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Fanfare

There has been precious little Malcolm Lipkin in the catalog, so it is good that this Divine Art release, titled Recollections, offers maximal value: a single compact disc coming in at nearly 84 minutes (just under an hour and a half in old money). Reviewing a Hyperion LP of Lipkin in Fanfare 9:6 (1986), John Ditsky found himself hankering for more. Yet there are only two entries on the Fanfare Archive in toto, the other a slip of a piece, In Memoriam John McCabe on A Garland for John McCabe (also on Divine Art, reviewed by myself in Fanfare 41:6, which shared the talents of recorder player John Turner with this disc). And irony of ironies, when this fully stocked disc does turn up, it includes a full reissue of the Hyperion LP (Clifford’s Tower, Pastorale, and String Trio). Remastering is by Paul Baily.

The Prelude and Dance of 1987 was composed as a tribute to Jacqueline du Pré, and it’s easy to hear how the grand gestures of the Prelude are influenced by her playing (the Prelude actually quotes from the work with which du Prè was most associated, the Elgar Cello Concerto). At nearly 10 minutes, this is no insubstantial piece; the “Dance” element has a wonderful sense of the motoric (almost Glass-meets-Hindemith at one stage in the piano). The idea of triumph over adversity, so poignant a part of du Pré’s life, forms part of the trajectory of the piece. Cellist Nicholas Trygstad and pianist Janet Simpson give a fabulous performance, full of life.

Written in 1982, Naboth’s Vineyard is a programmatic work based on the titular story from the Book of Kings in the Bible, a tale fueled by greed and murder. Two pairs of movements entitled “Dialogue” are separated by an “Interlude.” The God-fearing Naboth is portrayed by the muted cello, the scheming Jezebel via the harpsichord, and her husband King Ahab through three timbres of recorder (treble, tenor, and bass). The premise works so well because of Lipkin’s ability to convey that conversational element so well in music; this, plus the responsiveness of the present performance. The harpsichord is absent from the first “Dialogue” but offers sinister chords in the second, while later cello glissandos represent Naboth’s stoning (you can’t miss them; they depict not only anguish but, in their slowing, Naboth’s descent into death). The dissonant counterpoint of “Dialogue III” (the penultimate movement) is delicious, and deliciously done by the performers, too: it represents Jezebel’s celebratory dance. Only in the final “Dialogue IV” does Ahab receive any sort of justice, when he is berated by Elijah (represented by a now-unmuted cello). This is a fascinating piece; the scoring, particularly the recorder and cello elements, act as distancing agents (we are in the world of ancient myth, after all). The performance is miraculous, graphic in its depictions and superbly alive.

Scored for recorder, cello, harpsichord, and percussion, Interplay was written for the great Carl Dolmetsch to perform at London’s cherished Wigmore Hall on March 5, 1976. (Speaking of beloved, the percussionist at the premiere was James [Jimmy] Blades, who was known in my youth as something of a national treasure in England.) The original had a viola da gamba in the scoring, but the use of cello was sanctioned by the composer; the percussion used is the lovely combination of six timbrales, glockenspiel, and xylophone. The two movements contrast beautifully. It does the piece something of a disservice to report that the more active first movement is balanced by the slower second, as the first presents a variegated landscape. It also underplays the individuality of the piece; the scoring is both unique and effective. The second movement’s desolation is occasioned via the many solo lines. A memorable passage is scored for harpsichord and timbrales. Percussion is used sparingly and effectively; all credit is due to David Corkhill for his contribution in this regard. Lipkin’s scoring for recorder and blanched, high cello likewise is superbly effective and brilliantly realized by Turner and Trygstad.

For solo recorder, The Journey (2016) is a tribute to John McCabe and was premiered by the present performer in Manchester. The title refers to the journey of life, the music’s sense of onward movement being representative of this. It is quite a haunting piece, and here acts as huge contrast to the ensemble opening to Clifford’s Tower, which initiates the final part of the recital, for ensemble. Here the performer is the great Nash Ensemble. Composed in 1977 for wind quintet and string trio, the piece was inspired by a 12th-century piece of writing by William of Newbury that described the massacring of the Jewish population of the city of York, which had taken refuge in the Clifford’s Tower of the work’s title. Many committed pre-emptive suicide; the rest, including women and children, were slaughtered. Fear is graphically depicted in the first section through angular lines and disjunct rhythms; Jewish music can be heard in the musical material. After this passage (marked “into darkness”), there is a string threnody. Lipkin’s use of “frozen” chords is most effective, as is the way he prepared the ground for the horn melody that opens the “Hymn to Peace” finale. The work is tremendous, cogently structured and brilliantly scored. All credit is due to the classic line-up of the Nash Ensemble for achieving a performance that surely could not be bettered—hardly a surprise when one looks at the line-up: Gareth Hulse on oboe, Judith Pearce, flute, Michael Collins on clarinet, Marcia Crayford on violin, and Christopher Van Kampen on double bass, amongst other familiar names. A rollcall of the great and good of the UK music scene of the early to mid-1980s. The cherry on top of the cake is that the producer is Andrew Keener (having personally seen him at work on a number of occasions, I know exactly how accurate his ear is). This is the most haunting work on the disc; it is a major musical statement.

By contrast, Pastorale (composed in Finzi’s music room) for horn and strings is a deliciously evocative miniature in the English Pastoral tradition. Apparently composed in a single day, it was premiered by a young David Cripps in 1964, conducted by Christopher Finzi (Gerald Finzi’s eldest son). Here it is heard in the composer’s own arrangement for horn and string quintet, with John Pigneguy as the eloquent soloist.

Lipkin’s String Trio dates from the same period (1963–64); it boasts a taut first movement (the throbbing bass gives it an underpinning of tension, as do the staccatissimo rapidly repeated chords) that takes us into a different world. Repetition of fragments frequently creates an ominous effect (the cello figures prominently in this). At over eight minutes, the music creates a plateau of barely contained tension; when joy tries to break free, it is silenced by tremolos. The Scherzo is one of the finest pieces of writing on the disc, the dancing strings reflecting the tempo marking of Allegretto capriccioso. Playful pizzicato contrasts and teasing crescendos form a part of what seems initially a carefree landscape; but a pulsating bass against high violin sustained notes shows all is not quite so happy-go-lucky as one might have hoped (the string staccato from the Nash players is magnificent). But the “Canzona” third movement is the one that really shines with inspiration. When there is an intertwining duet for violin and viola underpinned by pizzicato cello, the effect is both hypnotic and magical. A theme and variations forms the finale, with the theme resolutely intoned by cello. The variation in fast octaves is performed with miraculous accuracy; the sheer drive of the next variation remarkable, while a rather more disembodied variation (almost like Stravinsky’s “white” music in effect, if not in harmonic language) is utterly remarkable. The booklet notes by Andrew Burn are full and knowledgeable (English-only booklet notes mean there is more space to give background). Despite the somewhat drab cover, this is a revealing portrait of a composer whose name should be better known; lovers of English music will not be disappointed.