Album Review: Introduction to Music Form and Meaning by Gerald Hendrie & Robert Tear
Alright, buckle up, folks. We’re diving into a piece of classical nerd heaven from 1971—Introduction to Music Form and Meaning. This isn’t your typical “light some candles and sip wine” kind of album; it’s more like an intellectual workout for your ears. Released in the UK under the Open University label, this record is basically a crash course in music theory disguised as a listening experience. And honestly? It works.
The setup here is fascinating. You’ve got Gerald Hendrie flexing his skills on harpsichord, organ, and piano while tenor Robert Tear swoops in with vocals that feel like they’re straight out of a cathedral choir (but not too stuffy). The composers range from Joseph Haydn to Giles Farnaby—and even Anonymous gets credit for two tracks. Yes, you read that right. Anonymous wrote music, apparently. Who knew?
Now let me tell ya about two standout tracks that’ll stick to your brain like gum under a desk:
Track 1: "Sonata 8, 1st Movement"
This one hits hard but in that quiet, sneaky way. It’s all about structure—Haydn being his usual genius self—and Hendrie plays it like he was born for this moment. There’s something oddly satisfying about how each note falls perfectly into place, almost as if Haydn himself whispered instructions from beyond the grave. If I close my eyes, I can picture some posh music professor nodding approvingly at this performance, muttering things like “exemplary phrasing” and “ah yes, perfect cadence.” But hey, don’t let those fancy terms scare you off—it’s genuinely delightful. Like eating a well-made soufflé: light yet substantial enough to leave an impression.
Track 2: "In Dulci Jubilo"
Okay, so maybe calling it a “track” is stretching it since Anonymous penned this lil’ gem centuries ago. But wow, does it shine here. Between Hendrie’s delicate touch on the keyboard and Robert Tear’s voice soaring above everything else, this tune feels ancient and modern all at once. It’s the kind of thing that makes you go, “Ohhh, so THIS is what people meant when they talked about sacred music back in the day.” Plus, there’s just enough drama without tipping over into soap opera territory. Respect.
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So yeah, this album might not be everyone’s cuppa tea. No catchy hooks or chart-topping bangers here. But man, it’s got soul. And brains. Lots of brains. Listening to it feels like sitting through a really good lecture where the teacher actually knows their stuff and keeps you awake instead of zoning out.
Here’s the kicker, though: why did Anonymous get two tracks? What’s their deal? Are they out there somewhere, smirking because history forgot their name but remembered their tunes? Food for thought.
Final verdict? If you’re into classical music—or just wanna sound smart at parties—grab yourself a copy of Introduction to Music Form and Meaning. Or at least give it a spin online. Trust me, it’s worth it.
