There is so much music by Henry Cowell that the likelihood of
duplication, at least with his works for piano, appears to be hardly any
kind of a problem so far. Looking on the MusicWeb International site there
is one
live demonstration and some discs from Naxos mixing
piano with chamber works, and even an online
search elsewhere failed to bring up much in the way of alternatives to the
works in Stacey Barelos’s superbly recorded and supremely well played
collection.
Following lines initiated by the likes of Charles Ives and Percy
Grainger, Henry Cowell belongs amongst that relatively rare breed of
composers who are genuinely avant-garde. Cowell pioneered techniques such as
piano clusters and plucking the strings, and a physical way of playing which
remains a staple of some improvisers today. What we have here is a
well-chosen selection of works which demonstrate sincerely off the wall
creativity and also a certain popular pragmatism which resulted in some
surprisingly pleasant music.
Sway Dance for instance, is the kind of
approachable but intriguing little etude which would easily suit one of your
graded examination board selections. The same goes for pieces like
Caoine and
Irishman Dances, the folk elements of which are
clear for all to hear.
Humour is another strong element in these pieces, the
children’s miniatures
Two Woofs entertaining with a light,
rhythmic touch which approaches jazz but avoids stereotype. The
Hilarious
Curtain-Opener is more humorous in its title, its contrasting sections
and gentle stride left hand having something of the circus in it, but no
real belly laughs. These pieces have a fascinatingly European quality to
them - a kind of filtered Gottschalk which has sluiced back and forth over
the Atlantic more than once.
Those aforementioned clusters appear in the six movements of
Dynamic Motion and the Five Encores to Dynamic Motion, the massive
variety of sonorities in the opening celebrated in a kind of variation form
in the remaining movements. The booklet notes usefully enlighten us as to
the reasons for some of these movements, for instance with music suggested
by overhearing high and low voices in a Chinese laundry, and that the London
Times described it as ‘the world’s loudest piano
music’. Not connected with Cowell’s invention the rythmicon, the
first movement of
Rhythmicana has a surprising romantic feel to it,
suggesting a Rachmaninov whose middle three fingers had been taped together.
The piece as a whole has an exploratory and ‘post-ism’ feel to
it which could place it anywhere in the 20
th century, though I
suspect there are few who would shout out ‘1938!’ in a blind
audition.
Innovations galore can be found in the remaining works, with
Scherzo/It Isn’t It rich in clusters and pungent strangeness,
and
Sinister Resonance working on damped strings, which creates
atmospheric harmonics and unusual resonances inside the piano. The final
trilogy,
Three Irish Legends, opens with
The Tides of
Manaunaun; “a tone picture of primeval chaos” which builds a
massive crescendo of sound from the lower registers, while a fairly innocent
folk tune floats above. Further exotic sounds are created in the luminous
The Hero Sun, and
The Voice of Lir is another surprisingly
elemental monument to sonority, an amazing creation for the early 1920s.
If you are interested in piano music and the course of
20
th century musical history then you owe it to yourself to
become acquainted with the remarkable worlds created by Henry Cowell. This
is an excellent place to start, or to extend your knowledge of one of
contemporary music’s underrated figureheads, in a well-documented,
superbly produced and performed recording.
Dominy Clements
