After several awe-inspiring recordings of music by the endlessly fascinating creativity of Grazyna Bacewicz, I’ll start this survey with 2 other female composers I’ve encountered recently which are not nearly as impressive. The first is easy to dispense with fairly quickly – orchestral works by British composer Eleanor Alberga (who was born in Jamaica), on a label I really like, resonus. I didn’t care for any of this music the first time through, but I began to appreciate it a bit more during a second listen. The title piece “Strata” is actually her recent (2022) attempt at a symphony (#1), which sounds much more like a planetary suite than a real symphony. It’s colorfully orchestrated and very programmatic, with movement titles such as “firmament”, “core”, “mantel”, etc. Throughout the piece, I hear some really good ideas which are initially interesting and spark the imagination, but are soon all but abandoned as she goes off in weird directions which fail to sustain one’s interest. The short 4th movement (“crust”) raises eyebrows though, with the incorporation of shouted vocalizations from the orchestral musicians, which seem contrived and intentionally gimmicky, and completely out of place in this mostly atmospheric music – especially in a work she deems a symphony. Moreover, at well over 36 minutes, the piece as a whole is certainly too long for its thematic material. As is the half-hour-long symphonic suite “Mythologies” from much earlier in her career (2000), which ends the program in much the same way. It’s curious how little her sound and style have changed (and/or developed) over the span of 22 years. And, frankly, it simply doesn’t capture the listener’s interest for very long and remains largely forgettable. The orchestral playing throughout is thoroughly committed and the recorded sound is excellent.
Another female British composer, Anna Clyne, has been gaining momentum lately with several YouTube concert videos of her current hit, “The Midnight Hour”. I like the piece and have a good recording of it with Sakari Oramo conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra on a 2020 collection of Clyne’s music on Avie entitled Mythologies. Marin Alsop also conducts one work on that CD (“Masquerade”), which I also enjoyed. So I thought it fitting to explore this composer further on a recent Naxos release of her music with Alsop conducting the Baltimore Symphony.
First, I found this release a little odd – starting with the cover. I’ll admit right up front I’m not a fan of Marin Alsop and have never understood her popular acclaim.1 And with that in mind, I was amused by her bumptious headshot pic on the front. Is there something wrong with her ear? Weird. More important is the source material Naxos assembled for this compilation. These recordings date from 2017, 2018 and 2021 – all but the first track coming from “live” performances in Baltimore. One wonders why they are just now seeing the light of day on CD. Whatever the reason, I found much of this music to be a bit amateurish, sounding exactly like what it is – on-demand products written to fulfill a commission – as opposed to truly inspired creations directly from the heart and soul.
Though the opening work, “Within Her Arms”, was not a commission – and is in fact a heartfelt memoriam Clyne composed after her mother passed away in 2008. The booklet tells us it has become her most performed work. It’s tender and very intimate, written for 15 string soloists. Unfortunately, it just feels too long. There simply isn’t enough thematic content or variety of mood or tone to hold one’s interest for the entirety of its 13-½ minutes. Maybe if this were half as long, it might have been much more captivating. But it goes on and on, tugging at our heartstrings, without ever really getting anywhere. As lovely as it is (and it’s sensitively played here, replete with silky string sound), it just never quite develops into something truly memorable.
“Abstractions for Orchestra”, commissioned by the Baltimore Symphony in 2016, is based on paintings from the Baltimore Museum of Art, and exhibits much more variety in its 5 sections. But here, the on-demand, paint-by-numbers element begins to reveal itself. I hear a certain formulaic methodology in its composition – from restlessly fluctuating broken chords and queasy string glissandos in the 2nd section; to scales up and down in the 4th; followed by arpeggios all around in the 5th. These creative devices are all dressed up with lots of busywork from every section of the orchestra, adorned with brilliant orchestration. This, along with vivid recorded sound, almost succeeds in distracting us from its lack of real creative substance. And as such, it’s pleasant enough – rather like listening to a run-of-the-mill film score.
This intrinsic temperament continues similarly in her 2020 Color Field, where colors are her inspiration rather than paintings. “Yellow” begins much like “Abstractions” does, and never really develops a distinctive voice. “Red” is energetic, resorting back to the use of scales up and down and everywhere, rather than actual thematic material, over a primitive, rudimentary rhythmic pulse propelled with bongos – sounding very much like an action/adventure movie soundtrack. “Orange” is more like “Yellow”, but with Minimalist roots and appealing hints of James Newton Howard’s score for the movie Signs – which I actually enjoyed the most of anything on the entire program. This music is all pleasantries, if not all true inspiration.
Oh, and in between is “Restless Oceans”, which bombards us with crude, primitive shouts from the orchestra members not unlike what we heard in that one section of Alberga’s “symphony”. But to be fair, Alberga incorporates it judiciously, whereas Clyne utilizes it profusely – which sounds even more contrived and gimmicky.2
I was surprised I didn’t enjoy this music more than I did, and wondered if it was the conducting or the music itself which caused me to feel this way about it. In the end, I came to the conclusion it’s both. In any event, this program is easy to listen to while dusting or cooking dinner. Many may find it enjoyable while relaxing with a glass of wine. But with a total playing time of only 52 minutes, there was plenty of room on the CD for something more – perhaps Clyne’s popular, aforementioned “The Midnight Hour”, which might have added something a bit more interesting to the program.
More uninteresting and uninspiring music comes from yet another British composer, Thomas Ades, who conducts a program from the Halle. In fact, it’s so bland, it doesn’t even seem to have any dynamics. I kept turning up the volume just to hear if they were still playing something. And nothing much ever seems to happen musically – particularly in the first two works on the program. “Shanty”, written for 15 string players, is executed with endless glissandi slippin’ and slidin’ from note to note, up and down and all around – which actually was making me queasy long before it was done. (It goes on like this for nearly 8 minutes. Good god.) “Dawn” is more melodic, with melancholy string harmonics and a plaintive flute tune over an incessant, plucking harp foundation.
I was particularly intrigued, however, with the 3rd piece on the program, “Man With Limp Wrist”, by British composer William Marsey (b. 1989). Hmm…is there a gay element to this?3 Looking at the individual movement titles would suggest there might be: “Bar Boy”, “The Texter”, “The After-Party”, “Three Friends”, etc. But disappointingly, the music itself suggests otherwise, and the program note tells us it’s actually inspired by a painting of the same name, of a somewhat folksy, homely, naked man (a reproduction of which is printed in the booklet.) Musically, it all sounds rather reserved and gentlemanly (though the opening is strangely eerie) – generating only the slightest hint of gaiety for our coquettish bar boy, who seems to be dancing a little Scottish jig for some reason. And there’s not even much liveliness as it continues. Even the after-party sounds like everyone is pretty pooped (and more than a little tipsy) after a night out, and the texter sounds sad about something. The three friends share a minute (literally) reminiscing about the evening, before the main title section takes us to the end. So perhaps I jumped to the wrong conclusions on this. Or perhaps not. Maybe he’s just shy. Regardless, this charming little suite is pleasant and amusing without being especially memorable. Nonetheless, it was the highlight of the entire program – such as it is.
Later in the program, we eventually hear a real fortissimo in the “Bell Canon” movement of Cartoon Sun by Oliver Leith (b. 1990). This ff comes unexpectedly out of nowhere and is not at all pleasant, but Ades does finally manage to draw some dynamics from the orchestra.4 The piece is laid out in three similar-sounding movements, but other than that one climax, it, too, just meanders along without ever really doing anything or getting anywhere. In this regard, Leith’s music tends to sound much like Ades’, and fails to generate much interest in what’s left of the program. As I was nodding off into a little slumber by the time I got to the last piece on the disc, what little I heard of Ades’ more substantial “Aquifer” sounded promising, so I may want to revisit that when I’m more alert. Throughout the disc, the playing is good and the recorded sound is fine – fairly innocuous, much like the music and musicmaking – all 68 minutes of it.
While I’m trying not to fall asleep getting through some of these recordings, I might as well make a quick mention of one which initially caught my eye with the potential for a fresh, youthful, invigorating program – American Folklore – played by the Yale Symphony Orchestra on Nimbus Alliance. But such was not the case – at least in the familiar works which come first on this disc. (This changes later on.) The playing is careful, refined and so thoroughly over-rehearsed, it loses a sense of spontaneity, let alone freshness. While on the face of it, this disc may not initially seem to fit with the theme of this survey (“uninteresting British music”), seeing British conductor William Boughton on the podium makes it perfectly appropriate to be included here, as he leaves his mark profoundly on the musicmaking. I’ve always thought of him as a boring conductor. (Remember all those ho-hum Nimbus recordings in the 90s? Yawn.) And now at 77 years old, he sounds even more so, and sadly, that’s exactly how I hear these youngsters play for him – at least in the 2 familiar works, which were recorded at the very end of Boughton’s 5-year tenure at Yale (2025). The orchestra plays fairly well, occasionally exposing their student origins. But how can they make Duke Ellington sound so unidiomatic and boring?5 And Copland so uneventful? And not just the playing, but the recorded sound too, which is rather bland and undynamic. And where oh where is the bass drum in Billy the Kid? It sounds like pounding on an empty cardboard box rather than a sf (as marked) on a big bass drum.
Musical involvement and recorded sound improve considerably as they continue the program with three contemporary works – two of which are premiere recordings, recorded at sessions 1-2 years earlier. “Rainbow Serpent” by Christopher Theofanidis is extremely nice, showcasing this orchestra’s surprisingly excellent string section. I wish they would have played the entire piece from which it is extracted (Dreamtime Ancestors). After this, we have a “symphonic fantasy” by British composer Bernard Rands, which has some nice things in it, but goes on interminably for over 21 minutes (!). Unfortunately, I lost interest long before it was done. (I might have been dozing again.) Finally, a substantial piece by African-American composer, Omar Thomas, written to honor the 9 souls who lost their lives during the domestic terrorist attack on the historic Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston in 2015. It is heartfelt and emotionally moving – though I could have done without the foot-stomping, vocals and clapping with tambourines in the central section, and even the somewhat grandiose sections (also with the orchestra singing) which follow. But the music builds to a fine climax and the ending itself is extraordinarily touching. This is undoubtedly a very impressive piece of music, and the playing (and singing) of it by this young orchestra is quite simply glorious. If only they had skipped the Ellington and Copland, which are distinctly meh in comparison, and played more new American music instead, this program overall might have been much more wonderful.
Speaking of meh (and boring), Simon Rattle offers up yet another of his usual run-of-the-mill concerts on a recent (2022) LSO SACD. Bernstein‘s “Prelude, Fugue and Riffs” and Stravinsky‘s “Ebony Concerto” are heard here in routine readings hardly worth the effort. Proper British refinement and lack of exuberance smother any life these delightful works might otherwise display under better direction. Indeed, I suspect these players would instinctively produce more lively readings without Rattle up there. The coupling, Golijov‘s “Nazareno”, in an arrangement by Gonzalo Grau for 2 pianos and orchestra – made at the request of the Labeque sisters, who play it here – is equally strait-laced and well-mannered. The recorded sound is smooth and lacks bite. Impossibly meh from beginning to end.
Finally Sir Arthur Bliss. I am very fond of some of his music and was interested to hear his ballet Miracle in the Gorbals on Chandos.6 It’s conducted by Michael Seal, who I thought was wonderful in the Chandos collection of orchestral music by the (now) late Adrian Sutton. This relatively neglected ballet is pleasant enough, but not nearly as appealing or memorable as his much more familiar Checkmate ballet – despite excellent playing and recorded sound here. The coupling, “Metamorphic Variations”, is not so pleasant. And curiously, the production goes to great pains proclaiming this to be the first recording of the complete score. The booklet goes into lengthy detail about the 2 little sections which were restored for this recording after having been excised from the original score by the composer. At first it all seems terribly interesting – exciting even – until one realizes these 2 sections are merely 2 short variations, making up barely 5 minutes of the 43-minute score. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal. And as the entire piece is steadfastly uninteresting, the inclusion of these 2 variations is inconsequential and doesn’t add enough to make the piece any less forgettable. The playing and recorded sound are exemplary.
In closing, I don’t mean to specifically pick on the Brits in this survey. I suppose it’s just coincidence that all the material on these CDs just happens to be from British composers, conductors and/or labels, so it was logical to lump them all together. While most of them are worth hearing maybe just once, considering the price of CDs these days, I wouldn’t consider any of them essential purchases.
1 She was conductor of the Colorado Symphony from 1993-2005, while I was living in Denver. And we all witnessed a decline in that orchestra during her tenure – enduring concert after concert of bluster, empty bravado and glossy superficiality – and precious little musical substance or insight. And that’s exactly what I hear from her on record.
2 Is this a thing now – crude shouting from the orchestra? This kind of nonsense is, frankly, insulting to professional orchestral musicians.
3 After all, Ades is openly gay. (I have no idea if Marsey is.)
4 I suspect they’re playing merely on auto-pilot, sight-reading these scores.
5 And why only 4 movements from River Suite?
6 I have on my shelf the 1999 Naxos recording of it, but have no memory of it.
