Judith Weir's music is not simplistic, nor does it ape any style from the past, and it is not in the least minimalist, but it has qualities that could appeal to a vastly wider audience than the 'contemporary music public'. Anyone who loves chamber music would, I am sure, enjoy this most absorbing collection. Her music is bold, clean and uncluttered, with a strong melodic line and purposeful forward movement. Those qualities are present even when she is paying an overt homage to Schubert, as in the exquisitely lyrical opening of I Broke off a Golden Branch (written for the Schubert Ensemble of London, and for the forces of the Trout Quintet), all the more so since the other preoccupation of this fine work is to avow a debt: to the beautiful, ancient folk music of the region we used to call Yugoslavia. Anyone who can carry out both of these objectives – and the gesture to Schubert is as delightfully affectionate as the tribute to Croatia is eloquent – and still remain unmistakably herself is evidently a very considerable composer.
Strong melody is a feature of all these pieces: long, eventful, often florid melody. Indeed, despite changes of mood, direction, tempo and texture you can hear each piece as a single long melody. Even The Art of Touching the Keyboard, an avowed study of types of keyboard attack, has a surprising unity, a feeling that the whole piece is in a single span. Ardnamurchan Point, despite being for two keyboards, is mostly a single line throughout, a sort of journey; as with the tortuous road that suggested the title, you know that there will be a grand view at the end of it. That this sort of line has its roots in folk music is acknowledged in Distance and Enchantment, a piano quartet based on two folk melodies about mysterious vanishings (an appendix, in fact, to Weir's opera The Vanishing Bridegroom) and in The Bagpiper's String Trio. The latter uses techniques based on those of classical pipe music, but the melodies are Weir's own, as was the perception that these three short movements could form an effective, indeed moving 'instrumental opera' on the life of a famous piper executed after the defeat of 'Bonnie Prince Charlie' in 1745.
Nearly all these pieces were written for close friends, in most cases the artists on this disc; Weir says that of all her works these (for that very reason?) are the ones she most enjoys listening to. That quality too, of the anticipation of shared pleasure, is clearly audible in the performances, and adds to the enjoyment of the collection as a whole. The recording is excellent; most warmly recommended.
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