Stephen Dodgson (1924-2013)
Mirage: Piano Music
Eight Fanciful Pieces (1956)
Four Moods of the Wind (1968)
Three Impromptus (1962, rev. 1985)
Piano Sonata No. 7 (2003)
Six Bagatelles (2005)
Osman Tack (piano)
rec. 2022, Potton Hall, Saxmundham, UK
Somm Recordings SOMMCD 0684 [79]
All of the Eight Fanciful Pieces that open this collection of Stephen Dodgson’s piano music have picturesque titles which, in most cases, is pretty much all you need as a listening guide. There is more than a hint of Debussy in several of them, in the opening ‘A Leaf in the River’ in particular. Spain, too, can be perceived, in the second piece, ‘The Shrovetide Procession’ as well as in the sixth, ‘Mirage’, which gives this collection its name. These are exquisite miniatures and might be thought inconsequential but for individual touches characteristic of the composer. ‘A Leaf in the River’, for instance, seems about to end on a simple minor chord, but Dodgson adds a final glimpse of the tiny thematic motif that has been present throughout. ‘Krazy Kate’ may or may not live up to her nickname, but she is certainly unpredictable, and the rippling right hand scales – beautifully articulated by Osman Tack – add an unexpected, even incongruous element to the piece entitled ‘Dancers’.
Robert Matthew-Walker, in a typically erudite booklet note, refers to Four Moods of the Wind as a suite. The title leads the listener to listen out for the wind in the music, and in particular to try and identify its ‘moods’. I think that listener will be unsuccessful. The second piece, marked Agitato, might conceivably represent a storm, or at least, a gathering storm, but it is an amiable and congenial one. You might fancy you hear the wind blowing hither and thither in the episodic third piece; but I think it would be more fruitful to listen to this work as absolute music. There is a strong hint of impressionism again, and of Debussy in particular, though with a kind of rhythmic muscular strength quite different from that demonstrated so frequently by the senior French composer. I even hear echoes of Messiaen in some of the harmonies, a composer for whom I feel sure – though without the slightest shred of evidence – Dodgson felt little sympathy.
The dramatic opening of the first of the Three Impromptus employs a musical language as far advanced as anything in this collection, and the whole of the piece is dramatic in nature, never really alighting anywhere, as if in search of a point of repose that remains elusive. The second piece, though sweeter, is almost as restless, but with the third there is a new feeling of poise and grace. It is characterised by running right hand figures over sonorous left-hand chords, but with a kind of destination in view that is, none the less, rather unexpected when it comes.
Dodgson’s Piano Sonata No. 7 was his final essay in the form and is the most imposing work in this collection. It was completed in 2003. (Bernard Roberts has recorded the previous six sonatas for the Claudio label.) When two of my friends listened to this work their responses included the words ‘knotty’ and ‘challenging’; one friend, in particular, felt that the music did not ‘welcome the listener in’. This is the kind of reaction I frequently get when introducing the composer to music lovers who do not know him. This sonata is an easier listen, I think, than the Impromptus, but even so the musical language is not easy. Dodgson once said in an interview that ‘Everything I write is strongly tonal. But it is difficult to say, except at certain points, precisely what the tonality is …’. Indeed, one constantly hears, in this sonata and elsewhere, short phrases that are clearly in a major or minor key. Yet they are surrounded by, and frequently concealed within, a relatively important chromatic texture. The other important point to make is that Dodgson was not really a melodist. His music tends to be made up of short motifs that are repeated and constantly developed. Texture and figuration are also important. In general you will not come away from a Dodgson work with a tune in your head that stubbornly refuses to leave. These are the characteristics, I think, that explain why some people find his music ‘unwelcoming’ – a reaction I find fascinating – yet I urge listeners to stick with it. One hears, and appreciates, more with each hearing. This sonata opens in monumental fashion, but the remainder of the first movement is episodic in nature, and that in spite of Matthew-Walker’s assertion that each of its three movements is ‘supra-contained with an overall and characteristic pulse that organically moves to its brilliant conclusion.’ The second movement is generally contemplative, but again Matthew-Walker’s reference to ‘tingling life’ is not quite how I hear the finale. What is clear, however, is that it is a major utterance, serious in nature and challenging for the listener and for the player. I am full of admiration for the technical aspects of Osman Tack’s playing here, and throughout the collection, and even more so for the depth of his understanding of, and integration into, Dodgson’s style and manner. Somm’s recording, by the way, from Jeremy Hayes and Ben Connellan, is superb.
There was not room on the CD to include Dodgson’s very first piece for solo piano, a Rondo in A flat, composed in 1953, but purchasers of the disc will be able to download it. Otherwise the programme closes with Six Bagatelles, the second of two sets by the composer. The pieces have no titles – only numbers – but their tempo indications are a good and entertaining guide to the nature of the music. The first is ‘Highly expressive but gentle’, for instance, and another is ‘Cryptic and playful’. You would expect a set of bagatelles to be on the lighter side, and so they are, though there is meat in there too, and Dodgson’s habitual manipulation of tonality and rhythm keep you guessing. The final piece lives up to its indication of ‘Moto perpetuo: airy and sparkling’ and succeeds in confecting a sudden ending that takes the listener by surprise.
William Hedley
MusicWeb International
