York Bowen (1884-1961) is certainly getting a lot of play lately, and one listen to these sassy, quasi-jazzy, fluidly romantic concertos and you will know why. Believe me, the hype over this man’s work lives up to expectations—one can only wonder, with some degree of incredulity, how the music has been languishing in obscurity—or relative obscurity for so long. Perhaps it is for the same reason that critics often assign to the suppression of tonal music in the last century, the fascist-like onslaught of the atonal, serial, avantgarde jackboots that slowly gained control of everything from concert halls to academia, and made anything smacking of tonality seem as if Cain was killing Abel all over again.
Well, that was probably part of it. But in fairness to all of the wonderful serial and atonal music that was produced and indeed has found a place in the current repertory, one can’t entirely subscribe to that analysis. I would be more inclined to say that not tonal music in general, but a type of tonal music that seemed to “stop developing” fell out of favor. Mahler hung around, as did Bartok and others, not to mention the injection that Stravinsky gave the medium in general. But all of the English and American composers who we have been rediscovering over the last 20 years were simply dismissed, except by a few brave conductors.
My, how times have changed. If you can’t listen to Bowen’s 1913 40-minute Violin Concerto without a smile on your face, check your heart. This is a bold, wonderful work of formidable skill and lovely melodic bent. It’s heart is right on its sleeve, as is proper, and now that the age of neuroticism seems to be behind us, we can all meet in the concert hall, guilt free, and declare to the world that this sort of music should be heard more often. Lorraine McAslan, whose sonata CD by Elgar and Walton I still treasure, plays this to a fault, slipping in little portamentos and other affecting devices that add up to a great performance.
The Piano Concerto is hardly less impressive. His splashy first concerto (1903) tries to show exactly what the young composer could do, and it is full of bravura passages of much complexity and intricacy. While not yet in the sophistication level of the later forth, for example, this is still a great romp well worth your time for repeated hearings. Michael Dussek gives the work all it needs to fill our ears with 26 minutes of enjoyment.
Who else could conduct this music like Vernon Handley? His control of the excellent BBC Concert Orchestra only demonstrates that in English music he has few peers. And almost as peerless is the great sound now becoming a standard with Dutton Records’ new recordings.
— Steven Ritter
