Clyne: Mythologies (CD Review)

Jennifer Koh, violin; Irene Buckley, voice; Marin Alsop, Sakari Oramo, Andrew Litton, and André de Ridder conductors; BBC Symphony Orchestra. Avie AV2434.

By Karl W. Nehring

One of the many exciting and rewarding aspects of the classical music hobby is discovering recordings by composers with whom you are not familiar. Over the past year or so this has been my experience with the remarkable music of the British-born composer Anna Clyne (b. 1980), who now resides in upstate New York. Having discovered some performances of her music on YouTube, I had hoped to find more of her music on CD and was pleased to be able to review her cello concerto, titled “Dance,” which was paired on a previous Avie release with a fine performance of the Elgar Cello Concerto (https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2020/08/clyne-dance-cd-review.html). The good folks at Avie have subsequently followed up that fine release with Mythologies, an all-Clyne program featuring five orchestral works that she composed between 2005 and 2015.

All of the performances are by the BBC Symphony Orchestra and all were recorded in live concert. The program opens with a brief (4:57) but rousing curtain-raiser conducted by Marin Alsop. Masquerade opens with a bang and a flourish, the whole orchestra joining in the fun with swirling strings, pounding percussion, and swirling brass. Then comes a big theme, sounding like the main title theme from a grand Hollywood western. There are brief dance-like sequences, the piece feeling like a mad, feverish dream culminating in a big finish with brass, strings, and percussion -- a lot of excitement packed into just under five minutes.

Next up is This Midnight Hour, conducted by the BBC Symphony Orchestra’s Chief Conductor, Sakari Oramo. It opens with a churning motif in the lower strings, soon overlaid with contributions from the woodwinds and brass while the percussion section adds drama to the sound. On her website, Clyne writes that “the opening to This Midnight Hour is inspired by the character and power of the lower strings of L'Orchestre national d'Île de France [who gave the premier performance]. From here, it draws inspiration from two poems. Whilst it is not intended to depict a specific narrative, my intention is that it will evoke a visual journey for the listener.” Given the title, it seems appropriate that as the performance unfolds we hear a spooky melody from the clarinet followed by ominous-sounding contributions from brass and tympani. As the music continues to develop, we hear some more movie-music sounds, a waltz rhythm, and more churning in the lower strings. Finally, as we get closer to the finish line, the music becomes quieter for a minute or so before erupting once again at the very end, punctuated by the sound of the bass drum.

Oramo also conducts the next piece, titled The Seamstress, which features the violin of Jennifer Koh. Something of a non-virtuosic violin concerto, the piece also features the voice of Irene Buckley whispering lines from a poem by Yeats. The way the voice is blended in is rather spooky, especially as it first enters with little breaths and sighs that suddenly appear of out sonic nowhere, jumping at times from channel to channel. To be honest, the inclusion of the voice strikes me as one of those ideas that may have been effective in an actual live concert, but can be distracting on a recording, especially upon repeated listening. In any event, Buckley’s voice is recorded as a whisper, which helps keep it from overly distracting from the music itself, which often features folk-sounding melodies and is really quite appealing overall, squarely in the English tradition of composers such as Ralph Vaughan Williams, but with a 21st-century sensibility.

Another poem, Night Ferry by the Irish poet and Nobel Laureate Seamus Heaney, provides the inspiration and title for the next work on the program, in a performance conducted by Andrew Litton. From the program notes on her website, Clyne explains that “Night Ferry is music of voyages, from stormy darkness to enchanted worlds. It is music of the conjurer and setter of tides, the guide through the ‘ungovernable and dangerous.’ Exploring a winding path between explosive turbulent chaoticism and chamber lyricism, this piece weaves many threads of ideas and imagery. These stem from Riccardo Muti’s suggestion that I look to Schubert for inspiration as Night Ferry will be premiered with Entr'acte No. 3 from Rosamunde and his Symphony No. 9 (Great). The title, Night Ferry, came from a passage in Seamus Heaney’s “Elegy for Robert Lowell,” an American poet who, like Schubert, suffered from manic depression:

‘You were our Night Ferry
thudding in a big sea,
the whole craft ringing
with an armourer's music
the course set wilfully across
the ungovernable and dangerous.'"

After the quiet ending of the previous cut, the drum bang that opens Night Ferry heralds a different mood. This ferry ride is no quiet, romantic cruise on a moonlit night, but rather a perilous journey through storm-swept waters, the blackness of the sky above and waters below illuminated only intermittently by flashes of lightning. Clyne illustrates the scene vividly with swirling strings above and pounding drums below. There are some brief interludes where the storm loses its ferocity, but the music then again rises in intensity as the storm begins to rage again as the mysterious voyage late at night continues. At about 15 minutes into the musical voyage, we encounter the terrific pounding of the bass drum, recalling for some of us the audiophile passages of Telarc recordings of days past. But then there is some calm, with soft melodies in the woodwinds. As we near the end of our night voyage and stare to see the harbor lights, the music takes on a more ominous tone, with the tempo slowing. We begin to feel that the storm may be ready to rage again before we can safely dock, but the music fades peacefully as we reach the end of our perilous journey.

The album concludes with <<rewind<<, conducted by André de Ridder. Clyne describes this piece as “inspired by the image of analog video tape rapidly scrolling backwards with fleeting moments of skipping, freezing and warping.” Hmmmmm. I don’t know about you, but for me, that is not exactly a description that really whips up my desire to hear such a composition. Thankfully, however, the music itself is much more enjoyable than that description might lead us to believe. Once again, the music begins with a vigorous drumbeat and continues with a strong sense of motion and drive. As the music continues and the tape rewinds, that Telarcian bass drum again makes a cameo appearance, but we also encounter some lovely violin. The music builds up to a rousing ending that features quite a jolt.

Considering that the recording sessions for the music took place in two different venues (Barbican Hall for all but Masquerade, which was recorded in the Royal Albert Hall) in different years ranging from 2011 (<<rewind<<) to 2018 (This Midnight Hour) by several different engineering teams, the overall sound quality is remarkably consistent, a testament to the large body of recording work done by the BBC with their orchestra. They have the experience to know what works best and they strive for consistent quality. This may not be the very finest audiophile sound, but it is very good indeed.

Overall, this is a wonderful recording of music by a composer who deserves wider recognition. I fervently hope that more recordings of music by Ms. Clyne will be forthcoming, as she has a vivid imagination and a wondrous talent for orchestration. Brava!

Bonus Recommendation: Although it might help, you would not need to be a big fan of British music to enjoy the music of William Alwyn (1905-1985). Although he is virtually unknown in the United States, he was quite a prolific composer, with five symphonies, four operas, several concertos, chamber music, piano music, and something like 200(!) film scores to his credit. He was a virtuoso flautist who played in the London Symphony Orchestra for a time and was involved in organizing musicians, teaching composition, and evaluating scores for possible presentation by the BBC. His music is modern-sounding, yet quite “listenable.”

The Naxos catalog contains a good sampling of Alwyn’s music, including all five of his symphonies, all five of which are excellent compositions deserving of a wider audience. The recordings are spread over three CDs featuring the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra led by David Lloyd-Jones. Naxos 8.557648 includes Symphonies Nos. 1 and 3. No. 1 begins with a barely audible opening hush that blossoms into a full-scale symphony of four movements. The orchestration is masterly, and you can get a sense of why Alwyn was called upon so often to compose movie scores. Not that the music sounds like film music, but rather because the orchestration is so colorful and effective. No. 3 is more intense and focused, with insistent rhythms that at times yield to lushly lyrical passages of quiet beauty. Only after enjoying many hearings of this work did I read how Alwyn had employed something of a 12-tone technique, using eight notes for the first movement, the remaining four for the second movement, and then all 12 for the finale. For those who associate 12-tone composition with impenetrable dissonance, this work will be quite an ear-opener. Well worth a listen!

KWN

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below: