John McCabe has been
at the forefront of British composer-pianists
for at least four decades now. However
a glance through his substantial catalogue
of works reveals that music for his
own instrument forms a comparatively
small if regularly recurrent constituent
within his prolific output. Whether
the music be for piano, orchestral or
chamber forces there are certain preoccupations
that remain constant throughout his
entire oeuvre. These include a fascination
with rhythm and an equal interest in
the textural and colouristic elements
of the music. Of the latter he is an
undoubted master. I well recall the
first time I heard his Cloudcatcher
Fells for brass band. The magical
palette he draws from the band was unlike
anything I had heard for the medium
to that point; his orchestral music
is rarely less than absorbing for the
same reasons.
This mastery of timbre
and sonority is immediately evident
upon listening to this disc of piano
music played with supreme command by
the composer himself. The sheer range
of effects he draws from the instrument
is a constant fascination throughout
all six works. Gong-like resonances
that play an important part in Gaudi
(Study No. 3). Elsewhere there are
cascading peels of bells. The way in
which he exploits the full register
of the keyboard is striking and imaginative.
In terms of influence it struck me perhaps
more than ever before that Messiaen
has been a crucial figure in McCabe’s
development. In rhythmic terms it is
Bartók that comes to the fore
in the sheer propulsion of some of the
dance-like patterns in which McCabe
often revels. Ultimately however he
is very much his own man and the distinction
of his own personal voice is stamped
on all of these works.
In 1969 McCabe began
work on a series of studies for piano.
Each is designed to function as a fully-fledged
piece in its own right. The cycle commenced
with Capriccio and Sostenuto
and was quickly followed by two of the
three studies played here, Gaudi
and Aubade, both of 1970. After
a pause of twenty years there came number
six, Mosaic, written in 1980.
The cycle is still in progress with
McCabe adding a further two studies
as recently as 2000 and 2001, Evening
Harmonies (Hommage à Dukas)
and Scrunch (Omaggio a Domenico Scarlatti).
As the sub-title implies Gaudi takes
its inspiration from the architecture
of its Spanish creator whose buildings
are "a source of continual fascination"
to the composer. The music proceeds
with no pulse in the conventional sense
but rather constructed around five basic
tempi. Typically McCabe is always careful
to ensure that there is an audible way
through the work for the listener. The
sound world is once again captivatingly
colourful, as it also is in Aubade
albeit this time set within a very different
context. Here the structure is simpler,
the time passage briefer. The preoccupation
with colour results in a magical evocation
of the moments before dawn. This is
probably the closest McCabe comes to
Messiaen in any of these works and the
stillness of the closing bars, those
few minutes before the dawn breaks,
is beautifully captured. Mosaic
was inspired by the mosaics seen by
the composer in the mosques of Damascus
during a concert tour. In terms of scale
it is on a par with Gaudi. The
work is essentially a set of variations
developing from an eleven-note row that
McCabe gradually expands and embellishes.
It is once again a work of considerable
technical demands. Overall the result
is not quite as striking as Gaudi
but rewarding nonetheless.
The use of variation
form has always been prevalent in McCabe’s
music. Here we are given two contrasting
examples of his approach to the method.
The simply titled Variations
of 1963, only his second acknowledged
work for the instrument, comprises eighteen
variations on the initial eight bar
theme. In all these span just over nine
and a half minutes. The theme itself
uses a tritone (C-F#) as its "spring-board".
There is a lento chordal sequence and
an oscillating motif that returns regularly
as a kind of anchor point. Whether McCabe
is in reflective mood or otherwise (there
are some impressively propulsive rhythmic
variations in the piece) the music never
loses its thematic clarity, giving the
work a satisfying structural cogency.
Written some twenty years later in 1983,
the Haydn Variations (it is worth
noting that the composer had abandoned
the use of opus numbers by this time)
is an altogether more ambitious exploration
of the form. Dauntingly so in fact at
less than three minutes under half an
hour in performance. Here, the composer
chooses not to put his cards on the
table until late in the work. It is
not until comfortably past the half-way
point that he introduces the theme,
even then discreetly allowing it to
emerge from the previous variation (the
theme is taken from Haydn’s Piano Sonata
No. 32 in G minor although one could
easily be forgiven for failing to identify
it). McCabe chooses not to number the
variations although Guy Rickards informs
us in his admirably comprehensive and
informative booklet notes that there
are nearly three dozen. Over a span
of nearly half an hour this allows McCabe
to create a web of considerable complexity,
where variations are often inter-related
and form sub-groups within the broader
structural organisation. What emerges
is a tour de force of virtuosity and
stamina, bearing all of McCabe’s fingerprints
in a work that is both a magnificent
achievement and the composer’s magnum
opus for his own instrument.
By comparison, the
Five Bagatelles of 1964 is in
many ways the odd work out here. In
effect, these are five highly contrasting
miniatures (the first and fourth, Capriccio
and Toccata are barely more than
half a minute long); models of brevity
and concision. There is a feeling of
Bartók in the rhythmic play of
the arresting opening Capriccio
and once again in the more astringent
and short-tempered Toccata. These
are thrown into sharp relief by the
song-like Aria and the sparser
Elegia that separate them. The
closing Notturno achieves a captivating
feeling of stillness through its surface
simplicity.
The solidity of the
composer’s own technique at the keyboard
is abundantly clear throughout this
recording. McCabe is never less than
authoritative and totally convincing,
demonstrating dynamic power, tremendous
rhythmic drive (often essential to the
music) and impressive clarity of articulation.
It is very much to the credit of the
British Music Society that they have
been able to commit to disc what are
undoubtedly definitive performances
of music by their President. If I have
a criticism it is that the recorded
sound is a little close for my liking
and as a result tends to the harsh,
but don’t let that put you off. This
is an important recording that is recommended
with all possible enthusiasm.
Christopher Thomas
John McCabe (piano) 