William Hurlstone: Trio in G Minor for Clarinet, Bassoon and — well — Piano; Bassoon Sonata in F; Four Characteristic Pieces Stephen Emmerson (piano), Murray Khouri (clarinet), Peter Musson (bassoon) CONTINUUM CCD — 1079 [52:08] Recorded circa 1999, released 2002 (Australia) — The mere fact that William Hurlstone’s music is still being unearthed and recorded with some care is cause for celebration. Here, on CONTINUUM CCD 1079, we encounter three chamber works—each revealing subtle facets of a composer whose premature death at thirty denied English music a voice both distinctive and, frankly, intriguing. This disc, modest in length but rich in character, offers a rare window into Hurlstone’s chamber oeuvre, showcasing a sensibility that is at once rooted in late-Romantic tradition and — well — tinged with a certain pastoral wistfulness.
The Trio in G Minor opens with a set of variations that—while not revolutionary—display a deft hand at variation form, particularly in the deft interplay between clarinet and bassoon. The piano writing, unmistakably the work of a pianist-composer, glides with a natural fluidity; its lines weave through the woodwinds with grace rather than dominance. The "Andante" movement is a highlight: here, the ensemble breathes with palpable restraint, the clarinet’s mellow timbre floating over a subtly pulsing bassoon foundation.
It’s this very balance—neither too austere nor overly sweet—that makes the slow movement resonate emotionally. The "finale" bursts forth with an almost jaunty optimism, a light-footed "scherzo" that, while conventional, is undeniably infectious in its good humour. Turning to the Bassoon Sonata in F (dated around 1900), the music surprises by sidestepping the bassoon’s usual caricature as comic relief.
Instead, Hurlstone exploits its lyrical potential, especially in the first three movements. The sonata’s opening "adagio" is suffused with a kind of gentle melancholy, the bassoon’s warm, reedy voice carving long, singing phrases that are matched by a sensitive, sometimes searching piano part. One can almost hear the breath—carefully managed—escaping and returning, lending the music an organic pulse.
The outer movements, by contrast, display more rhythmic drive without jarring the overall contemplative mood. The pianistic textures here are notably more intricate than in the trio—chords that shimmer with subtle harmonic shifts and occasional touches of chromatic colour. It’s a shame the recording’s atmosphere occasionally veers towards a slightly dry acoustic, which at moments flattens the bassoon’s woody resonance.
The Four Characteristic Pieces present a different facet altogether: shorter, more episodic works that perhaps have enjoyed a longer afterlife, especially among clarinetists. “Ballade” and “Croon Song” are beautifully wrought, the clarinet’s singing line floating effortlessly, almost improvisational in style yet clearly crafted. The piano accompaniment is attentive, never overpowering, and this collaboration feels like a genuine conversation.
“Intermezzo” and “"Scherzo"” bring a welcome dash of vivacity—rhythmic precision here is vital and the performers deliver with verve. Khouri’s phrasing throughout is particularly commendable: he negotiates the clarinet’s varying demands, from soulful lyricism to brisk articulation, with aplomb. Emmerson and Musson provide a solid, responsive foundation, though occasionally the piano’s sonority could be a shade warmer to fully match the woodwinds.
If I have a quibble, it would be that the recording, while clean, sometimes lacks the spatial warmth that might have better conveyed the intimate chamber atmosphere. Yet — given the rarity of this repertoire, this release is invaluable—not just as a document but as a persuasive argument for Hurlstone’s quietly idiosyncratic voice. His writing is never flashy; it’s the earnest craftsmanship and subtle emotional shading that linger.
The pianist’s idiomatic writing reveals that Hurlstone was no mere dilettante but a; serious composer whose early death robbed English music of a potentially major figure. In sum: this disc, with Emmerson, Khouri, and Musson at the helm, offers a compelling listen to chamber works that deserve far wider recognition. It is not flawless—no production is—but it stakes a clear claim for Hurlstone’s music, inviting us to reconsider the narrative of English music at the turn of the 20th century.
That particular brightness of period instruments catches the ear.
Strongly recommended for those willing to venture beyond the established canon.
