''The Incredible Walter Piston''. And guess who's topping the bill. Piston's most lovable score is in fine fettle here. The circus comes and goes with panache, cheering crowds and obbligato dog right on cue. Schwarz's flutist, Scott Goff, fixes you with his limpid tone, lazy Siciliana gives way to gawky Polka. But it will always be the score with the Tango: no fuss, no ceremony, it's suddenly there, a land of the free favourite. Schwarz goes with the flow, the sway of the melody, but it can never linger long enough.
As ever, Delos have devised and weighed up this programme for the optimum relief of all its components. The Fantasy for English horn, harp and strings enters darkened Elysian fields, an eloquent vehicle for the instrument that lives to mourn—though in this instance it is afforded a feistier spirit. Piston's lyricism sits well with this distinctive voice of sorrow and regret. And we can trace their kinship right back to the composer's first published work—the orchestral Suite of 1929. At its heart is a long and intense pastorale: the cor anglais is there at the inception. Framing it, the young Piston pumps some iron. Motoric syncopations carry us first to a kind of drive-by the blues with bar-room piano and Grappelli violin. The finale is essentially a fugal work-out: high-tech Hindemith. The Seattle Symphony plainly don't need the training: they're in excellent shape.
Cut to 1976 and Piston's very last work—the Concerto for string quartet, wind instruments and percussion. Now here is something quite extraordinary from an indefatigable 82-year-old. Ten eventful minutes in which the imperative is once again pitted against the contemplative; angular, lustful counterpoints alternating with the grave, regretful sentiments of a very particular lyric style, full of inward-looking harmonies. And almost as if he were deliberately setting himself the ultimate textural challenge, he juggles wind and percussion around a vulnerable axis of just four solo strings. The mixing of timbres is, in the event, masterly, a fleck of woodwind or a brush of tambourine or antique cymbal speaking volumes. But at the centre of gravity is the Juilliard Quartet, moving in mysterious ways, leading on to a closing viola solo—another dark voice posing both unanswered question and valediction.
In fact, the last words uttered here are those of the Psalm and Prayer of David—a rare vocal setting for Piston, and as such, refreshingly open, unhackneyed, unhieratical. It's the word made flesh, the sentiments of ancient texts made plain; it has the well-scrubbed honesty of christianity with a small C. All you would expect of a plain speaker. Thanks to Delos—and, as always, performance and recording values make the strongest possible case for the musical goods—the Piston profile is fleshing-out fast.'