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After his sparkling C P E Bach disc, released on the Hyperion label in January 2022, Marc-André Hamelin, that fearless master of the piano who seems to be able to playing anything (and I mean anything!) moves seamlessly from the precision and clarity of early classical keyboard music to an album of piano rags, written over the last 50 or so years, by American composer William Bolcom (b. 1938).

In the generous liners notes, the composer himself introduces the repertoire, explaining how his discovery of the music of Scott Joplin, which had fallen into obscurity after the composer’s death,  led him to explore the genre himself in the late 1960s, at a time when Joplin’s opera Treemonisha resurfaced and his music, and ragtime in general, was being revived, and a new generation of American composers were writing new “tradition-style” rags. This music has an enduring appeal to audiences, and for Bolcom and others, reviving ragtime was a way of “picking up a dropped thread of our emerging American tradition”; paying homage to and continuing the genre.

The elements of traditional, Joplin ragtime are evident in Bolcom’s rags – the distinctive musical DNA of syncopation and swing, which Hamelin perfectly captures – but Bolcom allows himself to stray into more unusual territories, for example in Rag-Tango which alternates between the gritty sensuality of Argentine tango, piquant “crunchy” harmonies, and traditional rag elements.

In fact, such is Bolcom’s skill with the genre, and Hamelin’s pitch perfect execution, that it’s easy to forget one is listening to ragtime at all. The third of the ‘Ghost’ rags, Dream Shadows, has a lazy, hazy late-night jazz club vibe, to which Hamelin brings his remarkably sensitive sense of timing and atmospheric rubato. Meanwhile, other rags are more traditional in their toe-tapping rhythms and hip-swinging syncopation. Some are exuberant, almost Lisztian in their scope – and here that sparkling clarity and nonchalant technical assuredness that is so characteristic of Hamelin’s playing in more traditional or mainstream repertoire is once again on fine display – while others are easy-going, evoking humid evenings in the American South (with brisket cooking low ‘n’ slow on the coals, perhaps?). The rag fantasia Serpent’s Kiss opens with rumbling, pulsing notes redolent of Schubert’s Erlkönig before slipping into something more akin to silent film music, interspersed with contrasting interludes suggesting shifting narratives and characters (there’s even a Fred Astaire style tap-dancing routine!).  Some of the rags are very personal (Lost Lady and Graceful Ghost, for example), others celebrate friendships, musical collaborators, and other composers, such as Louis Chauvin and Ernesto Nazareth (Joplin’s great Brazilian contemporary); some are wistful, others are punchy, in-yer-face, rags, but all are distinctive, appealing in their references back to Joplin’s model, but with multiple moods and harmonies, and brilliantly presented by Hamelin, who seems to really relish this repertoire (and if you didn’t know it, listening to him you’d never guess he’s a classical pianist – there’s a natural jazz insouciance to Hamelin’s playing throughout the disc). There’s wit and humour aplenty, tempered, when needed, by tenderness and poignancy, whimsy, much charm and ingenious invention.

If you don’t know the music of William Bolcom, this disc should absolutely be your starting point.  It’s a wonderful, revelatory, and, above all, really enjoyable listen from start to finish.

William Bolcom: The Complete Rags is available on the Hyperion label. With detailed liner notes by the composer.

This review first appeared on ArtMuseLondon.com

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This new release from Slovenian pianist Adriana Magdovski pairs César Franck’s mighty Prelude, Chorale & Fugue with a piano sonata by leading Slovenian composer Tomaž Svete (b. 1956), which is dedicated to Magdovski.

Although composed just over 100 years apart, there are clear musical, textural and thematic connections between the two works; for example, the Svete includes a Passaccaglia, Corale and Fugue, and the Svete Sonata, although unmistakably modernist in its harmonic language, opens with a fantasy-like movement which mirrors the improvisatory atmosphere of the Prelude of the Franck. Magdoskvi handles both deftly: in the Franck, she achieves a wonderful sense of spontaneity in the Prelude, with its shimmering opening arpeggios, balanced by a masterful command of the material. Tastefully-judged rubato is complemented by precise articulation and a range of dynamic colour to bring drama and sensuality to this opening movement.

The Choral opens with a graceful seriousness, the “chorale” theme elegantly presented. The rolling arpeggiated chords which embellish the theme are masterfully played. One has a true sense of the grandeur of this music in Magdovski’s hands, as she allows the music to build in stature throughout the movement. Her attention to detail is impressive, as is her appreciation of the music’s architecture. This is particularly apparent in the Fugue which is virtuosic yet thoughtful. Overall, a very accomplished and authoritative account.

The Svete Sonata provides an interesting, more linear contrast to the voluptuous, polyphonic textures of the Franck, yet shares much of the same seriousness. Magdovski proves to be equally at home in this repertoire as in the Franck. With graceful phrasing, sensitively nuanced dynamics and a clear sense of the music’s structural and emotional narrative, this is an impressive companion to the Franck.

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Scrolling through Twitter, as I do far too often each day, this concert poster caught my eye:

It’s striking, isn’t it? Not just the bright colours and simple design, but the choice of image which instantly says “summer” – appropriately, for a summer concert.

It’s also not a typical classical music image. There are no people in penguin suits, or conductors with wild hair, or women in evening gowns – indeed, none of those tired, cliched images all too often still associated with classical music. It’s immediately eye-catching, it contains the information you need, and the choice of the ice lollies instead of a more “classic” (as it were!) image might just attract people who might not normally choose to go to a classical music concert.

Working in the publicity and promotional realm of classical music, I am struck more often than not by how poor a lot of concert promotional material is – including by the big/important venues and promoters. It is a fact almost universally acknowledged these days that we live in a visual age; for advertising and marketing material – whether physical posters or flyers – or digital assets for online promotion, the choice and quality of images is pretty crucial. Yet time and time again I see poor quality, or simply bad, images, and, worse, in appropriate and/or illegible typefaces.

Today one doesn’t necessarily need to hire a graphic designer to create decent promotional materials. Easy-to-use design programmes like Canva offer templates and a wealth of images and other elements to help you create quality flyers, posters and social media posts, which are set to the correct dimensions for specific platforms, e.g. Twitter or Instagram (this ensures no chopped off heads or misaligned text etc).

In addition to high-quality images, choice of typeface is also important. Florid scripts may look pretty or artistic, but think about how they translate to a flyer or poster. Are they easy to read? Largely, no. Another pleasing aspect of the ice lolly poster above is the clean typeface (something like Helvetica or Arial, I think). Note how a different weight (bold) of the same typeface is used to highlight the composers’ names. The final aspect which receives a big thumbs up from me for this poster is its simplicity: it contains the crucial information (though it could perhaps do with a website link and note of ticket prices).

That oft-quoted three-word phrase from architect and designer Mies van der Rohe (“less is more”) is as applicable to furniture design as it is to concert promotional materials. Too often I see posters and other materials which contain far too many words. Give your potential audience enough What Where and When information and trust them to do the rest by visiting the relevant website or calling the box office. There’s no need to tell them everything about that forthcoming concert…..

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D major is unquestionably one of the “bright” keys – perhaps the brightest, and, allegedly, for Mozart the “happiest” key (he wrote three piano concertos in D major and four piano sonatas, including the sonata for two pianos KV 448). It’s heroic and triumphant, the key of joyous fanfares, majesty and optimism.

Mozart – Sonata for Two Pianos KV 448

This finely-crafted sonata epitomises the pure classical structure and is an uplifting and virtuosic work to play and to hear. The joyous first movement opens like an operatic overture, replete with timpani and trumpets while the middle Andante has a single aria-like melody shared between the two instruments. The finale is an ebullient rondo which feels like a piano concerto without orchestra.

Chopin – Prelude in D, Op 38 & Mazurka in D Major, Op 33, No. 2

Chopin composed most of his Opus 28 preludes prior to the winter of 1838-39, when he joined his lover, George Sand, on the island of Majorca. The Prelude in D Major, the fifth of the set of 24, packs a lot into a miniature which lasts a mere half a minute. It’s scored in continuous semiquavers which glitter with all the positivity which the key of D major suggests.

The Mazurka in D major opens with a happy main theme, embellished with ornaments. The off-beat rhythms, characteristic of the Polish folk dance on which Chopin based his Mazurkas, is clear in the accompaniment.

Beethoven – Piano Sonata No. 15 in D major ‘Pastoral’

The nickname ‘Pastoral’ was given to this piano sonata by a London publisher, suggesting perhaps nature and the countryside or the calm simplicity of this sonata in contrast to the one which precedes it (the ‘Moonlight’ with its unsettling opening movement and restless finale). The first movement of the Sonata in D major opens with a low D pedal point in the bass, which suggests a bagpipe drone and is associated with country scenes. This pedal point is heard again in the Andante which opens with a foreboding minor-key theme before a cheerful, skipping dance in the middle to lighten the mood. A brief, playful Scherzo follows, while the finale is firmly rooted in D major, whose lilting opening recalls the pedal point of the first movement. According to Beethoven’s pupil Czerny, this was one of the composer’s favourite sonatas and one which he never tired of playing.

Rachmaninoff – Prelude in D, Op 23 No. 4

This Prelude rather contradicts the main characteristics of the key of D major. It begins with a calm, flowing melody and accompaniment, a song without words, almost Schumann-esque in character, but grows increasingly more dramatic in its middle section, with several minor-key modulations and ecstatic episodes.