David BEDFORD 
	  Song of the White Horse also featuring Star Clusters,
	  Nebulae & Places in Devon 
	   Nash Ensemble & Queens
	  College Choir conducted by Steuart Bedford, with Mike Ratledge and David
	  Bedford, keyboards, soloist Diana Coulson (Song of the White Horse) / Chorus
	  and Brass of the London Philharmonic Orchestra (Star Clusters
) * produced
	  and engineered by Mike Oldfield
 Nash Ensemble & Queens
	  College Choir conducted by Steuart Bedford, with Mike Ratledge and David
	  Bedford, keyboards, soloist Diana Coulson (Song of the White Horse) / Chorus
	  and Brass of the London Philharmonic Orchestra (Star Clusters
) * produced
	  and engineered by Mike Oldfield 
	   Classicprint CPVP011CD
	  * [48:52]
 Classicprint CPVP011CD
	  * [48:52]
	  Purchase direct
	  http://www.voiceprint.co.uk/index.htm
	  
	  
	   
	  
	  David Bedford is a composer with a foot in at least two camps. Born in 1937,
	  he studied at the Royal College of Music under Lennox Berkeley, in Venice
	  with Luigi Nono and at the RAI Electronic Music Studio in Milan. A contemporary
	  composer with the reputation to have Radio 3 devote a whole 105 minute programme
	  of late night broadcasting to his works in 1998, he is also a musician whose
	  collaborations with Tubular Bells rock-composer Mike Oldfield span
	  three decades, and who seems to be comfortable on that edge where progressive
	  rock has ambitions to orchestral seriousness. In conjunction with Kevin Ayers
	  of Soft Machine Bedford combined rock with acoustic music (their band
	  was Whole World).
	  
	  Star's End was perhaps the most acclaimed piece to come out of this
	  period, and is just one of several to reveal Bedford's interest in the celestial
	  lights: other works include A Dream of the Seven Lost Stars (1964-5)
	  , Music for Albion Moonlight (1965), The Tentacles of the Dark
	  Nebula (1969), The Sword of Orion (1970) Some Stars Above Magnitude
	  2.9 (1971), Twelve Hours of Sunset (1974), Ocean Star a Dreaming
	  Song (1981), Of Stars, Dreams and Cymbals (1982), An Island
	  in the Moon (1985-6). Given that Mike Oldfield has released a concept
	  album based upon Arthur C. Clarke's Songs of Distant Earth, it is
	  perhaps no surprise to discover that Bedford is currently at work on an oratorio
	  based upon the same novel. Which brings us to this current disc, produced
	  and engineered by Mike Oldfield, and Star Clusters, Nebulae & Places
	  in Devon for mixed chorus and brass (1971).
	  
	  The choir is divided in two. Choir one sings a text comprised of nothing
	  but the names of star clusters and nebulae. Choir two, a text which is simply
	  a list of place names in Devon (and progressive rock fans might like to note
	  that one of them is Yes Tor, the feature which helped inspire the name of
	  the 1978 album by the band Yes.) The only point of connection seems to be
	  that there are many Bronze age remains in Devon, such that (the anonymous
	  programme note, presumably written by the composer, explains), "When the
	  hut-circles of the Bronze Age people were in daily use, roughly three and
	  a half thousand years ago, the Globular Star Cluster in Hercules shone out
	  as they slept." To which I have to add, "so what!" The writer further tells
	  us, "When we look at it though a telescope, we are seeing exactly the
	  same light as shone out over the Bronze Age people, for the cluster is
	  some three and a half thousand light-years away and that is when the light
	  started on its long journey to us." (my italics). Of course, the light that
	  shone out over the Bronze Age people is not exactly the same light we see
	  three and a half thousand years later. The light the Bronze Age people saw
	  began its journey seven thousand years ago
	  
	  The whole concept strikes me as pretentious and pointless, and I am afraid
	  the music impresses me little more than the idea behind it. It seems typical
	  of late 60's experimental music, the concept given more value than the ears
	  of the unfortunate listener. The actual names in the text are so fragmented
	  into sung chords as to be unrecognisable, the result being a dissonant choral
	  sound almost certainly inspired by a viewing of 2001: A Space Odyssey
	  (1968) and the music therein by Ligeti, while the agitated brass at times
	  seems as if it may even have had an influence upon John Williams in his writing
	  for Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977). The range of bizarre
	  vocal textures Bedford achieves is certainly accomplished, but in the end
	  it all sounds rather too much like the music from some very dark and unsettling
	  horror film, and I would happily never hear it again. The recording is vivid,
	  but there is some occasional peak distortion on the left channel which is
	  not really acceptable in a 1999 studio production.
	  
	  The Song of the White Horse (1978) is in five sections but plays in
	  one continuous track running 24 minutes. Written for an edition of the BBC
	  series Omnibus, it is a musical evocation of the Ridgeway footpath
	  between Wayland's Smithy (beyond the Bronze Age to a Stone Age burial chamber)
	  and the old chalk hill feature, the White Horse of Uffington. Opening with
	  lugubrious electronic keyboards, soon joined by static woodwind, the atmosphere
	  evoked is not so distant from Bernard Herrmann's Journey to the Centre
	  of the Earth (1959) film score. After this beginning, much use is made
	  of delay effects, particularly on the trombones, combined with a comical
	  ship's siren effect which proves to be the composer blowing into The Blowing
	  Stone at the bottom of White Horse Hill. Then at 9:27 the song itself begins,
	  first with a solo vocal, soon joined by an uncannily detached and tranquil
	  children's choir. The words, taken from The Ballad of the White Horse
	  by G.K. Chesterton certainly offer more substance than those of Star
	  Clusters
 In-fact, there are an awful lot of word to get though
	  in this epic tale of 'the days of (King) Alfred'. Unfortunately the music
	  is insufficient to maintain the interest as the choir wades its way steadily
	  forward, while some of the synthesiser lines seem terribly dated. This central
	  section lasts over ten minutes and does nothing but accelerate, becoming
	  increasingly frenzied with the addition of more instruments. Ravel's
	  Bolero, it is not. The Postlude, sung like the opening, by Diana Coulson,
	  has an otherworldly appeal, but is insufficient to justify what has come
	  before. At half the length this might be quite an interesting piece, but
	  stretched so far it is simply too much of not enough.
	  
	  Reviewer 
	  
	  Gary S. Dalkin
	  
	  