Detours
is a set (a cycle?) of five works for
ensemble written between 1998 and 2000.
Each work may, I guess, be performed
independently. Anyway, they were first
performed on three different occasions.
However, we are not told whether they
are to be played in any given order,
when performed as a cycle. After all,
this may not be of any real importance.
"Detours concerns
itself with personal memories and reflections
concerning cars ... the language of
the five works draws upon musical loves
and references from genres outside the
classical canon". These words by
the composer might imply some sort of
eclectic or "crossover" music-making
drawing on what the composer refers
to as "musical vernacular".
I must tell you that I had never heard
any of McPherson’s music before, so
that I read his insert notes before
listening to the music; and I came to
the conclusion that one should never
do so. Indeed, reading about "musical
vernacular" and "crossover",
I feared to be confronted with some
sort of musical hotchpotch; and, to
tell you the truth, the opening bars
of Echo’s Tape (1998),
the first piece of Detours,
made me fear the worst, for they sounded
like someone else’s music, as a pastiche
of some sort. The music, however, soon
embarks in a totally different direction,
with more astringent harmonies contradicting
the almost neo-classical opening tune.
In fact, McPherson’s music, at least
in these works, seems to be playing
with musical memories through often
discrete allusions to the music of the
past, albeit a recent past. So, the
third piece Only the Driver Deserves
to be Saved (1998), a brilliant
toccata in all but the name, alludes
(or so it seems to me) to Bartok. Memory
Crash (1999) is a fairly straightforward
slow movement unfolding almost seamlessly,
with much restraint, but of great charm
and quite atmospheric in mood. Lorelei
(2000) is a miniature tone poem of some
sort in which the flute clearly has
the leading role. It of course relates
to the German myth (or pseudo-myth)
of the Lorelei, which may in fact be
a 19th Century invention.
The musical result, though, is quite
attractive in its own right. The final
work Phoenix (1998), too,
may allude to some popular music, maybe
(as mentioned by the composer) to Jimmy
Webb’s song By the time I got to
Phoenix, which – I must confess
– I have never heard, or – at least
– to what that song is about. I do not
know; but what I know, is that Phoenix
is a beautifully made, often nostalgic
piece of music, really a Nocturne of
some sort.
Maps and Diagrams
of Our Pain (1990) "was
inspired by a long-standing fascination
[I] have had with psychiatry, in particular
the study of obsessive-compulsion disorders".
All right, then; but, again, I do not
know how the music relates (or not)
to the composer’s words. What we have
here, though, is a fairly long and substantial
duo for violin and piano, which opens
with a long introduction for piano in
which the violin joins in almost unnoticed
before asserting itself more forcefully
in the course of the piece. The dialogue
between violin and piano, in turn aloof
and impassioned, runs through a wide
range of feelings and emotions, before
reaching "the elongated coda"
that does bring any real sense of reconciliation.
The diptych Born
of Funk and The Fear of Failing
(2001) "is not in essence a guitar
concerto", although I firmly believe
that it is one such concerto, albeit
one for guitar and ensemble (somewhat
like Malcolm Arnold’s) in which the
guitar is more a primus inter pares
rather than an outright outsider. It
was commissioned by the Dundee International
Guitar Festival. The first section Born
of Funk is a lively, animated movement
moving along with alacrity and energy,
whereas the second section The Fear
of Failing (almost twice as long)
more or less combines a slow movement
and an exuberant Rodrigo-meets-Stravinsky
finale rounding off this very fine piece
in joyful high spirits.
Well, yes, I am delighted
to report that I really enjoyed the
music that is thankfully free of "crossover".
The music may at times allude to other
musical genres, but it is never eclectic,
i.e. in the worst meaning of the word.
McPherson’s seems, judging from these
works, a calm gentle voice prone to
nostalgia, which is reflected in his
warmly melodic style. Maybe other works
of his will belie the opinion I gather
from these quite attractive, accessible
and superbly crafted pieces. Do not
be put off by the composer’s notes that
may be misleading, as if he was afraid
that fine music such as this might be
taken too seriously. Listen to the music
first, and you will find much to enjoy
here. Well worth investigating.
Hubert Culot
Allan Neave (guitar)c; David Routledge
(violin)b; Richard Casey (piano)b
