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24 Preludes for Piano by Nicholas Scott-Burt

Da-Hee Kim piano

Premiere recording

Listen to the opening measures of the sixth Prelude from Nicholas Scott-Burt’s 24 Preludes for Piano, and you might be forgiven for thinking this is actually by J S Bach, with its combination of rigour and elegance, counterpoint and Baroque flourishes.

The ghost of Bach is also present in the very first Prelude of the set, redolent of the C major Prelude from Book 1 of the WTC in its processional momentum, its rhythm, and expression. Played by pianist Da-Hee Kim with a luminous glow and clear articulation, it’s a wonderful opening to this intriguing new release of contemporary piano music, drawing you into a composer’s soundworld that is richly coloured, texturally diverse, witty, and at times quite beautiful. 

British composer Nicholas Scott-Burt composed his 24 Preludes during 2019 and 2020. Following a tradition established by J S Bach and continued by, among others, Chopin, Debussy, and Shostakovich, Scott-Burt’s cycle reimagines the prelude as both a brief musical statement and a means for expressive variety. Each piece acts as a standalone miniature whilst also contributing to the overall narrative of the complete set: the Preludes are organised into four ‘Books’, which can be performed as an integrated sequence, ‘pausing for longer at the end of each book, as one might pause between the movements of a sonata or symphony’ (Nicholas Scott-Burt).

Each book has its own distinct character: Book 1 is neat and neo-classical; Book 2 is more extravagant and romantic; Book 3 is somewhat more introspective; and Book 4 is bright and sunny, though not without some darker moments.

The composer was kind enough to allow me to see the score, and it’s clear that he draws on a wide range of pianistic textures, rhythmic gestures, and harmonic languages in his writing. Some preludes evoke lyrical introspection, others have driving rhythmic energy or contrapuntal interplay. There’s a powerful array of dynamics from hushed delicacy to declamatory chords, and many of the preludes experiment with colouristic sonorities that brilliantly celebrate the piano’s resonance, sonic variety and expressive range. 

With their imaginative harmonic progressions, rhythmic variety and shifting tonal perspectives, each prelude embodies its own character and atmosphere. The result is a sequence that invites both performer and listener to explore a wide range of moods – from reflective calm to virtuosic brilliance – within the intimate scope of the piano miniature.

While rooted in the tradition of the prelude cycle, Scott-Burt’s collection has a distinctly modern voice, with his musical influences clearly evident. It echoes composers such as Bach, Chopin, Shostakovich, as well as Handel, Purcell, Schumann, Liszt, Prokofiev, Bartók, Messiaen, and jazz. Scott-Burt skillfully integrates all the colours of his own compositional language to craft music that is individual and contemporary, while acknowledging the rich traditions from which it emerges.

Award-winning Korean pianist Da-Hee Kim performs the preludes on this premiere recording, bringing both sensitivity and virtuosity to the music, always alert to its shifting colours and textures. She delivers pristine articulation, supple phrasing, some impressive pedal technique, a luminosity of tone, and wonderfully weightless playing, when required, highlighting the individual character of each prelude, and ‘musical personality’ of each Book.

Da-Hee Kim, pianist
Nicholas Scott-Burt

In addition to the 24 Preludes for Piano, this album includes two further works by Scott-Burt, his Minimalis I, ‘a self-imposed experimental exercise in structuring’, and Love Song, a contemporary on the tradition of the piano ‘Love Song’ by composers such as Mendelssohn, Schubert, Schumann, and Liszt.

This is a wonderful addition to the contemporary piano literature, and I truly hope the composer can find a publisher for his 24 Preludes, so that more pianists, both professional and amateur, can explore and enjoy it. 

24 Preludes for Piano is released on the Divine Art label on CD and streaming.

Read Meet the Artist interviews with Da-Hee Kim and Nicholas Scott-Burt

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This atmospheric piece for solo piano, whose Afrikaans subtitle ‘Wind oor die Branders’ translates as Wind over the Waves, is by Richard Pantcheff  (b.1959). It comes from ‘Nocturnus’, a suite of six pieces written for different instruments; the final work in the suite is ‘4th December 1976’, written in memory of Benjamin Britten on the fortieth anniversary of the composer’s death. Pantcheff was mentored in composition by Benjamin Britten in the last years of Britten’s life, and his music displays a distinct affinity with Britten’s soundworld, as well as that of earlier English composers including Vaughan Williams, Herbert Howells, Gerald Finzi and Elizabeth Lutyens.

A prolific composer of choral, organ, chamber and instrumental works, Richard Pantcheff was trained in choral music and composition from an early age, initially as a chorister at Ripon Cathedral, and studied music at Christ Church, Oxford, under Simon Preston and Francis Grier. His music has been widely performed and praised for its originality and technical brilliance, combined with intellectual and emotional depth.

I discovered this piece through ‘De Profundis Clamavi’, a recent recording by British pianist, and friend of mine, Duncan Honeybourne. Duncan is a keen advocate of English music and a champion of lesser-known repertoire, and his recording on which ‘Nocturnus V’ appears (together with Pantcheff’s substantial Piano Sonata, of which he is dedicatee) contains no less than eight world premiere recordings.

The piece is minimalist in style. Its title ‘Nocturnus’ obviously suggests a Nocturne or night piece, and although this work makes stylistic reference to Chopin’s Nocturnes in its flowing accompaniment (almost continuous semiquavers to suggest both waves and wind), it is perhaps closer to Britten’s ‘Night Piece’ (which also appears on ‘De Profundis Clamavi’) and ‘Night’ from Holiday Diary in atmosphere, harmonic language and some of its textures. But while the middle section of Britten’s ‘Night Piece’ is unsettled, full of curious nocturnal twitterings and scurrying, Pantcheff exchanges the fluid semiquavers for a rising chordal figure in triplets which climaxes in fortississimo (fff) chords high up in the piano’s register. The effect is hymn-like and joyful. The music then subsides and pauses, before the semiquaver ‘waves’ return, now in the bass, with soft, piquant chords in the treble.

Although not particularly difficult (I would suggest this piece is around Grade 5-6 standard), the challenge for the player comes in retaining evenness in the semiquaver figures and sustaining long notes in the other register. Sparing use of the pedal will avoid muddying the sound in these sections, while the middle section requires greater projection and brightness of sound. It’s a satisfying piece to play as it offers the player plenty of scope for expression and “sound painting” to portray the music’s inspiration. 

‘Nocturnus V’ by Richard Pantcheff, played by Duncan Honeybourne

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World Piano Day, an annual worldwide event founded by a group of likeminded people, takes place on the 88th day of the year (29th March this year), because of the number of keys on the instrument being celebrated.

This playlist mostly comprises music I’ve learnt or am learning/revisiting, or that I simply like. I’ve made it collaborative so that others can contribute and between us we can celebrate World Piano Day, the wondrous instrument that is the piano, and its enormous breadth of repertoire

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This quote from a Meet the Artist interview with pianist Antoine Préat perfectly expresses my relationship with many composers and their music.

When I returned to playing the piano seriously in my later 30s, after a break of some 20 years, there were pieces which I felt I “should” be playing but which never felt comfortable to me. This feeling grew when I co-founded a piano meetup group where members played all sorts of repertoire. I envied those who seemed so at home with the music of Chopin or Ravel, two composers whose piano music I adore, but which does not necessarily love me back.

Of course, we should never feel obligated to play certain pieces or composers out of a sense of duty; the “tyranny of the shoulds” is often inculcated in our childhood music lessons, reinforced in music college, and – for the professional musician, further emphasised by teachers, peers, agents and critics – or for the amateur, at piano clubs and on courses. Students and those at the beginning of their career probably feel the pressure of this sense of obligation most acutely, and it takes confidence to stand firm against the tide of opinion that says one should be playing certain Beethoven sonatas, etudes by Chopin and Liszt, or the concertos of Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky or Grieg in order to be recognised and endorsed by those who may help further one’s professional career and reputation. 

We’re very lucky as pianists; we have a vast repertoire to choose from and this means there is music within it to suit our varied, wide-ranging tastes. It is interesting to note that some of the greatest pianists have chosen to focus on a fairly narrow corner of the repertoire – for example, Alfred Brendel, Andras Schiff or Maria Joao Pires. It really isn’t necessary to have an affinity with or be able to play everything, though of course there are some pianists who seem perfectly at ease with a very broad sweep of repertoire, namely Maurizio Pollini or Marc-André Hamelin. Stephen Hough is quite open about his “uneasiness” about playing the music of J S Bach and I think it is a mark of a pianist’s honesty to admit that certain repertoire or composers do not suit them. 

Our affection for the music we choose to play is, I believe, one of the greatest assets in the learning process. It is what helps to keep us focussed and ensures we will return to the music day in day out to practice and refine it. If you don’t love the music you’re playing, it’s unlikely it will love you back, and the practice of practising will feel arduous and challenging. I recall feeling like this quite a lot of the time when I was having piano lessons as a child, where my first teacher would always select the music I was to learn, without giving me any choice (when I taught piano, I made sure my students played music they liked and enjoyed). It was only when I had passed my grade 5 piano exam, and moved to a new teacher, that I had the foundations of technical facility and the confidence to explore repertoire on my own. It was at this time that my love of Schubert’s piano music developed – and it remains amongst my most favourite music still. 

One of the great pleasures of being an amateur pianist, perhaps the greatest pleasure, is that you are not – or shouldn’t be – under any obligation to play music because someone else said you “should”! Of course sometimes a teacher will suggest repertoire which they feel may help with an aspect of technique or simply that it may appeal to your musical taste and sensibilities – and a good teacher should know and appreciate their students’ tastes. But if it doesn’t appeal, have the confidence to say “it’s not for me”. It’s also worth bearing in mind that our tastes change, and, as our technical facility improves, repertoire we previously loved but might not have been able to play, becomes more accessible.

If the music doesn’t love you back sufficiently for you to play it yourself, simply enjoy hearing others play it – on disc, on the radio, in concerts and via streaming services.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0040HIDPnaB4s3V2TydLeB?si=0ZLyu5RtQTSK6XfW3fxEWw