SYMON CLARKE  Dimensions of the Present Moment.1 Shadow Songs.2 In the Circle of the White Moon.3 … If Not, Winter ….4 The Brightness of Shadows.5 Threnodia6 • 1, 3, 6Pavel Wallinger, 3, 5, 6Lukáš Mik (vn); 4Petr Pšenicka, 5Stanislav Vacek, 6Miloš Vávra (va); 1Eva Koválová, 2, 4, 6Pavel Šabacký (vc); 1Martina Venc Matušinská (fl); 1, 6Lukaš Daňhel (cl); 1Vladimir Haliček (pn) • ABLAZE 00034 (75:18) 

Although the first disc of music by British composer Symon Clarke to be reviewed in Fanfare, his works have previously appeared on two Ablaze discs: Pour finir encore is a complete disc of his music, while his orchestral piece Three Orbits is on the multi-composer Orchestral Masters, Volume Two. Clarke has had a particular fascination with the gamelan, and two works appeared on an Alpha Beta Gamelan disc in 1998. In 2001, Clarke moved over to more traditional Western instruments. After 2001, his focus moved more towards traditional instruments, such as we hear here. 

The two pieces with the most expanded scoring bookend the disc. Dimensions of the Present Moment (2009) is written for violin, cello, clarinet, flute, and piano. Decidedly gestural, it has a softness that is most appealing. The players, here and elsewhere on the disc, are members of the excellent Brno Philharmonic. Flutist Martia Venc Matušinská is given an opportunity to shine, and so she does in the lyricism of her response; and, in turn, the piano’s restrained, silvery chords seem perfectly placed by Vladimir Haliček. The extended, quiet close is perfectly managed, both compositionally in the manner it is prolonged and in the performance itself. 

Even more elusive is Shadow Songs for violin and cello (2014–15), three songs without words separated by two Interludes. That gestural aspect is once more present in the conversational aspect of the first song; set in contrast to that is the drone cello bass against the violin’s angular lines of the first Interlude. Cryptic and, yes, shadowy, this is a cogent chamber piece that should certainly be played more frequently. Moving from violin and cello to violin and violin, In the Circle of the White Moon (2014) offers a Prologue and Epilogue, both brief, containing an extended central panel called “Circles.” A characteristic of Clarke’s music is a blurring of the edges at the end of phrases, so that one line seems to dissolve into the next; nowhere is this more evident than in In the Circle of the White Moon. Wallinger and Mik sing as one, being two absolutely equal voices. 

Fragmentation is the key to the piece for viola and cello, … If Not, Winter … (2015), a piece inspired by Sappho (whose poetry itself only survives in fragments); a further extension of this is the friction between two fragmented voices and how a reconciliation of sorts can be achieved (as in blossoming of the first movement into continuous running passages). Frozen passages in the central movement certainly seem to imply wintry terrain (sul ponticello is used to good effect here) before the finale takes material from the first movement and effectively leads it to a place of increased repose. It is difficult to fault; Pšenicka and Šebacký are at one with each other. Written later in the same year, The Brightness of Shadows for violin and viola (Mik and Vacek) again takes external inspiration, this time from David Constantine’s A Brightness to Cast Shadow, attempting to echo the rise and fall of the poetry in the music itself. There’s a more lilting aspect to the writing here, while the second part features some of the most fragrant, ethereal sonorities. 

The final piece brings us back to an ensemble, this time clarinet, two violins, viola, and cello. Written in 2014, Threnodia was composed for a concert commemorating the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the First World War. Here, the tempo remains constant as the lament unfolds. The scoring is beautiful, the sentiments tender and bitter-sweet. The challenge for the interpreters here is the prolongation of the grief, and they rise to it superbly. 

This is a fabulous, well-recorded introduction to a composer who fully deserves more exposure.

Colin Clarke

This article originally appeared in Issue 43:6 (July/Aug 2020) of Fanfare Magazine.