In praise of Berkeley’s Chamber Music

In recent years there has been something of a revival of interest in the music of British composers from the 1940s to ’60s – composers such as William Alwyn, York Bowen and Lennox Berkeley are again being performed and recorded after a period of relative lack of interest in their music. I am happy to see this, as there are many fine works in the flute repertoire from these composers and others of the era.

The work that I would like to introduce in this article is Berkeley’s Concertino Op 49 for recorder or flute, violin, cello and harpsichord or piano. I first encountered it during my early years studying in London, and I loved the freshness and energy of the music.

Written in 1955, it is among the many works inspired by the recorder guru of the time, Carl Dolmetsch – the flute part was initially conceived for recorder, but fits perfectly on the flute. The inspiration for the ensemble clearly has stemmed from the baroque trio sonata combination, although the style is influenced by serialism. Berkeley spent many years in Paris studying with Nadia Boulanger, alongside composers such as Copland and Elliot Carter, where he worked in more of a neo-classical style. However, as with many of his colleagues, Stravinsky included, Berkeley had a period where he extended his musical language by working with the ideas of serialism, and aspects of his Concertino derive from this exploration.

Don’t think for a moment that this work will be ‘grey’, ‘serious’ or ‘intellectual’ - some of the descriptions that are often attached to serial style. It is fresh, exciting, colourful and rhythmic – and it is great fun to play. The first movement is the grittiest, embarking on its journey with a strong, syncopated melody in octave unison on violin and cello, supported by the harpsichord or piano and completed with swirling demi-semi-quaver flourishes on the flute four bars later. Much of the melodic material, be it vigorous or dolce, is treated contrapuntally, with much reliance on imitation between the treble voices. The keyboard part hints at the baroque idiom with snippets of ornamentation within the accompaniment. There are plenty of opportunities for interpretation of melody, rubato, note-lengths and weight of attack, finding the balance between driving energy and spaciousness, which are qualities that characterise this movement. For the flute player, there are passages requiring sparkling articulation (much like those in Berkeley’s Sonatina) and well co-ordinated finger-work in the flourishes.

Instead of a central slow movement, Berkeley gives us two short ‘Aria’s for flute and cello, then for violin and harpsichord. ‘Aria I’ is built on the idea of a chaconne or ground bass, set in motion with a six-bar melody on the cello, which repeats throughout the movement. The flute floats above, playing a melody based on sevenths and seconds, giving the music a sense of stretch and release. Midway through the movement, the roles are reversed and the melodic material in the flute part derives from the cello opening, whilst the cello adapts the flute pitches: all very intriguing and extremely well crafted, but above all, atmospheric and quite haunting. ‘Aria II’ is equally beautiful, with a finely-spun melody on the violin accompanied by rolling chords and arpeggio figures on the harpsichord. After three falling phrases on the violin, the movement then builds in a simple arch shape, ending as it began with the falling phrase. Again, like Berkeley’s flute Sonatina, the slow movements are powerful in their simplicity.

The final movement is an energetic romp in compound duple time, featuring rapid staccato arpeggio figures (again familiar to those who have studied the Sonatina). There is a contrasting dolce theme, but never a loss of forward momentum, and always the energy of a rollicking dance. This movement is more straightforward in terms of ensemble, and is relatively easy to put together once the notes are mastered. There are many articulation details in the score which need to be observed and matched between strings, flute and keyboard. Pianists need to understand something of the nature of the harpsichord, and it will help them to understand articulation and note-lengths if they are able to hear, or even try out, a harpsichord. I have played this work with both harpsichord and piano, and it is just as effective with either. From a personal viewpoint, I prefer playing with the harpsichord as the particular colour of that instrument is so different, especially in a modern setting.

Berkeley’s Concertino is a fine work for quite advanced students to explore. As the name suggests, it is something of a virtuosic showcase for each instrument, requiring a range of interpretative skills, clarity of articulation, strong rhythm, and, above all, it is challenging as an ensemble piece. It lasts about thirteen minutes in its entirety, and, along with Berkeley’s Concerto Op 36 and Sonata Op 97, is published by Chesters Edition. The Sonatina, another fine work by Sir Lennox, is published by Schott Music. I have had such pleasure from rehearsing and performing the Concertino on several occasions, and so I encourage readers to give this piece a go, and hope that you might find the same enjoyment in it.