Neave Trio’s Second Album of Women Composers

Readers that can recall pre-pandemic days may also remember that, at the beginning of October of 2020, Chandos Records released Her Voice, which featured performances of piano trios by Amy Beach, Rebecca Clarke, and Louise Farrenc. The music was performed by the Neave Trio, whose members are violinist Anna Williams, cellist Mikhail Veselov, and pianist Eri Nakamura. I had been following this group with great interest, and that interest was further sparked by a generous series of streamed video performances that satisfied my listening and writing urges when the pandemic limited my world to what I could find on my computer screen.

At the beginning of next month, the trio’s commitment to present music by women will continue with the release of their latest Chandos album, A Room of Her Own. Amazon.com has created a Web page for pre-ordering an MP3 download. The pull-down menu includes an Audio CD link; but, as of this writing, that link is not effective for anything, including placing a pre-order.

The composers to benefit from that coy nod to Virginia Woolf are, in order of appearance on the recording, Lili Boulanger, Cécile Chaminade, Germaine Tailleferre, and Ethyl Smythe. Boulanger is represented by a pair of pieces composed near the end of her short life entitled “D’un matin de printemps” and “D’un soir triste,” coupling morning and evening reflections. The other three works are identified only as trios, Chaminade’s Opus 11, her first trio in G minor, Tailleferre’s trio, completed in 1917 and subsequently revised in 1978, and Smythe’s 1880 trio.

I have been familiar with all four of these composers for quite some time. Nevertheless, opportunities for listening to music by any of them remain few and far between. If recordings of their respective achievements are sparse, opportunities to listen to performances in recital border on non-existent. It would be fair to say that I learned more about this repertoire through Neave’s video streams during the pandemic than I have done through attending performances here in San Francisco. (In the latter case, my primary source has consistently been pianist Sarah Cahill; and I try to do my best to take up her torch after attending one of her Future is Female recitals.)

In reviewing my past Neave experiences, I found myself looking at the gallery of their album covers. For the most part, the poses and facial expressions are inviting, welcoming the would-be listener to get to know what they have to offer. The poses on the new album, on the other hand, are more serious, if not defiant:

It almost seems as if, when it comes to coming to know the works of female composers, they seem to be thinking, “Don’t you get it yet?” There is more than enough to “get” on this new album; and serious listeners would do well to benefit from what it has to offer!