Ossian Huskinson and Matthew Fletcher, Lakeside, Nottingham | 14 March 2026 ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Review by William Ruff

Photo credit: Lakeside

Ossian Huskinson and Matthew Fletcher

Lakeside, Nottingham | 14 March 2026,

⭐⭐⭐⭐ Review: William Ruff

“Eloquent performances of some unusual repertoire.”

Ossian Huskinson is a young singer with a richly expressive bass-baritone voice.  A graduate of Nottingham University, he already has an impressive list of awards and prizes to his credit and is in demand in concert halls and opera houses both in this country and on the continent. 

In his Lakeside recital with pianist Matthew Fletcher, Ossian started with Vaughan Williams’ Songs of Travel, a cornerstone of English song and a very apt work to perform on the day that the new Archbishop began her pilgrimage from London to Canterbury.  It’s a setting of nine poems by Robert Louis Stevenson, a profound meditation on the journey of life in both its physical and spiritual dimensions.  Ossian knows how to command attention and the opening song ‘The Vagabond’ sounded rousing and defiant, dramatically nailing colours to the mast, seeking a life of freedom on the open road.

 From there the cycle moved through songs that are tranquilly reflective (‘Let Beauty Awake’, ‘The Infinite Shining Heavens’), burst with muscular energy (‘The Roadside Fire’) and eventually reached a conclusion which movingly portrays a quiet, stoical acceptance of life’s end.  It’s a song cycle which distils the essence of its composer: a blend of folk-song simplicity with the sort of rich harmony which has Vaughan Williams’ fingerprint in every bar.  To pick just one highlight: ‘Whither Must I Wander’ was made such a poignant, nostalgic reflection on home and the past.  The accompaniment was beautifully handled by Matthew Fletcher in its modal evocation of landscape and sense of lost homeland. Ossian Huskinson’s handling of both music and words suggested that, while the world is renewed each spring, the traveller cannot bring back his past.

Next came the Three Salt-Water Ballads, poems of John Masefield set by the composer Frederick Keel.  Here country roads are swapped for the sea, the cycle capturing both the romance and the harsh beauty of life at sea through three vivid musical pictures.  The cycle opens with a meditation on death – but it’s a surprisingly cheerful one.  Here Heaven is seen as a harbour where crews are at rest, pipes between their lips, simply watching the assembled ships of the world.  In the second song ‘Trade Winds’ Matthew Fletcher’s fingers were expert at suggesting the soughing of the breeze through palm trees and the gentle swell of the sea. The final ‘Mother Carey’ was quite a tour de force: the piano part vividly evoking storm winds and icy seas, whilst Ossian Huskinson shifted dramatically between taking listeners into his confidence and urgently warning them to beware of Mother Carey (the ‘mother of the witches’) who lives on an iceberg with her partner Davey Jones, combing her hair with dead sailors’ bones.  Huskinson and Fletcher managed brilliantly the combination of dark comedy and supernatural dread.

Finally there was a real rarity: Donald Swann’s (yes, of Flanders and Swann fame) setting of poems by J.R.R. Tolkien The Road Goes Ever On.  Listeners need to shed any preconceptions about what the music of Middle earth sounds like.  Swann’s sound world is completely different from Howard Shore’s in the film trilogy.  There’s nothing mystical or modal about these settings.  Swann’s style is based on English traditional and folk music, sometimes reminding us of hymn tunes: not perhaps what we are used to, but Tolkien was an active participant in Swann’s project and gave it his blessing, even contributing his own chant-like melody for Galadriel’s farewell (the only song I’ve ever heard sung in the Elvish language).  At its best the cycle extends the theme of music and journeys in interesting directions.  For instance, in ‘Upon the Hearth the Fire is Red’ singer and pianist capture the hobbits’ cheerful companionship as they set out from the Shire – whereas beneath the surface jollity lies a more fearful awareness of hidden paths and secret gates.

This was a thoughtfully planned recital, with interesting repertoire.  One drawback, however, was the absence of song texts from the programme.  Only a small percentage of words are ever audible when sung (even by a singer who enunciates as clearly as Ossian Huskinson) and it’s important that listeners can see what the writers intended.  However, there was much to enjoy about the performance of two talented artists.  Ossian Huskinson’s singing career is clearly on a rapidly rising trajectory.

Ossian Huskinson (bass-baritone)

Matthew Fletcher (piano)