Witold Lutosławski (1913–1994) — Mátyás Seiber (1905–1960), Howard Blake (b. 1938) Thea King (clarinet); English Chamber Orchestra; Andrew Litton (maestro); Howard Blake (conductor on Blake’s Clarinet Concerto) Recorded: May–June 1985 (Blake), April 1986 (Lutosławski, Seiber) Label: Helios CDH 55068 [46:41] — — There’s something quietly irresistible about this disc—a modest gem from the Helios vaults—bringing together three twentieth-century voices, each with a clear affinity for the clarinet but wildly different expressive worlds. It’s no mere pairing; here we have Lutosławski’s Dance Preludes, Seiber’s Concertino for Clarinet and — well — String Orchestra, and Howard Blake’s Clarinet Concerto, all rendered with a freshness that belies their often underappreciated status.
Lutosławski’s Dance Preludes began life as a piano-clarinet duo in 1954, but it’s; the composer’s own orchestral arrangement from the following year that we hear here. There’s a palpable economy in the scoring, a lightness that keeps the folk rhythms buoyant rather than heavy-handed. Those brief, pungent motifs—snatches of Polish folk dance—are caught with a subtle irony, a cautious joy, as if the music itself is wary of too much celebration under Stalinist Poland’s oppressive shadow.
The clarinet’s lines, pierced with sudden grace notes and quirky glissandi, dance over a spidery but unmistakable string texture, tight and nervy. Thea King’s tone is unusually supple here—away from her usual chamber warmth, she commands a playful bite, exact in intonation, teasing the folk melodies out with a kind of sly wit. It feels lived-in, not just played.
Mátyás Seiber’s Concertino is something of a revelation. Often overshadowed by his better-known contemporaries, Seiber’s voice is more direct, less hermetic, and here the echoes of Kodály and Lajtha hover without ever tipping into pastiche. Originally a clarinet quintet from 1928, the 1951 string orchestra arrangement retains a certain rustic immediacy.
The music moves in clean, folk-inflected arcs, punctuated by dance-like rhythms and a modal harmonic palette that’s neither dark nor overly sweet. King’s rendition is — again, exemplary, combining a clarion upper register with a warm, almost vocal quality in the lower. The strings are crisply articulated under Litton, whose pacing allows the music’s inherent buoyancy room to breathe.
It’s a work that rewards repeated listening, and this album serves as a vivid reminder of Seiber’s sadly neglected oeuvre. Howard Blake’s Clarinet Concerto from 1984 rounds out the programme with a different hue altogether. Known primarily for his film music—his Snowman theme, for instance —Blake’s concerto is a sleek amalgam of lyricism and modernity.
It’s tuneful and approachable, yes, but the orchestration reveals a composer who understands the clarinet’s full expressive range, balancing moments of shimmering delicacy with passages of robust, almost jazzy energy. There’s an episodic drama here: the outer movements sparkle with rhythmic vitality, while the central — "Largo" lingers with an autumnal warmth, shaded by subtle dissonances and a poignant melodic line. King’s advocacy feels impassioned, her phrasing elastic yet precise, capturing the composer’s nuanced control of tension and release.
The warm acoustics of the concert hall seem to breathe through the recording.
One can hear the influence of the English pastoral tradition, but Blake avoids its clichés, instead offering a concerto that is both modern and immediately communicative. The recording quality—typical of mid-1980s Helios—is clear if not pristine by today’s standards, with the strings ringing warmly and the clarinet sitting comfortably in the mix without ever overpowering. There’s just enough ambient space to suggest a live acoustic, lending an intimacy that suits all three works….
The English Chamber Players under Andrew Litton navigates the stylistic shifts with deftness, though one wishes for a touch more; dynamic contrast in the Lutosławski, where the tender folk inflections could sometimes be more sharply etched against the orchestral backdrop. In sum, this disc is a compelling survey of mid-century clarinet repertoire that deserves far more attention—and with Thea King’s sterling performances, it’s hard to imagine a more persuasive advocate. Lutosławski’s Dance Preludes remains a folk-inspired marvel of restrained wit; Seiber’s Concertino, a — refreshing rediscovery; Blake’s Clarinet Concerto, a vivid, tuneful showcase of late 20th-century English composition.
This Helios reissue is a bargain, and — well — those curious about clarinet concertante literature —; or the neglected edges of the modern repertoire — will find it richly rewarding. If you missed it the first time around, now is the moment to catch up. An indispensable addition to any serious clarinet lover’s collection.
