Forget HG Wells, DeLorean’s or even Black Holes! Time travel is here now and only half an hour’s drive from Birmingham; driving up the winding lane on a glorious summer’s day to the ancient, picturesque and very beautiful St Laurence Church in Meriden, I could have been in Elizabethan England. I was reminded of a quote from the immortal bard:
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
The church is surrounded by fields and a few almost equally ancient farm buildings, and parts of it date back to the Norman Conquest: it was preceded by a wooden structure built by Lady Godiva, presumably she of bareback riding fame! Inside the church is small but exquisite, with just the right acoustic to avoid overpowering more delicate instruments.
The concert began with “Kardos 1” by Pieter Campo. A vigorous syncopated ground was stated and then flowery arabesques developed around it, with folky cross-rhythms. The piece ends with some delightful improvisatory solos.
In a more serious vein Crucifixus a 10 by the Baroque Venetian composer Antonio Lotti followed. Arranged by Helen Hooker, this moving work intersperses some poignant chromaticisms and suspensions with more serene chordal passages. A superb piece which well repays a visit to Youtube.
Michelle then treated us to a recorder solo, “English Nightingale” by the 17thC Dutch composer Jacob van Eyck. Paid by the local council to entertain passers-by, van Eyck was an extremely high-class busker, coming from a noble family and being in charge of the town’s carillon. The piece is delightfully tuneful and as evocative of bucolic delights as the surroundings!
The Elf-Lord’s Lament by Elizabeth King features no less an instrument than the sub-great-bass-recorder, and employs no higher instrument than the tenor! Nevertheless it illustrates a surprising amount of contrast among the lower denizens of the recorder hierarchy, using some simple but effective medieval-style harmony.
As this was a family concert Michelle wisely refrained from naming the composer of “Entry of the Gladiators“, but between myself and the sophisticated reader I can confirm it is the Austro-Hungarian-Czech Julius Fucik. This piece is too well-known to need any commentary, suffice it to say that the hackneyed first section leads to a rousing bass solo accompanied by staccato chords which gives way to the majestically soaring final tune with a killer chord change to the flat submediant. The aspiring gladiator starts on skid row but finally makes it to Parnassus! Nicely arranged by Joanna Brown.
By now I was picking up positive vibes and it was obvious the audience were thoroughly enjoying a short but memorable concert, and some avant-garde could be sneaked in without triggering an uprising. Michelle duly obliged with “Music for a Bird” by Hans-Martin Linde. Composed in 1968, this is a compendium of note-bends, flutter tongues, chords, bisbigliando trills and various extended techniques producing an astonishing and hugely entertaining variety of sounds from the treble recorder.
The concert ended with the Concerto Grosso no. 8 in Gm by Corelli, minus the Christmas Pastorale [not even Tesco does Christmas in July] and in an excellent arrangement by Steve Marshall. Who says that minor keys have to be sad? This supremely vigorous and joyful work aptly rounded off and mirrored the concert and we stepped out afterwards into a rural Arcadia in which the parked cars appeared bizarrely anachronistic!
Review by R. Tempest