A magnificent collection of some of Peter Sculthorpe's
best works. Sculthorpe seems not to have gained the recognition he deserves
in the UK; especially having a UK-based publisher, Faber Music Ltd.
This has long struck me as a great shame. Sculthorpe's music has a very
immediate element to it, one that seems instantly geographically linked
to the wide spaces of Australasia.
Of course the use of the didjeridoo takes us immediately
into the world of the aborigine. Earth Cry refers to the need
of Australians to listen to the sounds of their own, surrounding, nature
in the way that the Aborigines have always done. [Try the book Mutant
Message Down Under by Marlo Morgan, a travelogue of a Westerner
who walked, memorably, with the aborigines.] The didjeridoo possesses
this earthy sound; indeed within its overtone-laden 'voice' is something
that appeals directly to the primal in all of us. sample
One of the strangest and most prized recordings I own – it was only
made, to my knowledge on cassette, is of didjeridoo duets. Sculthorpe
memorably juxtaposes the active didjeridoo of the opening with sudden,
glowering Romantic strings. Many of Sculthorpe's characteristics are
on offer in this short work including motoric rhythms. He can generate
tremendous excitement as well as real calm. I remain intrigued by what
sounds like a laughing hyena around 8'30; sample
is it the soloist singing through the didjeridoo? But most memorable
aspect is the sense of a vast open space that appears later in the piece.
sample
Memento Mori (literally, 'remember to die')
is inspired by Easter Island and its great stone heads, a memento mori
for this planet. Much is made of an oscillation between the pitch-classes
G and A flat, which the astronomer Kepler believed to be the sound at
which the earth itself resonates. The plainchant 'Dies irae' also forms
part of Sculthorpe's musical material. Strangely, and unexpectedly,
Sculthorpe uses harmonies that are almost English-pastoral (around 3'40ff);
a sort of Down-Under Vaughan Williams. sample
But what resonates most is the hypnotic, slow-moving sense of the
eternal. sample This is surely a reference
to those heads on Easter Island; they look as if they have been there
since Creation.
The Piano Concerto omits flutes and clarinets from
the scoring, leaving a 'reed choir' of two oboes, two bassoons and a
contra-bassoon to provide the wind element. Written in 1983 this was
a reaction to a time of Sculthorpe's life when death seemed a recurrent
theme. Several close friends died, and Sculthorpe himself was involved
in a near-fatal crash. The work serves to remind us - and him, probably
- of life-affirmation and its power.
In terms of the piano writing, the work seems mostly
to be the antithesis of the conventional solo-vehicle. Hypnotic, almost
meditational from the off, not to mention hyper-gentle, every note drips
with resonance. sample The piano
is frequently allotted obsessively-repeated figures. Harmonies can glow,
but equally the climaxes can be granitic; try around 4'40, with its
keening trumpets and chord of marble from the excellent young pianist,
Tamara Anna Cislowska. sample
The cadenza around twelve minutes is gripping, and for an example of
Sculthorpe's ear for sonority just try around 17'24, where glittering
piano figuration adorns a lonely cello melody. Magnificent. sample
The short, percussion-dominated From Oceania
is the final part of Sculthorpe's Music for Japan, written for
the Australian Youth Orchestra to play at Expo '70 in Osaka. As the
composer puts it, 'Composed in my Sun Music style, I thought
of it as a present to Japan from Australia'. There is surely a Varèse
influence here in the dense writing and the wind pitch-bends. Whatever
the case, there is no doubting the fact that this music travels a long
way in a short space of time (5'32). sample
Kakadu is named after the Kakadu National Park
in Northern Australia, a place of huge wilderness and home to the gagadju
people, a tribe that dates back around 50,000 years. Like the landscape,
the music speaks of vast things. sample
Sculthorpe injects local colour by the use of indigenous chants
in his melodic material. The solo cor anglais, that crops up, memorably,
on several occasions, is stunningly played here. sample
Alas the player is uncredited. Intimations of nature, primal rhythms
and a sense of space conjoin to reaffirm Sculthorpe's importance. There
seems to be no-one quite like him. ending
This Naxos release, given its very freedom of availability, should go
a long way to propelling Sculthorpe to his rightful place in our contemporary
musical consciousness. Given Sculthorpe's dedication to the powers of
Nature and his evident belief that music can speak in this regard much
more eloquently than words, it would appear he has important things
to say. We should listen, and carefully.
Colin Clarke
see also
review by Rob Barnett
see also Sculthorpe
collection on ABC
William Barton (didjeridu)* 