Stephen Grew – Chasm: The St James’ and St Basil’s Suite

Discus

Stephen Grew has been testing the limits of the piano for the best part of four decades, alone and in collaboration, and the extraordinary thing about this album is that he still finds so much ground to cover, revelling in the freedom of what he describes as the blank canvas of the piano. It must be quite thrilling to constantly be refreshed by the act of sitting in front of the keyboard awaiting a spark of intuition from which his personality then unfolds.

At times tentative and at others joyful, yet always unexpected; collections of notes, like natural clusters, flower heads or the branches of trees explode, sporadic, excitable, ever yearning for some fresh experience. Constant flux is the state here and although the four pieces gathered on Chasm are discernibly different, they are all part of some forward motion, some momentum that gives no opportunity to even glance backwards instead searching, gathering, processing and then, fingers dancing across the keys, escaping.

The sensation of tacking hard into a heavy, growing breeze, notes collected and flung headlong and tearing across a clear sky is always present, and you can almost feel Stephen’s mind working, searching for progress, the pastoral moments allowing a touch of reflection and then silence as an impasse is reached. How best to extricate from the doldrums, clouds slumbering in the half-light, ruminative gestures that hint at some inner peace.

Elsewhere, the joys of a sun-burnished landscape overseen by a skittering kite, adrift, its many colours dipping and swirling, are mirrored by the depth and resonance of those low notes that gather like an impending storm. You can feel the emotions flowing through his fingers: joy, delight, pensiveness, abandon, a real sense of release. There is a flow here that revisits nothing. You may feel a hint of familiarity at some of the structure, faint recognition of these pieces’ places in the progression of solo piano, and you can feel his love for the instrument, undimmed after decades and of what it is capable.

Towards the end, the quiet reflection allows what has passed before to truly sink in, stentorian gloom and introspection crossing the face of the music temporarily before the clouds lift and the positivity resumes, drawing the listener to a conclusion that is always a delight. The simple clarity of Charlie McGovern‘s production finds the sounds glowing, ever present and shining brightly. This is a true treat for anyone enamoured with solo piano.

-Mr Olivetti-