Advent Sunday: Charles Wood’s O thou, the central orb

Tomorrow is Advent Sunday. Christians are encouraged to prepare for the Feast of the Nativity, or the Incarnation. There is a twofold emphasis here. Firstly, the Birth of Christ as a tiny child in the stable at Bethlehem, and secondly, the anticipation of his Second Coming in Glory at the End of the World. In the Anglican Church, the collect and the lessons (in the Book of Common Prayer) call for Humility, which is deemed to be the forerunner of repentance. It demands that we “cast away the works of darkness,” whilst the first lesson (Romans 13) explains how the believer should pray towards this end. The Gospel (Matthew 21.1) portrays the Coming of Christ in “meekness and humility and casting out the world of darkness.” The liturgical colour of this season is purple.

In his book O Sing Unto the Lord, (Profile, 2015), Andrew Gant speaks of Charles Wood’s anthems as making “the archetypal noise of Anglicanism”. He amusingly refers to O thou, the central orb as the ultimate all-purpose English anthem, “equally suitable for every occasion from a wet Thursday to a Diamond Jubilee, and every Sunday-after-something in between. It sounds good, and the words don’t mean anything at all. Perfect.”

I demur. With its notion “Of this our wintry world; thy radiance bright/Awakes new joy in faith: hope soars above” and “Let thy bright beams disperse the gloom of sin,” it makes a fitting start for Advent.

Charles Wood (1866-1926) was an Irish composer and teacher, best known for his contributions to Anglican church music. Born in Armagh, Ireland, he studied at the Royal College of Music in London under Charles Villiers Stanford and Hubert Parry. Wood's students included notable composers Ralph Vaughan Williams, Arthur Bliss, and Herbert Howells. He co-founded the Irish Folk Song Society in 1904 and, later, served as Professor of Music at Cambridge University.

Despite a vast catalogue of music featuring most of the common genres, Charles Wood is recalled for only a handful of anthems, Christmas carols and liturgical pieces. Hail Gladdening Light is by far his most popular work. Wood's music is celebrated for its melodic beauty, harmonic resonance, and liturgical significance.

Henry Ramsden Bramley (1833-1917) was an English clergyman and hymnologist. He is best known for his collaboration with composer Sir John Stainer on the influential collection Christmas Carols, New and Old (1871), which revived many traditional carols. Bramley served as Vicar of Horspath, Oxfordshire, and later as Canon and Precentor of Lincoln Cathedral. His work significantly impacted the Victorian carol revival, popularizing carols like The First Nowell and God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen.

O thou, the central orb of righteous love,

Pure beam of the Most High, eternal light

Of this our wintry world; thy radiance bright

Awakes new joy in faith: hope soars above.

Come, quickly come, and let thy glory shine;

Gilding our darksome heaven with rays divine.

Thy saints with holy lustre round thee move,

As stars about thy throne, set in the height

Of God's ordaining counsel, as thy sight

Gives measured grace to each, thy power to prove.

Let thy bright beams disperse the gloom of sin:

Our nature all shall feel eternal day

In fellowship with thee, transforming ray,

To souls, erewhile unclean, now pure within. Amen.

O Thou the Central Orb is a setting of a text that praises the central sphere of righteous love, symbolising divine light and purity. The anthem is known for its deep harmonies and expressive depth, reflecting Wood's skill in blending traditional Anglican choral style with his own unique voice. The piece is often performed in cathedrals and churches, displaying its liturgical significance and melodic beauty. It remains a popular work in the Anglican choral repertoire. It ‘speaks of the joy of faith, the company of the saints and the transformation of love that God brings to those who trust him.’ Wood’s setting is romantic in sound and comforting ternary form. There is also an important organ part. The powerful conclusion is stunning.

Listen to Charles Wood’s O thou, the central orb, on YouTube, here. The Choir of Gonville & Caius College, Cambridge is directed by Geoffrey Webber. The organist is Gavin Roberts.

William Walton: Donald Brook’s Pen-Portrait from 'Composer's Gallery' Part II

The second and final part of Donald Brook's pen portrait of William Walton published in his book Composers Gallery.

I suppose it was inevitable that Walton should follow the example of most of the older English composers and write an oratorio. There was a time when no English composer was considered to have "arrived" unless he had swept the dust off the family bible and dredged in it for a libretto; indeed, it was one of the very few means he had of making a reputation (unless he had a foreign name), for the choral societies were then in their prime. But how different was Walton's effort from those that oozed from the pens of our Victorian composers. Belshazzar's Feast was introduced at the Leeds Festival in 1931 by Dr Malcolm Sargent and repeated in London soon afterwards. The text was compiled from the scriptures by Sir Osbert Sitwell, and the whole work dedicated to Lord Berners. This amazing oratorio demands a huge orchestra to provide the barbaric colour to the tumultuous paeans of the heathen, for in addition to all the usual instruments of a full symphony orchestra, an alto saxophone, E-flat military clarinet, and if possible, a couple of brass bands are required! The percussion department must be augmented by a tambourine, glockenspiel, gong, xylophone, anvil, slapstick, and Chinese block. The piano is used merely as an orchestral instrument, by the way.

Owing to the "unsuitability" of certain passages of the text, this work was rejected when efforts were made to get it performed at one of the Three Choirs Festivals. Commenting on a performance of it, William McNaught said in the Musical Times "The oats may be wild, but they are British. Our Mr. Walton has written a thrilling work out of a music that is entirely his own."

Much of his time during the next few years was spent in working out his Symphony, one of his most adventurous efforts. It took considerably longer than he had anticipated, and he allowed Sir Hamilton Harty to perform its first three movements at a concert given by the London Symphony Orchestra on December 3rd, 1934, much to the surprise of many of his friends, for very few composers permit the performance of uncompleted works. The final movement was written some time afterwards, and the first performance of the complete symphony was given at a BBC concert in the Queen's Hall on November 6th, 1935, under the direction of Sir Hamilton Harty.

The success of this symphony brought Walton into the front rank of British composers; a position well summed up in the Musical Times in March 1937 by A. J. B. Hutchings [1] with the words: "There can be few more effective ways of realising the debt which English music owes to Walton than to imagine what it would be without him. In Bax the youngsters see one whose fecundity and brilliance they admire, but one who does not pretend to lead them anywhere. Without him or William Walton, all-British programmes during the past decade would have shown little advance from the emasculated precocity which has been served in Paris since the war. There would have been, not attenuated Debussy, but Delius and water (although Vaughan Williams and vinegar was the taste of most of the post-war academicians who had lived thirty years and seen the futility of it); for dessert there would have been Handel with a few wrong notes, or an at-all-costs-decent cantata on a Greek text, begotten by Stravinsky out of Bliss. Yet to-day, English music holds a place of dignity and distinction, with promise of a rising school of composers under an exemplary leader . . . When all is allowed for insular prejudice, one can say for certain that we shall from now wait for every new work of Walton, as we once did of Sibelius, in the certainty of getting something of permanent value.”

If a general note may be interposed here, it is perhaps worth recording that Walton joined the music committee of the British Council in 1933, and it was at about this time that he began to take an interest in film music. In the ensuing year he wrote the score for the film Escape Me Never and has been associated with the film industry ever since. He has written the music for such films as As You Like It (1936); Major Barbara and Next of Kin (1941); The First of the Few, for which he wrote his famous Spitfire Prelude and Fugue; and Went the Day Well (1942). His latest at the time of writing is the excellent score he has written for Henry V, in which he had to capture the musical atmosphere of the period without producing a pseudo-Tudor effect. He succeeded in embodying sequences of plainsong and the Agincourt Song into a remarkably effective and dramatic score: a masterpiece of virile English music. Particularly noteworthy is the quaint and singularly appropriate music that accompanies the scene in the old Globe Theatre, and the fine passacaglia played at the deathbed of Falstaff (George Robey).

The advent of the Coronation of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth inspired Walton to write his splendid march Crown Imperial, a tremendously popular Elgarian work commissioned by the BBC and first played by their Symphony Orchestra under Sir Adrian Boult on May 9th, 1937. It is scored on generous lines and provides for the addition of an organ at the end. At about the same time he wrote his cantata In Honour of the City of London, a setting of words by the Scottish poet William Dunbar (circa 1460-1520).

In 1938 Walton wrote a second suite for his Façade, and then Heifetz commissioned the Violin Concerto, reserving it exclusively for his own performance for two years, so in the spring of 1939 Walton went to America to confer with the great violinist. The concerto was completed in New York on June 2nd, 1939, and first performed in the following December at Cleveland, Ohio, with Arturs Rodziński [2] conducting. About eighteen months later the score was sent to England for a performance at the Albert Hall, but it was lost on the journey over owing to enemy action. Fortunately, a photographic copy had been made in New York, and this was flown to London in time for a performance given under the auspices of the Royal Philharmonic Society on November 1st, 1941, when Henry Holst [3] was the soloist. Walton conducted personally, and a criticism worth quoting was the one written by [William] McNaught in the following month's issue of the Musical Times. "This is a difficult work for the listener. The composer's vocabulary has advanced since his Viola Concerto. It has probably become more chromatic, if the test be a counting of accidentals; certainly, if the test be the impression on the ear . . . there are many solitary clumps of incompatible notes; there is more independence and incongruence among the lines of counterpoint, and the music is very contrapuntal. In short, the technique has been screwed up to a higher pitch." The majority of listeners, McNaught feared, would find some difficulty in appreciating certain parts of this concerto, and he concluded "Walton is important to us, not only as one who has sought out new things in the art of music, but as one who has helped towards the growth of that modern phenomenon, the enjoyment of British music by a British audience; and we may view with apprehension any signs that in the search for his inmost self he is likely to lose touch with a large part of the audience. We want to hear the crowds, not the groups, saying how much they enjoyed the latest Walton. Perhaps a quarter of the music in the Violin Concerto provokes such thoughts as these. The remainder of it is music to be thankful for, toughness and all. A great deal of what Walton has to say really calls for his highly wrought vocabulary and could not shape itself otherwise…Speaking generally, the Concerto is a work for British music to be proud of. Granted the idiom and the means and plane of expression, the work explores its orbit with completeness and mastery. So many modern works mark out an orbit and then get lost in it."

Among Walton's minor works [4] we find his Scapino, a comedy overture suggested by an etching from Jacques Callot's Balli di Sfessania (1622); the Music for Children (1941), which is an orchestration of two books of children's duets written a year or so previously; the incidental music to Macbeth (1941) and to a radio play Christopher Columbus (1942). In 1943 he wrote The Quest, a ballet for the Sadler's Wells Company [5]
Donald Brook, Composer’s Gallery (London, Rockcliff, 1946)

Notes:

[1] Arthur James Bramwell Hutchings (1906-1989) was an English musicologist, composer, and professor of music. His books include Delius: A Critical Biography (1948), Church Music in the Nineteenth Century (1967) and the BBC Guide to Purcell (1982).

[2] Artur Rodziński (1892-1958) was a Polish American conductor known for his work with major orchestras like the Cleveland Orchestra, New York Philharmonic, and Chicago Symphony Orchestra. He rejuvenated many orchestras and was praised for his energetic, sometimes volatile, performances.

[3] Henry Holst (1899-1991) was a Danish violinist and conductor. He led the Berlin Philharmonic under Wilhelm Furtwängler and later the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. Holst also taught at the Royal Manchester College of Music and the Royal Danish Academy of Music. He founded the Henry Holst String Quartet in 1931, which gained recognition in the UK.

[4] I guess that the short orchestral Scapino (1941) would not now be regarded as a minor work. In fact, it remains one of Walton’s most popular pieces.

[5] Composed in 1943, The Quest is a ballet score by William Walton. Choreographed by Frederick Ashton, it was inspired by Edmund Spenser's epic poem, The Faerie Queene. The ballet, performed by the Sadler's Wells Ballet company, features a storyline involving knights and allegorical figures. Walton's music is known for its dramatic and evocative qualities, making it a significant piece in his oeuvre.

Concluded.

William Walton: Donald Brook’s Pen-Portrait from 'Composer's Gallery' Part I

Donald Brook wrote a series of books presenting attractive short studies or pen-portraits of a wide variety of musicians and literary authors. Clearly, he had met these people and had a chance to speak to them about their achievements and interests. Sir Granville Bantock endorsed Composer’ Gallery (1946) by insisting that it “will be welcomed by music lovers and the larger public throughout the civilised world.”

At the time of writing, Walton had reached just over the halfway stage of his life. There would be many more compositions to come. These included the major opera Troilus and Cressida (1954), the Cello Concerto (1957), the Symphony No.2 (1960) and the Crown Imperial March (1953).

On a personal note, this was one of the earliest second-hand books about music that I bought in the days before the internet, it served as my introduction to a wide range of composers and their music. I include several footnotes to Brook’s pen-portrait of William Walton.

STILL IN HIS EARLY FORTIES is William Walton, another of our contemporary composers whose works are now being played all over the world. He was born at Oldham, Lancashire, on March 29th, 1902, son of a music teacher, [1] and proved to be unusually sensitive to music when he was a child.

Throughout his boyhood the music of Handel exercised a strange charm upon him, and he spent many hours in turning up this composer's songs and learning to sing them. His father taught him to play the piano, but he showed no great interest in this instrument during his childhood: he infinitely preferred the violin. It was his voice, however, that started him on his musical career. At the age of ten he won a choral scholarship to Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, and became a chorister there under Dr H. G. Ley. [2] He says that at school he was bad at almost everything except music.

[Walton] began composing when he was about thirteen, writing chiefly hymn tunes and anthems, and then he began to take rather more interest in the piano, so he went to Dr. Basil Allchin [3] for lessons. His outstanding musical ability came to the notice of Sir Hugh Allen [4], who from that time followed the boy's progress with great interest. Some idea of his precocity in music may be gained from the fact that he passed the first part of the Mus. B. examination when he was only fifteen. He did not matriculate until he was sixteen, and when he became an undergraduate it was chiefly through the influence of the Dean of Christ Church [5], who was anxious that he should take a degree. While he was at Oxford his friendship with Edward J. Dent [6] brought him into touch with Busoni, who gave him valuable advice. He also met Ernest Ansermet [7], and through Sacheverell Sitwell soon became one of the most popular guests of the eminent Sitwell family.

It is both interesting and highly significant that from the age of sixteen Walton was entirely self-taught: he felt no inclination whatever to spend years at the feet of eminent composers, and least of all, those of other countries. He has always known his own mind and has always been determined to follow his own course in music. He wrote a great deal at Oxford but scrapped most of it shortly afterwards: the only works of this early period now surviving are a Litany for soprano, alto, tenor and bass written in 1916 and two songs composed during the last year of the war, Tritons (1920, words by William Drummond) and a setting of Swinburne's poem The Winds (1918).

Having said that, I must hasten to add that his Piano Quartet [1918-21] was started when he was only sixteen, but it was not finished until two or three years later. Shortly before his twenty-first birthday he sent it to the Carnegie Trust in the hope that they would publish it. To his horror it was lost in the post! For two whole years it was maturing in the hands of the G.P.O. but eventually reached its destination. After he had given up all hope, the Trust published it in 1924, describing it in their report as being "clear and transparent in texture, restrained in feeling, well written throughout, and rising at moments of climax into a strain of great beauty and nobility. It is a work of real achievement."

In the meantime, he had completed his Facade [1922-29] in its original version: a very clever setting of poems by Edith Sitwell that was first performed privately in Chelsea, but later at the Aeolian Hall. Since that time, it has undergone many revisions and has also been adapted for ballet purposes. It originated from an idea for which the Sitwell family were responsible. They painted a huge head on a curtain, with a large mouth fitted with a megaphone through which these poems by Edith Sitwell were recited. The music was required for a general accompaniment or background. Little did they realize that Walton's effort would become so popular. The original music was scored for flute, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, 'cello and percussion, but it was afterwards made into an orchestral suite. It was used during a ballet season at the Lyceum in 1927, and first heard as a concert piece at the Leeds Festival in the following year.

Walton's next important work was the String Quartet (1920-22) which made a very favourable impression upon the International Society for Contemporary Music despite the fact that Ernest Newman described it as "horrible." It was first performed under that Society's auspices at the Salzburg Festival in 1923.

Two years later Walton composed his famous overture Portsmouth Point, and the credit for giving the first performance must once again go to the International Society for Contemporary Music: it was a tremendous success at their Zurich Festival in 1926. This excellent work won him many thousands of admirers when it was brought home and performed almost immediately as an interlude by Diaghilev's Russian Ballet at His Majesty's Theatre. In the same year it was first performed at the Queen's Hall. Undoubtedly one of the best modern orchestral works of its type, Portsmouth Point was inspired by a print of that name by Thomas Rowlandson, the eighteenth-century English caricaturist, who depicted a lively scene of merrymaking at the waterside between the old Ship Tavern and the money-lender's premises. In the background there are several stately sailing ships. The rollicking fun in this scene chiefly concerning the seafaring men and their lady friends is cleverly portrayed in Walton's music. It has been revised slightly in more recent years. In 1926 he wrote Siesta for chamber orchestra, which was first performed that autumn under the direction of Guy Warrack at one of the concerts being run by that conductor at the Aeolian Hall. Then if we pass over various minor works, many of which he has now withdrawn, the next of Walton's more important works is his Sinfonia Concertante for piano and orchestra, first heard at a Royal Philharmonic Society concert in 1928 with York Bowen as the soloist and revised in 1943. It is in three movements dedicated to Osbert, Edith and Sacheverell Sitwell, respectively.

One of the best works we have ever had from Walton was the Concerto for Viola and Orchestra; a remarkable work in three movements which was conducted by the composer himself when it was first played in London. The occasion was a Promenade concert on October 3rd, 1929, and Paul Hindemith was the soloist: the critics were almost unanimous in their praise, and as a result, it was chosen for the festival of the I.S.C.M. at Liege in 1930, when Lionel Tertis played the solo part. This concerto contains some very fine writing in the dynamic, colourful style that Walton has made his own and will undoubtedly stay in the repertoire of the leading artists for generations.
Donald Brook, Composer’s Gallery (London, Rockcliff, 1946)

Notes:
[1] Charles Alexander Walton (1867-1924) was a singing teacher and organist at St John’s Werneth, sadly now demolished. He had been trained at the Royal Manchester College of Music, under Sir Charles Hallé. William’s mother Louisa Marie (née Turner) (1866-1954) had been a singer, before her marriage to Charles. William Walton was born at 93 Werneth Road, Oldham.

[2] Henry George Ley MA DMus FRCO FRCM Hon RAM (1887-1962) was an English organist, composer, and music teacher.

[3] Basil Allchin (18781957) was an organist, music teacher and administrator. When Walton was at Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, Allchin was Assistant to Henry Lee.

[4] Sir Hugh Allen (1869-1946) was an English organist, conductor, and teacher. During William Walton’s time at Christ Church Cathedral, Allen was organist at New College Oxford.

[5] The Dean of Christ Church at that time was Dr Thomas Strong (1861-1944).

[6] Edward J. Dent (1876-1957) was an English musicologist, critic, and translator. He was Professor of Music at Cambridge University and known for his work on opera and music history. Dent also translated several operas and was involved with the Sadler's Wells and Covent Garden opera houses.

To be continued…

Constant Lambert on William Walton’s Façade.

British composer, conductor, and author Constant Lambert (1905-51) appeared as a reciter in Façade in the New Chenil Galleries, Chelsea, London on 29 June 1926 and had an involvement with the work over the succeeding years. In the February 1928 edition of The Dominant, he wrote an article entitled ‘Some Recent Works by William Walton.’ This included the following paragraphs about Façade:-

THE MUSIC OF THE ENTERTAINMENT FAÇADE includes, in its different versions, [1] work ranging over several years, although the only published numbers are of recent date. For the benefit of those who have not heard Façade it may be explained that the entertainment consists of a series of poems by Miss Edith Sitwell, spoken through a megaphone to the accompaniment of six instruments, namely, flute, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, 'cello and percussion. Both orchestra and reciter are concealed by a screen decorated with a large mask, through the mouth of which the megaphone protrudes. The poems are recited, for the most part, ‘senza espressione,’ but with the utmost precision and variety of rhythm.

The collaboration is most successful, and one can think of no other composer who could so well supply the musical equivalent of what has been admirably described as 'the hallucinated vision, the glassily clear technique, the curiously profound wit' of Edith Sitwell's poems. In the early version of Façade, the music did little save add a background of strange arabesques and unexpected timbres to the poems; in the later versions, the music is much more clearly formed and there is a greater wealth of thematic material.

The orchestral suite [2], though a very enjoyable work, represents only one side of Façade for the composer has chosen the more brilliant and satirical numbers for adaptation and one may search in vain for the pastoral charm of ‘Daphne’ or the sinister atmosphere of ‘Four in the Morning'. The composer has kept closely - and in my opinion, too closely - to the form and rhythm of the poems. He has not always realized that certain passages have but little meaning when divorced from their peculiar method of presentation; thus, in the fourth number ['Tango-Pasodoble'] we are given nothing save a rather perfunctory crescendo passage to take the place of the brilliant cadenza for voice which (in the entertainment) leads from the tango to the paso-doble.

The only piece in which he has departed from the original form of the poem is the ‘Tarantella-Sevillana,’ perhaps the most successful number in the suite, where the original material has been considerably expanded into a brilliant burlesque of the ‘Mediterranean’ style.

The Dominant February 1928 (with minor edits)

Notes

[1] The study of the versions and recensions of Façade is complex. Suffice to say that most of the pieces of the original series were composed between 1922 and 1928. Some further numbers were released by Walton during the 1970s. The first private performance was given at the Sitwell home at 2 Carlyle Square, London on Sunday 24 January 1922. Edith Sitwell was the reciter and William Walton conducted the ensemble of musicians. The first public performance was given at the Aeolian Hall, London, on 12 June 1923. Lambert would have been aware of the original Walton music and some revisions.

[2] Lambert, at the time of writing this article, clearly knew the 1926 Orchestral Suite which included Polka, Valse, Swiss Jodelling Song, Tango-Pasodoble and the Tarantella-Sevillana. This was first heard at the Lyceum theatre on Friday 3 December 1926.

It's not British, but...Made in USA - American Piano Music

Originally devised for Paul Whiteman and his band, Rhapsody in Blue has become one of the iconic examples of American music. It combines jazz, blues, and ragtime in a masterpiece of crossover between classical/romantic and what in 1924 was ‘pop.’ Over the years numerous arrangements have been made including well-known orchestrations by Ferde Grofé, and transcriptions for piano duet. The present version, made by the composer, is for solo piano. The Rhapsody was first heard at the Aeolian Hall, New York on 12 February 1924, played by the Paul Whiteman Orchestra with George Gershwin at the piano.

From the famous opening clarinet solo to the final peroration, Claire Huangci gives an urbane account of the Rhapsody. Her recording seems taken at a relaxed pace yet is only just over fifteen minutes long. Many soloists take up to nineteen minutes. Her balance between the exigencies of jazz playing and high blown Listzian bombast is never in doubt. This is a splendid performance that is faithful to Gershwin’s genius.

Amy Beach’s Variations on Balkan Themes, op.60 for solo piano is regarded as her magnum opus. They were written in 1904 and premiered by her the following year. There was to be a revision in 1936, when she was encouraged to make several cuts. I understand that she also produced an edition for two pianos as well as some abandoned attempts at orchestration which were later completed by Hector Valdivia.

The liner notes explain that Beach was fascinated by folk song, especially that of Native Americans, as well as those brought across the Atlantic from England, Scotland, and Ireland. Yet, this present piece was based on songs from the Balkans, which had been collected by the Reverend William Sleeper, who functioned as a missionary there. The preface to the score lists the ‘found’ material from Serbia, Bulgaria, and Macedonia. That said, it should be noted that not all the melodies are “ancient.”  The most important is O Maiko Moya (Oh, my Poor Country!) which acts as a unifying theme throughout, which reflects on Serbia’s historic occupation by foreign powers. Other tunes include Macedonia! Stara Planina, an “ancient hymns to the mountains” as well as a dance-tune Nasadil ye Dado (Grandpa has planted a little garden). Highlights must include the magical Barcarola and the Allegro all’ ‘Ongarese.

The listener will hear echoes of Chopin and Liszt in these pages. And perhaps even Rachmaninov. Yet, this is not pastiche, but an outstanding synthesis of romantic styles. Beach has responded (at second hand) to the vicious revolutionary activity in the Balkan territories against the ruling Ottoman Empire with a work that is melancholy, on occasion lively and always virtuosic. Huangci gives a glowing account of these Variations. I hope she intends to explore Amy Beach’s music in greater depth in the recording studio.

Remarkably, Samuel Barber’s Sonata in E flat minor for piano, op.26 was commissioned by American Songbook composers, Irving Berlin, and Richard Rogers. Yet, the resultant work can hardly be described as “popular.”

The booklet points out that it is far removed in style and impact from the Adagio for strings (1936) or the “dance rhythms” of his Excursions, op.20 for piano, written between 1942 and 1944.

The Sonata’s opening movement is penetrating and ominous. Was Barber using twelve-tone techniques to create overly chromatic and tentative explorations? Suddenly its progress moves into a romantic humour before the opening mood returns and ending enigmatically. The second movement is a “scherzo” that could be described as “light, elfin, [and] sardonic.” Certainly, this is spicy and sparkling music. The Adagio-mesto is introspective, with its ostinato underlying twelve-tone patterns. Yet there is a neoclassical feel here that is in contrast to what has gone before. The finale deploys a complex four-part fugue “of fantastic difficulty.” (Poulenc). Here, amongst the dizzying mechanics of fugue, Barber interposes an episode with “an American folk-dance flavour.” This four-movement sonata is a wonderful example of Barber’s fusion of tradition and innovation. Francis Poulenc described it as being “tragic, joyful, and lyrical in turn.” All the emotional variety is explored in this recording.

I have always been an admirer of American pianist Earl Wild. Often regarded as one of the last in the trajectory of Romantic pianists, his performances projected passion, virtuosity, and emotional depth. Wild was highly adept at making transcriptions of classical and jazz. These reimaginings included Baroque composers such as Handel and Marcello, as well as Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky, Berlioz, and Gershwin.

The liner notes explain that this last connection was “logical,” as in 1942 Arturo Toscanini had invited Wild to be the soloist in a major recording of Rhapsody in Blue with the NBC Orchestra.

The Seven Virtuoso Etudes after Gershwin were transcribed over a period of years between 1954 and 1976. Using Gershwin’s “simplified” piano arrangements of seven of his songs, Wild has created a series of “encores” that he would play at recitals. These included, “Liza,” “Somebody Loves Me,” “The Man I Love,” “Embraceable You,” “Lady, Be Good!” “I Got Rhythm,” and “Fascinatin’ Rhythm.”

Wild’s technical wizardry includes dense block chords, rapid scalar passages, much use of arpeggios and counter melodies. There are nods to Ravel, Liszt, and Chopin but it is always within the competence of nineteenth century romanticism and later impressionism.

A crucial point to note is that these Etudes transcend any notion of technical exercises. They are all magical evocations of Gershwin’s originals. The present soloist has taken on the challenge of these extremely difficult pieces and has produced an awe-inspiring account.

The American pianist Claire Huangci was born in Rochester, New York. She won the first prize and the Mozart prize at the 2018 Geza Anda Competition. Her resume states that she “continuously captivates audiences with her “radiant virtuosity, artistic sensitivity, keen interactive sense and subtle auditory dramaturgy”” (Salzburger Nachrichten). With an especial interest in “unusual repertoire” she explores a wide range of music, from Bach and Scarlatti, to Bernstein, Gulda, and Corigliano. She has performed at many important venues, including the Carnegie Hall, New York and the Suntory Hall, Tokyo.

The liner notes give a great introduction to the four pieces, setting them in the context of “American Classics.” They are printed in English, French and German.

Overall, this is a brilliant, well-judged recital, exploring works that are both familiar and lesser known. The Amy Beach was a new but rewarding experience for me. At every turn, Claire Huangci gives ideal performances of all this music, complimented by a clear and vibrant recording.

Track Listing:
George Gershwin (1898-1937)
Rhapsody in Blue (1924)
Amy Beach (1867-1944)
Variations on Balkan Themes, op.60 (1904, rev. 1936)
Samuel Barber (1910-81)
Piano Sonata in E flat minor, op.26 (1947-49)
Earl Wild (1915-2010)
Seven Virtuoso Etudes after Gershwin (1954 and 1973)
Claire Huangci (piano)
rec. February 2024, Leibniz Saal, Hanover, Germany
Alpha Classics Alpha 1071

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published. 

Frederick Delius: Air & Dance for string orchestra

Frederick Delius’ (1862-1934) Air and Dance is a ‘wartime’ work that was composed in 1915 whilst the composer and his wife were living at Grove Mill House near Watford. Thomas Beecham had most likely taken a lease on this house, which was near his estate, to allow the couple to escape the rigours of the war in Grez-sur-Loing. Whilst at Watford, Delius also wrote his Double Concerto for violin, cello and orchestra.

The Air and Dance remained unpublished until the score was ‘discovered’ by Peter Warlock when visiting Delius at Grez during 1929. The work was originally scored for string orchestra, however a number of arrangements have been made subsequently, including for piano solo by Eric Fenby and for flute and piano by James Galway.

The premiere was at a private concert held at Lady Cunard’s London house during 1915 under Sir Thomas Beecham. The first public performance was given at the Aeolian Hall in London on 16 October 1929 also conducted by Beecham. Alan Jefferson in his study of the composer stated that the work’s dedication to the National Institute for the Blind dated from 1929 and was not ‘any premonition of…his [Delius’] impending blindness’ during the First World War.

The form of this delightful work is extremely simple. The piece opens with a dreamy, reflective tune that meanders towards the livelier ‘dance’. However near the end of the work the original air is reprised for a few bars before the piece closes on a positive note. It is a touching work that fully reflects Frederick Delius’s mature style.

Listen to the Academy of St Martin’s in the Field, under the baton of Neville Marriner performing Delius’s Air and Dance, on YouTube, here. The video includes the score.

With thanks to the English Music Festival where this note was first published. 

Serenade: Chamber Music by Krenek, Gál and Penderecki

Austrian-born Ernst Krenek’s development as a composer was wide-ranging. Beginning his career in the music salons of Weimar Republic Berlin, he explored diverse styles. He developed a post romantic idiom, neo-classicism, atonality, his own brand of serialism and even electronics. In 1938, due to the political situation, he emigrated to the United States. His catalogue included symphonies, operas, and chamber music. His best-known work was the jazz-inspired opera Jonny Spielt Auf (1926).

Krenek’s Serenade for clarinet, violin, viola and cello, op.4 was completed in 1919, whilst he was studying with Franz Schreker in Vienna. It was premiered two years later at the Donaueschingen Chamber Music Performances for the advancement of contemporary music.

The Serenade is in two movements, however the second has five sections, which in this recording are labelled individually. It is in a late romantic style, with some neo-classical overtones. Yet here and there, Krenek becomes harder edged, reflecting the post-First World War situation. Overall, the mood is lyrical and approachable. Many years ago, the critic Tom Cleman remarked that the stylistic parameters are “delineated by the landmarks set up by Claude Debussy, Max Reger, Richard Strauss, and perhaps Alexander Scriabin.” This holds good, but I would add that there are hints of expressionism, as exemplified by the slow movement’s nod to Arnold Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht.

This is a world premiere recording. It is splendidly played by the present ensemble, who are great advocates for this “forgotten” piece.

Hans Gál was a Viennese composer, who like Krenek found it impossible to live under the Nazi regime. In 1938 he fled to Britain, was interned, but later took up residence in Edinburgh. At the behest of musicologist Donald Tovey, he worked at Edinburgh University, where, in 1945 he was appointed a lecturer. Without being demeaning, much of Gál’s catalogue could be regarded as being “retro.” He looked back rather than forward in his aesthetic. Brahms had a major impact, but so did the “playful humour of early classicism,” and the “extended tonality of early 20^th century music.”  He never adopted serial technique. His music is nearly always lyrical and restrained.

The present Serenade for clarinet, violin and cello, op.93 is a pre-war piece, having been written in 1935. Its four movements are typically relaxed. The opening Cantabile balances an almost pastoral opening with a prickly second subject. The scherzo, Burletta, is the other way round. Here the ‘trio’ presents the lyrical mood whilst the ‘minuet’ section is sarcastic and dark. The slow movement, a short Intermezzo is lugubrious, with its pizzicato strings and sad melody. This leads to a cadenza, before the Giocoso brings the Serenade to a happy-ever-after conclusion, but not before a lovely little tune is expounded.

People of a certain age will recall Krzysztof Penderecki’s impact as an innovative disciple of the avant-garde. Making his name with the Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima for string orchestra (1960), and later the St Luke’s Passion (1966) he used various techniques such as the “juxtaposition of sound masses,” extended instrumental techniques and graphic scores. Yet, in the mid-1970s his style made a major change. To the chagrin of his progressive fans, he looked back to Bruckner and Liszt for inspiration. An early indication of this was his 1977 Violin Concerto.

The Quartet for clarinet, violin, viola, and cello was completed in 1993. Penderecki declared that he had been encouraged to write the Clarinet Quartet after “rediscovering Schubert’s great C major Quintet” while attending a concert of that work performed by Mstislav Rostropovich and the Emerson Quartet. Although not a precise model for the present piece, both share a sense of melancholy and tenderness.

The opening movement’s gentle dialogue between clarinet and viola provides a sad start. The Scherzo is rapid, quicksilver and is followed by a parody of a Viennese waltz. The final movement, Abschied, does echo the elder composer’s sadness visible towards the end of his life.

In preparing for this review, I came across an excellent summation of the Clarinet Quartet’s stylistic parameters: “[it] creates the impression of a retrospective of European art music from the first half of the twentieth century, perhaps the missing link in Penderecki’s own oeuvre.” Composers that have infused this Quartet are Beethoven and Schubert, but also that of Schoenberg, in its wayward waltz, and even Alban Berg. In this Quartet, Penderecki combines austerity of sound with a deep emotional statement. It was premiered on 13 August 1993 in Lübeck, Germany.

The star of the show is clarinettist, Kilian Herold, but the three other performers are integral to the disc’s success. The liner notes by Johannes Jansen give an outstanding introduction to the music, concentrating on context. The recording is clear, dynamic, and well balanced.

These are convincing accounts that explore these rare but rewarding works.

Track Listing:
Ernst Krenek (1900-91)
Serenade for clarinet, violin, viola and cello, op.4 (1919)
Hans Gál (1890-1987)
Serenade for clarinet, violin and cello, op.93 (1935)
Krzysztof Penderecki (1933-2020)
Quartet for clarinet, violin, viola, and cello (1993)
Kilian Herold (clarinet), Florian Donderer (violin), Barbara Buntrock (viola), Tanja Tetzlaff (cello)
rec. September/October 2021, Hans-Rosbaud-Studio, SWR Kultur Baden-Baden, Germany
AVI Music AVI8553537
With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Introducing Charles Hubert Hastings Parry

Sadly, most “music lovers” know only a single work by Parry – Jerusalem. This is sung at the Last Night of the Proms (often in Elgar’s arrangement) and is often heard at various sporting events and national occasions. It is the unofficial English national anthem. And churchgoers will know the hymn tune Repton, sung to the words Dear Lord and Father of Mankind. There is also the anthem I was glad, performed at Coronations since Edward VII.

Yet this is an unfair estimation of a great musician who was a composer, teacher, administrator, and historian. Along with Charles Villiers Stanford and Alexander Mackenzie, he played a significant role in the English Musical Renaissance towards the end of the long 19^th century.

Another side of Parry’s career was his dedication to teaching. The list of his pupils is impressive and reads like a roll call of late Victorian/early 20^th century music: Hamish McCunn, Arthur Somervell, Walford Davies, William Hurlstone, Samuel Colridge Taylor, Gustav Holst, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Frank Bridge and John Ireland.

Parry was also a practiced author with sundry important books to his credit. These included The Evolution of the Art of Music (1896), J.S. Bach: The Story of the Development of a Great Personality (1909), Style in Musical Art (1911) as well as articles for Grove’s Dictionary.

Brief Biography

• Charles Hubert Hastings Parry was born at 2 Richmond Terrace, Bournemouth on 27 February 1848.
• Attended preparatory school in Malvern between 1856 and 1858.
• In 1861 he went up to Eton College.
• Studied law and history at Exeter College, Oxford from 1867.
• From 1870-1877 Parry was an underwriter at Lloyds in London.
• Further studies with William Sterndale Bennett and Edward Dannreuther in London and Henry Hugo Pierson in Stuttgart
• Breakthrough with his Piano Concerto in F sharp (1878-79) and his Scenes from Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound" for contralto, tenor, bass, chorus & orchestra (1880)
• Moved to Knightscroft House, Sea Lane, Rustington in 1881.
• Appointed choragus (festival director) during 1883.
• During 1883, Parry began to teach at the Royal College of Music (RCM).
• Appointed director of the RCM in 1895, holding the post until his death.
• Succeeded John Stainer as Professor of Music at Oxford University in 1900.
• Wrote his best-known piece, Jerusalem in 1916.
• Hubert Parry died at his home, in Rustington on 7 October 1918.

Twelve Selected Works

Parry composed across a wide variety of genres. This includes the opera Guinevere, five symphonies, a piano concerto, orchestral pieces, and incidental music, and was prolific in vocal music with cantatas, oratorios, anthems, and song. He wrote effective chamber music for diverse ensembles and various instrumental combinations. Stylistically, it may be an oversimplification to suggest that his main influences were Brahms and Wagner, but it gives a good rule of thumb in approaching his catalogue.

1. Sonata in A major for cello and piano (pub. 1883)
2. Trio in G major for violin, cello & pianoforte c. 1884–90
3. Overture to an Unwritten Tragedy (c.1893)
4. Lady Radnor’s Suite for strings (c.1894, pub.1902)
5. Symphony No.4 in E minor (c.1899)
6. Anthem "I was glad" (c.1902, pub 1903)
7. Ode on the Nativity for Soprano solo, chorus, and orchestra (1912)
8. Symphony Fantasy (Symphony No. 5) in B minor (c.1912, pub. 1922)
9. Shulbrede Tunes for piano, (pub.1914)
10. Six Motets: Songs of Farewell (1916-18)
11. Toccata and Fugue in G major and E minor, "The Wanderer" (posthumous) (pub. 1921)
12. An English Suite for strings (posthumous), (pub. 1921)

Further Reading

The most important ‘recent’ volume is the fine biography by Jeremy Dibble – C. Hubert H. Parry: His Life and Music (1992). This is the main reference point for anyone wishing to explore his achievement. More than twenty-five years ago, Ashgate published Bernard Benoliel’s study Parry before Jerusalem (1997). This is part monograph and part a collection of writings by the composer. There is an interesting study of the Parry family in Anthony Boden’s The Parry’s of Golden Vale: Background to Genius (1998).

More recent volumes include Parry’s Creative Process by Michael Allis (2010), and Hubert Parry - A Life in Photographs by Michael Trott (2018).

A previous generation produced two important texts - J Fuller Maitland’s short The Music of Parry and Stanford: An Essay in Comparative Criticism (1934) and Charles L. Graves’ hagiographical Hubert Parry (1926) in two volumes. Apart from articles in the musical press, a diverse collection of reviews and the odd hard to obtain thesis or dissertation that is about it.

If you can only hear one CD…
Much of Hubert Parry’s music has been recorded. This includes most of the orchestral works including all the symphonies, the complete organ music, ongoing cycles of the piano works and solo song. There are several CDs devoted to the chamber music, including the Cello Sonata, the Piano Trios, and String Quartet. The vocal music has not been ignored, with recordings of Blest Pair of Sirens and a recent production of Scenes from Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound." Although not a conventional Christian, Parry wrote much music suitable for “quires and places where they sing.” A great deal of this is available on CD.

An excellent introduction to Parry’s music is Sir Adrian Boult’s account of the Symphony No.5, Blest Pair of Sirens, the Symphonic Variations, and an Elegy for Brahms released by EMI on CDM 5 65107 2. Blest Pair of Sirens is one of the enduring masterpieces from the late nineteenth-century. It was premiered in London on 17 May 1887, to considerable acclaim. It sets words from John Milton’s At a Solemn Musick.

Rob Barnett (MusicWeb International, 7 September 2007) that “Parry's overture-length Elegy for Brahms in fact had to wait until 1918 for its premiere. At that stage it had been revised by Stanford who conducted it at the Parry Memorial Concert at the RCM on 8 November 1918. Boult makes this Elegy shine in a golden aureole which celebrates Brahms rather than laments him.”

Finally, the wonderful Symphonic Variations (1897) are worth exploring. It is based on a simple, but virile folksong-like theme that Parry masterfully weaves through a series of Brahmsian inventions. This is not an academic set of variations, but a resourceful composition with echoes of Brahms, Dvorak, and Elgar. It should be in the orchestral repertoire.

If you can only listen to one work…

This must Charles Hubert Hastings Parry’s Fifth Symphony which was written for the centenary of the Royal Philharmonic Society and was duly heard at the Queen’s Hall on 5 December 1912 with the composer conducting. Along with From Death to Life, it is his most mature orchestral work.

The original title was Symphony in four linked movements in B minor, 1912. However, at the second performance it was called the ‘Fifth Symphony’ and finally, the printed score is entitled Symphonic Fantasia in B minor “1912” with ‘Symphony’ as a subtitle. 

It is presented in four interconnected movements, each with titles: Stress, Love, Play and Now. The Symphony is still satisfying if these designations are ignored. The work is cyclic with the opening material appearing in various guises throughout.

The musicologist Michael Pope (Liner Notes CDM 5 65107 2) has advocated that “the first movement Stress indicates revolt against the tragedy of life. The slow movement suggests that in human love, calling and answering, lies the true hope of healing. The Scherzo represents inextinguishable instinct of humanity for fun and humour. The Finale is particularly notable for the beautiful first subject representing hopefulness. This is later extinguished by tragedy, which is then transformed into the major key, and, in the light of love, becomes a token of healing.”

The entire work consists of an emotional journey, and benefits from the composer’s mastery of orchestration.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra under Matthias Bamert’s account of Charles Hubert Hastings Parry's Symphony No.5 in B minor can be heard on YouTube

Ralph Vaughan Williams: Royal Throne of Kings

This is the most intriguing disc that I have reviewed (so far) in 2024. Let me explain. Virtually all the works are heard here for the first time. Often, they have been arranged or realised by hands other than Ralph Vaughan Williams. They are an exploration into a corner of his catalogue, that although known to me, I never imagined I would hear.

The press release explains that RVW was enamoured with Shakespeare and was inspired by him “throughout his long composing career.”

The concert opens with Richard III: My Kingdom for a Horse from incidental music written in 1913 for Francis Robert Benson’s Shakespearean season at Stratford-upon-Avon. Benson (1858-1939) was an actor/manager who ran his own company. He had a thirty-year association with Stratford. Michael Kennedy, in his catalogue, notes that the surviving manuscript includes the Hampshire Dargason, a Requiem derived from his score to Richard II and the present piece. Lasting for only 47 seconds this “filmic” music makes a great overture. It was edited by composer, organist and scholar, Malcolm Riley.

Although RVW had produced a score for Benson’s 1913 production of Richard II, he did not reuse this material when he came to prepare the score for a 1944 radio broadcast. Kennedy notes that there are “thirty-four timed sections to cover fifteen scenes. Nathaniel Lew has assembled these in a satisfying Concert Fantasy. A précis of the play would suggest that “In Richard II,’ the titular king wrestles with his sense of self and confronts the repercussions of his choices. Deposed from the throne, he reflects on power, fate, and the fragility of authority. The play weaves political intrigue and poetic introspection, leaving us pondering the nature of leadership and downfall.” Although Lew does not follow the progress of the plot, his resultant score is certainly sympathetic to the play’s temper. It is a worthy addition to RVW’s catalogue.

A bonus on this CD are several songs. These are all sung with innocent beauty by Eloise Irving.

The Willow Song is an early, unpublished piece for voice and piano dating from 1897. The tune was “found” in a book of lute solos. The words are from Othello, with Desdemona reflecting on love, treachery, and impending tragedy.

Everyone enjoys the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. RVW set Shakespeare’s Orpheus and his Lute, with a text taken from Henry VIII, Act III Scene 1. It was completed in 1903 and had its premiere at the Bechstein Hall on 2 December 1904.

Vaughan Williams made another setting of these words in 1925. It was the last number from his Three Songs from Shakespeare. The other two are Take, O take, those lips away and When icicles hang by the wall, the former from Measure for Measure and the latter, Love’s Labour Lost. All three are gnomic in impact and certainly the last is more austere than the 1903 edition.

The incidental music for King Henry IV, Part 2 was also composed for F.B. Benson’s 1913 season. Once again this “Suite” has been realised by Malcolm Riley. The liner notes explain that RVW “drew freely on existing folk dances and other sources” as well as his own music for other plays. The first movement, the reflective Induction uses a tune from the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, Alman in G minor. This may have been used as an overture to the play. Livelier is Falstaff and Prince Hal, using Halfe Hannikin, which first appeared in Playford’s English Dancing Master of 1651. A traditional dance is provided for the Princess Royal movement. As far as I recall, there is no such character in this play, but I guess RVW used an eponymous tune. The heart of this Suite is the beautiful Music to my Weary Spirit which accompanied the king’s death in Act IV. It is a transcription of Dowland’s Pavane Lachrymae played on muted strings. It is the loveliest thing on this disc and could well be excerpted by a well-known classical radio station. The fifth movement, Arrest, is a fetching arrangement of Lady in the Dark, from Playford’s later The English Dancing-Master dating from 1657. This is followed by a lively Gloria Tibi, which is a splendid miniature anthem. The Suite ends with a lively, Happy Life, which takes its title from King Henry’s earnest wish for his son: “No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, God shorten Harry’s happy life one day!” This is a lovely Suite that should have a life beyond this disc.

The most significant work on this disc is the premiere recording of the original Henry V Overture. It was written for Benson’s 1913 season at Stratford. Long known in its incarnation for brass band, which was completed in 1933, but not performed until 1979. The original score has been lost. However, Malcolm Riley and David Owen Norris have reconstructed the original from the remaining orchestral parts kept by the Shakespeare Trust. It is quite different to the brass band version. Gone are the “martial fanfares” and the pastoral section based on an old French melody. The two main tunes heard are the Agincourt Carol and the Earl of Oxford’s March. This “vigorously nationalistic medley” is both satisfying and uplifting as befits Shakespeare’s noble play that examines courage, doubt, and destiny. It is another important addition to RVW’s discography.

Source-wise, the most complex work on this fascinating CD is the Stratford Suite, realised by Nathaniel Lew. It is based on music composed for five plays produced at the above-mentioned Stratford Festival. These include Henry IV Part II, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Richard II, Richard III, and Twelfth Night. The liner notes explain that the “cues used include thirteen arrangements of folk songs, one hymn tune based on plainchant, three original compositions, two fanfares, and one phrase of a march from the mid-seventeenth-century Elizabeth Rogers Virginal Book.” The “original” music includes the Royal March and the Prelude to Act II of Richard II and the Solemn March from Richard III. The booklet lists the “found” melodies. The arrangement of Greensleeves is quite as ravishing as the more famous Fantasia, but without the central section, Lovely Joan. As a Ricardian who believes that the misaligned Duke of Gloucester needs to be reassessed and a balanced view projected, I declare the short Solemn March is a fitting tribute. I hope that this Suite becomes a favourite with orchestras both professional and amateur. It is a sumptuous re-creation of RVW’s music by Nathaniel Lew.

I do wish that Malcolm Riley’s exquisite transcription of the Dirge for Fidele lasted longer. This beautiful piece for string orchestra and harp will remind the listener of the sheer perfection of RVW’s Dives and Lazarus. Originally devised for two mezzo-sopranos and piano, it was issued in 1922 as a standalone arrangement of Fear no more the heat o’ the sun from Cymbeline, Act IV.

The final offering is Two Shakespeare Sketches from The England of Elizabeth. Once again this has a complex genesis. In 1955, RVW was commissioned to write the score for the British Transport Film The England of Elizabeth. Some years later, the conductor and composer Muir Mathieson adapted the score for the concert hall. Three movements celebrated Oriana as Explorer, Poet, and Queen. This has been recorded a number of times, by Andrew Penny, Andre Previn, and others. At around the same time, Mathieson arranged two sections from the Poet movement. These are adaptations based on two sixteenth-century songs, The Wind and the Rain and It was a lover and His Lass. The first has a prominent fiddle part whilst the second is solid and a touch rumbustious. A CD of nearly all the music from the score was issued on CHAN 10244 in an edition by Stephen Hogger.

The recording is excellent. Equally good are the liner notes developed by John Francis and Malcolm Riley, with additional material from Nathaniel Lew and David Owen Norris. Short resumes of the performers are included. The booklet is well-illustrated, with a wonderful painting Richard III by an unknown artist.

Performances by the Kent Sinfonia and the Albion Chorus, under their director James Ross are outstanding. Soloists Eloise Irving and Malcolm Riley give ideal performances of the songs.

An essential investment for all RVW enthusiasts.

Track Listing:
Richard III: My Kingdom for a Horse (1913) ed. Malcolm Riley (b.1960)
Richard II Concert Fantasy (1944) arr. Nathaniel Lew (?)
The Willow Song (1897)
Henry IV Part II (1913) arr. Malcolm Riley
Orpheus with his Lute (1903)
Henry V Overture (Original Version) (1913) ed. David Owen Norris (b.1953) and Malcolm Riley
Three Songs from Shakespeare (1925)
Stratford Suite (1913) arr. Nathaniel Lew
Dirge for Fidele (1922) arr. for strings and harp, arr. Malcolm Riley
The England of Elizabeth (1955): Two Shakespeare Sketches arr. Muir Mathieson (1911-75)
Kent Sinfonia/James Ross (Richard III, Richard II, Henry IV Part II, Henry V, Stratford Suite, Dirge, The England of Elizabeth); Albion Singers/James Ross (Gloria Tibi, Henry IV Part II); Eloise Irving (soprano), Malcolm Riley (piano) (The Willow Song, Orpheus, Three Songs)
rec. 16-17 February 2024 St. Gregory and St. Martin’s Church, Wye, Kent (orchestral works); 29 April 2024 St. Leonard’s Church, Hythe, Kent (songs)
Texts included.
Albion ALBCD062

John Ireland Prelude in E flat for piano (1924)

Amongst John Ireland’s (1879-1962) better-known compositions for piano such as Sarnia, Decorations and the Piano Sonata, there is the enigmatic Prelude in E flat. Completed whilst he was living in London, it was dedicated to Arthur George Miller (1905-86), the son a Chelsea antique dealer and chorister at St Luke’s Church. It was one of seven pieces dedicated to this young man, although not specifically noted on the score, the clue is the date at the end of the score, 22 February 1924, which was Miller’s birthday. Other works dedicated to Miller include On a Birthday Morning (1922), Bergomask (1925) and February’s Child (1929).

The Prelude was originally entitled Penumbra, but this was crossed out in the score. It is difficult to know what sense of the word Ireland meant but possibly “a penumbra of secrecy?” Fiona Richards (** p.230) has identified two further “fainter pencil mark” on the holograph – ‘Long Dawn’ and ‘Before Sunrise.’ She has suggested that there may be a literary link with a poem by Algernon Swinburne entitle ‘Prelude,’ from his Songs before Sunrise. This poem is “about youth, and the passing of pleasure and passion.”

Conceived as a ‘processional,’ the Prelude opens with a descending five note scale richly harmonised. (Fig.1). From this motif develops much of the ongoing material. The chords are dense, with many added notes. In fact, this could be described as “turgid.”   

Fig.1

There is a secondary theme, presented in the right hand as a single line of melody, (Fig.2) with triadic accompaniment. The work ends after a short cadenza with a quiet close.  

Fig.2

Alan Rowlands has stated that “…it comes closest to revealing something of Ireland the man. It is written in an intensely subjective vein, and it is characteristic that the serene E-flat tonality of the opening phrase turns almost at once to C minor. This music has strong links with that called up in Ireland by his settings of some of the most tormented poems of Hardy and Housman, and it needs many hearings to reveal fully its extraordinary qualities. One most beautiful passage is that written in small notes on the second page- it occurs again at the end, a succession of descending chords, (Fig.3) each dissonance dissolving into the next, is followed by a nostalgic modal cadence, plaintively repeated. No other composer could have written this.” (Liner Notes, REAM 3112).

Fig.3

The Prelude in E flat was premiered on 13 January 1925, by Harriet Cohen, at the Wigmore Hall during a concert of music by William Byrd, John Bull, Josef Haydn, and Arnold Bax. It was published by Augener & Co. during 1925.

The Daily Telegraph (15 January 1925, p.4) reviewer considered that “The chief interest in the modern compositions centred in a Prelude of Mr. John Ireland, which Miss Cohen played last night for the first time "on any stage." Like other compositions of Mr. John Ireland's it does not reveal all its worth at a first hearing. Miss Cohen made it evident that it is effectively written and quite up-to-date technically. Whether the ideas expressed really need such an elaborate apparatus, and whether clarity is one of its qualities, are questions which could only be answered after a second performance. Last night it was very well received, hut the reticent composer, who was present, did not acknowledge the applause of the audience.”

In a long assessment of “New Music” in the Musical Times, (March 1925, p.230) the critic suggested that “John Ireland's Prelude in E flat is a grimly serious bit of work, with some characteristic clashings. It is not extremely difficult in regard to technique, but it calls for a good deal on the mental side.”

Colin Scott-Scott Sutherland (in Foreman, 2011, p.14) remarked that “the Prelude in E flat [was] given no other title, The term ‘Prelude’ has little relation to Chopin or Scriabin but is used by Ireland as if it were a programmatic title, implying the opening of some sombre ritual with his dark incantations.”

Listen to John Ireland’s Prelude in E flat for piano on YouTube, here. The piano soloist is Eric Parkin.

Bibliography:
Craggs, Stewart R., John Ireland, A Catalogue, Discography and Bibliography 2nd edition, Ashgate, 2007.
Richards, Fiona, Meanings in the Music of John Ireland, Thesis, University of Birmingham, 2000. Ed. Foreman, Lewis, The John Ireland Companion, Boydell Press, 2011

That Sweet City: Music by Kenneth Leighton and Ralph Vaughan Williams

The liner notes succinctly sum up the impact of this new disc: “Both [works] are evocations of the pastoral and bucolic, Leighton’s…celebrates young love in the spring…while Vaughan Williams’s is filled with nostalgia for an idyllic past…”  The two pieces are connected by their link to Queen’s College, Oxford, where they were premiered in the early 1950s.

Kenneth Leighton’s Veris Gratia, op.6 is a celebration of the coming of Spring. To be sure, he wrote two compositions with the same title. The present Cantata was completed in December 1950 and is a setting of classical and medieval verse whilst the second was a Suite for oboe, cello and strings written earlier that year.

The Cantata was inspired by the Latin poet, Catullus and poems chosen from Helen Wadell’s Medieval Latin Lyrics (1933). It was dedicated to his teacher, Bernard Rose, and the Eglesfield Musical Society. The premiere performance was given at Queen’s College, Oxford by the dedicatees on 8 June1951. The title Veris Gratia can be translated in many ways: the ‘Grace/Beauty of Spring’ or ‘For the sake of spring,’ or as Wadell translated it “O Spring most fair.”

The Cantata opens with a short instrumental Prelude, suggesting dawn and the break of day. The first chorus, Aubade is a panegyric of praise, to love, and to the arrival of summer. This is followed by a setting of Catullus’s Lament on the death of his mistress, Lesbia’s sparrow. The two thousand years after this poem was penned has not diminished the words’ pathos, as well as revealing an incipient eroticism. It is sympathetically sung by the tenor solo. A short instrumental Elegy leads to the Eclogue for choir. This is an adaptation of Leighton’s Coventry Carol. It is a meditation for chorus and solo soprano, considering the coming of the muse with a “sweet melody” and observing various birds in the countryside, which are parodied by the solo flute. An “earthy and energetic” Paean follows which is the most dramatic part of the cantata, with nods toward Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana whilst the Hymn to Cypris is a gentle, lilting Arcadian idyll for women’s voices. The next movement, Erotikon, is the saddest part of the cantata, where the tenor soloist laments unrequited love. Finzi’s vocal style is apparent here. An orchestral Nocturne is “brooding and impassioned.” Here some of Leighton’s future development may be glimpsed. The cantata has travelled the whole swing of the day, with the last chorus, an Epilogue, providing a long summation of the foregoing thoughts. It evokes “Diana’s crystal lamp [which] rises at dusk,” leading to the “Blessed…antidote of sleep.” Yet not before the peroration where the choir “applaud the novelty of things” and gives thanks that “Happy is he who is loved/And has achieved his welcome desire.” The music used here also appears in the glorious Veris Gratia Suite, op.9.

It is fair to say that it is the last of Leighton’s works to explicitly exhibit his debt to Vaughan Williams, Edmund Rubbra and Gerald Finzi.

It does not state on the CD cover that this is a premiere recording of Veris Gratia, op.6, however, I was unable to find any reference to an earlier edition. It is a major contribution to Leighton’s discography.

Ralph Vaughan Williams’s An Oxford Elegy is an appealing choral composition that brings together elements of narration, choir, and a small orchestra. This was written between 1947 and 1949, taking its text inspiration from two poems by Matthew Arnold: The Scholar Gipsy (1853) and Thyrsis (1865).

It reflects both nostalgia and acceptance, evoking the spirit of Arnold’s time and place. The first poem examines the life of a young scholar who leaves his studies at Oxford University to seek wisdom and truth beyond conventional education. The titular character, the Scholar-Gipsy, encounters a group of Romani who possess their own unique way of learning and understanding life. Amongst other things, Arnold examines the fast-paced, fragmented nature of modern life in the Victorian period. He portrays the Scholar-Gipsy’s rejection of the “sick hurry” and “divided aims” then (as now) widespread in society. There is a sense of weariness about the verses. Thyrsis is an encomium for the poet Arthur Hugh Clough. Both poems vividly celebrate the beauties of the landscape.

An Oxford Elegy was given a private performance at RVW’s home, White Gates, Dorking on 20 November 1949, with its public premier at Queen’s College, Oxford, on 19 June 1952. The narrator was Steuart Wilson, and, like the Leighton, the Eglesfield Musical Society was conducted by Bernard Rose.

Listeners will associate Rowan Atkinson with a variety of persona. One thinks of the recent sadly truncated Maigret series, or with one of the incarnations of Blackadder. Children of all ages will love Mr Bean. Johnny English, a parody on the spy genre, was deservedly popular. And then there was the satirical Not the Nine O’clock News which ran from 1979-1982. Atkinson’s alma mater was Queen’s College, Oxford, so the connection is clear. It was with great interest that I listened to his performance of An Oxford Elegy. His diction and timing are perfect. Atkinson’s style is tentative and intimate, rather than declamatory. He is suffused with wonderment with the Scholar’s story and the Oxfordshire landscape. It is beautiful, often bringing a tear to the eye. The singing by the Choir of the Queen’s College is not intrusive but acts as a perfect foil to the narration. Where necessary, they can be expansive, but typically they create an impressionist ‘take’ on “all the live murmur of a summer’s day.”

The liner notes by Owen Rees provide a major essay with detailed analysis of each piece’s progress. All texts and translations are included. There are the usual resumes of the performers.

The recording is splendid and well balanced, especially between the narrator and the choir in The Scholar Gypsy.

Listeners of a certain vintage will recall the John Westbrook narration of An Oxford Elegy, ably accompanied by the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, the Jacques Orchestra, under the watchful eye of David Willcocks. This was released in 1970 on HMV ASD 2487. Since that time there have been several recordings made of this work, with narrators including Jack May, Simon Callow, Gerard Killebrew, and Jeremy Irons. I guess that lovers of this composition will have their favourite.

For me, Westbrook’s was the first recording I heard of An Oxford Elegy, and it will always be my go-to version. That said, I can highly recommend this present recording, with its sense of tenderness and reflection. And the fact that it is coupled with Kenneth Leighton’s outstanding Veris Gratia makes it a must buy for enthusiasts of British Music.

Track Listing:
Kenneth Leighton (1929-88)
Veris Gratia, op.6 A Cantata based on Medieval Latin Lyrics (1950)
Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)
An Oxford Elegy (1947-49)
Rowan Atkinson (narrator), Nick Pritchard (tenor), David Cuthbert (flute), Alaw Grug Evans (soprano)
Choir of the Queen’s College Oxford, Britten Sinfonia/Owen Rees
rec. 22-24 September 2023, SJE Arts, St John the Evangelist Church, Oxford
Texts included.
Signum Classics SIGCD917

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published. 

Hidden Holst VI: A Fugal Overture (1922)

I first heard Gustav Holst’s A Fugal Overture, op.40/1 (H.151) on record in about 1976. It was part of Lyrita SRCS 37, performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra under Sir Adrian Boult. Coming only a few weeks after hearing a performance of The Planets during the Summer Proms at Glasgow’s Kelvin Hall, it came as a big surprise. Here, there were no romantic passages like Venus or some mystical moments from Neptune. Nor did it offer any folk tunes or hints at pastoralism, found in A Somerset Rhapsody. It was full-on neo-classical.

In 1922 Holst began writing a neo-classical work, after the example of Paul Hindemith’s or Igor Stravinsky’s explorations into this genre. Yet, Stravinsky had yet not penned his Octet for Wind (1923), and Hindemith had not embarked on his series of Kammermusik, op.36 (1925). The composer’s daughter, Imogen Holst, suggests that he was not following fashion, but that “his inquiring mind had led him up this particular path at that particular moment.”

In August 1922, Holst wrote to his pupil W. Probert-Jones saying: “As soon as I got to work…I unexpectedly wrote a thing that was meant for an overture and even now is in strict sonata form: but it happens to be a Fugue! Also, it is a Dance! At present I’m calling it a Bally Fugue, although perhaps Fugal Ballet would be more correct.” (Cited Holst, 1974, p.147)

A Fugal Overture was completed the following year, on 4 January, (Short, 1990, p.207) and was dedicated to Holst’s pupil and confidante, Jane M. Joseph. It was duly published by Novello the following year.

Musically, the Fugal Overture which is not in the least ‘academic’ but is full of cross rhythms and syncopation, which makes for a lively and interesting work. Yet, as Michael Short (Short, 1990, p.203) has pointed out, “the mood [of] vitality and gaiety, [is] made all the more so by the inclusion of a brief poignant interlude of bleakness which gives a foretaste of Egdon Heath.”

The piece was originally conceived as an overture to the ballet The Perfect Fool, “if one should be needed.”  It was premiered in this form on 14 May 1923, at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. The first concert performance was given on 11 October 1923, at the Queen’s Hall, London, by the New Queen’s Hall Orchestra, conducted by Holst. The Times (12 October 1923, p.7) reviewer, was less than impressed, considering that “The Overture had less ideas in it than the [Fugal] Concerto, and such as it has, have been expressed by the composer before.” Earlier in the evening concertgoers had heard his Fugal Concerto for flute, oboe and strings, op.40, no.2 (1923).

For the contemporary listener, A Fugal Overture is a fascinating exploration into part of Holst’s catalogue that remains hidden, save to enthusiasts of his music. Gustav Holst is always in danger of being a “One Hit Wonder” with his The Planets. It is good to move beyond this undoubted masterpiece.

Bibliography:

• Dickinson, A.E.F., Holst’s Music: A Guide, (Thames Publishing, London 1995)
• Holst, Imogen, A Thematic Catalogue of Gustav Holst’s Music, (Faber Music Limited, London, 1974)
• Short, Michael, Gustav Holst: The Man and his Music, (Oxford, OUP, 1990)

Discography:

• Holst: A Fugal Overture, Moeran: Sinfonietta; Bax: November Woods, London Philharmonic Orchestra/Adrian Boult Lyrita. SRCS 37, 1968.
• Holst: A Fugal Overture, The Planets, St Paul's Suite, London Festival Orchestra/Ross People. ASV. DCA 782, 1992.
• Holst: A Fugal Overture, with A Somerset Rhapsody, Scherzo, Egdon Heath, Hammersmith, Prelude and Scherzo, Capriccio, London Symphony Orchestra/Richard Hickox, Chandos CHAN 9420, 1996.
• Holst: A Fugal Overture with Beni Mora, Somerset Rhapsody, Hammersmith, Egdon Heath, Invocation for Cello and Orchestra, Royal Scottish National Orchestra/David Lloyd-Jones Naxos. 8.553696, 1998. 

Listen to Hickox’s account of Gustav Holst’s A Fugal Overture on YouTube, here. It comes complete with score.