WILLIAMSON; SAXTON; McCABE; LUTYENS ROBERT SAXTON (b. 1953) BRUNEL ENSEMBLE/CHRISTOPHER AUSTIN Signum - SIGCD053 This CD, originally recorded in 1996, appears to be a rescue from the Cala catalogue. It is a worthwhile collection of the sort of music which is unlikely to have huge sales, so gets deleted easily and disappears from notice. Signum is to be congratulated for bringing it back into circulation. Elisabeth Lutyens' Bagatelles are particularly welcome; neglected by the BBC as a twelve-tone woman composer, her crafts(wo)manship is now being widely appreciated and her somewhat austere music comes to life on revival (see my review of the Medici Quartet at Blackheath). Her lovely setting of Rimbaud for guitar, harp, mandolin and strings was turned down repeatedly for broadcasting after a 1946 premiere which was 'spontaneously encored'! McCabe's forest picture, which gives the CD its name, is richly scored for a large chamber ensemble (constitution of the flexible Brunel Ensemble not specified here) Williamson's string symphony is a timely reminder of the last Master of the Queen's Musik large output and versatility, and all the music here assembled is clearly imagined and well achieved by its composers and the thorough preparation of Christopher Austin.
Elijah’s Violin (1988) - - the Jewish folk-tale from Egypt, with its princes and princesses in various states of involuntary enchantment, its sea-journeys and magic musical instruments, contains about as much picturesque material as any composer might desire - - what he chiefly expresses in this short symphony are the timeless inner truths that the story communicates. The melodic fifth announced in the opening bars, thrusting upwards against pulsing basses, is an important feature. At each recurrence it becomes a fresh event: sinister on bassoons and cellos then resonantly wild on bare octaves in the first movement; or twisted to a harsh seventh in the desolate third; or stirring fresh energies as prelude and apotheosis to the fourth. Part of the dynamic current, the solo violin dances, laments and finally asserts its freedom, before the music dies away as if - in the fashion of tradition fables - it were part of an endless cycle of retelling.
|