The Gordon Jacob Concerto, written for the great Archie Camden in 1935, is entirely winning, a work to grace any concert programme and at a quarter-of-an-hour not a note too long. Neo-classical in feeling, the slightly spikey rhythms of the outer movements catch the ear readily. With lyricism never far away the bassoon is able to be good-humoured and genial and not in the least superficial, and triumphs naturally over the restless interlude in the basically giocoso finale, with the sidedrum then adding to the finality of the coda. The central Adagio is a haunting threnody, to show the other side of the solo instrument's personality, with gentle hints of desolation poignantly expressed. Robert Thompson encompasses the concerto's attractive invention and changing moods with elegance and feeling and he is stylishly accompanied by the ECO under Geoffrey Simon.
Jurriaan Andriessen's Concerto (in four brief sections) is even more succinct, opening with the soloist lugubriously and sonorously intertwined with the two bassoons of the accompanying group, then exploring other colouristic possibilities of combining a solo bassoon with a wind octet in a slow-fast-slow-fast sequence ending wittily. Not a masterpiece, but engaging enough. It is convincingly and spontaneously presented here.
However, John Downey's Edge of Space, which gives this collection its title, is much more diffuse, even if Robert Thompson, by eloquence of instrumental personality, is easily able to dominate the music throughout and hold it together. The piece opens with weirdly lit dissonance, and shifting clouds of harmony. It is a pity that the composer did not provide a detailed synopsis of his evocative intentions, for without knowing what he is trying to convey, the work is no more than its title suggests—a fantasy without coherent imagery. At the beginning we are presumably floating in heavy clouds but the soloist rises free over pizzicatos. The darkness of mood persists in the orchestra, but the bassoon soliloquizes and eventually a maestoso passage brings a more positive feeling. The key moment in the score comes when a chord is sounded by eight tuned crystal glasses (the players create the resonance by running their fingers round the rims). The bassoon then rhapsodizes melodically over this suggestion of the 'Edge of Space'.
The passage that follows, led by the oboe, has a certain quiet mysticism; it is interrupted by brass chords and tolling bells (that must surely have some significance, unexplained in the notes); then a powerful burst of pulsating tremolando strings and woodwind leads to an astonishing mood change, nothing less than a jazz interlude in space, with the soloist part of a three-piece combo including vibraphone and bass! A lyrical string line appears, drawing on earlier material and the bassoon returns to a Misterioso soliloquy, with brief glissando comments from clustered woodwind and electric guitar. The piece ends quietly with the bassoon's gentle cantilena never quite left in peace by the woodwind, and the closing bars are unoptimistically subdued. Frankly it is all a bit perplexing. I found it a shade over-extended, although I could well believe it could make a striking first impression at a concert. Certainly Robert Thompson sustains its ever-changing moods with coloristic skill and eloquence and Geoffrey Simon makes the most of the orchestral effects. Excellent recording, but poor value in playing time, with the Downey work taking up nearly half the programme.'