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CHRISTOPHER TYLER NICKEL b.1978 Concerto for Oboe (2012) 1 I. Andante (forcefully) 9.59 2 II. Andante 8.11 3 III. Allegro (with driving energy) 10.28 Concerto for Oboe d’amore (2014) 4 I. Andante 5.57 5 II. Andante misterioso – Andante agitato – Andante 12.20 Concerto for Bass Oboe (2016) 6 I. Andante 9.15 7 II. Adagio 5.34 8 III. Allegro agitato 6.50 68.52 MARY LYNCH oboe (1–3), oboe d’amore (4–5) HARRISON LINSEY bass oboe (6–8) NORTHWEST SINFONIA DAVID SABEE omposed in 2012, Christopher Tyler Nickel’s Concerto for Oboe fuses classical and contemporary with a bracing emotional imperative. Written originally for Roger Cole (principal oboist of the Vancouver Symphony and the composer’s former teacher), Christopher was especially keen to emphasise the oboe’s full expressive range – Cfrom a radiant, lyrical glow, coloured by a slightly wistful quality, to a perky athleticism and a more introspective, darker side that is often overlooked. ‘I wanted to explore a wide range of characteristics,’ he recalls, ‘and as a former player there is still a part of me that feels how things sound in both my mind’s ear as well as my muscle memory.’ Mary Lynch, soloist on this premiere recording and principal oboe with the Seattle Symphony, was immediately struck by the music’s ‘huge dichotomy of expression. There is freedom and rigidity, lyricism and aggression, pleading and demanding, questioning and asserting, forcefulness and gentleness, timidity and confidence.’ It was Christopher’s experience as an oboe player that gave him the confidence to compose with such exhilarating freedom. He also feels that ‘oboists are becoming more fearless, and thus composers are responding with more demanding music’. Mary picks up on this very point: ‘The concerto certainly presents an exciting challenge,’ she enthuses, ‘although Chris always writes with such a deep knowledge of what is possible for the player. For me, the most striking thing is the concerto’s bold imagination and incredible range of character, emotion, and technique.’ Another aspect of the score Mary finds especially rewarding is its ‘active and collaborative orchestral writing’. ‘It is infinitely more rewarding’, she continues, ‘to play a concerto that the orchestra actually enjoys playing too, as it helps build energy and excitement.’ I mention that there are times in the concerto when the orchestra appears to be challenging the oboe to even greater flights of virtuoso fantasy. ‘I love dialogue between soloist and orchestra,’ Christopher agrees, ‘and I adore solo works that have interesting orchestral parts. In the end this energy between orchestra and performer creates drama and helps tell the emotional story. It can be breathtaking hearing a soloist perform intricate pyrotechnics, but it is even more exhilarating when both soloist and orchestra are pushing themselves and hanging on right to the end. I love that kind of drama – when the audience is holding onto their seats, and you can almost hear that “wow – we made it” after the last note. A great story is not just one character, it is that person framed by others – their environment, their interactions. In this case, the soloist plays the central role, and my job is to create a world around them that, hopefully, makes their character richer and more three-dimensional through all their interactions with the rest of the story elements – in this case, the orchestra.’ The lyrical element that underpins much of the writing in the Oboe Concerto comes bubbling to the surface in the Concerto for Oboe d’amore, composed two years later in 2014. This evocative instrument sounds so completely at home in its solo surroundings and has such a distinctive, soulful personality, I wondered why it had not secured itself a regular place on the concert platform. Warming to the subject, Christopher points out that there are so few modern precedents – most notably Ravel’s Boléro and Richard Strauss’s Symphonia Domestica – that composers are unsure how to balance the oboe d’amore’s plaintive sound in an orchestral context. ‘Most orchestration books don’t treat it as a standard instrument,’ he points out, ‘as it tends to be treated as a specialised adjunct to the oboe or cor anglais. Yet it is more homogenous and rounded in timbre and creates a uniquely beguiling sonority when set against an instrumental ensemble.’ 3 Mary feels that although ‘it shines beautifully as a solo instrument’, the main reasons for the relative neglect of the oboe d’amore are twofold. On the one hand, it is difficult to get past the fact that most people view it as a ‘historical’ instrument. ‘In fact,’ she muses, ‘when I perform on it, people often come up to me afterwards and ask whether it is a Baroque oboe!’ On the other, there are practical considerations. ‘D’amore reeds are larger than those for the oboe and use a bocal instead of a tube,’ Mary reasons, ‘so the fact that you have to make a completely different set of reeds is something of a deterrent for many players. The instrument also has its own distinctive feel. Although the fingerings are the same, the pitch tendencies are at variance with the modern oboe, and the resistance of the instrument and each individual note are also quite different.’ When composing his concerto, Christopher was keen to cast the d’amore against type and explore its inner soul. ‘I think there’s a psychological shift that has to happen with the performer,’ he argues. ‘Oboists are accustomed to bringing out the d’amore to play the lovely flowing contrapuntal passages of Bach, which are beautiful and expressive. In tackling my concerto, they also have to find that part of the sound which is more biting, brittle, and angry.’ Following the pastoral-like opening movement, which inspires in Mary a sense of ‘the beautiful English countryside, with rolling green hills and a grey and rainy sky’, the second is altogether darker and more menacing in tone. ‘I love the manipulation of harmonic and melodic tension, and the startling juxtaposition of registers,’ Mary enthuses. Christopher points out he was particularly keen to explore the d’amore’s lower register – ‘it is not as round as the cor anglais’s, and possesses a slightly brittle quality, and I wanted to somehow create the illusion of an argument of sorts developing between soloist and orchestra.’ As an example of the collaborative process at its most inspired, it was Mary who suggested during the recording sessions that in place of the slight sense of unease Christopher had originally intended to create by ending the concerto by overlaying a fresh string chord, he allowed the music to float away quietly. ‘For me,’ she explains, ‘the arrival on the last note with the angelic sounds of the strings surrounding me felt so peaceful, I just never wanted to leave!’ Last, but by no means least, the Concerto for Bass Oboe, dating from 2016 and the main inspiration for this recording project. Once again, Christopher felt compelled to write for this rare instrument due to its distinctive tonal characteristics. ‘The bass oboe’s range is an octave below the oboe, but beyond that it possesses a fascinating sound that somehow combines the darkness of the cor anglais with a fragile, even brittle, edge (in a good way!). Bearing in mind Holst’s inspired use of the bass oboe in “Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age” (from his Planets suite), it really does sound “old” in a way – I’d say “old and wise”! But, unlike its cousin the heckelphone (which has a slightly rounder and warmer sound), the bass oboe projects something else under the surface; a bit more angst and anxiety in its sound… like the years are wearing on for the “bringer of old age”. This imparts to the concerto’s lyrical material a certain world-worn uncertainty, as well as providing a sense of surprise when the instrument also turns out to have an unsuspected agility – something I was especially keen to explore in the finale.’ 4 The bass oboe also requires extraordinary reserves of stamina, as soloist Harrison Linsey, oboist with the National Symphony Orchestra of Washington, discovered when preparing for this recording. ‘Compared to the oboe, the bass oboe demands a greater physical contribution and diaphragm strength’, he points out. ‘The reed is much bigger, and the instrument itself has a great deal of backpressure and resistance. Chris’s concerto is filled with long, soaring, lyrical phrases, so I had to approach this project in much the way an athlete would. I spent a great deal of time leading up to the recording session focused specifically on breath control in an attempt to honour the music’s contemplative and singing melodies. Thankfully, I was able to borrow an extremely fine instrument from my friend Robert Walters, solo cor anglais with The Cleveland Orchestra.’ The haunting opening movement reveals the multi-layered personality of the bass oboe – Harrison describes the sequences of falling intervals as ‘weeping, hopeless and destitute’, becoming, as the music develops further, ‘more emphatic, and filled with anger and rage’. Christopher nods his approval. ‘There’s a sense of struggle here… almost like a psychological battle within oneself as the movement moves from moments of angst to a, superficial at least, fleeting moment of tranquillity. The movement leaves us unresolved, alone… to face the struggles again.’ With its unsettling juxtaposition of symmetric and asymmetric ideas, the central movement sustains the sense of unease. Then the finale drives forward in the form of what Harrison describes as ‘a classic hexenrunde, or “witch’s round dance”, with its plucked strings, driving beat, and a devilish smirk.’ Julian Haylock 5 n seinem 2012 entstandenen Konzert für Oboe verschmilzt Christopher Tyler Nickel klassische und zeitgenössische Elemente mit einem mitreißenden emotionalen Imperativ.

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