If you have heard the
Durham Concerto (
review;
review)
or the zanily named
Boom of the Tingling Strings (
review;
review;
review)
you will know that since departing Deep Purple in 2002 Jon Lord
has been gripped by classical composing. The earliest stirrings
of this hunger go back to the 1969 and his
Concerto
for Group and Orchestra. It was premiered, filmed and recorded
live at the Royal Albert Hall with Deep Purple and the Royal Philharmonic
Orchestra conducted by Sir Malcolm Arnold. The next year the BBC
commissioned
The Gemini Suite. In 1974
Sarabande followed
and in 1997 came Lord’s solo CD
Pictured Within.
To Notice Such Things is clearly a very personal and affecting
portrait of Lord’s friendship with John Mortimer, CBE, QC (1923–2009).
It traces its origins to the affectionate stage show,
Mortimer’s
Miscellany. The title of the score is from the Thomas Hardy
poem
Afterwards which ended the show. The first movement,
As I Walked Out One Evening is from the W.H. Auden poem
and relates to the music that opened the revue.
At Court
picks up on Mortimer’s days as the darling of the combative anti-establishment
in the 1960s and 1970s.
Turville Heath is where Mortimer
lived and we are told that the movement gives an impression of
Mortimer in his beloved garden. In extreme old age his legs began
to fail him.
Stick Dance is said to portray our hero’s
appreciation of a female companion jiving while Mortimer leans
on his walking stick. Mortimer chose the dormouse to figure in
his coat of arms.
The Winter of a Dormouse is an attempt
to describe Sir John's final months. It’s an affectionate and
poignant farewell. The friendship throughout is echoed in the
flute which voices Sir John. Lord is reflected in the solo piano
role. These figures are played by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Orchestra’s principal flautist Cormac Henry and by the composer’s
piano.
Counter-intuitively
As I Walked Out One Evening has all
the warm vernal freshness of the morning of the world. This is
coupled with a peculiarly English contentment – an ecstasy in
being there. The language is caught between the pastoral Vaughan
Williams of the 1910s and 1920s and the Copland counterpart.
At
Court is part lightly serene and partly rushing cut-and-thrust
carried by the flute with brusquely joyous strings.
Turville
Heath hints at a Gallic-Delian influence although the presence
of the self-effacingly supportive piano pulls the rug out from
under the comparison. This movement could easily join the host
of short piano and orchestra miniatures by Bax, Milford and Armstrong
Gibbs. Towards its close the gentle muse dances with an innocent
smile. In
Stick Dance there is a Shostakovich-like caustic
serration to the string writing though this does relent to make
way for curvaceous gliding and dancing of the flute.
The Winter
of a Dormouse touches on desolation but from its chilly shores
the flute sings, invoking and reviving the delights of years gone
by and of the changes wrought by the passage of the years. Interesting
how the flute line remains succulent in tone but it is now more
pensive. The flute solo curves down a gentle gradient into silence.
Afterwards is the final movement for piano and orchestra
though the flute also plays its part. The writing has a distinctly
Finzian poignant reflective quality - the drowsy heat-haze of
a summer’s eclogue into which this sweetly tempered work fades.
The other four tracks are occupied by short pieces.
Evening
Song is for piano, alto flute, french horn and orchestra.
Starting out as one of the pieces in Lord’s
Pictured Within,
it lays convincing claim to the sentimental congeries entwining
that ideal English sunset. This is a place in space and time where
contemplation is by itself fully satisfying. The solo violin part
reminded me of Finzi’s
Severn Rhapsody.
For Example
is a piece for string orchestra and flute. Its origins lie
in a small piano piece dedicated to Lord’s friends the Trondheim
Soloists and their Artistic Director and Principal Cellist, Øyvind
Gimse. It’s a pensive essay with just that tincture of Grieg –
a composer who was one of Lord’s earliest favourites.
Air on
the Blue String is for flute and strings –a contented essay
with a few gently stern moments to provide backbone. This too
had its genesis in a piano solo. The disc ends with Jeremy Irons’
undemonstrative reading of Hardy’s melancholic-fatalistic poem,
Afterwards. The poem registers with even more depth. It
is clothed with Jon Lord’s piano line which provides a symbiotic
modest commentary.
This is a well presented, recorded and annotated album and one
that will please those who respond to Finzian pastoral melancholy.
Quite an achievement.
Rob Barnett
Interview with
Jon Lord by Chris Thomas
Jon Lord (piano); Cormac Henry (flute)*; Jeremy Irons (narrator)
