Not really sure what to
expect with this one. The Glasshouse website talks of a co-commission with
Chamber Music Scotland which means strings. Thankfully, no mention of banjos.
Fergus explains that, for those of us who have seen him before, (that was most
of us there, but I was sat next to a newbie) “It was going to be very different
indeed.” There would be some jazz, some duets with strings and then the second
set……
He opened with Gershwin’s Embraceable You, delicate, elegant and spare, the melodies wrapped in a swathe of notes, lush and lovely. His excursions became more extensive and dramatic, rhythmic play creating quickly dissolved tensions before he dances away again, balletic and fresh as spring. A second piece was equally rich and dense, with a strong rhythmic, dancing pulse and interwoven variations from it, a rolling wave of notes, relentless and passionate.
Gurney joined for the
third piece, a violin work in G major, we are told. It was sweeping and
elegant, pastoral and playful, evoking storms, whether natural or human. A
passage suggesting relief is followed by further gloom.
We’re back to jazz for a
solo Jump For Joy with its strong
anchoring left hand behind more dazzling flights and excursions, light footed
and dancing and I was reminded of Zappa’s comment that “writing about music is
like dancing about architecture” as words cannot capture this.
Lemoine brings on her
cello for a pair of pieces, Scottish first then Irish. The opening is deep and
mournful. (Is there anything more tragic than the sound of a cello, especially
listening to Elgar in November?) The piece ebbs and flows over minimal backing
from McCreadie, as he lifts the tune, a sense of hope and longing arises. After
a timorous start to the second piece it begins to flow with a stronger riding
pulse. It’s a dance for a crowded hall, joyful and impudent as it races away in
a closing sprint with imagined boots flying across the fields.
The newbie next to me asked
what I thought and if McCreadie had any albums out so I gave him some answers.
“He’s tremendous,” he said, “Not sure about the other two.” He would not return
for the second set….. which was taken up by….
.. Flight Pass, the title of which comes from a photograph of a family
of black winged kites fighting over some recently caught prey, is a piece in
four movements and was being performed for only the second time. It opens with
a repeated piano motif, slow and stately, the violin provides the flight, the
cello the rootedness, their tones above and below that of the piano. The piano
becomes more strident, both heavier handed and free flowing, ripples of notes
from McCreadie as the violin swoops and sways above and this music will surely
soundtrack the next Attenborough documentary if he leaves the oceans and looks
to the skies. The next movement opens with plucked violin and rapidly sawing
cello notes before a swooping violin line, the cello cautious then all three
drive forward, full and panoramic. Images of cold, exposed nature are evoked,
running rivers and reminders of Scandinavian works on ECM from the likes of Jan
Garbarek. A crashing piano that the violin skirls around before a repeated
piano theme draws the energy away as it fades to close.
The third movement opens
with a peaceful and pastoral piano rising in circles, the cello answers and the
violin creeps in. After the opening it expands outwards, gently, reflective and
contemplative before a longer section of solo piano ripples and runs leads to a
series of duets, first with the violin, then the cello. The violin plays a
theme and the cello repeats, call and response, but suggesting the avian world.
An Irish air develops with the cello cantering beneath more of McCreadie’s rich
runs. The next movement opens boldly crashing in with piano and cello, the
piano angular and rattling; it’s the most McCreadie sound we’ve had in Flight Pass. The strings are frantic and
flustered. Buzzing strings and a simple piano line which opens up the
landscape, the strings seeming to hold it all back before an escape and flight when
a crashing piano brings it to a stop before it proceeds, delicate and cautious,
tentative.
To me the piece seemed to change shape too often with not enough fluidity, too many changes of tempo and sudden stops, then, suddenly, all those thoughts are abandoned as the music roars and gallops away all chasing to a thunderous closing climax as McCreadie rolls back on his stool in delight.
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