Accordion Recital (URC Wednesday 29th October 2008, 1pm)
What an astonishing and delightful hour we spent, watching Craig Bradley take this amazingly versatile instrument through its paces and hearing the extraordinary range of music it is capable of, in the hands of a virtuoso like Craig.
Forget fairground sounds and Morris dancing – this was not your piano-accordion, though it could no doubt be played as such. Known to its devotees by its Russian name, the Bayan. it is a complex and subtle instrument, ‘like playing two quite different instruments’ as one awed musician remarked. Not so much a one-man band, more a one-man orchestra, with several registers so that it covers almost the equivalent range.
We heard organs, woodwind, bird-song, gusts of wind, brass, and any number of rhythms. But it never quite seemed unashamedly cheerful, though whether that was particular to the programme we heard or whether it sings always with a sad edge, I’m not sure.

As the ‘free bass’ accordion is more widely appreciated in eastern Europe, where it can be studied at Conservatoire level, the music and composers were unfamiliar to the audience.

‘Monastery at Ferapoint’ by Solatariow, said to be a meditation on the frescoes there, started with a dramatic organ effect, complex and powerful, became a tune (played surprisingly in the left hand) with a shower of arpeggios and chords played by the right – mesmerizing. Eventually it subsided, till I heard twitters of birdsong, and a long, long fading chord to close.

Chernikov’s ‘Improvisation on a theme of “Lonely Garmoshka”’ (apparently a song about an accordionist keeping ladies awake when he’s trying to woo them) started with a perky, obviously Russian, melody. This became virtually unrecognizable in its hugely decorated and ornamented variations, with so many notes that it took a while for everyone to register the multi-toned alarm going off behind us. Apparently unperturbed, Craig picked up where he left off in his demonstration of virtuosity.

‘Two Minuets’ by Rameau were relatively sedate and organ-like.

David Forshaw’s ‘Shades of Blue’, in three parts, received its first ever performance with the composer in the audience. Writing for accordion for the first time, he seemed to find a quite different way of using the instrument, more atmospheric and spare, rather than ornate and rich.
The first movement started sparse and bare, became denser, almost nightclub sultry, gradually increased in urgency seeming to explore and finished with stabs into the darkness.
The second movement began with a long, languid squeeze (not an effect possible on most instruments). It somehow seemed not a warm feeling though, and it became almost frantic before breaking down in chaos and discord.
The third movement started with clunky discordant sounds which became a sort of parody of Spanish or Latin-american rhythms, without the warmth, dark and brooding, and ended with a long, pure, high, controlled note, quite piercing though not loud, and then a huge deep ‘sigh’ of air.
Shades of Blue indeed.

Jacobi’s three polyphonic studies on Spanish folksongs brought a lighter mood and reminded me of elegant multi-voice madrigals, weaving delicate controlled patterns.

Chernikow’s ‘Capriccio’, which ended the concert, looked to be an even more fiendishly difficult feat of athletic fingering, but it was an entertaining piece for the listeners. Strong thrums and a twisty tune seemed to turn into rapid Spanish dance rhythms (we could almost see his fingers dancing), lightening to something more akin to slick tap-dancing. Mesmerising!