Monday, 29 December 2014

A dozen albums for 2014

2014 has been quite a confusing year musically, but at times it has been a very stimulating one too.

For a change I thought I would combine pop and classical and write about my top dozen albums of the year – beginning with my favourite compilation of 1970s West Coast Yacht rock. Now there's a sentence from a man newly in his 40s! Yet Too Slow To Disco is a great achievement from the How Do You Are? label, one that keeps the rhythm but chooses a blissful selection of pop that wouldn't be out of place in Ibiza. Songs like Brian Eliot's Time To Grow or Ned Doheny's Get It Up For Love charm and amuse in equal measure, with a high quality threshold the whole way through.

My other compilation of the year would be Greater Lengths – An All Saints Compilation, which served to remind me just what a fine catalogue the All Saints label sit on. Brian Eno, Jon Hassell and Djivan Gasparyan are just three of the names they can boast – but the crowning glory for this release was a disc’s worth of remixes, using electronic music talent as diverse as Peaking Lights, patten and Machinefabriek. It paid off handsomely.

Sébastien Tellier returned this year with another typically colourful album. L'Aventura found him in exuberant mood, with exotic orchestrations and rhythms unexpectedly proclaiming a dalliance with samba. This being Tellier there is always a sense of cheeky impudence close to the surface, and a lot of flirting through the headphones – and all are done to great effect, resulting in a winning, hot weather album.

Hot weather is not a great feature of the Scottish East Coast, but King Creosote found plenty of sunshine on his travelogue, From Scotland With Love - music to accompany a black and white film that could easily have been made with the country's tourist board. I'm surprised not more was made of this record in the run up to the vote on independence, but Kenny Anderson's love letter to all sides of his country is beautiful, poignant, funny and wonderfully direct. Not as moving as his Jon Hopkins collaboration, but equally life-affirming and colourful.

Much darker in colour was Product of Industry, a striking techno album from Mark E that looked at the wheels of industry through music, using analogue synths to recreate mechanical processes and production lines. There is the robotic precision of automated processes, but there are human elements too, and the claustrophobia of the shop floor is painted with a stark and striking beauty. Among the dirt and grime, a valuable gem is found.

Exploring much quieter and restful domain was the Vancouver producer Scott Morgan, better known as Loscil. I don’t think I know a single person who can make music stand so still and yet make it so captivating, but Morgan somehow manages to keep his music suspended in mid air with very little happening to it. The only solution is to listen, because on an album like Sea Island he conjures up such visions of natural beauty that it brings a tear to the listener’s eye with its intensity.


Now I'm not a massive Morrissey fan, it has to be said, but World Peace Is None Of Your Business - despite the fact it has now been deleted – stood out as Moz's best piece of work in a very long time. Istanbul, its lead single, was one of the most striking songs of the year, but throughout the album Morrissey seemed determined to present some very original instrumentation and highly unusual rhythms. Mozza at the rodeo? Stranger things have happened!

Fellow Mancunian contemporaries James returned with another opus in 2014. La petite mort took a while to give its charms away, but in the end it established itself as a poignant memorial to Tim Booth’s mother and one of his best friends. Perhaps because I was going through something similar at the time the resonance between the two was too vivid to resist, but Booth presented a dignified and at times jubilant look at their lives and his response to them. Sure, James can occasionally attempt a new style and be a bit like a musical equivalent of dad dancing – Curse, Curse was that to start with – but Walk Like You and Moving On made up for that comfortably.

One of the main reasons I review new CD albums is to make new discoveries like WIFE’s What’s Between. WIFE is James Kelly, former front man of Irish metallers Altar of Plagues. The guitars may be turned down several notches, but there is an exquisite tension at work on this album, and the songs become both deeply meaningful and strongly resilient. With beefy bass and beats subtly underpinning the structures, What's Between became a thing of great poise and beauty, with several genuine spine tingling moments as either Kelly’s vocals were multi tracked or the background electronics came through to the fore. A lasting triumph.

Another 'grower' was Luke Abbott's second album Wysing Sound. I never thought I’d say this about my home county, but Norfolk has become a bit of a hotbed of instrumental techno, and Luke Abbott is one of the leaders. For this album he was keen to veer more to the analogue side of things, and to make a 'through-composed' piece of work, rather like a one-movement symphony. It works handsomely, and Abbott creates some weird and wonderful sounds as the album first settles and then generates more movement and nervous energy. A compelling listen that built even on his impressive debut Holkham Drones.

My classical album of the year is easy to pick – it's Steven Isserlis and Robert Levin playing Beethoven's complete works for cello and piano. Back in January 2007 I was lucky enough to attend a Beethoven Day at the Wigmore Hall, where the duo played all these works live, and it was clear then that they had a special understanding of and enthusiasm for Beethoven's remarkable works. The five main sonatas span Beethoven's life, so the two published as Op.5 have a strong energy and youthful drive, the third – Op.69 and in Beethoven’s middle period – is impeccably structured and full of memorable themes, and the final two, Op.102 open the door to his late period with innovative designs and brief but incredibly concentrated exchanges. Isserlis and Levin capture all that and more, and though some might baulk at the coarse sound of Levin's fortepiano – of Beethoven's time – to me it only heightens the excitement and sense of originality at work. The performances are of an incredibly high standard, and Hyperion's package irresistible.

So that’s the classical album of the year – but my pop album of the year by some distance is Todd Terje's debut, It's Album Time. In a year where a lot of the news was unremittingly bleak it made so much difference to have an album of such positivity to fall back on. It's a great piece of work this, from the lead single Delorean Dynamite through the classic suave Bryan Ferry contribution that is Johnny & Mary to the absolute winners Oh Joy and Inspector Norse, the album's trump cards. Terje writes both with the assurance of someone who knows he can make you dance but also with a sense of the progressive, so that harmonies change unexpectedly and new riffs join the party. With that and such a positive outlook, It's Album Time made its play to be the best album of the year. In my book, at least!

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Beneath the Surface - Panufnik centenary: Symphony no.10


Introduction

Panufnik's tenth and final symphony is his smallest, lasting just over fifteen minutes. It was written in 1990 for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Sir Georg Solti.

In his notes for the work Panufnik says that he initially wanted to write a virtuoso work for a virtuoso orchestra, but in the end he went against his instincts and wrote a work 'to demonstrate their supreme sound quality, show off their collective musicianship and humanity, and their ability to convey their intense and profound feeling'.

Once again there are geometric principles at work, however, Panufnik describing how 'the musical material of Symphony No.10 consists of tonal melodic lines with a simultaneous flow of reflected and transposed 3-note cells'. As with symphonies 7 & 9 he operates within a single movement, though this one is in four sections.

Verdict

The Tenth Symphony - Panufnik's first without a nickname - begins with a clarion call from the brass, a fanfare that soon finds itself complemented by bullish strings.

The smaller structure suits Panufnik, who keeps things moving quickly - especially in the third movement, whose percussive thrust recalls the best moments of the Sinfonia di Sfere.

Yet the most effective moments are the quietest, as the last of the four sections introduces a string chorale that alternates softly and thoughtfully before ebbing away into the distance.

Panufnik's farewell to the symphony may not be as substantial as some of the earlier works in his output, but it does leave its understated mark.

Recordings and Spotify Links

Panufnik himself can be heard conducting the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra here. Meanwhile the consistently excellent Lukas Borowicz conducts the Tenth with the Konzerthausorchester Berlin here, part of an album including the Sinfonia Elegiaca and Sinfonia Sacra.

Beneath the Surface - Panufnik centenary: Symphony no.9 (Sinfonia di Speranza)

Introduction

Ever since Beethoven's Choral Symphony, a composer's ninth symphony is a huge event – and it has become a daunting prospect, scaling such a symphonic Everest.

Panufnik was no different, but his response to the challenge was to produce a massive, unbroken work of 40 minutes in length – by some distance his biggest work in the form so far. It was not only a homage to Beethoven's Ninth, 'but because the ninth decade of this century seemed to call for a new expression, a more positive response to the turmoil of our time. Living in the shadow of violence and terrorism, my thoughts of the future had too often been pervaded by pessimism: now I found myself endeavouring to write music of uplifting character, attempting to revive the springs of hope'.

He described it as 'my musical interpretation of the ideal of hope: within its notes I have tried to incorporate a spiritual message, an expression of my faith in mankind as well as my longing for racial and religious tolerance among all people'.

Once again Panufnik set out to reach his aim with the help of geometry, for as his symphonic output grew he appeared to want to challenge himself to reach greater structural achievements. The Sinfonia di Speranza, then, is in twelve 'arcs', as he details on his publisher's page.

Verdict

Despite the daunting prospect of a single, unbroken 40 minute span, I found this symphony to be the most satisfying in Panufnik's symphonic output. The long phrases are part of the reason for its success, because they draw out the music so that it becomes taut and intense. And yet Panufnik is also able to write what is essentially chamber music, including the harpsichord at the end of one section to add some ghostly counterpoint to the nervy activity.

The symphony begins with very broad strokes from the strings, moving at odds with the outbursts from the brass that provides more turmoil. However the sheer power of the strings' line carries all before it, rather like a long intonation and devotion – although you might not know exactly where it's going next the brass never shut it down.

Each of the sections proves equally dramatic. There are similarities to the Sinfonia Sacra in the conviction of the harmonic writing and surety of the long melody, but the voice of experience is now shining through more, and it feels that this is the work that captures Panufnik's overwhelmingly positive and resolute approach to his life.

Recordings and Spotify Links

The composer's recording with the BBC Symphony Orchestra can be heard here, while Lukas Borowicz conducts the Konzerthausorchester Berlin here, a recording helpfully broken down into sections.

Next up: Symphony no.10

Beneath the Surface - Panufnik centenary: Symphony no.8 (Sinfonia Votiva)

Introduction

There seems to be a paradox at work with the Sinfonia Votiva. On one hand Panufnik states that it is 'an abstract work without any programmatic content', but in the next paragraph he writes of how 'this symphony is dedicated to the Black Madonna of Czestochowa, the symbol for all Polish people of independence from invading powers, also of profound religious dedication'. The Black Madonna was the symbol of the Solidarity Movement in Poland, which eventually brought the Cold War to a largely peaceful close.

Perhaps aware that his complex geometrical designs were getting in the way of his ability to communicate, Panufnik chose a single circle and the number 8 as his inspirations for the Votiva. 'Seeking the architectural framework for this symphony, I created in my imagination a "mother diagram" - two large circles combined into a figure 8, which represent the two movements of the symphony, and which contain the more complex inner structures of the work.' These diagrams can be found on the website for the composer, www.panufnik.com. The two movements are very similar in construction as a result.

Verdict

Sinfonia Votiva has a pretty bleak beginning that inhabits a similar mood of introspection and impending dread as some of the Shostakovich wartime symphonies. It is however a very compelling and tense listen, and as the cold flute solo unwinds from the start, the strength of suppressed feeling is clear to hear. The icy strings add harmonies that now speak of a lifetime's experience, and the first movement ends in a mood of unfulfilled introspection.

All that changes with the second movement, which has more cut and thrust, suggesting an anger just beneath the surface but pushing forward with an irrepressible energy. As ideas are exchanged the music is revealed to have a strong depth of feeling, as though Panufnik is channeling his support for Solidarity with subtle strength.

I found the Sinfonia Votiva a tough nut to crack, but also found it the work to which I would like to return the most. It is a gripping piece of music, and the contrast between the cold and hot first and second movements is striking, one that warrants further exploration.

Recordings and Spotify Link

A taut account of the Sinfonia Votiva can be found with the Berlin Konzerthaus Orchestra conducted by Lukas Borowicz here

Next up: Sinfonia di Speranza

Beneath the Surface - Panufnik centenary: Symphony no.7 (Metasinfonia)

Introduction

There are a couple of works within Panufnik's symphonic output where the word 'symphony' can be rather loosely applied. The Sinfonia Concertante (no.4) is one such instance, while the Metasinfonia is another. The composer himself acknowledges this, writing that it 'could be considered as a kind of organ concerto, but I feel the title Metasinfonia more accurately depicts the form and character of the composition'. The idea of the 'organ symphony' is not a new one of course, with the famous Saint-Saëns work dating from 1886, and a lesser-known Twentieth Century equivalent completed by Copland in 1924.

Once again there is a carefully thought out structure to this work, as Panufnik explains. 'Both parts of the title, meta and sinfonia, each have equal significance. The prefix meta here relates to other words and ideas prefixed by meta - particularly metamorphosis, meaning change of shape, gradual transformation; the word sinfonia I used because the work has an extremely disciplined organic structure, even if its design goes rather far from the classical model'.

The symphonic arguments take place in one continuous movement, completed by Panufnik in 1978 for the Manchester International Organ Festival.

Verdict

Compositions for organ and orchestra often end up as a dramatic duel between the two forces, and Panufnik's Seventh Symphony is no exception, with plenty of thrills and spills. It begins with some very stern statements from the strings, which the organ responds to with big, dissonant chords – a lot of angst being worked out in the process. The string writing becomes increasingly divided, so that there are some very strong, twisted chords that make a powerful expression.

There is a dramatic intervention by high pitched timpani half way through, which leads to a quieter and much colder section, with macabre string sounds working around some ghoulish organ lines, rather like the soundtrack to a horror film.

Gradually the tension builds again until a powerful cadenza is unleashed around the 21 minute mark, the organ taking over – before an impressively wrought finish with the two forces uniting, and a rush of percussion to finish.

As the commentary implies, this is a more listener friendly work than the previous two symphonies.

Recordings and Spotify Link

Just the one recording of the Metasinfonia commonly available - and it is a vividly played version from organist Michael Oberaigner and timpanist Jorg Strodthoff, with the Konzerthausorchester Berlin conducted by Lukasz Borowicz on CPO. Coupled with the Eighth Symphony - the Sinfonia Votiva - it can be heard here

Next up: Sinfonia Votiva

Beneath the Surface - Panufnik centenary: Symphony no.6 (Sinfonia Mistica)

Introduction
'The title Sinfonia mistica reflects my deep fascination with the mystery and beauty of geometry', writes Panufnik, 'referring in this composition specifically to one figure which for me personally is a symbol of universal order and inner harmony.' His inspiration was not just geometrical, however. 'I wanted to convey to listeners some spiritual content, some contemplative and hidden messages by means of a meticulously structured framework, thought which I was trying to transcend the existing methods of composition.

The number SIX looms large everywhere – detailed in this entry on the Boosey & Hawkes website but there are no devilish connections, as far as we know. In the booklet notes to a fine new recording from the Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra and Lukasz Borowicz for CPO, Christoph Schlüren writes that Panufnik's account of the Sinfonia mistica's underlying structural principles 'reveals the composer entirely in his element, poised like a hermit between a medieval profession of faith and modern science'.

Panufnik completed the symphony in 1977, scoring it for a smaller orchestra of strings, double woodwind and two horns. Commissioned by the Northern Sinfonia, it was performed for the first time at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, London, in January 1978.

Verdict

Because of its geometric near-obsession, it is again difficult to separate the Sinfonia Mistica from the complicated reasoning behind its construction – so I found the best solution was to cast that aside and listen to the music.

Interestingly each of the six sections has tempo indications that begin with the word 'molto', which implies this will be a work of extremes. Sure enough, after a relatively serene introductory passage, the lower strings herald the start of something much more fractious, with repeated notes flung around the orchestra. This cuts to a slow and desolate section, before another set of repeated figures – this time three notes instead of two – is passed around the orchestra in staccato fashion. In fact the contrast between the sections becomes greater, so that the muffled fifth section is blown out of the water by a brightly scored finale, where again short staccato figures are the order of the day.

There is more rhythmic interest than melodic in this work, and because of that and the geometrical near-obsession, this is not the most immediately successful of Panufnik's symphonies – until you get to the end, where a forceful figure from the violins ensures an emphatic and extremely satisfying finish.

Recordings and Spotify link

The Sinfonia mistica is available in a recording from the Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra and Lukasz Borowicz - in vivid digital sound on CPO and on Spotify here

Next up: Metasinfonia

Beneath the Surface - Panufnik centenary: Symphony no.5 (Sinfonia di Sfere)

Introduction

Panufnik's symphonic output now has an explicit preoccupation with geometry – and for the Sinfonia di sfere of 1975 the composer drew a figure of the overall design, reproduced with thanks to his publisher Boosey & Hawkes:














If that looks remarkably complex, Panufnik offers a written explanation in addition. 'The title has no connection,' he says, 'with the philosophy of Pythagoras ("music of the spheres"), nor with astrology (unlike the planets which inspired Gustav Holst)' Instead, Sinfonia di sfere uses spheres of 'contemplative thoughts and emotions', or spheres that act as a framework 'enclosing meticulously organised musical material'. This was to become a preoccupation in further symphonic works, the need for a higher form of structure and organisation – and in this case, the hope that 'the listener might perhaps experience a kind of ascent into spheres of contemplative thoughts and feelings'.

Verdict

It is helpful to follow the diagram when listening to the Sinfonia di sfere, as I found it a more difficult work to listen to without it. For this is probably Panufnik's most experimental symphony, despite its seemingly rigorous structural control.

It is by some distance his most percussive, for the 'orchestral sphere' allows for 12 untuned drums to the orchestra, four to each player. In addition it contains solo roles for trumpet, horn, trombone and tuba. The percussive element is an eye-opener, because the massive rolling drums dominate the second, fifth and last of the nine sections. This in turn inspires the strings to drive forward purposefully, and the music has great momentum here.

Yet when the tempo subsides the mood is quite acerbic, as it is at the start, reprising some of the more awkward and fractious moments of the Sinfonia Sacra. This leads to a longer trombone solo that has quite a mournful tone. The third section is downbeat too, with the tuba to the fore.

In all truth this is the symphony I have struggled with the most so far, not on account of its form but its relative lack of motifs and melodies that are easy for the listener to cling on to. The Sinfonia di sfere is exciting for sure, but ultimately less satisfying.

Recordings and Spotify link

My references for the Sinfonia di sfere were two recordings - the Tampere Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by John Storgårds on the Ondine label, and the Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra under Lukasz Borowicz, part of the new CPO series. Both are excellent, though the Ondine version shades it just for the excellent recorded sound.

Next up: Sinfonia mistica