E J Moeran

Silver buckthorn under snow. Image: Derek Turner

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, orchestral works, SOMM CD 0713

E.J. Moeran, Symphony and Violin Concerto, SOMM ARIADNE 5045

Arlene Sierra, Birds and Insects, BRIDGE 9599

Vaughan Williams, Mantegna, ALBCD067

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912) was a man of half-English and African descent, a composer in a monocultural Britain who was championed by those quintessential musical knights, Sirs Edward Elgar and Malcolm Sargent, and who was thought to represent a vital new generation in our cultural life. Yet Samuel died in poverty – and still in the prime of life. Who knows where his musical star might have guided us?

But on a new recording from the ever-adventurous SOMM label, we are able to savour an orchestral march – championed by Sir Henry Wood – that could easily slot in alongside Elgar’s famous contribution to the military oeuvre. In Coleridge-Taylor’s Ethiopia Saluting the Colours, we find – not a piece about mystical African Emperors, their cult and country’s ability to defeat European outsiders – but a touching story-in-music about a slave in the Carolinas – named Ethiopia – giving thanks to the Stars and Stripes, as flown by the Union Army in the latter stages of the American Civil War. Of course, there are many Southerners who have not forgotten the scorched earth policy of General Sherman as he ‘liberated’ the country known as Dixie, but historical controversies aside, listeners have the chance to savour Coleridge-Taylor’s semi-Elgarian style – not to mention the rich tone of the Ulster Orchestra, under the baton of Charles Peebles.

Other works on the disc also capture the Victorian-Edwardian period feel of the music, with Rebecca Murphy, soprano, the soloist in Zara’s Earrings, Op. 7 – A Moorish Ballad, with text by John Gibson Lockhart (Walter Scott’s son-in-law, and biographer). Ioana Petcu-Colan relishes the solo part the quarter-of-an-hour in length Ballade for Violin and Orchestra in D minor. A Brahmsian lyricism, but somehow sweeter than the original tones of the great Johannes, is never far from the surface. Lovers of the music of the English Musical Renascence will enjoy this collection enormously.

E.J. Moeran, who died during a storm on the coast of Eire in 1950, was a symphonist and tone-poem writer, able to establish an immediate atmosphere of landscape and folklore in his music. Of Irish descent, Moeran was born in England, and absorbed all the loneliness of the East Anglian coastal marshes and sands, earning the praise of fellow composer, Lowestoft-born Benjamin Britten. Yet despite Moeran’s Englishness of fen and meadow, and a beery period of mugs of ale and madrigals in the North-West Kent village of Eynsford with characterful composer, Peter Warlock, it was to an almost imaginary Ireland that E.J. – or ‘Jolly Jack’ – was drawn. His Violin Concerto, completed in 1938 and inspired by Kenmare Bay, seems to assemble every part of his character, and it is the one major work of Moeran which concert-programmers turn to on the rare occasions that the composer is even thought of these days. On a new CD from SOMM Recordings, founder and director, Siva Oke (with painstaking audio restoration from Lani Spahr) brings a 1946 live broadcast from St. Andrew’s Hall, Norwich, into the sound-world of 2025 – with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and soloist, Albert Sammons, conducted by Sir Adrian Boult.

Longer than the concerto by some 15 minutes, the CD also features the Symphony in G minor, a piece that is filled with lyricism and impetuous outbursts of energy – again, mirroring the composer’s stormy and unpredictable character. Those familiar with Bax’s Celtic twilight symphonic output will relish the Moeran, enjoying along the way the muscular playing of the BBC Symphony Orchestra of 1949 (again, under Boult) and a finale every bit as exciting as that found in Sibelius Fifth and Walton’s First symphonies.

Sarus Crane, Cornish Bantam, Thermometer Cricket, Lovely Fairywren – these are the magical titles of short pieces which comprise Books 1, 2 and 3 of Arlene Sierra’s collection devoted to Birds and Insects. A walk through a modern Natural History Museum, or a contemporary-music, natural-history sound-installation, Arlene’s music casts a strange spell – as if you were about to disappear into a fantasy of Nature. Arlene is an American composer, but London-based and has enjoyed many collaborations with leading orchestras in Britain, Japan and America. Although very much her own, distinctive, modern yet approachable style, the music seems to stand alongside similar evocations of birds by, for example, Messiaen or Ravel; and a feeling created for the listener, very much like the Japanese composer, Takemitsu, in A Flock Descends into the Pentagonal Garden. As complex and miraculous as the delicate bodies of the creatures it represents – the music wafts from the trees, canopies and cover of the forests and woods where its inspirations live their lives. In the hands of pianists Steven Beck and Sarah Cahill, I can think of no better album of contemporary music this wintertime.

Finally, great hymn tunes abound in a CD from Albion Records – Mantegna – so named because of the 15^th-century artist, painter of The Agony in the Garden. The atmosphere of Passiontide and Gethsemane is very much to the fore, in Vaughan Williams’s setting of Sidney Lanier – an American author and poet who served in the Confederate Army in the Civil War: “Into the woods my master went,/Clean forspent, forspent;/Into the woods my master came,/Forspent with love and shame… ‘Twas on the tree they slew him, last,/When out of the woods he came.’

All People That on Earth Do Dwell (the ‘Old Hundredth’) – RVW’s famous arrangement, used at the Coronation of Elizabeth II – and the tune King’s Lynn make for inspiring listening, with the words of G.K. Chesterton: “O God of earth and altar,/Bow down and hear our cry,/Our earthly rules falter,/Our people drift and die…’ Although the son of a Gloucestershire clergyman, Vaughan Williams – though inspired by Christian culture and belief – remained an English agnostic for all his days, yet even in his deep, harmonic hymnody, misty mornings near coastal East of England churches, the Norfolk Rhapsodies and the horizons of Wenlock Edge are never far away. William Vann, the Dulwich Choral Society and the London Mozart Players (the ensemble due to open the 2026 English Music Festival) give a full-bodied and well-recorded performance.

Stuart Millson

STUART MILLSON is a member of the Chartered Institute of Journalists, and a Contributing Editor to The Brazen Head

STUART MILLSON searches for unjustly overlooked Kent composers

A recent release on an innovative recording label – with the somewhat obscure title, Heracleitus – brings a mysterious figure from 20^th century music in this country into view. The CD from the recording arm of the English Music Festival, an organisation dedicated to the rediscovery of the musical traditions of this island, owes its name to an almost forgotten song by Peter Warlock, which receives its world-premiere recording in the disc (Heracleitus – songs by Warlock, Gurney and Butterworth, EMR CD036).

Peter Warlock (1894-1930) was perhaps one of the first English minimalists – or at least, a composer able to concentrate profound sensitivity and emotion into sparse and sparing spans of music.

Warlock is best known for his Suite, Capriol – based upon 16^th-century airs and dances – and the slanting light of desolate marshland in the melancholic song-cycle, The Curlew; but in the song, Heracleitus, the listener encounters a timeless whisper from classical antiquity, set in an English mist, and reverently delivered by tenor, Charles Daniels:

‘They told me, Heracleitus, they told 
Me you were dead; 
They brought me bitter news to hear 
And bitter tears to shed; 
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I 
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.’
(W J Cory, 1823-92, after Callimachus (3rd century BC)

Warlock lived for a time in the north Kent village of Eynsford, which even today (despite traffic) is a reassuringly old-fashioned place, standing beside and fording the clear stream of the River Darent, overlooked by downland and willows. By a stroke of good luck, the M25 – which planners wanted to build through the Shoreham and Eynsford valley – went elsewhere, saving an idyllic landscape from noise and destruction.

E J Moeran, Warlock’s fellow composer and boon-companion

A blue plaque at the Eynsford High Street cottage which he shared between 1925 and 1928 with fellow composer, E.J. Moeran commemorates his time there – and by all accounts (“with the kitchen swimming in beer”) it was a jolly, bohemian existence, or perhaps too dissolute to sustain. Moeran – a man who seemed as Irish as he was English – even earned the name, “Jolly Jack”, and when not composing his Violin Concerto or landscape-inspired rhapsodies, shared his composer-friend’s propensity for ale-drinking. Legends abound of the Eynsford sojourn: a naked Peter Warlock, no doubt under the influence of the local brew, even rode a motorcycle back and forth through the village – to the amusement of fellow bohemians, no doubt, but probably to the consternation of the natives. When returning from London on the train, the Eynsford station-master was always ready to bang on the window of the carriage in which Warlock was travelling – thus waking the slumbering composer from his stupor.

Another of the composer’s north Kent circle was the curious figure of one Hal Collins. As Michael Trend noted in his 1985 book, The Music Makers – The English Musical Renaissance from Elgar to Britten:

… Hal Collins – also known as Te Akau – a part-Maori, who boasted a cannibal grandmother. Collins was an interesting man in his own right: he was an effective artist, as his woodcuts show, and also, it seems, a self-taught musician who once played a whole act of an opera from Tristram Shandy which he had in his head.

Yet a purity is found in Warlock’s music, at odds with the excesses – and darkness of his character (a darkness, emphasised by his strange, untimely, lonely death in a Chelsea flat in 1930): wistful phrases, beautiful and touching, yet slipping away into a feeling that the composer is longing for something unattainable. (Warlock wasn’t the musician’s real name – the composer abandoning his familial name, Heseltine, for a persona far more tantalising and provocative.) It was, perhaps, a natural thing for Warlock to have come to this Kentish valley. Neighbouring Shoreham was the home of the early 19th-century mystical and pastoral painter, Samuel Palmer. He and his followers loved the countryside and described themselves as “the Ancients”, often dressing in the mediaeval costume. The paintings – oddly modern, in their style – or at least, not entirely what one would expect of the early half of the 19^th century – depict a mediaeval world of corn, twilights, harvest, rural-dwellers. A photograph exists of smiling Peter Warlock, tankard in hand, standing alongside members of the Shoreham Dramatic Society – the members in their rustic Robin Hood costumes.

English music is so often associated with scenes of rural Britain. As the inter-war Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, said: “England is the country, and the country is England.” Vaughan Williams wrote a Pastoral Symphony, in part, a response to the Great War; and a composer called Ernest Farrar (who was born in Lewisham in 1885 – some 10 miles from Eynsford) which in those days was a rural village by the River Ravensbourne) composed a suite of English Pastoral Impressions, the first movement of which suggests bells chiming in the distance, and a gentle dance on the village green – the music then subsiding into a dream sequence, as distant, watchful horn-calls evoke longing and memory. Farrar served in The Great War, his life ending on the Western Front in the last year of the conflict.

In the search for Warlock, other forgotten figures have emerged from the north-west Kent… Who, for example, has heard of John Veale (1922-2006)? Veale was born in the suburb of Shortlands (famous for its 19^th-century ragstone-constructed water pumping station, built in the style of a chateau) and a part of Bromley – once a Kent market town, but now known as the London Borough of Bromley. He composed symphonic works, and his Violin Concerto (which is reminiscent of William Walton) has been recorded by the Chandos label. Yet, just like the Cornishman, George Lloyd, Veale sank into complete obscurity during the time of the Second Viennese School takeover at the BBC during the 1960s and ‘70s; and was quite surprised in the early 1980s to have received a telephone call: “Is that the composer, John Veale?”

Just a couple of miles away in equally built-up Beckenham (although there are still village almshouses by St. George’s church), emerged another composer: Carey Blyton (a relative of the famous children’s author). Many will be surprised to know that Blyton wrote much of the early incidental music to the classic television sci-fi series, Dr. Who – haunting, abstract minimalist pieces, including a brief march-like interlude for the character of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, an accomplice of the Doctor. In complete contrast is the composer’s Song of the Goldfish – a strange evocation of the fish’s existence in a living room bowl – and an adventure-tale Overture, The Hobbit (recorded on a British Light Overtures series by the Royal Ballet Sinfonia).

Villages just beyond the M25 – suburbs which were once villages themselves. Look carefully through the neat hedges and fragments of still-wild woodland that has managed to cling to life in our congested age: a legacy of music created by some of England’s most unusual artistic personalities remains…