I was sent the autograph score for this, which was a rare treat. I’m no graphologist, but there is something to Mathias’ handwriting that suggests both a strong artistic flair and a meticulous attention to detail. Both are on full display in this charming chamber work. I was delighted to discover it.
In his opening note to the score, Mathias reveals that the title ‘Melos’ alludes both to a Greek island and to the world of mythology. And the solo colours he chooses — harp, flute and percussion — immediately take you to that ancient world, with their echoes of lyres, shin-bone recorders and ritual drums.
We start with a nocturne that, for me at least, evokes the Aegean glinting in a bright moon. The harp suggests ripples of waves as they crest, with brushes of cymbal as they are caught in the moonlight. The strings provide a darkly coloured swell, over which the flute tells an ancient story: half arabesque, half Mediterranean song.
Those that know Mathias’ musical language will recognise, in the flute writing in particular, the trademark fourths and fifths and the dissonance tempered with lyricism. Listen out, too, for how sparingly the glockenspiel and vibraphone are used to add a shine of mystery. The overall sound is so beguiling, despite the economy of forces.
The second movement (‘Aubade’) greets the dawn with bright pizzicato, flourishes on the harp and, eventually a rhythmic dance complete with bongo accompaniment. The syncopation and joyful accents here are again classic Mathias. It reminded me of his rhythmically playful organ works and how much fun they are to play.
The strings are a more integral part of the action in this second half, in constant dialogue with the flute and the harp. It’s a movement that, true to its title, sparkles and is filled with the Greek sun. The work as a whole is so immediately appealing I was left wondering why it doesn’t get more stage-time. Let’s hope this performance will change that!
