This is the sixth CD of Carey Blyton’s music since the 
          saxophone disc ‘The Return of Bulgy Go-Go’ in 1991 (URCD 106) and the 
          second to be devoted to the composer’s vocal works; the other being 
          ‘The Folk Song Arrangements’ (URCD 131). 
        
As can be seen from the opus numbers these are not entirely 
          early songs but, for the sake of completeness, the composer has slipped 
          in two fairly recent miniatures. ‘The Flea’, (1992) is a work of great 
          profundity and power setting the immortal words "Adam ‘ad 'em" 
          prefaced by a Beethovenian display for the piano! Indigo Blues (1999) 
          is a colonial song with a strong political content. 
        
But to start at the beginning. 
        
The CD booklet has a photograph of five young men with 
          the caption ‘The Beckenham Salon’. This was not an upmarket coiffeur 
          in South-East London although certainly these gents are beautifully 
          turned out, but a group of like-minded young artists who in the early 
          '50s created for opportunities for performance and presentation of their 
          work. This was under the avuncular eye of Sir Arthur Bliss. One of these 
          is the poet David Munro whose evocative poems Blyton regularly set at 
          this time; another is a dapper Carey Blyton himself. 
        
The opus 9 songs ‘Three A.M’., were first performed at 
          Beckenham Grammar School (where Blyton was educated) in October 1951. 
          That means that Blyton was at the time a mere stripling of 19. What 
          is remarkable is that he had only started composing three years earlier 
          having, I believe, been the music master’s nightmare pupil and hating 
          the subject. This was before a convalescence from polio that gave him 
          time to discover his latent musical talent. It’s also interesting that 
          his style is already in place - an ability to capture the tension, which 
          is ironically rather laid-back and disguised to underline the meaning 
          of the words. The urban world is beautifully evoked with a sense of 
          sleazy decorum and run-down sophistication. Speaking in oxymorons is, 
          I feel, appropriate also for his second cycle of songs Op. 10. Here 
          one of Blyton’s own poems ‘Two Stolen Roses’ is paired with Donald Hills’ 
          poem ‘Come Night’. The music’s gentle ease covers the darkness of the 
          lines "Shut out this light, Wherein hard, bitter life I alone I 
          see" 
        
I have always thought that Poulenc was an influence on 
          Blyton’s early style and this is strongly brought home to me in ‘Toi 
          et Moi’ op. 11 his longest song-cycle up to that point. It comprises 
          five settings of Paul Geraldy out of a published group of 32. Not all 
          English composers would tackle French texts, but to do them at aged 
          20 shows remarkable confidence and skill. The point should be made here 
          that in music that appears artless there is more often than not a real 
          consummate skill, and economy of means, not a note wasted, the ‘Art 
          which conceals Art’. These traits can be found in this wonderful cycle, 
          coupled with a real sense and understanding of melody. Poulenc surely 
          was a model for the lively ‘Post scriptum’ movement 3. It is a pity 
          that the otherwise excellent booklet notes do not translate the texts 
          as the score does, as the word painting in this song is particularly 
          subtle. 
        
The two cycles, which stand out for me, are ‘Moresques’ 
          and ‘Prayers from the Ark’. The former is scored for soprano, flute, 
          harp and piano and is a setting of three Spanish-inspired poems by the 
          aforementioned David Munro. Again Blyton was only 20 when it was first 
          performed in Beckenham. It shows remarkable skill in combining the unusual 
          combination of instruments particularly in the harp writing which mixes 
          superbly with the piano. I wonder who taught the composer how to write 
          so idiomatically for the harp. The performance is by the delightful 
          ‘Scheherazade’, Verona Chard, soprano, Denise Dance, flute, and Fiona 
          Clifton-Welker, harp. It is particularly apt, with their name, that 
          in 1995 Blyton should have arranged Rimsky’s early song, the delicious 
          ‘The Rose and the Nightingale’ from his opera ‘Sadko’. They also perform 
          the less memorable ‘Symphony in Yellow’ with words by Oscar Wilde. 
        
Carey Blyton’s choice of texts is quite distinctly his 
          own, picked I suspect to suit the soundworld he naturally inhabits. 
          Very successful from this point of view is ‘Prayers from the Ark’, seven 
          animal poems by Carmen Bernos de Gasztold (where did the composer find 
          this poet?) written in 1974 and first performed by Jane Manning. Each 
          ends with a characteristic ‘A-men’. The last, ‘The Lark’, for example 
          ambles up to a top F and then floats it. Earlier the bored old Ox sings 
          it on just two notes. 
        
Carey Blyton’s interest in Elizabethan music and poetry 
          is characteristic of English composers brought up at this time. The 
          two short cycles 'The Poetry of Dress’, with words by Herrick, and ‘What 
          then is Love’, with words by several poets including Shakespeare and 
          John Donne, are good examples. The setting of ‘A sweet disorder in the 
          dress’ displays typical Phrygian cadences and some false relations. 
          Both cycles are worthy but the melodic material is more memorable I 
          feel in other works on the CD. 
        
The composer pulled off a considerable coup with obtaining 
          the services of Ian and Jennifer Partridge who are obviously enjoying 
          themselves hugely. I can remember Ian Partridge floating his beautiful 
          tenor in the late 60s in early music with ‘The Purcell Consort’, then 
          with his sister in some memorable Schumann performances; it’s good to 
          hear him revelling in this repertoire. Praise also is due for the effortlessly 
          beautiful voice of Beryl Korman who occasionally pinches some of the 
          top notes but who has immaculate diction and perfect phrasing. Stephen 
          Roberts is a fine and well-known performer in all areas and is ideal 
          in 'Toi et Moi’ which lies superbly on his voice. 
        
There are full texts supplied in the 28-page booklet, 
          curiously with the exception of ‘The Sea-dog’s Song’ where Stephen Roberts’ 
          words are less clear than on the rest of the recording. 
        
I am only sorry that the mysterious Mary Q. Palimpsest 
          has had to stand down as the writer of the booklet notes and we are 
          left with tedious old Anon. 
        
          Gary Higginson  
        
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