The title of this disc comes from the second song of Vaughan 
                  Williams’ adorable cycle to words by Robert Louis Stevenson, 
                  Songs of Travel. The songs were composed in 1904, but published 
                  later in two volumes in what seems to be an almost random order. 
                  Or rather, most of the songs were. The last song of the nine, 
                  which most touchingly sums up the whole cycle, was apparently 
                  withheld by the composer, and only discovered in 1960. With 
                  that song in place, and the others in the now-established order, 
                  the cycle is a most rewarding twentieth-century counterpart 
                  to such earlier “wanderer” cycles as Schubert’s Die Winterreise. 
                  
                  
                  Canadian baritone Joshua Hopkins gives a most satisfying performance 
                  of this lovely work. The tread of the opening is just right, 
                  though the change of tempo for the third verse will be more 
                  extreme than many collectors will be familiar with. The song 
                  that gives the disc its title is one of Vaughan Williams’ most 
                  beautiful utterances, and its tenderness is well brought out 
                  by these artists. There is no doubting the sincerity at the 
                  words “I will make you brooches and toys for your delight” in 
                  the third song, but I think some of the fantasy of the song 
                  is missing in this artist’s rather too direct approach. And 
                  here we have to evoke the competition. Every Vaughan Williams 
                  enthusiast has his or her favourite versions of this standard 
                  work, but the most striking of recent years was undoubtedly 
                  that by Bryn Terfel and Malcolm Martineau on DG. The very vividness 
                  of Terfel’s singing has divided opinion: he uses his voice to 
                  telling effect to illustrate the text, never at odds with the 
                  music, but perhaps going further than the composer intended. 
                  My own view is that Terfel’s reading is sublime, but I come 
                  to a performance such as this one with a certain relief to hear 
                  the songs sung in a simpler, less overtly sophisticated way. 
                  Even so, there can be no denying that Terfel makes more of the 
                  words than almost any singer one can name, and certainly more 
                  than Hopkins does in this third song. Hopkins is very successful, 
                  on the other hand, in the two love songs that follow – he is 
                  particularly successful with the intense pathos of “In Dreams” 
                  – and indeed in the rest of the cycle. He is ably accompanied 
                  by Jerad Mosbey, but Malcolm Martineau makes the small cross 
                  references from one song to another at once more obvious and 
                  more subtle. 
                  
                  Composed in 1998, Canadian composer Srul Irving Glick’s cycle 
                  is a real find. The anonymous insert note writer refers to the 
                  composer’s “highly personal and contemporary musical language”, 
                  but in truth the musical vocabulary is scarcely more advanced 
                  than that of Vaughan Williams, and lovers of the earlier cycle 
                  will not be shocked at the sound of this one. The title, Images 
                  of Canada, encapsulates the work very well. Many of these images, 
                  in words by Richard Outram, are of natural phenomena, but others, 
                  such as the breathless whirlwind in the final song, “Windmill”, 
                  are of man-made features too. The music is highly melodic and 
                  memorable, the piano writing particularly rich and sonorous, 
                  and I recommend this work, which I had never heard, to all lovers 
                  of song. 
                  
                  Paul Bowles the composer and Paul Bowles the author of The Sheltering 
                  Sky, amongst other works of fiction, were one and the same. 
                  His cycle Blue Mountain Ballads brings out very well the gently 
                  nostalgic humour of four short texts by Tennessee Williams. 
                  The songs also very well demonstrate his avowed intention, in 
                  writing vocal music, of “distorting speech the least amount 
                  possible.” The melodies are straightforward, very singable, 
                  and never overpower the words. The same might be said of the 
                  accompaniment. This does not lead to blandness; on the contrary, 
                  this short cycle is very entertaining. But it might be thought 
                  inconsequential, particularly the final song which, though fun 
                  in itself, is hardly conclusive in any real way. Joshua Hopkins 
                  seems to have the measure of these songs. One can perhaps imagine 
                  a slightly more unbuttoned style here and there, but with no 
                  direct comparison available, these seem very fine performances. 
                  A slight allowance has to be made for that uncomfortable feeling 
                  that always creeps in when a singer adopts a regional accent. 
                  
                  
                  Samuel Barber’s Three Songs, Op. 45 were composed in 
                  1972 for Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. All three songs are very 
                  fine, but the second, in particular, “A Green Lowland of Pianos”, 
                  a quirky, humorous evocation of events in the lives of “herds 
                  of black pianos”, is sweetly beautiful in typical Barber fashion. 
                  Hopkins and Mosbey bring great intelligence to their performance 
                  which, taken on its own terms, is a very satisfying one. Only 
                  when compared to that by Thomas Hampson and John Browning, in 
                  the complete survey of Barber’s songs that originally appeared 
                  on DG, does one note a certain want of tonal variety and expressiveness. 
                  Hampson is more authoritative, and inflects his voice in a way 
                  that brings the words – some of them quite difficult to follow 
                  – more vividly to life. Browning is magnificent too, brilliantly 
                  evoking the “gurgle” as the pianos stand “up to their knees 
                  in the mire”. 
                
William Hedley