David H Spence
he new Guto Puw piece we should all hope again to hear soon. With so much birdcall in it, and widely spaced sonorities and deep oppressive air as much in the last half of the piece conveyed by heavy sighing in the violins, it conveys something of the sea as realistically as you will ever hear. A long, but lightly traced flute descent emerges as though from distant light overhead, over low strings and brass during the first part of the piece. Such writing narratively depicts newly, suddenly rediscovered grief from great tragedy experienced in the past by Welsh fighting men involved. Puw uses spatial techniques (as advanced by Henry Brant). He perfectly makes transition to use of such simple material as of an unhacneyed Welsh folk ditty in the strings, as though it had naturally spun off from incisive cross rhythms from a concertato winds that has just faded away from front and center. All this happens so freshly, without a hint of self-consciousness or, such as happens in Brant. Puw just employs it at whatever given moment, for how only it suits for the most heightened expressive purposes. BBC Welsh Nat'l, fully back in form after playing a rather stiff, dull prom for an assistant a few weeks back, sounded thoroughly engaged with this new piece. Aggressive volleys from attery of percussion and lower brass, with just indulgent enough use of cluster chords, make something quite overwhelmingly menacing for its close. Even as somber as one might perceive the last six or seven minutes of this, Puw still has found space for the concertmaster to break out into what is at least seemingly a little improv on folk material, to momentarilylighten things up near the close of the piece. Lawrence Power’s performance of Walton’s Viola Concerto caught the elegiac moods, fresh, winsome demeanor and without ever forcing, the athletic vigor of this piece and received openly supportive, nuanced, and firm partnership from Atherton and his forces. Atherton’s advocacy for Symphonic Dances, is as certain and definitive as I have heard. A case in point is that Atherton finds the right separation between rapidly alternating chords and similar figuration on the last pages of the third movement, so they do not go arbitraily crashing into each other. Such astute diiscretion hides the slight liability of this piece of having indeed been written by a pianist. Atherton's holding passion in reserve assures him the thorough elimnation of any tendency for this music to seemingly trail off or sink into mindless bathos. His ear for color on every page of this work is complete; the unforced swelling up of anguished lament from the strings emerges in high relief, such as in the middle section of the third movement. Leslie Hatfield's extended solo in the waltz, so lightly wistful in character in its tracery, was equally indicative of the value of such subtlety. The tangy caprice of wind arabesques in the same movement and perfectly Rimsky-Korsakovian interplay between winds and brass in the finale on Dies Irae all emerged in high relief, within the framework of rhythmically a rock solid backbone Atherton gave this piece.

Gerwyn
Dr Guto Puw's '... onyt agoraf y drws ... ' conveys the essence of the original medieval prose tales while at the same time breathing life into them anew. Refreshing and invigorating - an exhilarating contribution to the contemporary Welsh composition.

Mali
not a huge fan of contemporary music but thought the guto puw was fresh and dynamic.

Thoroughly Good
I only caught the Guto Puw this evening. A friend came around. He'd had a bad month, I'd had a bad day. Mind you, the Proms commission tonight was a real breath of fresh air. I really appreciated hearing it.