Journeys of metaphor, allegory and spirituality were some of the stanchion points of Fairey’s impressive RNCM appearance this year.

They opened with ‘Belmont Variations’ - a curious amalgam of variant ideas from Sir Arthur Bliss. 17 years after ‘Kenilworth’  it is also a portrait of time and place - that of the pastoral New England beauty of his wife Trudy’s American birth place.  

Sensitive heart

Garry Cutt’s cultured direction sought the sensitive heart of the score, giving the listener time to reflect on the subtle vistas of much of the writing, as well as question why Frank Wright thought it necessary to insert an ugly, unnecessary triple cadenza into it. 55 years after it was used at the National Championships it’s still like finding Preston bus station had been built onto Westminster Abbey. 

Complimentary musical architecture though was certainly found with Edward Gregson’s ‘Concertante for Piano and Band’ - played with commandeering flair by soloist Jonathan Scott.  

The composer (who gave a witty, self deprecating introduction) readily acknowledged the inspirations of Rachmaninov, Gershwin and Ireland - although each was wrapped into the crafted embryonic core of his own making - one that was soon to flourish into an independent and very recognisable style of its own. 

Unashamedly youthfully romantic in gesture and style (Gregson was just 20 when he wrote it) it was a delight, played with vigour and understanding by both soloist and band.

Transgressional fiction

Romance was the furthest thing from the mind with Paul McGhee’s disturbingly evocative trip to the culling fields of transgressional fiction author Chuck Palahniuk.

‘Lullaby’ was the black as pitch-tar antithesis of serenity; the unconscious calmness of the music, with troubling, dislocated textures drawing the listener further into the abyss, led by the hand of conductor Tom Davoren. It was a crepuscular imagining of a viral death spiral; one that cannot be seen, touched or tasted, yet still inhabits the miasma around us all. It chilled the marrow in your bones. 

It was a crepuscular imagining of a viral death spiral; one that cannot be seen, touched or tasted, yet still inhabits the miasma around us all. It chilled the marrow in your bones. 

In an odd way the touching wonkiness of ‘Serenade’ was also a reminder of the dark wit that inhabited the mind of Derek Bourgeois - a wedding march with a difference; a hop-scotch first few steps to future happiness, played with a delicate touch of beauty and bonkerness. 

Masterful interpretation

To close, a masterful interpretation of ‘Resurgam’ from Garry Cutt; shaped, phrased and moulded by a loving hand (aided by the sublime cornet playing by Brian Taylor). 

Sorrow eventually made way to joy, through a journey that encapsulated fear as well as the deep, troubling personal thoughts of love and loss. 

The intensity of Eric Ball’s passion was finally unleashed in an apotheosis call of faith to ease the despair of a disconsolate, broken soul – one which subsided to a millpond stillness that lingered in the air before the MD finally brought his baton down.

Iwan Fox