Jane O'Leary, with Harry Sparnaay (bass clarinet)

There is something Brobdingnagian about the bass clarinet; the sounds it can make are too grand for our human dimension

There is something Brobdingnagian about the bass clarinet; the sounds it can make are too grand for our human dimension. Introducing Straight Lines in Broken Times by Christopher Fox, Harry Sparnaay suggested we might think of Irish elephants imbibing Irish whiskey and trying to dance a tango to the rhythm of a waltz; certainly this piece, played on two bass clarinets by Sparnaay and Paul Rose, accompanied on tape by a third bass clarinet whose sounds had been manipulated, could have been the previously unheard attempts of two monsters to communicate. This was an astonishing expansion of the sonic capabilities of the instrument, and the audience in the Hugh Lane Gallery marvelled at the skill of the players.

In comparison, Ailis Ni Riain's DON'T for bass clarinet and cello, was a much more civilised dialogue and Stretch by Stephen Gardner, receiving its first performance, was positively discreet. Written for flute, clarinet, bass clarinet, violin, cello and piano, it contained a very attractive duet for the two clarinets; the other instruments had less interesting parts.

Ecoute, ecoute by Roderik de Man was for bass clarinet and tape; KAIDA by Jan Rokus van Roosendael was for flute, piano and bass clarinet; Capriccio, detto l'ermaphrodite by Claudio Ambrosini was for bass clarinet solo: like all the works in the recital, they were vehicles for Sparnaay's virtuosity, none more so than the Capriccio, although the oldest work in the programme, having been written in 1983.