Brodick Parish Church
23/08/24
I am utterly convinced that three millennia ago, the very ancient Greeks imported what are known as the Samothracian Mysteries to Arran, some kind of theatrical initiatory ceremony played out at Machrie Moor. The ‘chrie’ of ‘Machrie’ matches the fertility goddess Core, & the ‘Ma’ matches Demeter, among other clues. To this day there remains a marvellous & mysterious creative magic to this island which penetrates the many artists who call Arran home. I am one of them, I’ll admit, & my music & poetry have flourish’d under the watchful guiding gaze of the granite guardians that form the island’s northern massif.
& so to another artist caught by the tractor beam pull of Arran, Richard Morrison, an international baritone who was a holiday homer here in his familial youth. Somewhere along the line he had the brilliant idea of founding the ‘Arran International Festival of Chamber Music and Song,’ a portion of whose inaugural program I caught last night in the Brodick Church. A miraculous montage of music that, in the lights of a hundred tea candles, was absolutely gorgeous.
The pews were more or less full, & apparently half of Whiting Bay were there (I’d overheard), some of whom had already attended the week’s previous performances. Perhaps the loss of the wider Folk Festival has hit the island harder than it thinks, & the natives have rallied round a possible new & exciting fixture on the calendar. The warm & perhaps too-boisterous-for-a-church ovation after the final piece was testament that the Arran International Festival of Chamber Music and Song would be MORE than welcome back. With venues scatter’d about the island, from Brodick Golf Club, to Whiting Bay, from the Castle to the Botanical Drinks, Richard has really crafted a well-curated festival to celebrate the island’s locations, &, more importantly, its talent.
Electra Perivolaris, for example, from Whiting Bay, was given the task of being the festival’s official composer, & she’s created a piece to premiere last night for our two London-based, Guildhall School training, master musicians; flautist, Lucy Walsh , & harp player, Chris Clarke. Richard had noticed Lucy in recent years as a chief flautist in Berlin, & she was amazing, yeah. Her comrade’s playing, by the way, & his actual harp, were absolutely beautiful – but how Chris had successfully managed to get his instrument up from London, combating awkward Avanti West Coast train guards, & the ferry pedestrian ramp at Ardrossan, I’ll never know.
There were seven pieces in the program; the majority of which were play’d by Lucy & Chris together, with the chemistry of firm friendship gluing together their epic talents. We began with Debussy’s Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune, whose arrangement by Judy Loman really allow’d the talents of our musicians to take center stage. This would be more than chamber music, this would be musical drama at its most quintessential. I love the way the piece ended with these big deep plucks of the lowest harp strings, like the last drops of plodding rain after a heavy shower. It was apt, it had been chucking it down all day.
Second up was Prelude 3, by Edward mcGuire, a solo piece play’d with elite level accomplishment that reinvoked Edward’s love of the Scottish coasts, & rock pools in particular. The relationship Lucy has with her instrument is flamboyant yet gentle, & this was truly the theater of the flute. The first half then ended with Electra Perivolaris’s composition, ‘Three Songs Without Words For Arran.’ She introduced the performance herself, gushing over how her favorite walks thro’ Arran’s glens & along her coastlines had inspir’d her so much as to find metamimesial soundbytes in her craft. A superb sonic triptych play’d by our duo with caution, care & absolute, consummate control.
In the decaying light of dusk, with the candle flames really beginning to get involved in the ambience, the second half was pretty much MC’d by the eloquent & ebullient Chris Clarke, at the heart of which was his & Lucy’s adoration for the work of Japanese composer, Toru Takemitsu. Out came the alto flute, & I swear down, when they played ‘Toward the Sea III’, a genuine sense of synesthesia swept over me, & in could literally see the notes swirling on the crystal clear acoustics of the church, racing around the rafters like zephyrs in a gale – an absolutely amazing experience!
After the finale, & the very bendy bows, as I left the church, heading into the rain, I thought I had a peal of thunder. I was wrong – it was this ever-vibrant community’s aforemention’d ovation getting even more boisterous, the wooden pews were taking a hammering of applause. All those who witness’d the performance last night were feeling a sense of privilege & acolyteship, whose friends will be told with much earnestness, & whose tickets will be bought as soon as possible for the 2nd – we hope, most stridently – Arran International Festival of Chamber Music and Song.
Damo
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