Searle straddles the divide between a conservative English modernism—Havergal Brian, Edmund Rubbra, Walton, and Tippett—and a more radical or avant-garde modernism—as exemplified, among others, by...

Searle straddles the divide between a conservative English modernism—Havergal Brian, Edmund Rubbra, Walton, and Tippett—and a more radical or avant-garde modernism—as exemplified, among others, by Peter Maxwell Davies and Harrison Birtwistle. What the latter shared was a dual interest in Schoenbergian 12-tone technique on the one hand, and in the spectral luminosity, if not necessarily the religious mysticism, of Messiaen’s sound world on the other. Humphrey Searle, who is most often identified as a serialist, does not, however, fit comfortably into the Davies/Birtwistle mold. A closer musical kinship may be to Bernard Stevens and German transplant to England, Alexander Goehr.

Though Searle studied briefly with Webern, (pun not intended), he did not emulate his teacher’s deconstructionist reductionism, nor did he till in Schoenberg’s and Berg’s garden of hyper-Romantic expressionism. He carved out his own niche, which tended to blend 12-tone technique with a classically oriented bent towards clarity of form and transparency of texture. A Romantic at heart, Searle spent many years meticulously cataloging the works of Franz Liszt, a lifelong interest that surfaced periodically in his own music. His 1951 Piano Sonata, a 12-tone work, follows closely the structural design of Liszt’s famous B-Minor Sonata.

Noteworthy, too, was Searle’s impish humor and musical hijinks. His fascination with felines manifested itself in a number of his works—The Owl and the Pussycat, Two Practical Cats, and a setting of T. S. Eliot’s Macavity: The Mystery Cat. But the apex of his absurdist streak came with the invention of Dr. Bruno Heinz Jaja, imaginary eminent musicologist, who contributed to the (in)famous Hoffnung Festivals such hilarities as Punkt Kontrapunkt in which two learned professors produce a lengthy and hopelessly complicated analysis of a piece, following which the work itself is played, lasting only 30 seconds. No less memorable are Searle’s musical scores to a number of eminently unmemorable B movies of the horror genre—The Abominable Snowman and The Haunting.

Searle’s serious side found expression in a respectable body of opera, vocal, and orchestral works, of which the five symphonies and two incidental pieces on these discs are a part. I cannot help but wonder, though, if even in these purely symphonic works, the composer is sometimes not hard-pressed to take himself seriously. Though committed to 12-tone technique, the music, more often than not, has an amusing, even comical, side to it. One need only listen to the concluding movement of the Fourth Symphony, a piece that reminded me of Gunther Schuller’s Seven Studies on Themes of Paul Klee. Squeaks and squawks, as from a cranky machine in need of oil, are emitted from the orchestra. But it’s not of an aleatoric, a-musical nature. Rather, it’s of a funny character, and all in good fun. Likewise Night Music, dedicated to Webern on his 60th birthday, (1943) contains some of the creepiest horror-movie music you’ve ever heard.

The proximity of opus numbers between the five symphonies belies the fact that they were written over a period of 12 years, from 1952 to 1964. It can be argued, as it is quite persuasively by note-writer David Sutton-Anderson, that over this time, Searle’s style underwent significant changes, and that at the very least certain programmatic or pictorial elements in each of the works serve as distinguishing features. What falls on the ear, however, is not quite so distinguishable. The opening Andante of the 1964 Fifth Symphony, for example, is uncannily similar to the opening of the 1943 Night Music. Others may disagree, but I think that inherent to 12-tone composition is a uniformity or consistency of aural fabric that is either a weakness or a strength of the technique, depending on your point of view. This is my diplomatic way of saying that even though I find these works quite listenable and attractive, a certain sameness does become evident after essaying two or three of them in a row, an argument that favors sampling in smaller portions.

Nevertheless, I can say to those for whom mere mention of 12-tone music is anathema that Searle may be just the composer to overcome your aversion. Start with the Symphony No. 2 (1956–58) on disc 2. This is Searle at his most lyrical and Romantic. Yes, it is a 12-tone composition, but its row, like that of Berg’s Violin Concerto, is triadic in derivation and strongly suggestive of a tonal center. This is a quite beautiful work.

Alun Francis and cpo have done much to advance the cause of 20th-century composers, including an ongoing project to record the symphonies of Allan Pettersson. As mentioned above, the Searle symphonies are a repackaging of two CDs that have been available as separates for nigh onto a decade. If you don’t already have them, I would strongly urge you to consider acquiring this set. They are beautifully recorded, the performances are persuasive, and the music is likely to grow on you.

Jerry Dubins, FANFARE