Coleridge-Taylor was very well thought of by Stanford, his teacher at the Royal College of Music; and not just out of sympathy with the problem, at the time, of allowing a negro composer any hearing in London at all. Indeed, the Clarinet Quintet recorded here also received approval from authorities other than Stanford: Joachim, especially, was much taken with the work.
And so, one might guess, will be many of today's listeners; for it is a very agreeable quintet, most acceptably performed and recorded, and easy on the ear in very much the way that its more famous predecessors (Mozart and Brahms in particular) were. The new disc is not, however, contrary to the claim made in the booklet, a world-premiere recording of the piece. There have been at least two earlier ones: on Chantry with Georgina Dobree as clarinet soloist, and Spectrum with Ramon Kireilis.
The new issue also explores Coleridge-Taylor's music for, or arranged for, solo piano. Oddest among this is a full, uncut version of the Petite suite de concert: lovable music in many ways, with an immediate appeal which has made it the subject of many good arrangements. No doubt some, even, for piano solo: for use, very understandably, in earlier family drawing-rooms. But hardly for use on a recording of today, surely? Certainly on this occasion, in spite of a nimble performance by Virginia Eskin, there must be limited appeal in expounding such familar music in such a limited tone-colour? Other of the piano music, however, could have great appeal: especially so could the arrangements of Negro Melodies with their easy-going simplicity.
The accompanying booklet makes generous amends for its one gaffe by offering a good deal of information elsewhere! I did not previously know, for example, that Coleridge-Taylor had married while at the Royal College of Music a white fellow student whose maiden name was Walmisley. Was Jessie a descendant of the earlier Walmisley musicians, perhaps, and thus with Attwood and Mozart associations?'