Foden’s opened the 2018 Festival in fine fashion with a concert that bubbled with energy and imagination under the twin batons of James Gourlay and Michael Fowles.

The festival theme of travel by land, sea or water was neatly encapsulated in a first half that featured ‘Kenilworth’ by Arthur Bliss, before taking divergent detours to world premieres from the pens of Liz Lane and Derek Bourgeois.

Romantic gesture

‘Kenilworth’ is no poor man’s ‘Pageantry’; rather a more romantic gesture of heraldic portraiture by a composer whose own work led a somewhat contentious journey of development from enfant terribilisme to Master of the Queen’s Music.  Richly characterised like an Errol Flynn film score of Erich Korngold, it was revived in swashbuckling fashion by James Gourlay.

Textured colours and lyrical memories seeped through Liz Lane’s ‘Tide and Time’; music that flowed with subtle meanderings engineered by Michael Fowles between the touching reflections of Rachmaninov to the more esoteric teasings of 17th century Rosicrucianism - all linked with crafted elegance to the stanchion points of the band’s proud contesting past.

Last laugh

Meanwhile, the musical dichotomy of ‘Trials and Tribulations’ by Derek Bourgeois bordered on the absurd; although you felt deliberately so with the nervous tics and splenetic wit of much of the writing inspired by the verisimilitude of contest luck. For a man close to death, he was certainly having a last laugh, tickled in the ribs by James Gourlay’s waspish direction.  

Contrasting elemental freshness was also exhibited by Gourlay in the second half, with Ireland’s ‘A Downland Suite’ released from its straight jacket of reserved bucolic respect in wonderfully uplifting fashion - the highlight, its Minuet played with fleet- footed elegance.   

In contrast, the musical dichotomy of ‘Trials and Tribulations’ by Derek Bourgeois bordered on the absurd; although you felt deliberately so with the nervous tics and splenetic wit of much of the writing inspired by the verisimilitude of contest luck. For a man close to death, he was certainly having a last laugh, tickled in the ribs by James Gourlay’s waspish direction.  

Immediate and relevant

Etienne Crausez's ‘Concerto Grosso’ that followed saw Gary Curtin (euphonium) and Mark Landon (marimba) play off each other with a dialogue that embraced a triptych of musical language that seemingly embraced a form of rhythmic text-speak to pensive sorrow and uninhibited virtuosity – the connecting link between the soloists always immediate and relevant.       

It was left to Ray Steadman-Allen’s rather portentous ‘Seascapes’ to close the evening (the lollipop encore really wasn’t needed) - performed with characterisation that instilled an energy into its maritime funnels; from the gentle whiff of exotic spices in the opening movement to the very British sense of duty as an old Channel coaster finally made it home to port.

Malcolm Wood