REVIEW: Steve Crowther’s verdict on The 24, Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, University of York, November 22

Conductor Sarah Latto

THE core of this wonderfully programmed concert was the sensuous, perhaps even erotic text of the Song Of Solomon.

The poem celebrates love in an invitational courtship: two lovers singing to each other, desiring each other. They are in harmony in a God-free narrative that celebrates humanity.

This was particularly striking in Raffaella Aleotti’s setting of Ergo flos campi where the two lovers take the form of two unequal choirs. The energetic antiphonal exchanges were beautifully delivered by the singers.

The24’s concert opened with Flemish composer Clemens non Papa’s setting of the same text. This was a refined, controlled performance where the weaving of the seven-part setting was delightful. The balance was impeccably judged.

I was going to mention the striking high versus low setting of the ‘lily between thorns’, but as it was highlighted in the programme notes I’ve decided not to bother. I really enjoyed the ebb and flow of Hildegard of Bingen’s Flos Campi. The musical experience was undoubtedly spiritual.

James MacMillan’s setting of Robert Burns’ The Gallant Weaver was a secular musical match made in heaven. The work is brimming with the distinctive influence of Scottish folk music – the rich ornamental inflections or decoration was delightfully executed, as well as Gaelic Psalmody.

The overall effect was generally peaceful; the voicing was inspired with triple soprano divisions and gentle hanging dissonances that were exquisite. The only issue I had was the exposed bass and tenor setting of the words ‘the gallant weaver’, which jarred. Sir James, I suspect, not the choir.

The 24: “Radiating warmth and joy”

I personally find Morrissey a charmless, narcissistic individual, but there is no doubting his ability as a songwriter and performer. I really like The Smiths’ There Is A Light That Never Goes Out (written by him and guitarist Johnny Marr), and I found this arrangement by Sarah Latto and the performance itself quite sublime. It was so touching, tender and respectful.

There is much to admire in John Barber’s Song Of Songs (commissioned by The Sixteen); the intricate weaving of the musical lines, lovely ornamentation and music that rhythmically danced. But I failed to engage with the work. Not even the funky ostinato of Love Is As Strong As Death or the splendid singing in By Night could revitalise that movement’s blandness.

Unlike Judith Weir’s Vertue; a very fine performance of a very fine work. Weir’s music always shines brightly, and this was no exception. Alex Kyle made a guest appearance to conduct Schütz’ Ego Dormio; the direction was assured and the performance highly rewarding.

Kerry Andrew’s CoMa Blues was a welcome change of musical gear. The composer has forged her own clearly distinctive voice, and this short theatrical performance was spot-on.

One of the concert highlights was Victoria’s Trahe Me Post Te. It is such a delight to immerse oneself into this velvety chocolatey sound world of absolute luxury. Especially when the performance, under the inspirational direction of conductor Sarah Latto, is as polished as this.

The programme concluded with Philip Glass’s Quand Les Hommes Vivront d’Amour. This attractive work is a hymn to universal love and the responsibility that goes with it, a somewhat timely message needed right here and right now.

It had all the hallmarks of Glass’s radical, and it is indeed radical, style: effective, almost hypnotically driven motor rhythms, repetitive patterns, breathing dynamic phrasing. The performance radiated warmth and joy, a great way to sign off, to say goodnight.

Review by Steve Crowther

REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Late Music: Ian Pace, Unitarian Chapel, York

Ian Pace: Tireless campaigner for composers of the past 100 years

Late Music: Ian Pace, Xenakis Centenary Concert, Composers With A Side Hustle, St Saviourgate Unitarian Chapel York, 1/4/2023

OSTENSIBLY a Xenakis centenary celebration, this recital had an intriguing sub-title: Composers With A Side Hustle. All six of the composers involved had day jobs until music took over. Xenakis himself was a professional architect working with Le Corbusier in Paris.

Ian Pace has been a tireless campaigner for composers of the past hundred years, including music that is barely dry on the page. He has appeared regularly in the Late Music series in York for over two decades.

He opened with Xenakis’s Mists (1980), a collection of cameos in which his staccato touch maintained immense clarity, even amongst the busiest of textures, often at the top of the keyboard.

A much earlier work, Chansons I-VI (1950-1), written when music was still a sideline for him, found Xenakis in lyrical vein and still strongly influenced by music of his Romanian childhood and Greek parentage. All the songs had a French tinge, boasting a certain joie de vivre when not reflective. Pace invested their melodies with pleasing immediacy.

Completing his Xenakis tribute, Pace gave the composer’s homage to Ravel, À.r. (1987), a virtuoso flourish to end a stimulating evening.

In between, we visited four American composers as well as our own James Williamson. Philip Glass (cab driver and plumber) wrote Knee Play 4 as a piano transcription of one of the five linking intermezzos from his opera Einstein On The Beach. It was both tonal and minimal, but Pace found a way to bring out its inner voices.

Morton Feldman’s (clothes manufacturer) Extensions 3 was extremely delicate, toying with the limits of audibility until its crashing closing chords.

Minimalism is also a stimulus in the work of Williamson (insurance claims handler), as heard here in his new Neon (2023). Tiny changes in repeating motifs in the centre of the piano were mesmeric, until twice interrupted by loud, separated chords which were like blobs of colour on the canvas. Each time the opening recurred, it brought illumination, although it was more like moonlight than anything gassy like neon. What’s a title anyway?

Pace filled out his programme with an amusing potpourri of Charles Ives (insurance agent), arguably the forefather of all the Americans here. It included a Bach-style invention, a solemn chorale and a parody of salon music, all given nicely tongue-in-cheek.

Finally, there was John Cage (graphic designer and mycologist). In his minimalist Satie-inspired In A Landscape (1948), Pace picked out its two melodies from the subtly shifting accents. Yet again he had proved an invaluable missionary for music that might otherwise be forgotten.

Review by Martin Dreyer

REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Abel Selaocoe/Jess Gillam, Ryedale Festival

Abel Selaocoe: “Vivid imagination is more than matched by the versatility with which he puts it into play”

Ryedale Festival: Abel Selaocoe, Birdsall House, Birdsall; Jess Gillam Ensemble, St Peter’s, Norton, both July 22

THURSDAY brought two of the musical world’s most engaging characters to Ryedale. Say the name “Abel”and you can only mean the cellist Abel Selaocoe. Similarly with “Jess”, which has to be saxophonist Jess Gillam.

Both are early in their careers, have rocketed to fame and are setting new trends. Essentially this means that you go to hear them, rather than looking to see what they intend to play. So the music becomes less important than the musician. Nothing wrong with that.

Abel’s appearance in the morning covered a whole gamut of genres, crossing boundaries with the flick of a bow. He is a man whose vivid imagination is more than matched by the versatility with which he puts it into play.

He began and ended with improvisations strongly flavoured by his South African background – singing, Sprechgesang, growling throat-song, Xhosa clicks and, yes, cello, including percussive effects. He constantly surprises, which is all part of the fun.

But he also played two movements from a Bach solo suite, which were frankly mesmerising. He threw in plenty of rubato, but it all seemed to fit. Bach would have loved it.

Elsewhere he was gamely supported by the piano of Benjamin Powell, as in Macmillan’s Kiss On Wood, where the early dissonances dissolved into an ethereal contemplation, exactly as they should in a piece inspired by the Good Friday versicle Ecce Lignum Crucis.

Shchedrin’s In The Style Of Albéniz was well geared to Abel’s flashier side and none the worse for that. We could sit back and admire his – and Powell’s – virtuosity. There really seemed to be something of the Spaniard in them both.

Giovanni Sollima’s Lamentatio may be becoming a little hackneyed but it is always a tear-jerker when played like this, soulful and plaintive at its close. It just proved once again what a chameleon Abel is. You cannot but be inspired by his enthusiasm.

Jess Gillam: “Used a soprano saxophone, which sounded much like a full-bodied clarinet since she used no vibrato”. Picture: Robin Clewley

In her evening appearance, Jess was joined by seven other musicians – a string quintet (including double bass), a xylophonist doubling on marimba, Elsa Bradley, and a pianist, Leif Kaner-Lidström. For almost the whole programme, she used a soprano saxophone, which sounded much like a full-bodied clarinet since she used no vibrato.

In an arrangement of Alessandro Marcello’s Oboe Concerto, with the five strings in support, she delivered a gorgeous slow movement, its long lines yielding easily to her breath control, and was contrastingly sprightly in the finale. John Harle’s Flare was an exciting compendium of sax effects (Harle was a player himself), which involved the ensemble in clapping, alongside frenetic whirls and cross-rhythms.

She had set the scene with a Meredith Monk solo, Early Morning Melody, evoking sunrise. Elsewhere she seemed to be in thrall to minimalism. No harm in a little Philip Glass – here a piece intended for saxophone, Melody No 10. One or two other works were pale imitations that verged on “easy listening”.

 Bjork’s gently jazzy Venus As A Boy was pleasing. Jess reserved most of her true personality until the end. In an arrangement of Piazzolla’s Histoire du Tango, she first rocketed around the spectrum, then turned wistful and lilting, before a no-holds-barred ending that screeched erotically.

A little more of this kind of variety might have enlivened the programme still further. But she picks her support wisely: they shadowed her every step of the way.

Review by Martin Dreyer