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In the memory of any of us who were fortunate enough to have studied with and known Raymond Hanson ("Ray" to his friends), there is an image of a man who was kind, honest, full of integrity and humility and a man who cared for his pupils and for the future of music this country. Hanson was unlucky enough to have been in the 'in between' generation, i.e. he had shifted away from his conservative roots and teachers, but he hadn't shifted far enough in some ways, so that when there was a sudden surge of support and activity for Australian music during the sixties and seventies, he was somehow overlooked as being part of a past generation. It is only now, far too late for Ray, that we are looking at his contribution.

36 Australian Piano Music of the Twentieth Century

Part of Ray's bad luck was to have fallen within the clutches of a mini- McCarthyism in Australia; because of his genuine desire to bring art music to the trade union movement, to form an orchestra from trade union levies, to exchange culture with Russia, to regard music as a universal way of uniting people - for all these reasons, Hanson came to be seen as at least 'pink', if not outright 'red'. It affected his compositional prospects.

His piano music is clearly by a man who knows the keyboard. Hanson gave piano recitals and played standard repertoire as well as his own music. He had an easy, natural technique, without any undue movement or exaggerated mannerisms. Possessing a very fine ear, his playing constantly involved orchestration at the keyboard; one can hear this colouristic propensity at work in, for example his very fine set of Preludes Op. 11 with their word-paintings incorporated in the score (incidentally, the words in the manuscript score are somewhat more elaborate than the words in the published score). Since there was no composition tuition at the State Conservatorium in Sydney in those days, Hanson was employed to teach harmony and aural training; he spent hours at the keyboard playing aural drill to students, mildly puzzled at how bad some people's ears were!

Later in his career, he was allowed to teach what was then considered composition, but in reality was a historically driven style of harmony and counterpoint, as well as orchestration. Hanson had discovered the Hindemith text books and writings and for him this was a way into a contemporary sound world without throwing away his tonal roots. Not that Hanson's music sounds like Hindemith; not at all; it was actually closer to composers such as Prokofiev in his approach to the piano. Like many of his generation, one wishes that the output was larger, but teachers at the Conservatorium were paid for actual hours taught at that time; they were not salaried staff and had no superannuation benefits or anything else of that kind. It was really tough being a music teacher, even though superficially one had the status of being on the staff of a prestigious institution. Such matters did not change until the (late) sixties, after which time it became quite fashionable to actually employ composers as composers, instead of getting them there but using them as aural drill teachers. Nevertheless, some miniatures and teaching pieces apart, Hanson's contribution to piano repertoire is very solid: apart from the above-mentioned set of Preludes, which are large scale virtuoso pieces and which work brilliantly as a cycle, there is fairly big Sonatina and a very fine Sonata, plus a set of Variations (Hanson calls them Episodes on Tarry Trowsers).

Hanson's music is rugged (the parents, incidentally, were of English stock) and reflects his difficult boyhood and the privations of the Great Depression; his first paycheck was at the age of 28, from the Army. Until then, he did odd and often unpleasant jobs, including being a sanitary carter in early twentieth- century Sydney. His early compositions were from self-teaching, using his ear to remember his mother playing Bach and Chaminade. Apparently most of this

juvenilia is lost, something that Ray would not have rued; he was always saying that young composers were far too eager to leap into print and get performed immediately.

He never had any truck with being labeled 'Australian': he claimed not to know what this meant. However, the Preludes were certainly inspired by a particular and specific landscape of the Burragorang Valley; whether this makes it Australian or not is a debatable point; the Preludes would still be very fine example of the genre without such knowledge. What is certain that, stated or not, is that Hanson was imbued with a deep spirituality - at one time in his life he even wanted to go to India as a missionary; the piano music might not be the most obvious manifestation of such feeling, but it is there nevertheless. With it, there is a strong sense of a very flexible rhythm and Hanson's affection for jazz manifests itself this way, not that the music ever sounds like jazz in the accepted sense; but there is an attempt by the composer to write a music that sounds spontaneous and never rigid in terms of beats. This fluidity is a strong core element of Hanson's music. He was certainly aware of the post-war avant-garde but did not wish to move in that direction; to him, much of what was occurring was more in the realms of noise and technology than what he perceived as music; he couldn't accept serialism for a variety of reasons at a time when it was considered the only way forward. Ironically, he was instinctively correct, and the style pundits were wrong.

Although recognition, commissions, recordings and awards came late in his life, at least Hanson lived to experience them, unlike the generation immediately before him.

The Preludes Op. 11 written in the Burragorang Valley of the Blue Mountains of New South Wales between December 1940 and January 1941 have, in retrospect survived very well. In the early days they were played by the composer and then by some of his friends and acquaintances; the set was eventually published in 1975 and since then this set of six Preludes has been fairly regularly performed and recorded. Like the Sonata which immediately followed it in initial completion, these pieces certainly establish Hanson as an individual voice in Australian piano music from the huge resonances of the second Prelude:

38 Australian Piano Music of the Twentieth Century

Ex. 52:1. R. Hanson. Preludes Op. 11. bars 44-47 of II.

through the assymetric groupings of No.3:

Ex. 53:1. R. Hanson. Preludes Op.11. bars 5-7 of II.

to the storm of No.4 in the key of Bb Major, the same as the Sonatina and the Sonata:

There are still a few piano works of Hanson's that are unpublished and it is time that they achieved print. Works such as Procrastination a complex and serious three-part polyphonic work and Quizzic, somewhat lighter in vein with quirky outbursts of dance. Other short works are now difficult to obtain and perhaps a album of such works can now be issued. The amiable Idylle can be included; a composition awarded the prize donated by the Australasian Performing Right Association in a competition conducted by the New South Wales branch of the Guild of Australian Composers. A similar short work is On Holidays, Hanson's Op.1 No.1, which sits somewhere on the narrow border between a teaching piece and a concert work, with its open texture, cheerful mood and clear tonality.

The Sonatina Op.24 was probably submitted for a competition at some stage. In the manuscript copy given to me by the composer, it is described as having been written by 'Sagittarius', a good pseudonym for such an event! I am uncertain as to whether he had any success in the aforesaid lottery. The work is a dramatic, one movement affair lasting, according to the composer' s own timing 'between 11.30 and 11.45 minutes. The name should not imply anything light; it was simply Ray's way of denoting that this was not a fully-fledged sonata in shape; like the Banks and Meale Sonatinas, there is nothing frivolous here. Largely, in the Australian piano world, the titled 'sonatina' has implied a pedagogic, often thin-textured and light-hearted piece. Like its longer counterpart, the Sonata, the Sonatina is also, curiously, in Bb major, with a strong ending in this key:

Ex. 55:1. R. Hanson. Sonatina for Pianoforte Op. 24. ending.

The Sonata Op.12 was, to quote the composer, 'sketched and written in 1938- 1940; revised and completed in 1963. On the published score (finally achieved in 1976) the composer has also added: "I wish to express my gratitude to a fierce advocate of this Sonata, my friend Igor Hmelnitsky, an outstanding pianist and pedagogue. His dedication and stimulating support created for me the necessary inspiration to revise and complete this work". Hanson used to play bits of this work to interested students during my time with him in the 1950s, so it was obviously very much a work in progress for a long time.

40 Australian Piano Music of the Twentieth Century

The world of the Preludes Op. 11 is very evident here, as well as the Hansonian habit of departing strongly away from a key only to confirm it at some crucial point. If anything, this almost Hindemithian gesture is stronger in the Sonata than in the Preludes and therefore lends it a more conventional air. It is possible that this occurs because the composer felt that the tonal signposts were more critical and important. Thematicism is the basis for most of the work, as it is with most Hanson, who was a lyrical composer and who therefore thought naturally in evolving lines and in lines that repeated themselves sometimes with elaborations and sometimes in different harmonic settings.

The Sonata is a dark and powerful work and its mood is given out at the very opening with strongly suggested bitonality:

Ex. 56:1. R. Hanson. Piano Sonata Op. 12. bars 1-3.

The huge texture of Prelude No.2 written on multiple staves is here revisited, just like the fifth Prelude has a connection with the slow movement of the Sonata. The harmonic movement of the last movement has close connections with the fourth Prelude moving powerfully away from and to the home key. The Sonata ends with this idea pushed to a kind of keyboard ultimate:

The Sonata is the most important of Hanson's works for solo piano. It is in some ways a piece parallel to the Prokofiev War Sonatas, as it too was inspired by the Second World War. Is this connection reinforced by the Bb major key signature? At any rate, it must rank with the very best major works produced by Australian composers during the past century.

Dulcie Holland (1913 – 2000)

This composer, over a long life, had a remarkable career in that probably every young musician in the country knows her name through her many publications encompassing theory, pieces for young pianists, duets, etc. Dulcie studied with composers written about elsewhere in this book: Frank Hutchens, Alfred Hill and Roy Agnew, followed by studies in England with John Ireland and, after World War II, with Matyas Seiber. Dulcie was also active as an arranger and a film composer and it is little wonder that the output for the piano – her own instrument – is not as extensive as it could have been. Dulcie Holland, therefore, is somewhat of a parallel case with Miriam Hyde, although her language is somewhat different and, as in the powerful Sonata, she proved that she can speak to a contemporary audience even though she was always very firmly anchored in a tonal and conventional world.

Having said this, there is nevertheless a small corpus of works for the piano which is distinct from the hundreds of pieces written for children.

Concert Study No.2 (1920), signed Dulcie Cohen.

Green Lizards (1936) A Song Remembering (1937)

Lyric Piece (1937)

The Lake (1940)

The Sandman Comes (1944)

The End of Summer (1946) Nocturne (1947)

Autumn Piece (1947)

Serious Procession (1949)

Asterisk (1950) Sonata (1952)

Christmas Greeting, being a Variation on Two Carols. For Moneta Eagles (1956)

Dreamy John (1957)

Hornpipe (1960)

Tribute to Clem Hosking (1965) Prelude I: The Stones Cry Out (1980) Prelude III: In Resignation (1980)

42 Australian Piano Music of the Twentieth Century

Cat-Walk (1985)

Valse Ironic (1986)

The Dry West (1986) (This is virtually the same as Prelude I)

Bagatelle for Selma (1986)

Unanswered Question (1986)

Toccatina (1986)

The Scattering of Leaves (1986)

Retrospect (1991)

Shade of Summer (1992) Sonatina (1993)

Autumn Gold (1993)

Three Dances for a New Doll (1942, revised 1994) 1. Serenade.

2. Quick Step. 3. Rig-A-Jig

Farewell, My Friend (1994)

Fairy Penguins (1994)

At the Fountain (1995)

Autumn Pastorale (1995)

Bird at the Window (1995)

Northbridge Sketches (1995). Three movements: I: Twin Towers;

II: Valley Below; III: Weekend

Four Aspects (1996)

Winter Lament (1996)

Piano Rag (1996)

This list is probably incomplete. There are many works still in manuscript, and many of these need to be published. There are also a number of works which are in that no-man's land between concert and educational. Dulcie Holland suffered from being typecast in a certain role, and it always seems to evoke surprise when it is discovered that she actually wrote seriously for the piano. Dulcie was both pianist and organist and so her approach to the instrument is certainly from a performer's point of view.

The language didn't seem to change much over the years. Early pieces such as The Lake and Autumn Gold are always lurking close to the whole-tone scale:

although, sometimes there is a drift towards bi-tonality:

Ex. 59:1. D. Holland. Autumn Gold. bars 25-28.

Like Miriam Hyde, Dulcie Holland seems to have found her approach early and never really left it. Her pianistic demands are, in general, less stringent than Hyde's, who was using Rachmaninov as a model.

Holland's world is closer to Hutchens; it is melodic, optimistic and sunny; and darker forces driving Agnew's music only surface occasionally in the music of Dulcie Holland; perhaps Agnew taught her something about colour and chromaticism. But in general, Holland is a more positive composer. The autumnal mood of her late pieces is still gentle and lyrical. Perhaps the performing indication in her early The End of Summer describes her music rather well: "Reflectively (not fast) and with much expression".

Holland is also fond of the pentatonic scale with its built-in ambiguities and the possibilities thus given to modulate to unexpected keys. Many pieces at least begin like harmonization of chorale melodies before gradually shifting to some arpeggiation in the left hand, but retaining the feel of part writing:

Ex. 60:1. D. Holland. Dreamy John. bars 1-7.

The unstable world of late Liszt is sometimes visited by the composer in works such as Prelude III:

44 Australian Piano Music of the Twentieth Century

Ex. 61:1. D. Holland. Prelude III. bars 24-27.

Prelude I is in a similar vein and seems close to those strange last pieces of Margaret Sutherland, a solipsistic universe that speaks to us all in certain moods:

Ex. 62:1. D. Holland. Prelude I. bars 29-38

But she is capable of using the natural configuration of the keyboard to move towards an approximation of clusters by having black notes in one hand and white in another:

See also the opening of Farewell, My Friend, where the technique is applied in a more elegiac mood, or the Valse Ironic, where a harder edge is present. This is extended into a quasi-Prokofievan piece in At the Fountain:

Ex. 64:1. D. Holland. At the Fountain. bars 1-7.

The weakness is many of these pieces lies in the predictable phrase lengths, which go exactly where one anticipates; even the more adventurous pieces suffer from this.

The best work for piano from Dulcie Holland is doubtless the fine Sonata in three movements. From the brooding opening, suggesting somewhat unstable tonality:

46 Australian Piano Music of the Twentieth Century

Ex. 65:1. D. Holland. Sonata. bars 1-6 of I.

to the sometimes triumphant finale reminiscent of an orchestral Vaughan Williams.

Ex. 66:1. D. Holland. Sonata. bars 192-7 of III.

The Sonata maintains interest throughout and lies well under the hands, although in performance and recording I felt I had to amplify the texture somewhat. It is undoubtedly a landmark work in the Australian oeuvre.