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             Prospero’s Isle James Francis BROWN 
              (b. 1969) 
              
              Piano Quartet (2004) [17:03] (a)  
              Violin Sonata (2001, rev. 2003) [20:13] (b)  
              Prospero’s Isle (2006, rev. 2007) [14:32] (c)  
              String Trio (1996) [22:40] (d)  
                
              Tamás András (violin) (a); Sarah-Jane Bradley (viola) (a, d); Gemma 
              Rosefield (cello) (a, c, d); Katya Apekisheva (piano) (a, b); Jack 
              Liebeck (violin) (b, d); Nicola Eimer (piano) (c)  
              rec. 27-28 July 2008, Concert Hall, Wyastone Leys, Gwent, UK (a, 
              b, c) and 17-18 November 2008, Henry Wood Hall, London (d). DDD 
               
                
              GUILD GMCD7354 [74:30]   
              
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                  Alan Mills, writing in the booklet, suggests that James Francis 
                  Brown’s work “will possibly remind some listeners of a certain 
                  type of mainstream English music in the 20th century – and composers 
                  such as Vaughan Williams, Ireland or even Finzi.” His essay 
                  also makes much of the fact that today’s composers are no longer 
                  afraid of writing tonal music. That said, and accepted, anyone 
                  expecting this composer’s music to sound like one of those evoked 
                  above is, I think, in for a surprise.  
                   
                  The earliest music on the disc is the String Trio from 
                  1996. The composer evokes Beethoven in connection with this 
                  work, which features a short Beethoven quotation. Beethoven 
                  certainly comes to mind when one hears the strongly rhythmic 
                  opening theme played over constant, rushing semiquavers. Much 
                  of this first movement continues in this vigorous vein, though 
                  the second theme is calm and returns at the close. The second 
                  movement is a set of six variations, opening in sunny mood before 
                  clouds gather. The final variation returns to the mood of the 
                  opening. It is the shortest of the six, perhaps just too short 
                  to be as adequate a summing up as the composer probably intended. 
                  The work is nonetheless expertly written for the medium, with 
                  no dryness of texture, and the listener is eager to return to 
                  it.  
                   
                  The three-movement Violin Sonata begins with a dramatic 
                  and highly chromatic opening gesture from both instruments, 
                  leading to a series of contrasted episodes. The music, often 
                  beguilingly melodious, sometimes comes to a halt which one could 
                  take as the end of the movement, but then sets off again on 
                  another tack. The Presto requires virtuoso playing from both 
                  instrumentalists, and its central section, with repeated quavers 
                  in the violin part is strikingly lovely. The finale is one long 
                  song, restlessly moving towards what is, undoubtedly, a kind 
                  of resolution, the very end of the work being undeniably effective. 
                  The composer’s notes, however, tell us that the work was originally 
                  three separate pieces that became “increasingly related to each 
                  other” during composition. Striking, brilliantly written and 
                  often very beautiful though the music is, I think it shows. 
                   
                   
                  The Piano Quartet opens with huge energy amid much hammering 
                  and sawing, expressions I use descriptively and with no pejorative 
                  intent. The second subject is in total contrast, and made me 
                  think of Tippett. Then there is a certain “busyness” to much 
                  of the music that might put the listener in mind of Hindemith. 
                  The musical language is skilfully employed throughout, often 
                  highly chromatic, yet moments of repose – and, in this case, 
                  the whole work – coming to rest on a simple major chord do not 
                  seem incongruous. The composer analyses the work, which is in 
                  a single movement, as a sonata form structure with an extended 
                  coda. One can hear the two “subjects” plainly enough, but there 
                  is much less sense of a development section, and very little 
                  feeling of arrival for the recapitulation, which in any event 
                  the composer says is “substantially reorganised and re-interpreted.” 
                  The musical ideas are striking and often beautiful, but I don’t 
                  always feel I know where I am in the piece, nor where the music 
                  is taking me. Nor do I think the rather splashy coda quite comes 
                  off, but all credit to Brown for not being afraid of writing 
                  a decisive close.  
                   
                  Of Prospero’s Isle, for cello and piano, the composer 
                  writes “…it was not exclusively the magical aspects of the play 
                  that attracted me, for The Tempest is also a study of 
                  power and mastery over people, events, even the very elements 
                  of nature. It is tempting as a composer to see parallels with 
                  the organisation and control over the elusive substance of music.” 
                  I confess to being somewhat allergic to this kind of stuff, 
                  as I also am to “Perhaps the characters of Prospero and Miranda 
                  are alluded to…” Either they are or they aren’t, and he should 
                  know. Having got that off my chest, let me turn to the music, 
                  which is no less impressive than that of the other three pieces. 
                  This work is the most tonal of the four, especially so at the 
                  outset where the composer profits from the rich sound of parallel 
                  sixths when played by a cello. The music is highly melodic, 
                  even in the more dramatic passages, and in spite of what the 
                  composer writes, is full of magical and beautiful sounds, mostly 
                  guaranteed to “give delight and hurt not”. At around the eight 
                  minute mark there is a forceful passage leading to an ardent 
                  melody for the cello accompanied by downward spread arpeggio 
                  chords on the piano; in such passages I tend to wish Brown would 
                  put less in, especially in the piano part which threatens to 
                  overwhelm the cello.  
                   
                  The booklet contains detailed information about each of the 
                  young players, and rightly so, as the performances are of remarkable 
                  virtuosity and conviction. They are clearly captivated by the 
                  music. Listeners will be too, for is spite of any slight reservations 
                  I might have, this collection of chamber pieces shows a composer 
                  of the utmost integrity, totally in command of the medium, with 
                  a voice of his own and an aural imagination to match. The disc 
                  is beautifully recorded and I recommend it warmly to any collector 
                  interested in the bewilderingly diverse world of contemporary 
                  music.  
                   
                  William Hedley  
                   
                   
                   
                   
                
              
   
                  
                  
                
                 
                   
                 
                 
             
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