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Phillip T Young Recital Hall
June 6, 2018
"Messrs Bax, Ireland, Cyril Scott, Holst, Goossens, Vaughan Williams, Frank Bridge, Boughton, Holbrooke, Howells and the rest (imagine being able to remember offhand so many names of British composers turning out serious music in native styles of their own!!!)."
George Bernard Shaw, who first made his name as a music critic rather than a playwright, was writing in 1922, in the middle of the period sometimes known as the "English Musical Renaissance", a phrase probably first used, somewhat controversially, in Frank Howes's book of the same title in 1966. The period, roughly speaking, covers the first half of the twentieth century, from the breakthrough, in 1899, of Elgar's "Enigma" Variations to the beginning of the Second World War. Or, alternatively, includes those composers born between 1857 (Elgar) and 1913 (Britten).
It was a period during which the emphasis shifted from, in Ernest Newman's phrase, "music, made in England" to an identifiably English music, cognizant of, but not necessarily influenced by, Continental trends.
In recent years it has become possible to hear much of the lesser-known music from this era via recordings, but they are always a pale substitute for the real thing and nobody has done more to bring English String Music to life in the concert hall — certainly not, I would suggest, in Canada — than Yariv Aloni and the Galiano Ensemble.
It seemed appropriate, then, that their final concert should consist of four pieces by English composers, even if only two of them actually qualify as members of that English Musical Renaissance: Frank Bridge and Cecil Armstrong Gibbs; Sir Charles Hubert Hastings Parry predated them all, although he did teach quite a few, and Paul Lewis, having been born as (comparatively) recently as 1943, is, rather, an heir to their string orchestra legacy.
I am somewhat surprised that nobody seems to made a film about Helen, Countess of Radnor (1846-1929) who, among her other interests and accomplishments, ran her own chamber orchestra (although, with seventy-two [sic] players it seems rather large for the appellation) and commissioned music for them to play under her direction.
Parry's Lady Radnor Suite, which opened the evening, was one of those commissions; it was premiered in 1894 and consists of six movements, all with dance titles, like a baroque suite. Bach and Handel would have felt at home.
The performance demonstrated all the sterling qualities that we have come to know from Aloni and the Galianos over the years (and not just in English music): rich, full-bodied sound (even though, on this occasion, the ensemble contained just a dozen members), delicious solo work from section principals and a deep affinity for the sensibilities of the music itself.
I particularly enjoyed the Prelude, in the manner of a bracing country walk; the Slow Minuet, so slow that one actually had to concentrate to realise that it genuinely was in triple-time and the finale, even if its exuberance was more Jig than Gigue.
Paul Lewis made his name writing for television, but is of the opinion that every English composer should write a work for strings. His English Suite showed him to be firmly in the tradition.
The work opened (not unlike the Parry) with a striding march; the Meditation featured some gorgeous solo passages for violin, viola and cello and an ethereal close. His third movement was actually entitled Jig, quite aptly, and the finale, Jaunt, was precisely that and had some interesting shifts from four to three and back that were immaculately handled. The only time I felt Lewis's TV connections showed were in the third movement, when the harmonies tended not so much towards Hollywood, more Shepherd's Bush.
Cecil Armstrong Gibbs' A Spring Garland consists of five lovely miniatures, all named for flowers. Gibbs deserves to be better-known, as his music, while clearly part of its time, nevertheless has a definite personality of its own.
Again, the music was delightful and marvellously played. For some reason, here it was not the opening movement, but the finale — rather improbably dubbed Tulip — which had that brisk-stroll-through-an-English-meadow feel to it.
Finally, Frank Bridge's Suite for String Orchestra showed that he was far more than simply Britten's teacher and that he too had a distinct musical personality.
I loved the rich, complex and rhapsodic Prelude, the playful pizzicatos of the Intermezzo, the exquisite textures and lush sound of the Nocturne and the lively and confident finale.
The well-deserved standing ovation brought forth an encore: as Aloni pointed out, it was Irish music arranged by an Australian, although he did not mention that Percy Grainger also became a US citizen and bandsman in the US Army or that, if we insist on an Anglophile connection, the words to "Danny Boy" were actually written by an Englishman.
Of course, the English do eccentric better than almost any other nation and, in that sense, Percy fitted right in.
Grainger's Irish Tune from County Derry can often seem to walk that fine line between the profoundly affecting and the glutinously sentimental. On this occasion, need I add, it was the former which dominated and one sensed that the musicians, scarcely less than the audience, did not really want it to end.
An occasional of joy and sadness in almost equal measure. The Galianos will be greatly missed.
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