Sally Beamish's 2018 commision for piano, Night Dances, was premiered by Huw Watkins in the University Concert Hall on Thursday 8th March 2018.

A full programme note and composer and performer biographies can be found in the ‌McEwen concert programme 2018.

Night Dances (excerpt 1)

Night Dances (excerpt 2)‌

Night Dances (excerpt 3)‌

A review of Sally Beamish’s “Night Dances” at its World Premiere

By Aaron Hawthorne (MA Music student)

Silence was daintily interrupted by the haunting resonances of the initial cyclic sequences which could very well send one into an intense sleep. The antidote is soon administered however, as charmingly blunt stabs poke at the ear which were so sensitively handled by Watkins. Circles begin to form as the sweet intimacy of these recurring rotations dizzy our attention span, much like the all too familiar course of nocturnal restlessness.

Soon follows the ‘dances’, announced in short bursts of passion and lust, as if the piece itself is dipping in and out of consciousness. Zeal and desire are quickly transformed to a dense sludge however, as erratic eruptions of dissonance steal the limelight, commencing somewhat of a nightmare for the listener and within the narrative itself.

Pandemonium, not a second too late, is put to bed as pre-established themes are reinstated through filters of retrograde and inversion which, though they soothe the ear, don’t quite satisfy the head while we yearn to be serenaded into unconsciousness. An ending which tinkles away much like a worn-out lullaby forbids us to drift off to anywhere except a land of exasperation. But, we’re tired enough to not let it bother us as the narrative itself dwindles away into an uncertain stillness. The subsequent applause manifested itself as the most distressing part of the performance as its unforgiving timbre once again brought us fully back into consciousness.

“Night Dances” presents itself more willingly as a dreamscape than a narrative. It exposes the utter cruelty of insomnia through a bittersweet exploration of the subconscious; the work may as well be branded a simulation, for it so comprehensively offers a dramaturgy whose closest competitor is the real McCoy.