Many would see the recorder's ‘lack’ of classical and romantic repertoire as its fatal weakness: where orchestral instruments were gaining their most vaunted works, the recorder began to fall out of favour. The members of the jovially named Flautadors recorder quartet might disagree. Catherine Fleming, Celia Ireland, Merlin Harrison and Ian Wilson have amassed an impressive back catalogue of period and twentieth-century music, showing that the unique position of the instrument can give groups the freedom to programme adventurously, with contemporary voices given space alongside windows into the past. This can give a truly unique perspective on the dialogue between old and new.
This dialogue is given a twist in Bavardage, in that contemporary works are not set alongside pieces from the Baroque or Renaissance polyphony but arrangements of traditional Scottish folk tunes by quartet member Ian Wilson. These range from the familiar melodic grace of ‘Niel Gow's Lament’ to the upbeat vitality of ‘Dandy Dancer’. The intention is to show the diversity of the moods, colours and textures available to the instruments. In this, the CD is very successful: it is a wonderful advert for the recorder's agility and variety and is recorded with clarity and warmth.
There is, however, also a danger in this kind of dual programming: what might work very well in a varied concert programme can feel a little scattergun on disc. In beginning with two of the more straightforward folk arrangements, the CD does not set out its stall as clearly as it might. The artful chromaticism of the opening shepherding tune ‘ca the yowes’, while definitely remaining on the right side of twee, does not always lead the ear to consider the timbral level on which the disc operates: it feels like a contrast is being set up here between traditional and contemporary rather than a dialogue. Later in the disc the common ground all the pieces inhabit is more apparent. The pure bright sound of Arvo Pärt's Arbos, which includes three further recorder players and two percussionists, is far more readily compared with Wilson's arrangement of ‘Brose and Butter’, for example, in which the ensemble achieves an accordion-like beauty of balance. The Pärt's timeless quality and gently rocking repetitions make it an unexpected highlight.
Of the newer pieces, David Murphy's Bavardage and Leo Chadburns’ short but taut De la Salle are also ear-catching. Murphy's eponymous piece (from ‘bavarder’: to chatter) makes tremendous use of the group's virtuosity and range of colours, from the quietest woody close dissonances to swirling clouds of trills and runs – all dispatched with verve and musicianship. Its episodic form allows a great deal of contrast with occasionally harsh articulation and a robust rhythmic language adding some very positive bite to proceedings. This diversity becomes something of a weakness as the piece progresses as one begins to wonder what is holding all these diverting moments together. Nevertheless, it is a great one-stop shop for the contemporary recorder ensembles’ potential with a fabulous conclusion in which the instruments begin to sound just like spectral electronics.
The accusation of loss of focus cannot be made against Chadburn's work, which squeezes as much music as possible out of restricted musical means. Members of the quartet each play two instruments at once, leading – according to the succinctly useful programme notes – to a total of 21 instruments being played within its six minutes. The piece comprises primarily of one musical gesture: repeated, independent accelerandi, which are layered to create a fabulously thick, undulating texture. The sense of one idea being explored to its full potential makes Chadburn's contribution an important one in the context of the overall programme.
A further perspective on the traditional vs contemporary theme is given by the inclusion of relatively recent works by composers influenced by Japanese traditions – particularly shakuhachi playing. These have become something of a stereotype for flute and recorder, though Mark Ishii's Black Intention IV (quartet version from 1980) and Ryōhei Hirose's Idyll 1 (1976) are both relatively early examples of the genre – the solo version of the latter is now a classic of the repertoire. Expressive melodic lines and restrained gesture characterise their musical surfaces, their forms enigmatically arranged. Hirose flirts a little with the neo-medievalism into which the recorder can rather easily lapse, though in its pentatonicism it also links particularly well with the Scottish folk arrangements. Ishii breaks out a little from his sombre opening mood in an aleatoric section well controlled by the players.
The CD ends with a 15-minute performance of Terry Riley's minimal classic In C and a recorder arrangement of Peter Maxwell Davies’ perennial favourite Farewell to Stromness. The Riley is a challenging piece to commit to disc due to its ceaseless drive and flexibility – the latter making it difficult to record in sections without significantly disturbing the flow, the former making it rather brutal for instruments (and human beings) that need breath to function. The Flautadors, joined for a second time by Sophie Creaner, Tabea Debus and Mirjam-Luise Münzel, acquit themselves well here, though I must confess it is a piece in which I have always preferred to be a participant than an audience member. Certainly the group are convincing in their belief that the recorder is an apposite vehicle for the performance of minimal music: the homogeneity of the ensemble sound and its purity of tone recall the ceaseless electronic organs or layered clarinets of Steve Reich.
The Maxwell Davies is a pleasant end, but it articulates the difficult territory this disc tries to inhabit. The folk elements feel like they are included to appeal to a general audience, yet they seem peripheral to the main meat of the contemporary pieces. Folk-loving contemporary music fans seems a rather specific demographic, one of which I happen to be a member, yet the mixture still feels rather curious at times. What cannot be doubted is the style and skill heard in these interpretations. Expression is beautifully controlled, rhythms are tight and intonation is excellent. This is an impressive ensemble, which should be enthusiastically supported in their work with living composers: the results have the potential to be very exciting.
