Vaughan Williams the Conductor

My favourite Vaughan Williams Symphony is no. 5, so I was pleased to see this new historic release from Somm Recordings with two complete versions conducted by the composer: the world premiere performance on June 24, 1943, and a Proms performance on September 3, 1952. What a great way to end the VW150 year!

The 1943 performance, recorded off-air from the BBC radio broadcast, sounds surprisingly good. Somm's audio restoration and remastering is always great; we have Lani Spahr to thank for finding fine music-making within low-fidelity source material. As to the performance itself, it's perhaps a bit hesitant, which is to be expected considering the uncertainties of the period. Still, Vaughan Williams' uplifting music must have been a great consolation for those listening in the performance hall and on the air; perhaps better times were indeed on their way. More problematic are the periodic missing bits that come about due to swapping out of acetate recording discs. But the historic nature of this performance trumps this technical issue; Nick Barnard, in a fine review, comes up with a good way to describe these lacunae:

"The best analogy I can come up with is when viewing an ancient fresco or mosaic which has been damaged over the centuries; you can see where parts of the original artwork are missing but the sense of the total magnificence of the original remains."

I have no reservations at all concerning the performance of Symphony 5 at the 1952 Proms. This is indeed one of the great Vaughan Williams recordings. That's partly due to better technology; this was recorded direct to long-playing acetate discs, so there are no side-breaks to cut up the music.

There are two other recordings here: a scintillating Dona Nobis Pacem from 1936; and a fine 2nd Symphony, from 1946. Again, there's an important bonus for authenticity and historic importance, but both performances are wonderful in their own right.

This is another fine release from Somm, with detailed liner notes that illuminate both the music and the recording and restoration processes. Perhaps most importantly, there's the great cover photo, by Dudley Styles from 1948, of the composer with his cat Foxy.

Here's the 1952 performance of the 5th Symphony:

 

Re-saddling the warhorse

Mozart Symphony 25; Beethoven Symphony 5; Brahms German Requiem

Musical warhorses have a big advantage over similar works in the visual arts. What can you do with the Mona Lisa, except draw a moustache on it? But an inspired performance has the potential to completely change the way one thinks about the works you know are great, but have heard too many times. Listening to Otto Klemperer and the Philharmonia Orchestra in the third movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony in this recording from the Edinburgh Festival in 1958 is like seeing a scene from an ordinary Hollywood mystery, but re-shot by Alfred Hitchcock. The suspense is intense, and the transition to the Finale is breath-taking. And then things really take off! In the words of Richard Osborne, from the fine liner notes, "From the entry of the trombones in the finale to the work’s incandescent close, this is a performance that genuinely gathers itself to greatness."

Marcel Duchamp, Mona Lisa parody "LHOOQ", 1919

Something similar happens in this recording of the Brahms German Requiem with Klemperer conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in a recording from London in 1955. With two very fine soloists - soprano Elfride Trötschel and baritone Hans Wilbrink - and the superb BBC Chorus led by Leslie Woodgate, this version approaches or even surpasses Klemperer's landmark 1961 recording with the Philharmonia Chorus and Orchestra, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.

Though Klemperer's Beethoven and Brahms LPs were at the front of the LP bins when I was first buying classical music in the early 1970s, it wasn't until the CD era that I began to really pay attention to him. So my admiration for him as perhaps the greatest of all conductors feels unmixed with too much nostalgia for the glory days of my youth. It seems only natural and obvious, and this new release from the wonderful ICA Classics label is just one more piece of evidence.

This two-disc set will be released on October 5, 2018.

Fine British concertos from a great team

Finzi: Cello Concerto, Eclogue, New Year Music, Grand Fantasia & Toccata

When Raphael Wallfisch called the Finzi Cello Concerto the greatest British cello concerto, it caught my interest, as I'm sure it did many others'. Beating out the Elgar Concerto would be like coming ahead of Leonardo, or Michael Jordan, or Greta Garbo. As I said in my review of his recording, Wallfisch makes a good argument, but I was "still inclined to consider his claim just a trifle hyperbolic." In the two years since then I haven't heard anything to change my mind, though I imagine I've listened to the Elgar Concerto at least three or four times as often as the Finzi (including Wallfisch himself beautifully playing the Elgar live right in my home town, with the Victoria Symphony). This is, of course, a silly discussion, but no less fun for being silly. The Finzi Concerto is a very fine work, and together with the Moeran, Bliss, Bax and Elgar concertos, the British Cello Team is clearly the best national side, and perhaps even a match for Michael Jordan and the 1995-96 Chicago Bulls.

But seriously, it's always great to see an undervalued work gain some traction, and this fine new performance by Paul Watkins and the BBC Symphony under Sir Andrew Davis makes it clear what all this fuss is about. This is rather different from Wallfisch's version, with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, under Vernon Handley. It's very dramatic, and in the outer movements more often brisk than pastoral. In the great slow movement Watkins and Davis keep things at a lower temperature to start, compared with the passionate Wallfisch/Handley version, which might just slip over into sentimentality at times. And as Wallfisch wears his heart a bit on his sleeve throughout, I don't know if he gets the full effect of the climax near the end, or of the terribly sad coda. This new recording seems just perfectly judged, and even more convincing in the end.

The fine Canadian pianist Louis Lortie has his turn to shine in two works. Eclogue, for piano and orchestra, is a perfect example of English pastoral music at its best; rhapsodic and stirring, with those great Gainsborough clouds and green fields rolling down into the mist, and short enough at under ten minutes to partake of the special English genius for the miniature.  Every note by Lortie is perfectly placed; this is as English as music can be. There's much more happening in the Grand Fantasia and Toccata, including some virtuoso passages, handled with aplomb by Lortie, but it never coheres into anything close to the quality of the two works we've discussed so far.

I've been listening to a lot of occasional music for orchestra lately, including two recent discs of music for the Leonard Bernstein Centennial that were filled with almost nothing but. I keep hoping to hear something great that began as something minor, planning on referring to the title of a work G. K. Chesterton wrote in 1909, "Tremendous Trifles". I thought Finzi's New Year Music might be just that, because it's undoubtably another great miniature, perhaps even at the same level as the Eclogue. But it turns out that's because Finzi planned it as something special, and carefully re-crafted it over the decades after his first version in 1926. So it's "tremendous", all right, just not a "trifle". Andrew Davis and his marvellous players provide the most sensitive and lovely sound for this piece; it's a luscious treat.



This disc will be released on October 5, 2018.

Part of a splendid symphonic legacy

Edmund Rubbra: Symphonies 2 and 4

Edmund Rubbra was a fine symphonist, perhaps in a top group as small as himself, Elgar, Vaughan Williams and William Walton. These two historic performances with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, from 1954 (no. 2 under Sir Adrian Boult) and 1942 (no. 4 under the composer), serve as performance baselines for two first class English symphonies.

Most reviews of Edmund Rubbra's 4th Symphony mention Robert Layton's famous praise of the opening of the 1st movement: "One of the most beautiful openings not just in Rubbra but in all English music." Listen:



I've really taken to Somm Recordings' sound. In spite of the vintage of some of the recordings there's always a really solid sound, due in part to the BBC sources and in part to the remastering, here by Ted Kendall. The 2nd Symphony recording sounds especially fresh, with Adrian Boult (the dedicatee) conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in a live performance from the Maida Vale Studio. The 4th Symphony, recorded live in the Royal Albert Hall during the war, sounds understandably less rich, clean and clear, but the composer makes the most of its often quite subtle effects. As Robert Layton also said, "These pages are free from any kind of artifice, and their serenity and quietude remain with the listener for a long time."

This is more than just a historical document; one hopes it might bring more people to these works, and to Rubbra's other nine, which together comprise such a splendid symphonic legacy

A picture of greatness

Otto Klemperer: live recordings from the BBC

Here's another release from the great Itter Broadcast Collection, recordings to tape and acetate disc made by Lyrita's Richard Itter from BBC FM transmissions beginning in the mid-1950s. These recording premieres on four CDs show Otto Klemperer, my favourite 20th century conductor, at the peak of his powers. His Mozart should win over all but the most doctrinaire HIPsters. The middle-period A major Symphony K.201 is relaxed and winning, while the late, great G minor Symphony K. 441 is wound up considerably tighter. "Mozart's in the closet," the last movement begins, "Let him out, let him out, let him out!" Klemperer has us worried about the composer's release, and his fine musicians keep up the pressure throughout. Violinist Bronislav Gimpel provides a lovely tone in Mozart's final Violin Concerto, K. 219, weaving through the most perfectly constructed accompaniment. This is the happiest I've felt after listening to a Mozart disc in a long time. Beethoven (no. 2), Schumann (no. 4) and Brahms (no. 2) symphonies are so impressive, but it's the Bruckner 7th that's the real standout here. This is a performance for the ages, from the quiet by-ways to the blazing glory of the slowly building climaxes. This is a picture of greatness, and I couldn't possibly recommend it more highly.

Two important concertante works from an underrated composer

Edmund Rubbra: Sinfonia Concertante, Violin Concerto

The latest Lyrita disc in their Itter Broadcast Collection pairs two sadly under-played masterpieces by Edmund Rubbra: his 1936 (revised 1943) Sinfonia Concertante, op. 38 for piano and orchstra, and the Violin Concerto, op. 103, written in 1959. There's more discourse than display, as Joseph Kerman would say, in the Sinfonia Concertante, though Rubbra writes a mighty interesting if not flashy piano part (he was himself the soloist in the premiere in 1943). This performance, which like all Itter Broadcast Collection recordings was recorded to tape from a BBC broadcast, is from 1967, again with Rubbra at the piano, and Hugo Rignold conducting the CBSO. The very fine Violin Concerto is a recording of the second performance, only three days after the premiere in February 1960. Endré Wolf is the soloist, with the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Rudolf Schwarz. Once again I am incredibly impressed by the musical and technical standards that allow recordings of this calibre to live so vividly after being plucked from the ether. As to the composer, Rubbra's standing in my eyes is higher after having lived with this music for a couple of weeks. Two solo piano encores are substantial, reflecting well on Rubbra as both pianist and composer, one a tribute to his teacher Cyril Scott, and the second a work by Scott himself, Consolation (1918).

This disc will be released on August 4, 2017

Dialogues and Discursive Engagement

Elliott Carter: Late Works (Interventions, Dialogues, Dialogues II, Soundings,  Two Controversies and a Conversation, Instances, Epigrams) [Amazon.ca link]

In 1991 Joseph Kerman wrote an important essay entitled "Mozart's Piano Concertos and Their Audience", which is included in his book Write All These Down. Kerman talks about the important role of two musical activities, discourse and display; I'm finding these valuable concepts in thinking about music and how it plays out. The duel between the tutti's discourse and the solo instrument's display was the essence of the solo concerto from the beginning, but according to Kerman it was Mozart who first introduced the element of dialogue into the form, in his piano concertos. Kerman finds this nuance revolutionary. He elaborates:

Dialogue can take place on various levels. On the level of the immediate exchange of musical themes and other passages, we can speak of instantaneous response, rejoinder, repartee, and more generally of discursive engagement. In other contexts, however - for example in the Socratic context - it is possible to think of beginning a dialogue one day and coming back to finish it the next. Dialogue over an extended time period is, in musical terms, dialogue on the level of musical form. Involved here are concepts like delayed response, recapitulation, and what may be called discursive re-engagement.

It's striking how many of Elliott Carter's works included in this splendid new disc from Ondine have this kind of dialogical character. Carter's instrumental works are often highly dramatic, with instruments or groups of instruments acting as characters. Works like Dialogues and Conversation certainly fall into this category, and things get really dramatic when Two Controversies were appended to Conversation at a later date, a good example of Kerman's "discursive re-engagement". This disc is a treasure trove of music by a great, great master. It's amazing how many of these pieces were written after Carter turned 100 in December 2008. Lest you think that "drama" implies heaviness, the work that's lightest on its feet is Instances, the last music Carter wrote before he died in 2013. According to Ludovic Morlot, who performed the premiere in Seattle, "When he got into his 90s and his 100s, suddenly there was more a human dimension to it." This is Late Syle at its best!

An important British symphonist

There's a sad but instructive Wikipedia article entitled "Wiping" which talks about the regrettable practice, once common in the broadcasting industry in the 50s and 60s, of taping over audio and video content, resulting in permanent loss. This was unfortunately widespread in the BBC, and many important classical music broadcasts have been lost. However, thanks to the efforts of one man we can now hear many important BBC broadcasts from that period.

Humphrey Searle is one of the most important of 20th century British symphonists. His Second Symphony was included in the recent Lyrita British Symphonies set. All five symphonies were recorded in the mid-90s in a really excellent two-disc set from CPO, with Alun Francis conducting the BBC Scottish Symphony.

This new disc (out October 14, 2016) can't compare with that set in terms of sound, though the mono sound is surprisingly good considering the source: it's full and lively. The Third Symphony is put across by the BBC SO under John Pritchard with the requisite forcefulness and tension. This is the typical Searle style, an uncompromising serial work with no lack of expressive range. As to its "Venetian" title, I think the programme of the symphony runs out of steam before it adds any value to the listening experience. I prefer, as so often, to listen to music like this as if there were no programme.

The Fifth Symphony, written in 1964, is amazing. I find it, of all the music on the disc, the most interesting, and the one that most rewards re-listening. A large-scale tribute to Anton Webern, the work is a kind of palimpsest, with Webern's characteristically spare musical textures expanded and elaborated upon. There is deep sadness here, but also plenty of wit and whimsey. This is the broadcast premiere of the work, from 1966, and it's performed by the same forces who premiered the work in Manchester in 1964, the Hallé Orchestra under Lawrence Leonard (who I remember as the Edmonton Symphony's conductor in the late 1960s and early 70s.)

The final two orchestral works are perhaps both more clever than profound. In the Zodiac Variations of 1970 Searle takes advantage of musical puns in bringing the 12 astrological signs to 12-tone music. 1971's Labyrinth for orchestra similarly constructs a kind of musical maze. This is fun to listen to, though again I didn't take the trouble to follow any mythological programme other than the very basic maze construction.

An outstanding Elgar release

From November 10, 2014:

Sir Andrew Davis has a formidable range of talent at his command in this recording of two major Elgar works written around the turn of the 20th century: the Dream of Gerontius from 1900, and Sea Pictures from a couple of years earlier. He knows the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus well, as current Conductor Laureate and the second longest serving Music Director after founder Adrian Boult. His soloists are well-chosen. Sarah Connolly’s voice is well-matched with the atmospheric music of Sea Pictures, and her singing in the second part of Gerontius is subtle and affecting. As Gerontius and his Soul, tenor Stuart Skelton powerfully communicates the weariness, hope and ecstasy of a spiritual journey. And bass David Soar adds dramatic interest through his roles of the Priest and the Angel of the Agony. This drama is heightened by the strong choral contribution and the large orchestra, in passages cunningly designed by Elgar to move forward the story of Gerontius’ death and his soul’s journey through the after-life. This project receives the deluxe treatment from Chandos, with an excellent liner essay by Anthony Burton, and interesting pictures of the principals from the recording sessions. The SACD sound is exceptional; I recommend this without reservation.

An excellent start to a new Polish orchestral series

From January 31, 2011:

This new Chandos CD provides three important works by one of the 20th Century's most important composers. There's a great deal of cleverness evident in the Concerto for Orchestra, written in the early 1950s, a virtuoso showpiece modelled after Bartok's work. More cleverness was required to disguise some quite radical musical ideas as "social realism" for his political masters. Lutoslawski's Third Symphony, written for Solti & the Chicago Symphony in the early 1980s, is probably the composer's masterpiece. The Third Chain, written later in that decade, is slighter in scope but not in effect.

Gardner and his orchestra are at their best in the Symphony and Chain III. They're not quite hitting all of the virtuoso highlights of the folk-inspired Concerto for Orchestra, though the playing is still of a very high calibre. Both of the later works make use of aleatory, the introduction of chance into a musical work. Though Lutoslawski nails down pitches and rhythms, he gives the orchestral musicians the freedom to play sections of the piece in their own time.

This provides us with unexpected combinations of sound, which a multi-channel recording has the potential to expose to us more explicitly. Actually, I can see the advantage of really cranking this up, exaggerating the separation between instruments of the orchestra, even if it results in a less than accurate reproduction of the concert-hall experience. As it happens on this disc, the Chandos engineers have spread out the orchestra, but not at the expense of atmosphere and musical coherence. I expect to listen to this CD often, letting these often surprising sounds wash over me. And I look forward to other discs in Gardner's new series of Polish orchestral music.