Reubke's meagre worklist (three pieces for piano, two for organ) is out of all proportion to his significance as a composer for the organ. No problem that his reputation rests on just one of those five works; the Sonata's vivid musical imagery depicting verses from one of the most menacing of psalms (''O God, to whom vengeance belongeth'') is the epitome of romantic organ music at its most lavish. Setting this great gothic edifice beside Schumann's taut, strictly disciplined Fugues is an inspired piece of programme-building from Kevin Bowyer.
I had always assumed that Schumann wrote these fugues (as he did the six Sketches) for pedal piano—an instrument for which, in a moment of rare misjudgement, he predicted a great future. In his notes for the disc Michael Gailit suggests that the pieces were primarily intended for organ and Kevin Bowyer's performances strongly reinforce that view. There is nothing remotely pianistic about this playing; the organ's sustaining powers come into their own as Bowyer skilfully traces the contrapuntal lines and his registration scheme is cleverly contrived to present the six fugues as a single cyclic whole.
I had my doubts at the start of the Reubke: the playing seemed too literal, the organ's colours too bright and sanitized. I reserve judgement on the organ; whatever other qualities it boasts (and it boasts an awful lot), dark, murky tone-colours are not among them. The playing quickly won me over, though. What initially seems merely dispassionate turns into a creeping remorseless terror, like the menacing ooze of volcanic lava, exploding at that first climax (''they murder the widow... and put the fatherless to death''—11'25''). Throughout Bowyer understates the drama to chilling effect The central Adagio (''the multitude of sorrows in my heart'') is all the more tragic for its absence of sentimentality, while the strong, confident Fugue (''God is the strength of confidence:) never forgets the horrible viciousness of the psalm's closing lines: ''He shall destroy them in their own malice''. Spine-tingling stuff.'