Composer Bridgham draws upon mentors as creators and interpreters

Meadow Bridgham's program notes on a new CD by Richard Ratliff, emeritus professor of piano at the

Meadow Bridgham

University of Indianapolis, make explicit their* debts to musicians they've known directly and remotely. 

Such explanations are an aid to encountering new music. They might make it difficult not to overdetermine a response to it. But over the course of Ratliff's performance, the composer's unique personality shines through; it's not a web of derivations. "Seventeen Years & Other Works" comprises Bridgham compositions for solo piano. Those who access the recording (www.bridghammusic.com) will get an apparently first-rate introduction to a composer of deep Indianapolis roots. 

A tribute to a piano teacher, the late John Glennon, goes by the intimate name of "John's Dream." It sets out an open-ended feeling with some implicit characterization of a hard-to-reach personality. The music rises to a plane of peacefulness while still suggesting little solace. Bridgham's style allows for such portraiture without hewing to an aesthetic or technical hard line. The process renews itself with each piece. 

This is somewhat evident in all the half-dozen works. The longest of them, "Seventeen Years," may seem overambitious in accessing the unique life cycle of the cicada. But it may not be accidental that the open-air feeling listeners find in Aaron Copland, one of Bridgham's acknowledged influences, heralds the end of cicadas' 17-year existence underground. After a climax perhaps saluting the noisy insects' time in the open air, the piece ends softly, signaling the end of the cicada's life cycle.

The other long piece, "Sonata Rustica," rests too comfortably in the strong impression that Nikolai Medtner has made upon Bridgham. It's like an extension of the folk-inspired late romanticism of that Russian composer. It's an authentic exercise in well-designed homage.

I was more impressed by the two Nocturnes, especially No. 1. That work starts out as though it intends to be stuck in a ruminative mood. Then it finds a direction into which to channel this rumination. With an accelerating tempo, the music becomes fierce toward the end. Despite the shift in intensity, it's amazing how well it seems to hang together in Ratliff's performance. 

A gift to set out independent voices in contrapuntal fashion comes to the fore in "Toccare," an Italian word meaning "touch" and whose close relative "Toccata" is a distinct musical form. Bridgham moves into toccata richness and versatility toward the end, but earlier shows off their gift for the ultimate exercise in counterpoint, the fugue. This piece alone is enough to illustrate Bridgham's learning and how lightly and idiosyncratically they can wear it. They could hardly have found a better advocate than Ratliff.

*reflecting Bridgham's personal pronouns.