A small bright spot, then another week of flu. I can still recall enough of that previous Friday evening with gladness, the ambience of bonhomie that filled Cafe Oto for the Michael Parsons birthday gig. Life is cold and gloomy this time of year, but there was cheer to be found in this array of brief (but not small) pieces. Apartment House played, in string quartet formation, abetted by pianist Philip Thomas. A selection of pieces by Parsons from across some fifty-odd years were interspersed with premieres commissioned for the occasion by fellow composers. Perhaps understandably, there was a more overtly charming side to some of these occasional works, such as the John Lely and Makiko Nishikaze pieces; but more unexpected were the terse and tough-sounding chorale by Christian Wolff, a contribution by Howard Skempton even more fleeting than usual, and a looser piano quintet by Laurence Crane that sounded likely to be tidied up sometime in the future.
The thing that impressed most in all of Parsons’ pieces was the attention to touch, the care given to the presentation and life-span of each sound, however brief. This facet, shown to full benefit by the musicians, kept appearing in different ways: in one piece, sounds would alternate between short and long, dying away, while in others the contrast came through alternations in register, or in single and complex sounds. A strong, consistent character emerged through the pieces spanning several decades, without ever betraying a simple formula. It was a portrait of a composer always experimenting, always exploring new ways of working with that contrast between attack and decay, seeking out a more subtle and complete means of expression.