Duncan Honeybourne piano
HERITAGE HTGCD 132
Slowly the music of Thomas Pitfield is emerging from obscurity: following occasional recordings there has recently been a critical biography, and a two-CD set of his chamber works from the admirable Heritage label; while a disc of orchestral pieces is imminent from Toccata.
Meanwhile here is stalwart of the overlooked, Duncan Honeybourne, playing 30 Pitfield piano pieces. These are all effectively miniatures – none exceeds five minutes, while the average is probably between two and three. Most date from the middle decades of the last century.
The first thing to say is that Pitfield writes for the piano with exemplary skill and clarity – every note counts, and there is never any sense that these are (as sometimes with, say, Bax) orchestral pieces reimagined. The overall melos of the music is tuneful, definitely tonal (although teaching at the RNCM in the 60’s and 70’s there’s not a whiff of any ‘Manchester School’ modernism) and is often either folk-inflected or with a touch of Warlock-style Tudor pastiche.
Rather than try to describe each of the 30 pieces perhaps the best thing is to mention a few highlights. The Prelude, Minuet and Reel is probably the closest Pitfield came to having a ‘hit’, and it is not hard to see why – it is instantly memorable and diverting. The Three Bagatelles are immediately winning, as is the winsome and charming 1953 Novelette…I could go on.
In fact, there’s the rub; it would be easy to choose any three or four of these pieces as favourites, because neither the stylistic range nor the emotional range is very wide: the music tends to be bright breezy and cheerful, or occasionally limpidly tender – but rarely anything more demanding: there’s none of the psychological complexity of, say, Ireland’s piano music. You might consider this to be the admirable consistency of an artist who knows his limits, or you might note a certain sameness and find yourself itching for something a little more ambitious now and then.
But perhaps that is to wish for something the composer never promised: the fact is, this is immensely companionable music, and it is hard to imagine anyone not enjoying it, even if only a few works at a time.
The soloist plays with real affection and care (and writes some insightful addenda to complement John Turner’s equally informative booklet notes) while the recording is admirably clear. If these are chips from a master’s workshop, well they are delicious hand-made low-fat chips – even if you might want more salt and vinegar…
Review by Kevin Mandry