The first thing to say about this record is that the performances and recordings give the music every chance to make its mark. I have not seen the scores, but aural evidence alone suggests that Peter Donohoe and John Harle are ideal soloists and that EMI have captured them, and the orchestral contributions, to maximum effect.
The first thing to say about the music is that both pieces sound like concertos, in that the solo parts are showy and exhibitionist, with effectively judged relationships to their accompaniments. The Piano Concerto exploits Donohoe's special affinity for the twentieth-century repertoire; the Saxophone Concerto does not censor out any of the instrumental associations which might possibly cause embarrassment—the Paris Conservatoire test piece the television advertisement, the big-band sound, the 'crossover' style of pieces like Berg's Violin Concerto.
So are we dealing with pastiche? In a sense surely yes, since the Piano Concerto seems to be structured around a series of portraits most obviously of Stravinsky, Berg, Ives and Messiaen, and since the Saxophone Concerto seems out to emulate the sensuous charm of a Jean Francaix in its first movement and the dynamism of a Bernstein in its finale. But that isn't the whole story. Just when the Saxophone Concerto seems to have blundered by starting its middle movement in the same lyrical vein as the first, it starts to grow intriguingly into something more active and more vital; and I like the way this work lays a false trail at the beginning, with long-term musical consequences as well as a pleasing local effect. No less appealing are the unexpected flare-ups and cross-cuttings which break into the Berg 'portrait' in the Piano Concerto.
If I understand Muldowney correctly—from his interview with Paul Griffiths in the latter's New Sounds, New Personalities (Faber: 1985)—he is not interested in neo-romanticism (though what could be more neo-romantic than the middle movement of the Saxophone Concerto, with its regular swinging from one juicy harmony to the next?), nor does he set much store by irony. It seems he is simply after direct communication and effective, perceptible structure. In those terms one might query whether the varied reprises in the Piano Concerto are not a little too meandering, and whether the endings of both concertos are not rather contrived. And in terms of the ideas themselves it might be doubted whether Muldowney delivers the goods in quite the way that certain similarly eclectic concertos of the mid 1930s do (Ravel, Shostakovich and Berg are the obvious examples).
The fact remains that this is an attractive record, and both concertos are certainly marvellous vehicles for their respective soloists. Many will also applaud Muldowney's refusal to hide behind an intellectual smoke-screen. Getting to know these works has been a rewarding experience, and it may be that more leisurely acquaintance will reveal even more of an individual voice. Definitely one of the more enjoyable contemporary releases of the year.'