Catalogue Connection: 21124

“Fugues are seen as dusty and academic, only to be written by people with fanatical and desiccated minds. I hope my mind is not like that.”

Thus, David Johnson whose mind, on the evidence of this remarkable musical offering, was anything but desiccated. Contrapuntal skill, found particularly in the form of the fugue, used to be driven into music students as though the machinery of fugue existed solely for its own ends. The consequences were a move by composers away from counterpoint, perhaps because it was associated with examinations, failure, and an almost total lack of human feeling or engagement. So, when a later twentieth-century composer sets out to write 12 Preludes and Fugues, a statement is being made, for that is to invite the listener to remember Bach, Shostakovich and Hindemith – the greatest of contrapuntal company. The word “fearless” comes to mind.

Johnson himself made those connections in the liner notes for a previous, very fine but now unobtainable recording of his 12 Preludes & Fugues by Ian Hobson (Zephyr Z113-98, 1998), and these liner notes, reproducing the notes in the score, have also informed Christopher Guild’s much more extensive notes for the recording under review. This calls for a warning. Johnson commonly subverted his own work with silly commentary and forced literalism. There is a sense in which the composer used the programme notes to keep a distance between himself and his listener, as though frightened that the true depth of his feelings would not be appreciated, even trivializing his own musical wit in describing Fugue 8 in terms as distracting as the worst of Tovey’s witticisms of yesteryear. Listen to these pieces before you read the notes. 

Christopher Guild’s performances are outstanding. His variety of touch responds impressively to the wide-ranging demands of the music, and the clarity of his finger work means that the complexities of the counterpoint are all readily followed without his having to force recognition by heavily highlighting entries. For all the humour and satire in many of these pieces, there is an over-all quality of refinement which Guild has understood. The performances are bold but never overstated, and the very real emotions which are not hard to seek are handled with great sensitivity.

Gratitude should be extended to Dr. James Reid-Baxter for his generous sponsorship of the recording. The sound quality is excellent, the clarity and incisiveness of the Steinway model D (Hamburg 1986), is matched by the resonance called for by some of the more dramatic textures and by the presence of occasional pedal notes. However, it is Guild’s assurance that brings the wildly diverse sound-world of Johnson’s piano writing to full realisation. Johnson’s musical handwriting may be clear, but it is inelegant, scattered across the widely-spaced staves, and requires the pianist to possess the musical equivalent of the visionary – which Guild has indeed brought to bear.

So how do these works from a relatively obscure Scottish composer stand up to scrutiny? Wonderfully. Taken as a whole – and they are melodically conceived as a whole – they cover a wide emotional range with many contrapuntal tricks and with the clear musical evidence that Johnson is at home with his material and so technically assured that he is ready to break any rules one might suppose to be adhering to the forms. 

The work is held together by a four-note sequence based on the letters BHEA. It is short for the aspirated form of Scottish Gaelic Beatha, meaning life. Using the German note name equivalents, this translates into B flat, B natural, E, A. This sequence transposed twice down a third produces a complete twelve-note row and this row provides the key sequence for the whole, as well as much of the melodic material. 

The first Prelude is therefore in B flat. Its simple single line theme leads to a set of variations: but when the melody is annunciated with rich harmonic clusters, it achieves a grandeur which Johnson describes as “a climax of anger”. If so, it is righteous anger and it resolves properly into one of the many deeply satisfying cadences spread throughout the work. Guild plays this subtle piece with perfect awareness of its quiet strength. A three-part fugue follows, featuring triplets, inversions and a final stretto. Johnson composed this as an “hommage à J. S. Bach”. It is contrapuntally worthy of the maestro, but its spiky character is closer to the world of Shostakovich. 

The second prelude determinedly enunciates the full tone row but is contrasted with an impassioned recitative which seems to question the whole raison d’être right from the outset. The fugue subject is framed by the BHEA motif and is distinguished by its quirky rhythms 8/8 being divided into 3+3+2. The performance matches the fleet-footed writing.

Many of Johnson’s textures are open and sparse, so their delicacies are totally exposed and their acidic harmonies heard with complete clarity – notably in Fugue 3 which has a particularly neo-classical flavour. Occasional references to jazz rhythms and blue notes are matched by references to Johnson’s own Scottish musical traditions, notably in Prelude 8 in F – a homage to the great Millar 1635 Scottish Psalter. The tune is Johnson’s and the treatment, with enriched harmonies and octave transpositions, makes for a dignified and moving dialogue. It is followed by as cheeky a fugue as you will ever hear, playing with inversions and sequences, and briefly allowing whimsy to be overtaken by reflection.

At all times the musical intent is clear. The counterpoint in the fugues is crystalline and the subjects are characterful. Only in Prelude 10 is the sustaining pedal to the fore, resonating like church bells, with a central passage in which the left hand provides a beautiful counterpoint to the higher pitched bells. The ensuing fugue continues the theme of bells – this time associated with Southwark Cathedral and London Bridge railway station. It verges on the silly and just occasionally one wonders were scraps of these pieces intended to entertain a child. But the knowing innocence of such music is no more simply childish than the following Prelude 11 with its menacing march and the anything but desiccated Fugue 11 in G sharp based on “Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye Waukin’ yet?” This is a clever musical satire referring to Sir John Cope’s ignominious defeat by the Jacobites at the Battle of Prestonpans.

With the final Prelude, largely in a single line, but formed as a dialogue between two contrasting musical voices, we return to a more quietly thoughtful, almost recondite world, and the four-part concluding triple fugue is in D flat. This is a concise a profoundly thoughtful composition of calm beauty – an unspoken homage to Bach and a final assertion of fulfilment.

The whole is a quite remarkable achievement, unique in character, technically highly skilled and in places very moving.

David Johnson (1942-2009) was a musicologist known for his substantial contributions to the study of Scottish folk music. He was also a composer, first attracted to atonal modernism before adopting a friendlier, relaxed tonal style. This set of 12 Preludes and Fugues (1992-95) is indicative of this later style and encompasses a range of influ- ences, from Bach to jazz to his beloved Scottish folk music and beyond. Many of them use a motive spelled BHEA, which refers to the Scots Gaelic word for life (bheatha)— and this collection certainly embodies a life-affirming sunnyness. Though several carry some degree of seriousness, many come off as light character pieces—including the striking Fugue No. 10 that depicts the intermingling sounds of church bells and a railway, or Fugue No. 8 depicting clowns by the seaside. My favorite is Fugue No. 4, written in a pseudo-Baroque style interrupted by bluesy notes and a rambunctious iteration of `Two by Two’. 

All of these light, good-humored miniatures are underpinned by a solid command of counterpoint and craft; as a result, it never feels like merely a potpourri, but a thoughtful collection. 

ARG has only reviewed one other album of David Johnson’s music—a 1999 recording by Ian Hobson of these very pieces (Zephyr 113, M/J 1999). I don’t know that recording, and I imagine it is deleted by now. I am quite satisfied with these sympathetic, expressive performances by Christopher Guild. Extensive liner notes on each prelude and fugue.

One of three David Johnsons in the Fanfare Archive (the others being David Hackbridge Johnson and David Nathaniel Johnson), David Charles Johnson (1942–2009) is only represented once previously, and it is with this very work. The performer there is Ian Hobson, recorded on that pianist’s own label, Zephyr
(Fanfare 22:5). Art Lange described the music as sounding “somber and sturdy,” and there is much truth to that statement. Yet that baseline finds space for jazz, and for folk and popular melody as well. One can hear that as early as the first Prelude (in B♭): It all sounds severe, and indeed begins with a threadbare single lines, but suddenly jazzy rhythms start to infiltrate. There is also the use of a fragments of an
imaginary Scottish folk song here. To have the very first Prelude not only include such variety but to appear as a set of variations on a theme is a fascinating strategy; the complementary Fugue is, by the composer’s own admission, an hommage à Bach, but with a bluesy strand. Hobson emphasizes the underlying bluesy element to the opening of that first prelude more than Chirstopher Guild, so that with the latter one gets more of an impression of launching out on a long journey (for such this is). Both pianists phrase beautifully. When it comes to the first Fugue, Guild finds space for monumentalism, a sort of granitic quality, whereas Hobson’s version complements this by taking joy in the three-against-two metrics. Guild’s awareness of Johnson’s use of gestural statement towards the end of the piece is
more pronounced, though, and more effective.

Witten over the space of three years in the 1990s, the set as a whole is unified via a four-note motif composed by the Aberdonian (from Aberdeen, Scotland) composer Shaun Dillon (1944–2018): B♭, B♮, E, and A, which come close to spelling the Gallic word for “life.” Hobson’s album cover included a reproduction of both the motif and row in the composer’s hand. We hear the motif starkly at the opening of the second Prelude (in B and marked Grave). The four-note motif can be transposed down twice to complete a 12-note row, and indeed one can hear this beautifully in the Prelude. Talk of dodecaphony brings in discussion of how the pieces can be “in” anything. Describing them as in “B” as opposed to B Major or B Minor is deliberate, as it allows for a certain modality the row brings with it. This Prelude seems to have a composed “fade,” out of which the sprightly second fugue emerges. The composer has mentioned “midsummer magic” as part of this music’s heart, a sort of tripping aspect (the rhythms are 3+3+3 within an 8/8 time signature). Guild offers the ideal performance here, just a touch lighter than
Hobson.The link between the second Fugue and the third Prelude is clear: Both are cut from the same cloth. Intriguingly, the third Prelude (in E) has elements of quasi-fugal counterpoint (actually a canon) which jostle with moments of high-pitched fantasy. Guild is just fantastic here, particularly in his tightly rolled left-hand chords. The contrast here to the Fugue is visceral. The Prelude peters out rather
than fades, to be confronted with granitic chords Sorabji might be proud of. The fugue subject is then intoned in the lower register; clashes between the second fugal statement and its countersubject are positively glorified by Guild. The composer described this subject as “an energetic Russian theme in 7/4 time.” I remain on the fence as to the “Russian” element, but what a performance this is. Perhaps there is a hunt of carillon later on—the bells of Boris Godunov recontextualized? Here, Guild is preferable; Hobson is a touch too relentless. Sometimes the four-note motif is itself fragmented, as in the fourth Prelude (in A), a piece the composer describes as “a moonlit scene of secret sorrow.” The music is
forlorn, and benefits from Guild’s relatively neutral delivery. It is complemented by a sprightly Fugue that really is more fugato. The subtitle of the fugue is “introducing ‘the animals went in two by two’,” and when the nursery tune arrives, it does so in somewhat grand, even triumphal manner. Compositionally, this is
virtuosic; one has to smile at the cleverness at work here. Guild is more convincing and atmospheric than Hobson in the Prelude, and he gives the fugue a touch more space. Hobson is too frenetic.

The frame of reference in Johnson’s piece is large, with referands sometimes colliding, as is the case with the Fifth prelude (in F♯), where the theme at once points to the famous moment from Haydn’s “Surprise” Symphony and a folk song (Bobby Shaftoe). The piece is charming (indeed, a third layer is a tribute to Debussy’s Children’s Corner). The fugue is interesting, as it is cast in three voices with the addition of a fourth, “non-fugal” voice (one that does not contribute to the fugal processes at work). Guild and Hobson are equally effective in the prelude; in the compact fugue, it is Guild’s more sensitive take that appeals. Chains of dedication continue, with the Prelude in G (No. 6) dedicated to Ronald
Stevenson and offering a transcription of Johnson’s 1974 setting of MacDiarmid’s O Jesu parvule (a Scottish realist poem). The warmth of some of the “landing” harmonies comes as a bit of a shock; Guild is warmer in this regard, and overall, than is Hobson’s more objective account. The fugue in this instance is a double fugue on Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern; a B-A-C-H motif morphs into what the composer describes as “a half-remembered lullaby.” The complementary theme is of Wie schön (by the Lutheran hymnodist Phillip Nicolai, 1556–1608), which Bach used in his BWV 1 (the cantata of that name). The result in Johnson’s hands is both beautiful and imposing, a major compositional achievement, and Guild’s performance fully recognizes the work’s stature. Hobson’s account of the fugue isimpressive also, but Guild’s individual characterization of the two (prelude and fugue) is more marked and ultimately more satisfying.

Contrasting a quasi-improvisatory prelude with a rigorous fugue is nothing new, but Johnson’s way is very effective nonetheless, teasing out new directions and celebrating the harmonic ambiguity of his core motif in the seventh prelude (in C) via a sequence of neo-Baroque gestures. The fugue, it turns out, is both rigorous and yet has palpable “swing.” Guild is seemingly perfect, down to the final “blues”
chord, which offers something of an interrupted cadence, allowing for a segue into the next Prelude. Hobson emphasizes exploration over Baroque references in the prelude—a valid alternative—but his fugue, despite some beautifully clear articulation, is marginally less convincing than Guild’s, which brings in more color and shade.

The Prelude No. 8 (in F) comes with a caveat—“with apologies to the 1635 Scottish psalter”—as Johnson offers a parody (an affectionate one) on the 17th-century psalm tune, adding bluesy notes to cadences. Jacobean Scotland meets contemporary jazz piano is an unlikely but successful combination, it turns out, as is the move from church to the circus: The eighth fugue is meant to depict clowns at the seaside. Johnson plays beautifully with a four-note descending figure. Guild is completely convincing, and his understanding of Johnson’s idiom intact; Hobson has an equal grasp of Prelude No. 8, and takes a softer approach to the fugue, but with no loss of linear clarity, impressively. Ultimately, though, Guild seems one
small step ahead. The Prelude No. 9 is written as a single line and makes use of Scottish folksong scales, including the pentatonic. Sometimes meandering, sometimes offering the rigor of a Bach opening contrapuntal gambit, it is wonderful, especially when Johnson fragments the line. The fugue here is both playful and disjunct; Guild hits the nail on the head. Hobson, though, is just as compelling, and his recording really brings out the laser-focus of his articulation in the bass register. Bells inform the tenth prelude and fugue: Sunday bells (in the Alps, possibly) in the prelude, those of London’s Southwark Cathedral in the fugue. The prelude has an almost Impressionist slant that is highly beautiful—think of Impressionism meeting, in passing, the blues. The fugue here is fearless in its exploration of London carillon. There is even an invocation of train wheels on rails (London Bridge station is next to Southwark Cathedral). It’s fascinating, and Guild’s performance has it all. Hobson seems really to enjoy himself in the fugue; although he has lived and worked in America for decades, he is a Brit, and I wonder if this
aspect of Johnson’s piece appealed in a specific way?

The brief Prelude No. 11, high on bass tremolo and downward sequences of chords, is more of a transition to the sprightly penultimate fugue. The eleventh fugue sets the Jacobite tune Johnny Cope to great effect; I hear the folk element asbeing more pronounced in Hobson’s account, but Guild’s clarity is more than compensation, especially as he can highlight the contrast between pedaled and non-pedaled passages so well.

Finally, there comes the Prelude and Fugue in D♭. Black-key and white-key harmonic areas vie with each other here (Heaven and Earth?). To his detriment, Hobson is quicker than Guild, and the resulting extra space makes Guild’s version preferable. Johnson’s way of linking the prelude and fugue here is magical. The fugue itself is based on three themes, which eventually are heard simultaneously. One of the more expansive fugues (although not the longest), it exudes austere beauty. Guild’s performance seems to unroll at the perfect tempo; Hobson does not make the experience quite as rapt.

It is a close-run thing, this, between Guild and Hobson, but the preponderance of occasions of Guild just pipping Hobson to the post confirms that the new release is the one to have. Sadly, I have not been privy to Zephyr’s booklet notes, but I can attest that those for the Divine Art release are incredibly generous, comprehensive, and useful. So, take a risk with this release. The music of David Charles Johnson is not well known but deserves to be, and Christopher Guild is a fine advocate. The recording (engineered and produced by Adaq Khan at The Old Granary, Suffolk) is excellent. Recommended.

David Johnson was an important figure in Scottish music. He did ground-breaking research into 18th Century Scottish folk music. His work established links between folk and classical music of the period. 

Johnson was responsible for reviving several early Scottish composers of the era. And as an instrumentalist and concert promoter, he brought this music to the public. 

Johnson was also a prolific composer, although his music isn’t well-known. This album collects the twelve preludes and fugues Johnson wrote in the 1990s. He was a research fellow at the time. The initial pieces were written as one-offs. 

But as time went on, Johnson came to think of them as a series. He composed the later installments with that concept in mind. The pieces all share a common four-note motif. — B-flat, B natural, E and A. In Germanic spelling, B natural is “H.” It allowed Bach to spell out his name musically. And it allowed Johnson to reference Bheatha — the Gaelic word for life. 

This is a fascinating collection of pieces. Some are quite simple. Others sound challenging to play. Johnson writes in a primarily tonal style. But that doesn’t limit him to simple harmonies. 

Christopher Guild has a strong background playing Scottish classical music. And that experience informs his playing here. Johnson often referenced Scottish music in these pieces. Guild ensures they’re played with the proper phrasing and rhythmic bounce.

Charming, witty, and thought-provoking.

Dr David Charles Johnson is better known for his contribution to the history of Scottish music, especially in the 18th century. Born in Edinburgh, he came from a musical family. His mother was Director of the Holst Singers of Edinburgh and organist at the historic Rosslyn Chapel. His father was a civil servant and organist at St Columba-by-the-Castle.

I am beholden to pianist Christopher Guild’s detailed analytical liner notes in my preparation of this review.

Johnson’s thesis, Music and Society in Lowland Scotland in the 18th Century (1972), “explores the links between folk and classical music”. Other publications include Scottish Fiddle Music of the 18th Century (1984) and Chamber Music of 18th Century Scotland (2000). His catalogue includes five operas: Thomas the Rhymer; The Cow, the Witch and the Schoolmaster; Building the City; Sorry, False Alarm; and All there was between them. He also wrote for orchestra, trumpet, recorder and voice. He was not only a musicologist and a composer, but a cellist, recorderist, ensemble manager and concert promoter.

According to the liner notes, Johnson’s style was first based on Hindemith and Webern. As he got older, he “wanted to write about ordinary human things”, and “it was clear that extreme atonality and head case construction wouldn’t work for that”.  His later music incorporated folk idioms, such as the scales and modes used in folksongs, and more modernist techniques. Recorderist John Turner (The Guardian, 7 May 2009) wrote that Johnson’s compositions are “tonal, concise, and quirky – earthy even. There is often a distinct Scottish flavour, and a hint of pop, and his works are imbued with a concern that his music should be enjoyable for performers and listeners, and socially relevant.”

My listening strategy was simple: one pair at a time, preceded by reading the analysis in the liner notes. There is a danger with programmes like this: concentrated listening may eventually give way to background Muzak. Johnson insisted on a pause at the end of Fugue No.6 in the event of a concert performance of the full set.

Johnson composed this music over three years in the early to middle 1990s. He penned a few pieces in a matter of days, others over an extended period. The set is based on the four-note motif B-H-E-A devised by Aberdonian composer Shaun Dillon (1944-2018); B is German notation for B flat, H for B natural. This is the nearest that one can get in musical notation to the Scots Gaelic word Beatha or Bheatha. It means “life” or, as Johnson elaborated, “welcome, livelihood, food – a positive concept to do with day-to-day survival”. Think of the Scots Gaelic for whisky: uisge beatha (water of life).

The motif is worked up into a 12-note row. Guild writes: “12 Preludes & Fugues is almost like a set of variations, albeit one without the theme being given its own ‘statement movement’ at the start. Each Prelude and Fugue is a quite different exploration on the ‘B-H-E-A’ motif: sometimes the music is in a more pianistically Romantic mode, at other times very jazzy, sometimes neoclassical.” Stylistic pointers would include Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Scottish folk music, jazz and of course Bach.

Several of the pieces allude to music, places or literature. Examples include the Northumberland folksong Bobby Shaftoe in Prelude 5, a transcription of Johnson’s 1974 setting of Scottish poet and political agitator Hugh MacDiarmid’s O Jesu parvule in Prelude 6, and “an affectionate parody of a 17th-century psalm tune, with some deliberately wrong-sounding blue harmonies” in Prelude 8. Then there are, in Prelude 10, bell-like sounds that Johnson describes as “a peaceful Sunday afternoon, in a village in a deep valley with mountains […] Somewhere in the Alps?” The Jacobite song Johnny Cope is “set” in Fugue 11. Most unusual of all, Fugue 10 features an evocation of London Bridge Station, replete with sounds of rumbling train wheels.

The set was dedicated to the pianist and composer Ronald Stevenson (1928-2015). Peter Evans premiered it at the University of Edinburgh’s Reid Concert Hall.

Christopher Guild specialises in the performance of Scottish classical music. His recordings include albums of music by Ronald Stevenson, Francis George Scott, William Beattie Moonie, William Wordsworth, Ronald Center and Bernard van Dieren. This is his first disc for the Divine Art label.

This is a splendid piece of musical archaeology. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea. I suppose that preludes and fugues might be an acquired taste. But David Johnson’s work is creative, interesting and satisfying. Christopher Guild has made another major contribution to Scottish classical music.