Cello Sonata Op 103 review

Tempo, vol. 61 no. 239 (Jan. 2007)

One of the many satisfying aspects of Giles Swayne’s Cello Sonata (his op. 103) was its ability to enrich and renew the tradition, instead of attempting to reinvent it. As the composer himself said of the piece in a brief pre-concert address, it ‘inhabits a world which Beethoven and Brahms would recognise’. What those German masters would surely identify is the solid craftsmanship of the piece from a composer who is well equipped to write expressively and idiomatically for his forces.

The first movement, entitled Turbulence, was in sonata form, including an exposition repeat and recapitulation. Its mood was one of disquiet and agitation – it is marked ‘restless’. There was a tremendous, Brahmsian sweep that carried the listener along through skilfully fashioned paragraphs. The widely ranging dynamics hardly registered because they grew naturally out of the compelling musical argument. The following Rest was measured and tranquil, its genuine simplicity leading aesthetically and literally into the third movement, a rapid Scherzo and Trio entitled Child’s Play, which is based on a popular five-note theme heard in playgrounds the world over. The hectic repetitions of this naïve phrase called to mind similar reiterations of simple motifs in late Beethoven quartets. The cumulative effect, though radiating an artless innocence, was far from infantile.

The concluding Threnody’s substance and authority provided a perfect counterweight to the gravity of the opening Turbulence and an emotionally satisfying contrast with the two lighter inner movements. It took the form of a passacaglia with seven intricate variations, each of which increased in speed. Variation 7 – a malevolent three-part fugue subtitled Fugue macabre – was exactly three times as fast as the original theme, and led into a reprise of the theme itself, a perfectly-judged cathartic moment, movingly realised in the premiere performance at Cheltenham. The sonata ended in serene contemplation, seemingly distancing itself from the recent maelstrom and poignantly attempting to recapture the innocence of the middle movements. Robert Irvine brought great artistry and sensitivity to what must be a deeply rewarding piece to play. Pianist Fali Pavri was no less impressive: his part insisted the players were equals rather than mere soloist and accompanist.

Swayne’s Cello Sonata is a substantial work of half an hour’s duration that convincingly encompasses both serious matters and unforced playfulness in an original, authentic voice. It was the pick of the premieres I heard at the 2006 Cheltenham Festival, yet it was one of the few first performances Radio 3 failed to record and broadcast. This is no indication of the work’s merit: it deserves to be heard again and often. Swayne’s chamber and orchestral music are gravely underrepresented on disc: a recording of his Cello Sonata . . . would surely lead the way to a just demand for more of his work

Paul Conway