must admit that it could just as well be portraying variable weather
on Merrick’s native Bristol Channel. Stevenson has developed/highlighted
a wide variety of ‘effects’ including the cry of the Kittiwake
and the surging of waves over the rocks and beaches. The abovenoted ‘fisherwoman’s
song’ gives this turbulent music some repose and allows for reflection
‘midst the storm. It is one of my discoveries of 2017 (so far). The
‘Hebridean Seascape’ was first heard in the Purcell Room on 30
April 1986.
Both of Frank Merrick’s Piano Concertos are available on YouTube: they
deserve to be released onto the commercial market.
The longest piece on this CD is ‘A Carlyle Suite’ (1995). The
work is presented in five movements and lasts for just over 20 minutes. The
inspiration is the life, times and achievements of one of Scotland’s
greatest sons, Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881). Carlyle was a man of letters, a
historian, satirist, essayist, philosopher and teacher.
This highly imaginative piece looks at facets of Carlyle’s life. The
opening number is an ‘Aubade’ which takes its cue from a short
(and rare) poem by the author ‘Here is dawning/Another blue day’.
The second piece pays homage to the writer’s wife, Jane Carlyle (née
Welsh). For this, the imagery has moved to Chelsea in London. Stevenson has
created a clanjamfrie of tunes and melodies which include blatant allusions
to Chopin as well as Scottish Strathspeys. It is as if Chopin were giving
Jane a private recital, which he did in 1848, and her mind is wandering back
and forward across the border. The third movement is a cunning set of variations
based on a tune used by J.S. Bach in his A Musical Offering (1747).
It is subtitled a ‘Study in historical styles on Frederick the Great’s
Theme.’ It is also useful to remember that Carlyle wrote a major study
of the life of Frederick, which was published in six volumes between 1858
and 1865. The writing of this huge work took its toll on the author, and led
to bouts of depression. The music does not really reflect this emotional turmoil,
but presents the theme in baroque, classical, romantic, impressionistic, 12-note
expressionist and finally ‘new-classical’ guises. It is a vade-mecum
of piano styles. This is followed by Jane Carlyle’s ‘Scherzo.’
This is Scottish music through and through with references to Strathspeys.
But there is also a touch of the ‘Sassenach’ Hornpipe in these
pages too. The final movement, a Serenade, harks back to the opening Aubade
however this time it is tinged with shades of evening.
This is a thoroughly enjoyable work that should be well-known. I do warn the
listener against approaching this tribute to the learned Carlyle with a po-face.
Stevenson brings his quirky wit to many places in this score. There is humour
here as well as genuine admiration.
The work was commissioned by the Dumfries and Galloway Arts Association to
commemorate the bi-centenary of Carlyle’s birth in the small Border
Town of Ecclefechan.
Rory Dall [Gaelic for ‘blind’] Morison’s Harp Book is a
transcription of music composed for the clàrsach back on the late 1600s. The
liner notes include a biography of the composer, who was born in the Island
of Skye, and notes about the music. Stevenson brought a variety of pianistic
techniques to his reworking of this material. From simple harmonies, the use
of themes in counterpoint as well as canonic devices. Topics explored include
a ‘Song for John MacLeod of Dunvegan’ (Skye), the ‘Lament
for a Lost Harp Key’, ‘Lonely Monday’ and the ‘Fiddler’s
Contempt.’ They are truly evocative pieces that capture the mood of
the Highlands of Scotland before the days of Bonnie Prince Charlie. Ronald
Stevenson has invested them with a magic, poignancy and immediacy for listeners
who may never choose to hear this music played on the original instrument.
I enjoyed the ‘Three Scottish Ballads’. I can recall being introduced
to Scottish ballads whilst still at primary school, albeit I am sure they
were well-chosen and slightly bowdlerised. In later life, I have been privileged
to read Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English [& Scottish!] Poetry
(1765) as well as Sir Walter Scott’s monumental Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border (1802-3). In my old-fashioned mind, this volume ought
to be required reading in all Scottish schools, but I bet it isn’t!
The texts of two of the three ballads that Stevenson chose to present were
collected in Scott: ‘Lord Randall’, who has murdered his father
at his mother’s behest and the mournful ‘Dowie Dens O’ Yarrow’,
full of collusion, cowardice and murder. Readers will recall that Hamish MacCunn
composed a splendid tone poem on this latter topic. Finally, Stevenson set
‘The Newhaven Fishwife’s Cry’. This ballad was not collected
by Scott, but portrays the said lady wandering the streets of Edinburgh selling
her wares. Without providing a musical commentary on each ballad, Stevenson
has sought to transcribe the original melodies to reflect the mood of the
texts. They are masterly examples of this art.
The final work, ‘Lament for a Blind Harper’ is another arrangement:
this time based on a melody penned by Ronald Stevenson’s daughter Savourna,
who is a well-respected harpist. The father took this melody and arranged
it for piano (left hand only). It is a fitting tribute to his daughter and
to the Blind Harper who might well be Rory Dall Morison.
The liner notes by Christopher Guild are excellent and provide an essay-length
survey of the composer and the music on this CD. My only complaint is that
the font in places is so tiny: older eyes struggle. Fortunately, I found a
digital copy of these notes on the Toccata website: I wish all record companies
would provide this information. I hasten to add that Chandos, Naxos, Hyperion
and a few other already do.
The playing on this disc is superb. Christopher Guild provides a definitive
account of all these works. Although this disc concentrates on works that
have a Scottish or Celtic ‘flavour’ the sound worlds of Bartok
or Busoni are often not too far away. The interpretation requires a universal
understanding of both pianism and local music making. I look forward to Volume
3 of this cycle, and hope to be able to review Volume 1 at some stage. This
is clearly a major project from Toccata Records and Christopher Guild, if
the ‘complete’ piano works (original and transcriptions) are to
be tackled. I imagine that it will take several years and many CDs. In my
opinion, the wait will be well worth it. Ronald Stevenson was/is a larger
than life character: his music deserves to be in the public domain.
John France
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