Hurlstone, Swinstead, Carwithen, Bridge
Lionel Handy cello
Jennifer Walsh piano
LYRITA SRCD 441
This is actually the fourth Lyrita disc from these artists and it brings us a sheaf of recorded premières and one ‘near-staple’.
Hurlstone’s 1899 Sonata steps out with robust good cheer, all Victorian/Edwardian confidence, expressed through straightforward songlike buoyancy. The ‘scotch-snap’ of the slow movement suggests something of a folk lament, before developing in a more conventionally classical way that maybe…doesn’t quite gel?
The scherzo is all unclouded tunefulness – small wonder it was published separately in different arrangements. The work closes with a movement of stately dignity, and if overall it plumbs no great depths, it is unquestionably charming. Would Hurlstone have gone on to become one of the greats? His surviving music is solid if resolutely conventional (in itself no bad thing) – but then so are the early works of Holst and Vaughan Williams, and think how far they journeyed…
If the Cello Sonata of Felix Swinstead dates from the late 50’s it breathes the air of an earlier age, opening with a soulful outpouring of melody; five minutes of limpid beauty. Again, the slow movement has a Celtic tinge – but here Swinstead contents himself with presenting his tune as a straightforward lament. The last movement has a music hall swagger of unforced jauntiness – and if the notes mention a ‘feroce’ marking then it is a distinctly cheery ferocity!
Despite the diminutive Sonatina title Doreen Carwithen, in 1951, immediately takes us to the first music on the disc of overt passion that explores a remote (almost shell-shocked) landscape. The chugging rhythms of the central movement are instantly memorable – so much so that I instantly programmed it again.
At just three minutes the finale is remarkably probing before suddenly… all is done. With its depths of feeling this piece surely had the makings of a larger even more searching work – but perhaps the composer knew best? Similarly, two smaller works – a brief Nocturne and an ambitious Humoresque – might well have served as two movements from a larger work.
Bridge’s Cello Sonata is almost a repertoire piece and is a remarkable work that clearly displays his transition from full-hearted romanticism to an uneasy modernism. I am effectively ‘imprinted’ with the Chandos/Wallfisch recording; this version easily matches both it, and I suspect, any other.
Performances and recordings throughout are exemplary, as are the full if slightly dry notes. Will there be a Volume Four, Five or even Six? Why not? There is plenty more material out there!
Review by Kevin Mandry