'When I'm composing, not only have I to create music, I must also search for the best way of putting it across. It means being on the alert the whole time; writing - then criticizing what I've written - and if it won't do, scrap it and start again - more criticism - and so on until I've done everything within my power to make the music live and flow naturally'. These insights from Grace Williams into her approach to the compositional process show her strong desire to communicate fluently and sincerely with her listeners. Also evident from this quotation is her professionalism, technical integrity and formidable capacity for self-criticism. She held herself and her art to the highest standards, withdrawing and destroying scores which failed to live up to her ideals. It can be inferred from this that she regarded the works which survived elimination as worthy of her musical legacy.

Eleanor Alberga is always at pains to tell her listeners that her pieces can be enjoyed as pure music, without narrative and associations. So, the three pieces in this album evoke countless varieties of moods, textures, relationships and energies that will speak uniquely to the ear of each individual listener. But Eleanor's ever-curious, inventive and fertile sensibility means there is almost always an intriguing subtext of her own to everything she writes. And this is always worth exploring. Dancing with the Shadow was written in 1990 and is scored for six solo instrumentalists. Eleanor conceived the piece as an evocation of the individual's attempts to explore their darker side, the "shadow" of the title. She describes the piece as, "consistently dealing with the negative and positive sides of the human psyche and charting the way an individual comes to terms with and even embraces the riches of their shadow." The journey therefore is not one fraught with drama and crisis but is more of a playful dialogue - by turns dreamy, animated, reflective and humorous. Each movement is scored for a different combination of instruments, and each successive movement adds an extra player. Ten years after Dancing with the Shadow, Eleanor created another scintillating work, On a Bat's Back I do Fly, inspired this time by a song from Shakespeare's The Tempest. Perhaps the most striking aspect of the way Eleanor has kindled this mysterious and unusual sonic world is her use of tuned percussion, which draws the listener gently into Ariel's playful miniature kingdom - a backlit world, as Eleanor describes it, that is both, "bright, yet nocturnal and other-worldly." Langvad was composed six years after 'On a Bat's Back I do Fly' for a summer chamber music festival run by Eleanor's husband, the violinist Thomas Bowes. Langvad is made of one movement, within which there are a variety of different moods.

Bennett was acknowledged both in England and Germany as an outstanding pianist, and his finest and most characteristic music was composed for his own instrument. As well as numerous works for solo piano, including two sonatas, he composed six piano concertos and a single-movement Caprice for piano and orchestra. He gave public performances of all his works for piano and orchestra with himself as soloist. It was during the heady days of Bennett's third long visit to his friends in Leipzig, from January to March 1842, that he mentioned in correspondence that he was working on a new concerto, which he hoped to perform before leaving for London. In the event, this did not happen, but a substantial amount of work must have been done at this stage on what was to become the unpublished Piano Concerto No. 6 in A minor, WO 48. Bennett did further work on the concerto in the summer of 1843 and hoped to publish it, but changes to his personal circumstances contributed towards further delays. His son claimed that he always intended it to be published, but as the years passed, the more out-of-date it became.

Philip Cannon's Concertino for piano and strings (1951) dates from his formative years. It was written for the Petersfield Festival, where it was premiered on 27 January 1951 by soloist Joseph Cooper, with the Petersfield Orchestra conducted by Kathleen Merritt. This lively, neo-classical piece has achieved over a thousand performances internationally. Though John Addison's Concertino for piano and orchestra is, for the most part, couched in a light-hearted language, it is the product of a serious, and unfailingly inventive, approach to keyboard and orchestral writing. Speaking of the work to Lesie Ayre of the London Evening News, the composer remarked that, 'it is a real concerto in the full sense of the word I would not be ashamed to show the work to any first-class pianist'. Francis Chagrin maintained an intensely practical and unpretentious attitude towards his own craft, observing that, 'My music is not for first performances - it is just to be played'. His Piano Concerto was first performed by soloist Franz Osborn, with the London Symphony Orchestra, conducted by the composer, at an SPNM Experimental Rehearsal held at the Royal College of Music on 4 February 1944. Conversation Piece by John Addison was written in 1958 to a commission from the BBC Concert Orchestra for that year's British Light Music Festival. John Addison felt that, by the late-1950s, too great a divide had opened up between serious and light music: 'Concertgoers think contemporary music is so alarmingly serious that when confronted with a mildly witty turn of phrase, they assume something has gone wrong. I remember the astonished sigh of relief when, in the course of introducing one of my chamber works, I told the audience I would not mind if they smiled'. In Conversation Piece, Addison exploits to the full his talent to amuse and divert.

George Lloyd will mostly remembered for his 12 Symphonies, but his compositions include Opera, Choral, Concerto, Piano and Chamber Music. In 2023 the Trustees of Lyrita Nimbus Arts reached an exclusive agreement with The George Lloyd Society to take over the sale, hire, archiving and preservation of all George Lloyd's scores as well as the commercial exploitation of the collection of recordings made by the Society in the 1990s and conducted by the composer. Because George Lloyd's personal attention is a dominating influence on the scores and recordings, which he mostly conducted himself, we have decided to headline this representation the 'Signature Collection'. Scores will be cleaned, and new orchestral parts created, recordings will be reorganised into collectable sets available on CD, Download and Streaming with new notes commissioned from Paul Conway.

Hurlstone's Cello Sonata in D major (1899) was written for the noted cellist and composer May Mukle. In his review of the score, Havergal Brian opined that Hurlstone's sonata 'shows ripe and mature musicianship. The Adagio Lamentoso is unusual in it's sustained eloquence. The slow movement and the lovely final Rondo standing out in a rare and attractive work'. The manuscript of Swinstead's Cello Sonata was discovered by the pianist Clive Williamson, while he was clearing the house of Vivian Langrish and his wife Ruth Harte, who were friends of Felix Swinstead. It is possible that this F major sonata may have been written just before the composer's death and never given a public performance. According to Lionel Handy, Ruth was 'a second study cellist and Swinstead may have thought a run-through, if not a performance, might be possible, but there is no record of any performance nor date of composition as yet'. Doreen Carwithen's Cello Sonatina (1944) draws upon the stringed instrument's sonorous, lyrical qualities. The often striking piano material is crucial to the unfolding narrative, rather than offering mere accompaniment and creates a genuine dialogue between the two protagonists. Bridge's two-movement Cello Sonata was begun in 1913, but not completed until 1917. Bridge always looked fondly upon the Cello Sonata, which has proved to be one of the composer's most popular chamber works and remains the most regularly played of all his substantial pieces for two players.

Gavin Higgins' music is bursting with authenticity. Everything he writes speaks in some way of where he comes from, of the land, of the community, of the family which formed him. He grew up in a working class former mining community in the Forest of Dean, a borderland between England and Wales with it's own dialect, a liminal place where Welsh songs and stories as well as English are in the air. It's a place where brass band music is the chief legacy of the coal mines, the last of which closed a decade before Gavin was born and where the forest, with it's sounds, it's colours and it's stories was a constant presence. Gavin has spoken evocatively - and perhaps romantically - about the music of the forest which surrounded him: sounds of foxes and deer mingled with brass bands, church choirs and occasional illegal raves. Nature and music, he says, are powerfully linked in his mind. Almost as soon as he could speak, Gavin was given a cornet to blow and grew up playing in the brass band conducted by his grandfather and populated by most of his family. A scholarship to specialist music school in Manchester and subsequent study at the Royal Northern College of Music meant that he moved on to the orchestral French horn. Now, as a composer chiefly working in the orchestral and opera world, Gavin still writes for brass bands and has even put his two musical traditions on the stage together in an award winning Concerto Grosso for Brass Band and Orchestra. But the pieces on this disc which feature the French horn - Horn Concerto and Fanfare, Air and Flourish - mark the first time that he has highlighted his own instrument in the solo slot. As ever, it was a personal connection which sparked the idea of the Horn Concerto - an approach from the horn virtuoso Ben Goldscheider, made in the full knowledge that this would reunite Gavin with his younger self.

Cyril Meir Scott is one of a group of British composers to have benefitted from three cultural features of recent decades: increased curiosity from performers and listeners, a more inclusive outlook from musicologists and critics, and the music industry spotting a gap and a demand. A much more colourful picture of British music in the first half of the twentieth century has resulted. Scott was a prolific writer of fiction and non-fiction as well as a composer of several hundred pieces. His writings and music are deeply invested in mysticism and the occult. This element in Scott’s work, as Sarah Collins has noted, helps us to see beyond received notions of Scott as either a trivial exoticist or an unjustly-neglected pioneer, and to appreciate his music on its own terms. © Brian A. Inglis

Three pieces for violin and piano were written as individual works and, as such, they can be presented separately or, if given collectively as a suite, played in any order. Busch wrote his Passacaglia for violin and viola in 1939, the score takes the form of a decisive, four-bar theme followed by thirty variants upon it. These mini-variations range widely in character, from trenchant and forceful to airy and smooth. A Memory for cello and piano was written for Elizabeth Poston. Busch subtly conveys the idea of a reminiscence suggested by the title with simple, lightly sketched ideas presented with an air of hazy nostalgia. Eventually, the feeling of distance and reserve created in the opening portion of the work is replaced by a more troubled mood. The music ends in sorrow with a heartfelt, steeply descending sequence for unaccompanied cello followed by the merest hint of the opening material. The Quartet for piano and strings is the most substantial of William Busch's chamber pieces. Although the composer's lyrical gifts are much in evidence, the four movements are also rigorously concise. Considerable dramatic rewards are gained from the creative tension between the music's unforced expressivity and the formal rigour with which Busch's powerful themes are worked out. The Suite for Cello and Piano is among Busch's most searching and variegated instrumental works. In a postwar assessment of the score, The Times' critic noted that it's four pieces 'reveal a sensitive and interesting mind'. Elegy for cello and piano exploits fully the stringed instrument's lyrical qualities and capacity for rich, autumnal colours. The work begins with an extended soliloquy for unaccompanied cello and the cellist continues to preside over the entire opening section, which features only a couple of brief interjections from the piano. � Paul Conway

By the time Stanford had received a commission from the Norfolk and Norwich Festival to write a choral work for them in 1884, he had, at the age of 32, already begun to assert himself as one of Britain's leading composers. The Elegiac Ode was, however, his first mature foray into the world of major British choral festivals. Some of the Elegiac Ode had in fact been sketched three years earlier in 1881, but after the Norwich commission was received, Stanford evidently grasped the opportunity to complete the work in it's entirety in July 1884. The words were taken from the last part of Whitman's elegy, 'When lilacs in the dooryard bloom'd', written in the aftermath of President Lincoln's assassination in 1865 (it was a text which Stanford's pupil, Holst, later used for his Ode to Death, composed in the wake of the war in 1919). Taking the seven verses of the burial hymn, Stanford divided his chosen text into four parts, thereby creating a four-movement musical structure more akin to a choral symphony with it's substantial (and thematically related) choral outer movements flanking two shorter inner essays. By the time Stanford had received a commission from the Norfolk and Norwich Festival to write a choral work for them in 1884, he had, at the age of 32, already begun to assert himself as one of Britain's leading composers. The Elegiac Ode was, however, his first mature foray into the world of major British choral festivals. Some of the Elegiac Ode had in fact been sketched three years earlier in 1881, but after the Norwich commission was received, Stanford evidently grasped the opportunity to complete the work in it's entirety in July 1884. The words were taken from the last part of Whitman's elegy, 'When lilacs in the dooryard bloom'd', written in the aftermath of President Lincoln's assassination in 1865 (it was a text which Stanford's pupil, Holst, later used for his Ode to Death, composed in the wake of the war in 1919). Taking the seven verses of the burial hymn, Stanford divided his chosen text into four parts, thereby creating a four-movement musical structure more akin to a choral symphony with it's substantial (and thematically related) choral outer movements flanking two shorter inner essays. Stanford's large-scale setting of the Te Deum Op. 66 was first sung at the Leeds Festival on 6 October 1898 and it's ambitious, opulent dimensions were clearly intended to be a fitting commemoration of the accession to the throne of Queen Victoria (it's dedicatee) sixty years earlier as well as a tribute to the full-bodied, well-trained Leeds chorus of 350 singers. A particular feature of the Te Deum is the grandeur of much of it's choral writing. Though also dramatic in it's impact, a dominating feature of the Te Deum is it's prominent use of the chorus, and the many fulsome sonorities Stanford was able to draw from the magnificent 'instrument' of the Leeds voices. � Jeremy Dibble

I met the great pianist Martin Jones as a consequence of writing the Concert Study Wild Cherries and Honeycomb as a test-piece for the Scottish International Piano Competition, circa 1998. Martin heard about this piece from the chairman of the competition jury, Bryce Morrison, and this eventually led to my writing more Concert Studies over the next fifteen years, as well as the other works on this album. � Graham Hair

Antoni Gaudí’s monumental temple La Sagrada Familia is a universe within a building. Its mass of stone and metal is bathed in coloured light diffused from dazzling stained glass windows. The colossal structure is supported by great pillars inspired by the shapes of tree trunks that re-inforce the impression of a spiritual forest. Around the main access points to the basilica are three great facades; Nativity, Passion and Glory. Each is a visual world unto itself, stylistically apart yet united by Gaudí’s grandiose vision. These three facades are the inspiration of my three-movement La Sagrada Familia Symphony. The visual journey, from the representational to the abstract, is something I also tried to mirror in the music. When I visited La Sagrada Familia in October 2019 there was still scaffolding to support the work on the remaining towers. Whereas my symphony is inspired by that monumental building, I hope that my musical structure can stand alone as an homage to Gaudí in its own right. The two parts of the cantata begin similarly, presenting first the children of Seth - then in the second part, the children of Noah. Realizing that the aftermath of the destruction of the Tower of Babel could be anti-climactic, I left part of the Noah story unfinished at the end of Part I, and concluded it as an Epilogue. I wanted God’s promise to be the note on which the work should end, a message of hope that the divinity would protect His creation throughout the seasons: “While earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, and day and night shall never cease.” These beautiful words are taken up by the choir and soloists contrapuntally and lead directly to the hymn: Praise My Soul The King Of Heaven, whose melody was woven into the closing section of Part One. Following Britten’s inspiration in Noye’s Fludde and St Nicholas, I invite the audience to join in the hymn, celebrating creation and the world that has been entrusted to us. Babel uses the chorus extensively to narrate both stories, as well as to evoke the terror of the flood and the exuberance of the construction of the tower. In addition to set pieces, such as the Nimrod baritone aria, and the soprano aria, “Do not fear the largeness of the showers,” the three soloists often sing together in close harmony as the other-worldly voice of God. The instrumental forces are relatively modest, with the piano duet supported by the sustaining power of the organ, backed by two percussionists. This sound world is redolent of those Britten masterpieces for amateur choirs, ensembles and audiences, which have inspired many composers since, and to which I too am gratefully indebted.

Antoni Gaudí’s monumental temple La Sagrada Familia is a universe within a building. Its mass of stone and metal is bathed in coloured light diffused from dazzling stained glass windows. The colossal structure is supported by great pillars inspired by the shapes of tree trunks that re-inforce the impression of a spiritual forest. Around the main access points to the basilica are three great facades; Nativity, Passion and Glory. Each is a visual world unto itself, stylistically apart yet united by Gaudí’s grandiose vision. These three facades are the inspiration of my three-movement La Sagrada Familia Symphony. The visual journey, from the representational to the abstract, is something I also tried to mirror in the music. When I visited La Sagrada Familia in October 2019 there was still scaffolding to support the work on the remaining towers. Whereas my symphony is inspired by that monumental building, I hope that my musical structure can stand alone as an homage to Gaudí in its own right. The two parts of the cantata begin similarly, presenting first the children of Seth - then in the second part, the children of Noah. Realizing that the aftermath of the destruction of the Tower of Babel could be anti-climactic, I left part of the Noah story unfinished at the end of Part I, and concluded it as an Epilogue. I wanted God’s promise to be the note on which the work should end, a message of hope that the divinity would protect His creation throughout the seasons: “While earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, and day and night shall never cease.” These beautiful words are taken up by the choir and soloists contrapuntally and lead directly to the hymn: Praise My Soul The King Of Heaven, whose melody was woven into the closing section of Part One. Following Britten’s inspiration in Noye’s Fludde and St Nicholas, I invite the audience to join in the hymn, celebrating creation and the world that has been entrusted to us. Babel uses the chorus extensively to narrate both stories, as well as to evoke the terror of the flood and the exuberance of the construction of the tower. In addition to set pieces, such as the Nimrod baritone aria, and the soprano aria, “Do not fear the largeness of the showers,” the three soloists often sing together in close harmony as the other-worldly voice of God. The instrumental forces are relatively modest, with the piano duet supported by the sustaining power of the organ, backed by two percussionists. This sound world is redolent of those Britten masterpieces for amateur choirs, ensembles and audiences, which have inspired many composers since, and to which I too am gratefully indebted.

My first encounter with Kenneth V. Jones was in 2016 when our family moved to the village of Bishopstone in the Sussex Downs. Over the course of several months I was able to learn more of Kenneth’s musical life. As soon as he mentioned having once written a string quartet, it was decided to programme the work during the following Season of Seaford Music Society, of which Kenneth was a long-standing member and whose programming I had recently taken on. Such was the warmth of the reception upon hearing the work that it was decided to explore more of Kenneth’s chamber music output, and thus the idea for this CD was born. We have Kenneth to thank for the fact the the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music made the decision, at his suggestion, to include contemporary compositions in their graded examination syllabuses. Several of the short character pieces that Kenneth wrote for the ABRSM remain in the syllabus to this day, and a selection of these is included on this recording. It gave me huge pleasure to be able to present to Kenneth the first edit of the current CD, just a few days before his death in December 2020. He was absolutely thrilled. © Sebastian Comberti

George Lloyd was very familiar with music for brass from an early age. One of his first musical recollections was listening with rapt attention to a Salvation Army Band with his mother in St Ives. As a student, he attended regularly brass band concerts at London's Crystal Palace, where he heard the premiere of John Ireland's A Downland Suite at the National Band Festival Competition on 1 October 1932. Lloyd played the cornet when serving as a Bandsman in the Royal Marines, giving him invaluable practical experience as an executant within a group of players. His scoring for the brass section in his large-scale works is invariably idiomatic, impressively wrought and indicates a keen understanding of all the instruments' range, character and versatility. Yet, despite all these indications that he was a natural composer of brass band music, he turned to writing music for brass instruments only in the last two decades of his creative life. Though music for brass band was the last major genre Lloyd added to his catalogue of works, his enthusiasm for the medium, once he had embraced it, was unstinting. The wide popularity of his music within the brass band movement was an enduring source of considerable pride and satisfaction for George Lloyd, as he once confessed: 'To realise that the people who are actually doing it, the players themselves... seem to like it, that is what pleases me the most'. � Paul Conway

Despite his facility in playing the violin and the importance he attached to his lessons with Albert Sammons, Lloyd was relatively slow to compose works for his own instrument. It was not until 1970 that Lloyd wrote Violin Concerto No.1, his first piece with a leading role for his own instrument, but this achievement seemed to stir his enthusiasm and during the next seven years he completed a number of pieces for violin and piano, a fully-fledged sonata and a second concerto. The Seven Extracts from 'The Serf' for violin and piano (1974) were published in 2024, and are here recorded for the first time. � Paul Conway

Gordon Jacob’s Piano Concerto no.2 in E flat was completed in 1957 and premiered on 11 July of that year at the Winter Gardens, Bournemouth by the soloist Edith Vogel. A Proms performance took place at the Royal Albert Hall on 9 August 1957 with the same soloist. A review in The Times of the 1957 Proms performance of Gordon Jacob’s Piano Concerto No.2 declared that ‘the composer’s masterly understanding of the orchestra enables him to express each idea economically and in the most clean and attractive colours’, while The Sunday Times’ critic wrote that, ‘having taught the craft of orchestration to a whole generation of composers, Dr. Jacob is himself a past master at clear and effective scoring’.

Addison’s Variations for Piano and Orchestra was written in 1948 and revised the following year. According to Alan Poulton’s Dictionary-Catalog of Modern British Composers, It was first performed in a BBC broadcast in 1960 by Margaret Kitchin. The work is written for a small orchestra, comprising double woodwind, four horns, a pair each of trumpets and trombones, bass trombone, timpani, modest percussion and strings. Though the piano had played a prominent role in an earlier student piece by Rubbra, his Piano Concerto, Op.30 (1932) is the composer’s first fully-fledged, large-scale work for soloist and orchestra. The score features an elaborate solo part and requires substantial orchestral forces.

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 owe 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. His compact and cogent setting of Psalm 130 constitutes, arguably, his most fluently effective use of a cappella choral writing.

The idea of writing a cello concerto for Raphael Wallfisch was first mooted more than ten years ago at the Banff Arts Centre, Canada, where Jonathan Dove was composer-in-residence. The two men spoke of Dove’s interest in writing a piece for cello and orchestra, and after further meetings in London, the work began to take shape. Given the composer’s extensive experience of writing for the voice, it was decided that the score would be written for baritone singer and solo cello with orchestra with texts taken from poems by various writers. The subject matter was suggested by the Wallfisch family history. Raphael’s father fled, together with his mother and brother, to Palestine from Breslau in 1937, and his mother, Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, is a concentration camp survivor. She has written of the persecution of her Jewish family during the Second World War and her own incarceration in Auschwitz and Belsen, where her skill as a cellist saved her life.2 Knowing of these events, Jonathan Dove was inspired to base the work’s theme on the universal experience of refugees being exiled from their homeland.

Jonathan Dove writes of the piece, ‘In Exile moves through a day in the life of an involuntary exile: waking alone in a foreign land; remembering the moment of banishment, the moment of departure, the voyage; remembering the homeland. The Exile feels the pain of being so far away in his country’s time of need, unable to help his own people. He remembers all the names he has been called in this strange land. He thinks of all he has lost, and longs for home. In Raphael Wallfisch’s words: ‘the cello represents the soul and spirit of the Exile, the baritone is that person and sings the dramatic and often challenging texts. Jonathan’s lyrical style lends itself so naturally to the cello. He exploits every register from the lowest to the highest notes. The cello comments on the sung texts”. [Paul Conway] Night Song, a short piece for cello and piano is derived from the final section of ‘In Exile’. In the calm closing moments of the work the baritone sings of his loss in the words of the poet Douglas Hyde : My grief on the sea, / How the waves of it roll - / For they heave between me / And the love of my soul. Night Song was written partly at the request of the Rachel Baker Memorial Charity – who commissioned the orchestral work – and partly in response to the strong reaction of the first audiences who connected with this uncomplicated musical expression.

In her A minor Sonata, Op.5, as in her earlier Sonata in C minor for cello and piano (1880), Ethel Smyth favors expressivity over virtuosity, emphasizing the cello’s warm and lyrical tone. The piano enjoys a key role in all three movements and is often invited to present the chief subject matter rather than merely playing a supporting role accompanying the cello line. One of Delius’s most satisfying chamber works, the Cello Sonata is distinguished by the expressive power of its material. Both instruments enter at the same time, the cello unfolding a songlike, long-limbed line, while the piano presents the main idea. A second key theme, introduced by the cello over the piano’s rippling, arpeggiated chords, is more forthright and sharply defined. An unattributed review of Gibbs’s Cello Sonata in E published in The Musical Times in 1953, found it to be ‘an ideal piece of work for cellists who want something contemporary on which to develop their technique, for its difficulties are of the sort which repays practice’. Thanks to this recording of the work more than seventy years after its completion, contemporary listeners now have an opportunity to appreciate its melodic strength, understated formal artistry and grateful writing for both instruments. Britten’s Cello Sonata is a challenging, bravura piece that benefits immeasurably from the natural affinity between composer and cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. The relationship would inspire Britten to produce four more major works for Rostropovich who wrote of the work, ‘This is a sonata full of surprises, innovations for any cellist, gifts for the musician flowing freely from the horn of plenty. We meet not merely a novelty in finger-work but, what is most important, a new kind of expressive and profound dramatic composition.’

Smaller concertos for piano and modest orchestral forces were a feature of British composition in the first half of the 20th century. Often they were written for a special occasion, and typically vanished into oblivion thereafter. During the COVID period we were looking for things to record with small numbers of players, and stumbled across this treasury: short concertos written for entertainment that don’t outstay their welcome. The works on this album travel from the innocent pastiche of Geoffrey Bush’s tribute to Arne, Edmund Rubbra’s student essay, through the ‘Blues’ of Arthur Benjamin, the serial language of Humphrey Searle, the drama of Elizabeth Maconchy, and the bold humour of film composer John Addison. It is all great fun, and has never been recorded - apart from the Benjamin recorded just once, back in 1959.  Simon Callaghan and Martyn Brabbins team-up to raise a smile, enjoying the lighter side of musical life.

“Eleanor Alberga was born in 1949 in Kingston, Jamaica. Her mother founded, and subsequently ran, her own high school in Jamaica and believed passionately in the Arts. Consequently, Eleanor was introduced to classical music at an early age. As a teenager she had piano lessons at the Jamaica School of Music and in 1968 she won the biennial Royal Schools of Music Scholarship for the West Indies, which she took up two years later at the Royal Academy of Music in London, studying piano and singing. 2001 was a turning point when she was awarded a NESTA Fellowship and chose to give up her career as a concert pianist and concentrate full-time on composition. Her distinctive creative output encompasses instrumental, chamber and orchestral pieces, as well as works for stage and film. With its vibrant rhythms, rich harmonies and idiomatic writing for every instrument, her music has the authentic stamp of an experienced performer and an accomplished executant.” (Paul Conway)

“Although Elgar was a highly accomplished violinist, he wrote no mature string chamber music until, at the end of his creative life, he produced three major works: a violin sonata, a piano quintet and a string quartet. Both outer movements of the quartet are full of mercurial changes of mood; both end at the last minute in the major, the finale with an exhilarating display of renewed energy. In between comes an intermezzo marked ‘Piacevole’, ‘peacefully’ – a pastoral C major interlude between the two stormy outer movements. Alice Elgar was particularly fond of this movement, and it was played at her funeral in 1920. In 2002, I arranged the slow movement for string orchestra and George Vass conducted it that year at the Deal Festival. The remainder of the Quartet was orchestrated in 2010. The substantial part of the arrangement is the addition of a double bass part, but I have also thickened the upper parts in a number of places. At two points in the first movement and at the end of the Andante I have preserved the original writing for solo strings. The arrangement was commissioned by the John S. Cohen Foundation.” (David Matthews) “In 2019 English Symphony Orchestra were asked to give the official 100th Anniversary performance of the Elgar Cello Concerto. It was at that concert that Wallfisch met composer Donald Fraser, whose choral arrangement of Elgar’s Sea Pictures was being featured on the same concert. Wallfisch suggested that perhaps Fraser arranged and orchestrate a few of Elgar’s shorter works for cello and strings, and over the following year the project expanded in scope to finally comprise the eleven-movement suite heard here.” (Kenneth Woods)