Among his many compositions, Kenneth V. Jones wrote a concerto for string orchestra (1956), a concerto for oboe and strings (1963), The Pollock, an orchestral prelude (1963), O Light Invisible, a cantata for soprano, mixed chorus and orchestra (1963), a sonata for solo violin (1967), Dialysis, for violin and harpsichord (1973), Quaquaverse, for saxophone quartet (1979), Paean for organ (1983), three Sinfonias for orchestra, as well as piano works, song cycles, film, play and television scores and church music, including hymns and anthems. The Piano Sonata, Op. 4 (1950) is a concise, sharply defined score, written while the composer was still a student at the Royal College of Music. The opening Allegro moderato begins without preamble, presenting the movement's principal, upward lyrising idea at the outset. Some of the sonata's main ideas are also exploited in the lively, dance-like 'Rondo Burlesca' that taps into a vein of extrovert eccentricity, not unlike Dukas's The Sorcerer's Apprentice, or 'Uranus the Magician' from Holst's orchestral suite, The Planets. Near the end of this rumbustious finale, Jones broadens the tempo to reveal hitherto unsuspected lyrical qualities in the material before the exuberant, gawky dance prevails again.

Lloyd's first solo piano piece, An African Shrine (1966), was written for the great British pianist, John Ogdon, who premiered it on 30 August 1969 for a BBC Radio 3 broadcast and recorded it a year later for EMI. The material teems with invention of the highest quality, yet the composer keeps a tight rein on his ideas. Weighty, dramatic sequences are counterpoised convincingly with gentler, lyrical episodes inside an expansive, sweeping canvas that honours the depth and seriousness of the music's underlying theme. Above all, the music is unequivocally, and compellingly, pianistic and could not have been written for any other medium.

In 1972, Lloyd wrote the first draft of The Transformation of that Naked Ape. He had been reading Desmond Morris's book, The Naked Ape (1967) and the idea for a solo piano piece came to him. In his own words, 'I had always refused to accept the notion that we humans are just superior animals so this book decided me to stand up and be counted amongst those who believe another dimension must be added to explain our natures'. In 1987, the composer revised the work for the present recording. There are six movements in the piece, entitled 'Her Hair', 'Her Tongue', 'Her Eyes', 'Her Brain', 'her Mind' and 'Her Soul'. If this sequence suggests a progression from the physical to the spiritual, such a development is also apparent in the music. Hence the helter-skelter scherzo-like frivolity of 'Her Hair' and the florid introspection of 'Her Tongue' give way gradually to the tender lyricism of 'Her Mind' and the brio and joyfulness of the closing movement, 'Her Soul'.

At the head of the score of The Lily-leaf and the Grasshopper (1972), Lloyd has written, 'One evening as I lay in my canoe by the banks of the Avon, I saw a large lily-leaf come floating down stream, on it sat a grasshopper'. The painterly outer portions of the piece generate a languid, serene atmosphere. In the lighter and more animated middle section, the grasshopper holds sway. This principal character in the narrative even gets a dramatic lead-in, replete with expectant trills. As ever with Lloyd, the material is meticulously proportioned, so that the scene-setting opening sequence and the summatory close are both given due weight to counterbalance the dynamic, wide-ranging central exploits.

The Aggressive Fishes (1972) was inspired by Karl Lorenz's account of experiments with tropical fishes. According to the composer, 'They are wonderfully beautiful creatures, but very vicious and aggressive, so I tried to describe the languor and the laziness and the sudden bursts of violence'. Lloyd creates an aptly fluid, aqueous soundscape, which returns in the closing stages of the piece. In the main, central section, he takes the listener on a colourful journey, full of unexpected flights of fancy, in one of his most impressionistic pieces.

St. Antony and the Beggar (1972) juxtaposes a variety of styles and moods, from dark introspection and violence outbursts to sequences of prayerful hope. A lively waltz also recurs in the varied and engaging narrative. After a stormy climax is reached, the closing section is serene and spacious.

Lullaby (Intercom Baby) was originally written for violin and piano in the mid-1970s, but Lloyd arranged it for solo piano in 1987 for the present recording. The composer wrote of the work, 'It is really a lullaby, but the mother does not rock the cradle, she is in another room at the end of an intercom listening for her baby; what she hears is not always as peaceful as it should be'. This gentle berceuse has a lilting warmth, with delightfully puckish central excursions. There is an old-world charm to the piece that belies it's modish title.

This exuberant piece begins with a lively, dancing section, driven by various rhythmic motifs, anchored by a vivid, repeated melodic pattern. An insistent triplet fanfare figure dominates the central section, before the opening gambolling material returns, with even more feverish energy. After a sonorous climax, the music gently ascends the heights before the vigorous final flourish. At several moments and especially at the music's climactic sequence, it feels as though Lloyd is demanding richer, more extensive sonorities than a single performer can produce. So it is not surprising that in 1995 he arranged the piece for two pianos. He remarked pithily, 'I think it sounds better with two pianos' and the greater depth of sound afforded by two instruments and the additional interplay between the two performers enhances the material. On the other hand, the element of striving and struggle present in the version for solo piano better complements the idealism and aspirations of the protagonists in the music's scenario.

This exuberant piece begins with a lively, dancing section, driven by various rhythmic motifs, anchored by a vivid, repeated melodic pattern. An insistent triplet fanfare figure dominates the central section, before the opening gambolling material returns, with even more feverish energy. After a sonorous climax, the music gently ascends the heights before the vigorous final flourish. At several moments and especially at the music's climactic sequence, it feels as though Lloyd is demanding richer, more extensive sonorities than a single performer can produce. So it is not surprising that in 1995 he arranged the piece for two pianos. He remarked pithily, 'I think it sounds better with two pianos' and the greater depth of sound afforded by two instruments and the additional interplay between the two performers enhances the material. On the other hand, the element of striving and struggle present in the version for solo piano better complements the idealism and aspirations of the protagonists in the music's scenario.

Eventide, for two pianos (1989) contains a tune that dates back to the composer's childhood. When Lloyd was writing the music for his opera John Socman (1951), his father William Lloyd, who was writing the libretto, produced a little carol which the ten-year-old George had penned and subsequently forgotten. William Lloyd had kept the manuscript and now presented it with the suggestion that it would be suitable for the opera at various junctures. Thus, the tune appears first as a carol sung by an old man and is later performed by a chorus of boys outside a window. Lloyd used the tune in this piece Eventide, for two pianos (1989) and finally arranged it for brass band as Evening Song in 1991. In it's two-piano incarnation recorded here, Lloyd exploits the extreme registers of the keyboards, the figurations in the upper reaches having the chiming brilliance of a carillon. The central climax is especially stark and ferocious, so that the return of the poignant simple tune, expertly deferred by the composer, has a genuinely cathartic effect.

Aubade, a fantasy for two pianos, was written during the summer of 1971, for John Odgon and Brenda Lucas. It is in one continuous movement, divided into sections, linked by an introductory theme. The titles of the eight sections are: Introduction; Dance of the Charcoal Burners; The March of the Tin Soldiers; Love Duet; Waltz; Bells, Monks and Lutherans; Moths; Finale. As Edward Seckerson observed of Aubade, 'It's a fun piece, easy on the listener, demanding for the soloists'

Lament, Air and Dance, for violin and piano (1975) corresponds broadly with Joseph Horovitz's prescription for a three-movement design as favouring the listener 'first in the head, then in the heart, and finally in the toes'. The expansive, spaciously conceived opening Lament takes the form of a freely worked out chaconne based the opening theme played by the violin in low register.

A Miniature Triptych is scored for brass quintet, consisting of two trumpets, horn, tenor trombone and tuba and is cast in three movements. The first, entitled 'Lost', is slow, ruminative and bathed in half-lights, with enigmatic melodic and harmonic shifts and dramatic use of muted trumpet and flutter-tongue effects. Appropriately, the movement ends on a question mark. It is followed by the tense and edgy 'Searching' central movement. The overall mood here is anxious and turbulent, with frequent shifts in tempo. A tender lyrical phrase tries to break through the relentless, repeated-note fanfares. Eventually, the songlike phrase triumphs and the movement ends quietly in a spirit of cautious optimism. 'Found' begins with a sombre, recitative-like trombone soliloquy, but the movement's main section is buoyant and ultimately affirmative. When Lloyd was asked about the intriguing titles for each of the three movements, his characteristically whimsical, throwaway response was, 'Well, it's a general sort of human situation isn't it? We're always being lost and, hopefully, we're being found'. Yet, the scope and seriousness of the music suggests something more resonant and the listener might agree with Donald Johns in his review of the score, when he remarked that the piece, 'features good, solid craftsmanship, and plenty of display opportunities for each instrument in the ensemble', going on to observe that a 'successful performance would require a mature group of experienced players'.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output. Lloyd produced the final score of his Requiem a month before his death. It is inscribed 'to the memory of Diana Princess of Wales'. Compassionate, reassuring and even, at times, joyful, this is a conscious leave-taking on the part of the composer.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output. Lloyd's compact and cogent setting of Psalm 130 constitutes, arguably, his most fluently effective use of a cappella choral writing.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Conceived on a grand scale, Lloyd's late choral works build fruitfully upon his previous experience in other genres. They share with his operas an innate lyricism, natural affinity with the human voice and feeling for the long line, while their structural balance, intensive working out of motifs and rich orchestral palette owes a significant debt to his prolific symphonic output.

Lloyd completed his Cello Concerto in July 1997, a year before his death of the age of 85 and in this autumnal piece can be discerned a wistful, valedictory quality, with feelings of sorrow and regret surfacing repeatedly. The solo instrument's inherently lyrical aspect is suited to the composer's expressive needs and the one-movement format allows the musical narrative to ebb and flow naturally so that this work has a strong claim to be regarded as Lloyd's most formally successful concertante piece. A small orchestra is required, consisting of double woodwind, three horns, modest percussion (for one player) and strings. � Paul Conway

Lloyd completed his Cello Concerto in July 1997, a year before his death of the age of 85 and in this autumnal piece can be discerned a wistful, valedictory quality, with feelings of sorrow and regret surfacing repeatedly. The solo instrument's inherently lyrical aspect is suited to the composer's expressive needs and the one-movement format allows the musical narrative to ebb and flow naturally so that this work has a strong claim to be regarded as Lloyd's most formally successful concertante piece. A small orchestra is required, consisting of double woodwind, three horns, modest percussion (for one player) and strings. � Paul Conway

Lloyd completed his Cello Concerto in July 1997, a year before his death of the age of 85 and in this autumnal piece can be discerned a wistful, valedictory quality, with feelings of sorrow and regret surfacing repeatedly. The solo instrument's inherently lyrical aspect is suited to the composer's expressive needs and the one-movement format allows the musical narrative to ebb and flow naturally so that this work has a strong claim to be regarded as Lloyd's most formally successful concertante piece. A small orchestra is required, consisting of double woodwind, three horns, modest percussion (for one player) and strings. � Paul Conway