At Wigmore Hall the Nash Ensemble, one of contemporary music’s great champions, have been marking what would have been Sir Harrison Birtwistle's 90th birthday year, with the assistance of composers whose work share his commitment to high modernism. For this concert the dynamic creativity of Simon Holt was on the platform with Harry’s in an hour-long programme high on compositional inventiveness and performative excellence.
Holt’s Serra-Sierra, for cello and piano, conjures up both the monumental sculptures of Richard Serra and the dramatic landscape of the Sierra Nevada, on which the composer’s own image leaves its shadow – it is there that he spends most of his days. The sculptural aspects of the four-movement piece emerged through dense and rugged harmonies, and in the physical gestures of Adrian Brendel (cello) and Alasdair Beatson (piano). Holt also evokes the materiality of the Andalusian landscape – wild olive trees, long-trodden paths – and the particular light of Venus casting its spell across the plain. Here the writing, and the playing, was indeed sinuous and luminous; the touch of both players responded magnificently to Holt’s fine sense of line, colour and texture.
The most eloquent utterance of the piece was reserved for the coda, which lasted a mere 30 seconds, in which Holt contemplates the sorrow suffered by Boabdil (Muhammad XII), the last Islamic ruler of Granada, after handing over to Ferdinand and Isabella the keys to his beloved city. As an invocation of the Moor’s last sigh it was so movingly played that I wished it would stop, to end the agony, and that it would not stop, to prolong the beauty of the playing. When the sound had died away two things came to mind: the sultan and John Dowland must have been distant relatives; and the Suspiro del Moro is indeed a deeply doleful place.
Another prince, one cut from very different cloth, is lamented in Duets for Storab, scored for two flutes. It was the last piece Birtwistle composed during his sojourn on the Hebridean island of Raasay, and is a narrative evoking the presence of Storab, a Viking seeking shelter on the island but falling prey to the hostility of its inhabitants. The music does not portray his harassment and murder; rather it evokes the barren beauty of the landscape, as it might have been experienced by the unlucky visitor, and as it was apprehended by the composer himself. Philippa Davies and Helen Keen were very fine narrators, crafting a performance of grace, sensitivity and attention to detail. It was imbued with Birtwistle’s extraordinary gift for rhythmic flair and sonic brilliance.
Lorine Niedecker, an American poet writing in the first half of the last century, maintained a highly personal relationship with the landscape of southern Wisconsin, where she was born and where she spent most of her life. That relationship produced a series of short poems – some no more than a few words – heavy with the intensity of a life of hardship. Birtwistle’s Nine Settings magically captures that intensity with a vividness compounded of finely-etched vocal lines and string sounds saturated with earthy colours. Claire Booth’s rich soprano and Brendel’s sonorous cello made for a stunning performance. The artistry of their physical gestures showed a refined understanding of the musical gestures; so much delight from so few words and tones.
After attending the concert I learnt of the death of Richard Serra. The excellent performance of Holt’s imaginative piece seemed to be a fitting way for one artist to be piped out by another and his collaborators.
