Argo have come in for some criticism in these pages, but their exclusive contract with Mark-Anthony Turnage surely rates as some sort of jewel in the crown. In particular, this recording of Blood on the Floor has been eagerly awaited since that cathartic, evening-length sequence was first heard in London. Argo’s previous Turnage collection (10/96) actually included the piece that serves as its last movement – the double trumpet concerto, Dispelling the Fears, heard here in a scaled-down orchestration. But the work as a whole is an impressive demonstration of the composer’s ability to straddle the worlds of jazz, rock and art music without descending to the modish doodling of his crossover peers.
The overall title comes from a painting by Francis Bacon (whose distinctive facial features are bizarrely recalled in the composer’s own), while the music ranges widely in its references and allusions. Understandably, the disc’s packaging plays upon the theme of urban alienation and, of course, Blood on the Floor has its harrowing aspects. A younger brother of the composer died as a consequence of drug addiction and several of its nine movements could scarcely be more explicitly titled. At the same time, the punchy, amplified, vernacular element should not disguise the fact that this is also an elegantly crafted suite, ingeniously laid out for the 30-odd musicians of Ensemble Modern plus a solo trio of electric guitar, drum kit and saxophone: respectively John Scofield, Peter Erskine and Martin Robertson. The participation of John Scofield puts flesh on the bones of Turnage’s longstanding idiomatic involvement with Miles Davis, and the ‘classical’ influences include the usual culprits – Stravinsky, Britten and, conceptually at least, Hans Werner Henze. Somehow, the contradictions don’t jar as you’d expect. Operating in an age in which the acquisition of a unified and personal voice is no longer considered top priority, Turnage’s eclecticism does not lead to the usual anonymity. His bluesy, shell-shocked lyricism is very much his own.
The abrasive opening movement spews out key thematic material in a series of angry, violent climaxes, and yet this is not the dominant mood. It may be invidious to isolate individual sections, but “Junior Addict”, inspired by a poem by Langston Hughes, is powerfully melodic with its bleak soprano saxophone solo weaving through woodwinds above a subterranean bass. Get this far and you should be hooked. Elsewhere the symphonic Turnage is in the ascendant, seeming to aim for the clinching quasi-Mahlerian expression of hope tempered by fatalism, dispelling the fears. The present recording is edited together from live performances given in a variety of venues and the immediate style of miking, pop-influenced track-listings and (trilingual) annotations will not be to everyone’s taste. That said, the playing is undeniably superb and, for the moment, this feels like a major release whether it represents the last gasp of the Third Stream or a radical new beginning. Strongly recommended either way.'