billed as a presentation of Dickinson’s “style modulation,” but also includes some lovely short pieces for flute. The long pieces, Mass of the Apocalypse” and Larkin’s Jazz, alternate spoken words with music, in a manner somewhat comparable—especially Larkin’s Jazz—to a recent work by another British composer, John McLeod, Haflid’s Pictures: Twelve Aphorisms for Piano, which I reviewed at www.classical.net/music/recs/reviews/p/pry01018a.php
Mass of the Apocalypse (1984), commissioned for the 300th anniversary of St James Church, Piccadilly, is written for four part chorus, soprano and mezzo-soprano soloists, speaker, two percussionists and piano. Readings are from the King James Version of the Book of Revelation; the sung passages are from the 1980 Alternative Service Book, which uses contemporary language. The spoken words are loud and clear. The sung parts tend to yield to the percussion, which is strikingly appealing. The chorus initially enters quietly but gathers force. In the Sanctus and Benedictus there is a driving beat and the chorus is louder and faster than before. In the Agnus Dei the tune is adopted from Palestrina and sounds like a vocalise to my ears. The Gloria is naturally upbeat and the Ite Missa Est dismissal is lovely, with a soft steady beat on the marimba and tam-tam, soft vocalise singing and a warm sound., which dies away at the end.
Larkin’s Jazz was written in honor of the poet Philip Larkin, who in fact loved jazz. Four poems are read clearly (fortunately, as no texts are provided) by a speaker, preceded by a brief musical prelude and followed by a musical commentary. Sidney Bechet’s Blue Horizon and King Oliver’s Riverside Blues gave Dickinson musical material for the whole piece. Instrumentation is for flute, doubling piccolo and alto flute; Bb clarinet, doubling bass clarinet; Bb soprano saxophone (offstage), Bb trumpet, cello, piano and percussion, as well as speaker/baritone, some of whose commentary is sung. Tempos, moods and dynamics are varied. The result of all this is quite successful, to my mind.
The Five Forgeries for piano duet were intended as “party pieces,” Dickinson says. Each is dedicated to a particular person and each parodies aspects of the style of different composers, namely Poulenc, Hindemith, Stravinsky, Delius and Bartok. I find the firmness of the Hindemith, the gentleness of the Delius and the staccato of the Bartok more convincing than the rhythm of the Stravinsky or the Poulenc, which would be in his lightest vein. The Five Early Pieces for solo piano date from Dickinson’s final year at Cambridge. The third of these is especially appealing.