The Continuum release devoted to the three symphonies of Douglas Lilburn (8/94) made it into my 1994 “Critics’ choice”, and now comes this companion two-disc set featuring no fewer than nine New Zealand composers. Lilburn himself kicks off proceedings with his appealing Aotearoa Overture from 1940, which derives its title from the Maori name for New Zealand (the nearest translation is “Land of the long white cloud”). The composer was in his mid twenties and still a student of Vaughan Williams at the RCM when he completed this immensely likeable effort, whose bracing, open-air manner suggests a definite kinship with Sibelius and Tubin (I was more than once reminded of the latter’s bucolic, wholly endearing Fourth Symphony). Anthony Watson’s gritty, neo-Bartokian Prelude and Allegro (1960) appeared only recently on a useful Koch International compilation; the present account is a more suave, less biting affair than its New Zealand Chamber Orchestra rival, but thoroughly committed for all that (the timings of the two performances are in fact almost identical). The youngest figure represented here is Anthony Ritchie (b. 1960), whose impressive 1989 orchestral essay, The Hanging Bulb, proves to be a beautifully crafted, resourceful and readily approachable creation. Its four interlinked sections contain much attractive invention; certainly, the wistfully melancholic opening pages cast quite a spell (the work’s title takes its name from a painting by Philip Clairmont, a New Zealand artist who committed suicide in 1984). Till human voices wake us by Christopher Blake (b. 1949) again reveals a notably assured orchestral touch. Written in 1986 (which was designated International Year for Peace), Blake’s often imposing score incorporates a setting of two pacificist texts by the New Zealand poets Ian Hamilton and Archibald Baxter. Gillian Whitehead (b. 1941) studied with Sir Peter Maxwell Davies and her teemingly active Resurgences (1990) evinces a refined, colourful orchestral palette as well as a strong feeling for landscape – the overall effect is not dissimilar to certain offerings by her Australian colleague, Peter Sculthorpe (see 11/95 for my enthusiastic review of ABC Classics’s admirable all-Sculthorpe programme).
The second disc starts brightly with the lean and lucid Little Symphony by Jenny McLeod (b. 1941), an antipodean cousin to Stravinsky’s Symphony in C. William Dart’s invaluable booklet-notes tell us that the latter piece was the set composition in McLeod’s final year at the Victoria University of Wellington and that the confident 22-year-old student decided that she too could write “one of those”. In 1953, Richard Campion of the New Zealand Players requested David Farquhar (b. 1928) to supply a set of dances for a production of Jean Anouilh’s Ring around the Moon. Farquhar subsequently fashioned the present six-movement suite and very popular it has proved – small wonder given its captivating melodic appeal and deliciously stylish scoring. Harbour Nocturne by Larry Pruden (1925-82) is an evocative essay dating from 1956, its cool beauty and fastidious manner reminiscent of Copland and Britten. Finally comes Edwin Carr (b. 1926) and his exceedingly attractive ballet score from 1963, The Snow Maiden. Written for the pupils of Highbury Quadrant School in London and based on the same Ostrovsky play as inspired both Rimsky-Korsakov and Tchaikovsky, it is an unashamedly tuneful, witty confection which will appeal strongly to anyone with a sweet tooth.
This most enterprising Continuum set offers over two hours of music in first-rate performances and recordings; moreover, it retails for the price of just one CD. Inquisitive readers should seek it out without further delay.
The new Kiwi Pacific disc comprises a very welcome companion release for this same company’s valuable earlier Lilburn anthology devoted to pioneering recordings of the three symphonies, under the direction of John Hopkins and Ashley Heenan (3/94). The two earliest works on this CD – the Drysdale Overture (1937) and Prodigal Country (1939) – were both prize-winners in the music competition organized by the New Zealand Government as part of its 1940 Centennial Celebrations. The overture is a fluent, polished piece – hardly earth-shatteringly memorable, it’s true, but at the same time not devoid of a certain fresh-faced eagerness. Prodigal Country is a much more substantial achievement, a stirring, highly accomplished setting of texts by Walt Whitman and two New Zealand poets, Allen Curnow and Robin Hyde. It possesses a breadth of vision and affirmative ardour which communicate vividly. Amazingly, Prodigal Country lay in a drawer for nearly half a century, until it was revived by the present team under the leadership of Sir Charles Groves. A Song of Islands, which dates from 1946, is an eloquent, richly lyrical and often passionate orchestral essay, employing a satisfying arch form. Composed in 1955 for the Auckland Junior Symphony Orchestra, the five-movement Suite for Orchestra is a real charmer, brimful of sparkling invention and gratifying instrumental resource. A Birthday Offering was written in 1956 for the National (later New Zealand) Symphony Orchestra on the occasion of its tenth anniversary. It, too, makes very rewarding listening and offers plenty of opportunities for individual members of the orchestra to shine. Splendid performances and very good sound throughout. This enjoyable issue very usefully expands our knowledge and appreciation of Lilburn, New Zealand’s distinguished elder statesman of music.'