Robert Crawford’s oeuvre is not a large one by the standards 
                of many composers but is characterised by a meticulous approach 
                to detail. I first encountered his music on John Turner’s Aspects 
                of Nature disc of British recorder music (Olympia, OCD714). 
                Both piano and strings figured in accompaniment there as well 
                as on the present disc. 
              
Like 
                    many twentieth century Scottish composers (McGuire, Chisholm, 
                    even honorary Scot Leighton) Crawford’s music has a bracing, 
                    cleansing outdoor but not particularly pastoral feel to it. 
                    This can be traced back to the influence of his composition 
                    teacher Frankel and of Bartók in particular. Even so this 
                    composer is very much his own man. The earliest (and easiest) 
                    music here is the Six Bagatelles, written in his early 
                    twenties, initially with children in mind but his ambition 
                    soon outgrew this aim. This music is eminently listenable 
                    and the longest of the six lasts only just over three minutes. 
              
The 
                    Second Piano Sonata largely comprises fast music, including 
                    a quicksilver scherzo (at under a minute) although the third 
                    movement is more relaxed. Even more so than the Bagatelles, 
                    this is remarkably assured music for a composer just hitting 
                    his mid-twenties. The rest of the CD is given over to much 
                    more recent compositions. It is interesting to compare and 
                    contrast them with the youthful works while noting his long 
                    and self imposed “silence“ during the sixties and seventies. 
                    Even here all is not what it seems, as the apparently contemporaneous 
                    Sonata Breve and Saltire Sonata (both dated 
                    1991) are, to quote Adam Binks’ informative booklet notes, 
                    “essentially thirty years apart”. That is to say that the 
                    Saltire - named for the cross of St Andrew, with the 
                    music inspired by its “double V” design - was actually first 
                    conceived at a much earlier date! Other than that they share 
                    some similarities: they both develop over a single movement 
                    format and are both relatively short. The word ‘economy’ is 
                    touched on with reference to Crawford’s muse but this must 
                    be understood in Sibelian terms of cutting away any excess, 
                    unnecessary musical baggage, rather than any suggestion of 
                    poverty of ideas. I would add the word ‘distilled’ here to 
                    the list of descriptors. 
                  
              
The 
                Piano Quintet is another single movement piece, reminding 
                us again of how Crawford continues to hone and refine his art. 
                He also regards this very recent piece as a summary of his life’s 
                work so far. To that end it “draws in some brief quotations from 
                several of my earlier works written over the past 50 years or 
                more”, while developing the opening bars into the “richly Romantic 
                main theme”. We read in the accompanying essay that Edmund Rubbra 
                was an early admirer and, although not similar musically, Crawford’s 
                craftsman-like approach obviously struck a chord with that illustrious 
                listener. This is a disc that rewards repeated listening; those 
                expecting fireworks and instant gratification may find those more 
                easily elsewhere, but this music is more than worth your time 
                and money and has both substance and longevity.
                
                Neil Horner
                
                see also review by Rob Barnett