Lou Harrison composes as if he were discovering the simplest materials for the first time. This 1940s anticipation of minimalism can be fresh: it can also be naive, without the knowing quality of Virgil Thomson. In some ways Harrison's music inhabits a kind of no man's land between West and East which gives him, as it did Henry Cowell, a kind of licence to operate instinctively on his chosen territory.
This anthology has lots of accessible guitar music which is virtually unknown. Along with the earlier Harrison anthology, ''Works for Guitar and Percussion'' on Etcetera (9/91), it confirms the composer's special rapport with the instrument. These occasional, domestically inspired pieces are well played and recorded but there is more scope in Perilous Chapel and the colourful ensemble pieces which follow. Perilous Chapel's first movement, ''Prelude'' (track 13), begins with a flute ostinato straight from Satie. The arrival of the harp at 1'21'' provides an atmosphere of Debussian luxury. There is a bongo drum background to the flute and cello in the next movement and the final ''Alleluia'' goes round in circles of modal serenity. Harrison's hallmark is an immediacy regardless of style.
The Fugue, opening and closing with the sound of the flexatone (or musical saw), is a surprise, with an enchanting plethora of gongs and bells echoing Partch or early Cage, with whom Harrison collaborated. The rhythmic, dry percussion is another original touch in the instrumental piece called Song of Quetzalcoatl, the Mexican deity. The only actual song in this collection is May Rain, a simple setting of a poem by Elsa Gidlaw, where the accompanying piano is tuned to a special intonation system: no details of this are given in the CD booklet.'