A Merry Christmas
To All Readers and Followers of
'The Land of Lost Content'
The Snow in the Street
‘Smart, well-written and knowledgeable’ – Saga Magazine
A Merry Christmas
To All Readers and Followers of
'The Land of Lost Content'
The Snow in the Street
Since becoming interested in British Music, back in the early 1970s, this was a piece that I knew about and wanted to hear. It was not until the release of the Classico CD in 1999 that I was able to get to grips with it. At first, I was a little disappointed, in that it did not fulfil my naïve expectations of a pastoral evocation of that delightful part of England. Yet, over the past 25 years, my opinion of this work has increased dramatically.
It was composed around the turn of the century, between 1899 and 1900, with Holst completing it in Skegness, Lincolnshire on 24 July 1900. The symphony was premiered in the Winter Gardens, Bournemouth on 24 April 1902 by the innovative Sir Dan Godfrey and the Bournemouth Municipal Orchestra.
The Symphony is written in four stylistically unbalanced movements, and for
some, this may spoil its impact. The opening Allegro con brio does nod
to the countryside - with allusions to, if not direct quotes from, English folk
song. It is a ‘march’ that fairly romps along.
The second movement is the deeply moving Elegy (In Memoriam William Morris). This is a shadowy, unsmiling piece that is funereal in its exposition. It is conceived as a processional- with a massive climax in the middle section. I am not a huge fan of Morris’s escapism, however, there is nothing of the daydream about this music. It has been suggested that this was Holst’s response to the Boer War rather than the writer, artist, and utopian socialist activist. This ‘Wagnerian’ movement functions perfectly in a standalone performance.
The equilibrium is wrenched back to lighter matters with the Scherzo which balances the ‘will o’ the wisp’ with a little ‘clodhopping.’ It is a good essay in creating all the fun of the ‘fairground.’ There are a few moments of a more serious nature amongst the celebration.
The Finale is a joy. It is a fusion of the world of folksong once again
and of Johannes Brahms and Holst’s teacher at the RCM, Charles Villiers
Stanford. Yet, this is well-written, and Lewis Foreman (Liner notes, Classico
CLASSCD 284) has suggested that it has all the trappings of “a harvest hymn, a
celebration at the end of the country people’s annual cycle.”
Imogen Holst (The Music of Gustav Holst and Holst's Music Reconsidered, OUP, 1986) has intimated that: “[Holst’s] biggest work at this time was the ‘Cotswolds Symphony.’ It was meant to express his deep love of the Cotswold hills, but his feelings are scarcely recognizable. Searching for a symbol of the English countryside he found nothing to build on except the imitation Tudor heartiness of Edward German. It was a makeshift symbol, and having borrowed it, he hardly knew what to do with it, beyond placing it in the approved mould, and hoping it would turn out all right. The first movement makes all the correct gestures and travels in the appropriate directions, but it bears no resemblance to the journey of his mind while walking the stretch of hills between Wyck Rissington and Bourton-on-the-Water. The slow movement, an Elegy in memory of William Morris has moments in it where the intensity of his thought breaks through the inadequacies of his language. Here the words ‘senza espress’ make their first appearance, showing the beginnings of a line of thought that was to lead him through the ‘dead’ pp of Neptune to the mysterious monotony of Egdon Heath. It is by far the best movement in the work. There is nothing characteristic about the Scherzo except the fact that its tune is built on a structure of melodic fourths, while in the last movement he is back once again in a surge of chromatic modulations and striving sequences. There was to be no escape from their clutches for many years to come.”
For me, although I understand that the Cotswold Symphony was a ‘prentice work, it is tuneful, engaging, often exuberant and occasionally deeply moving. It deserves more than an occasional outing in concert halls.
Discography:
Holst, Gustav, Symphony in F
major, op. 8, H47, ‘The Cotswolds,’ Munich Symphony Orchestra/Douglas Bostock, Classico
CLASSCD 284 (1999)
Holst, Gustav, Symphony in F major, op. 8, H47, ‘The Cotswolds,’ Ulster Orchestra JoAnn Falletta, Naxos 8.572914 (2011)
Gustav Holst’s Symphony in F, op.8 can be heard on YouTube, here. This is the Ulster Orchestra version.
Eric Coates’s’ (1886-1957) Cinderella was the third work to have been inspired by his wife Phyl’s bedtimes stories told to their son Austin. The other two were The Selfish Giant (1925) and The Three Bears.
Cinderella was completed at Selsey House on 9 September 1929. The Daily Express, (1 July 1937) explains that some of the work’s orchestration was done during a bridge party. (cited Payne, 2012, p.81). It was premiered on 28 November during an Eastbourne Festival Concert. I was unable to find a review of this concert. However, Geoffrey Self explains that the composer conducted, and the “work was rapturously received by the audience and, with unqualified approbation by the critics.” (Self, 1986, p.45). Coates “held the Phantasy in the highest regard, informing the conductor Joseph Lewis: ‘I think it is really the best thing I have done...’”
The orchestral and piano scores
were published in 1930 by Chappell. One significant feature are the notes
included in the score explaining the events in his musical interpretation of
the story. It carries the following note: “This Phantasy, dedicated to the
"Cinderella" of our imagination, can be performed either as a concert
piece or as a ballet.” The work is scored for a normal full orchestra with a
wide range of percussion. The piece lasts about thirteen minutes.
The piano score of Cinderella gives a detailed synopsis of the Phantasy:
Two pause bars, tremolo dying down to a pp., mark the passing of time, and we find ourselves back once more with Cinderella at the fireside. The original melody of the introduction, now accompanied by quiet tremolo chords, denotes her loneliness. She fancies she hears her Fairy Godmother calling to her again, and dreams of the Prince. The Prince's drummers and trumpeters are heard in the distance. He is searching the town for the owner of the little slipper. This fanfare leads to a tempo di marcia, a humorous little march which, commencing p., as if in the distance, increases in power and fullness as the Prince and his retinue approach, reaching the climax as they enter Cinderella's house. A sudden diminuendo and we hear the Fairy Godmother's call of "Cinderella" while Cinderella's sisters are vainly trying on the slipper. We now return to the Valse theme, but this time in 4/4, broadly, and the final climax is reached as the shoe slips on to Cinderella's little foot. The phantasy finishes with a brief return to the march theme (allegro molto), and they all live happily ever after."
The work opens with a nod to Debussy’s Prélude à l'aprés-midi d'un Faune, before a more typical Coates sound gets underway. The listener will note the little four-note phrase (E, Eb, D, G) that mimics the Fairy Godmother calling ‘Cin-der-ella.’ All the usual Coates fingerprints are present in this piece – gentle syncopation, good orchestration, and memorable tunes. Often waltzes and marches are the underlying formal principle. Two important waltzes emerge, firstly, the sweep of the ball in full progress and secondly a “slower sensuous” dance as the Prince and Cinders meet. The climax of the work is reached when the clock strikes midnight. It is interesting to note that at the conclusion of the Phantasy, the slow waltz is revisited, but this time in a forceful and romantic 4/4 time.
Although Coates’s work was conceived as a tone poem or Phantasy for the concert hall, there are many elements of this piece that will strike the listener as being ideal ballet music.
One last footnote. Cinderella was used in the British drama film, Symphony in Two Flats (1930). This starred Ivor Novello. Coates had previously agreed with the BBC to broadcast the work on 28 January 1930. However, the film’s directors were “anxious that the public did not hear Coates’ music before the release of the film.” Coates asked for the piece to be excluded from the BBC concert. (Payne, 2012, p.81).
Listen to the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Rumon Gamba on Chandos CHAN9869, 2002, here.
Bibliography:This disc majors on a selection from The Oxford Book of Carols (OBC) which was published in 1928. The volume was edited textually by the Anglican High Church priest, Christian socialist, and liturgist Percy Dearmer, and musically by Ralph Vaughan Williams and Martin Shaw. Four of the carols had original tunes by RVW, with numerous others arranged by him. Certainly, at that time, the book was seen as a crucial part of the revival of plainchant and folksong. Containing more than two hundred numbers, it was a companion to the exceptional English Hymnal.
Hidden among these carols lie
many undiscovered gems, demanding a fresh audience. The advertising flyer
suspects that ten out of the twenty-two tracks are making their debut
recordings on this 2021 disc.
The OBC contains a valuable preface, running to more than twenty pages, with lore, the history of the carol as genre as well as a dissertation on their use. Footnotes are given to many numbers often giving details about text and tune. The overarching ethos of performance is laid out in the preface: “Variety in the method of singing is even more important than with hymns, and the verses should never be sung straight through all in the same way.’ To this end, William Vann and the choir perform these carols with a mixture of accompanied, unaccompanied and solo verses.
I found these a masterclass in sensitive performance, precise diction, and excellent balance. I agree with John Quinn that “there isn’t a dud among them.”
The booklet includes a valuable introduction to the OBC written by Jeremy Summerley. John Francis has provided the detailed notes on each carol. All texts are included. The CD cover features a picture of the Coming of the Magi from the ceiling of St. Jude’s Church, painted by Walter Starmer between 1909 and 1935. Details of the choir and their director are given.
At first, I wondered why the four carols with original RVW tunes were not given here. However, I realised that they were included in the A Vaughan Williams Christmas. I have not examined this disc.
Two other carols, not in the OBC are included, O My Dear Heart God dating from 1943 and Bless the Master of This House, published in 1946.It is fair to suggest that a significant percentage of these carols will never be sung by a congregation or by wassailers in the street. Most require a body of trained singers to give a fine rendition of each piece. And the organist, Joshua Ryan, should not be forgotten: he participates faithfully in about half of these carols.
This is an enjoyable account of many (mainly) Christmas carols, old favourites in new guises and some hidden gems.
Track Listing:These miniatures were composed during the early months of 1948 but were not heard until the premiere by the Maraini String Quartet at Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall on 1 June 2005. Alwyn produced sixteen works for string quartet, many written before the Second World War. There are three numbered examples, with the first being completed in 1953. At the same time, Alwyn was employed on the short score of his Symphony No.1, as well as finishing the Sonata for flute and piano and the Concerto Grosso No.2.
Three Winter Poems were dedicated to the Scottish composer and educator John Blackwood McEwen who died on 14 June 1948. He served as professor of harmony and composition at the Royal Academy of Music from 1898 to 1924, and as principal from 1924 to 1936. McEwen was a prolific composer, though his music remains little appreciated, even in his native country. He was known for his exacting teaching style and his contributions to British music education. McEwen was knighted in 1931 and left a legacy through his students and compositions. One of these pupils was William Alwyn.
Three Winter Poems thoughtfully explore several moods: Winter Landscape, Elegy – Frozen Waters and Serenade – Snow Shower. There is no suggestion that there was a literary inspiration behind these miniatures. Andrew Knowles (SOMMCD 0194) has stated that these Poems are “self-explanatory and vividly portray the wintry mood most tellingly. No doubt Alwyn’s experience in writing evocative scores for the cinema (he had written about one hundred soundtracks by this time) played its part in the creation of this charming work.”
Evaluating the same CD, William
Kreindler (MusicWeb International 7 December 2007) has stated that “The ‘Winter
Landscape’ is exactly that - a perfect recollection of what one feels in
the winter. The second piece is full of suppressed turbulence - waiting for the
ice to crack. The instruments are beautifully used here. There is a more
elegiac tone at the end. In the last piece a little of the tension is
dissipated.”
During July 1908, RVW met the
folklorist Ella Mary Leather (1874-1928) in the quaint Herefordshire village of
Weobley. Ella had used a phonograph to record local worthies singing folksongs.
The composer’s job was to transcribe these cylinders. He would make further
visits in 1912 and 1913.
In 1920 the score of Twelve
Traditional Carols from Herefordshire was published by Stainer and Bell.
Unusually, it contained two versions: the original for voice and piano and
RVW’s arrangement for SATB (four-part choir). The score is prefaced by an
explanatory note: “The object of this volume is not scientific but artistic; it
is simply to preserve these carols in a form in which they can be sung by those
who value our traditional songs and melodies. The Editors have therefore not
hesitated (while keeping as much of the original text as possible) to emend
corruptions in the words, to correct grammatical errors and to supply missing
lines and verses from other sources.” On the other hand, the tunes were
transcribed exactly as heard.
The first half of the disc is devoted to the choral version of these carols, whilst the second features the same carols sung by Derek Welton, accompanied on the piano by Iain Burnside.
What of the carols themselves? They fall into various thematic groupings. To be sure, the greater number are concerned with Christmas. In other cases, their theology can be a little stretched, for not only are biblical sources used, but apocryphal lore and a degree of native moralising. Look at The Holy Well, which is heard in two versions. Here, in the underlying legend, the young Jesus drowned his snobbish playmates. Not so in the carol, the story has been bowdlerised, but it is still a treatise of class consciousness. Then there is the poor farmer forced to work On Christmas Day and is struck down by Jesus. Christmas Now is Drawing Near at Hand presents much theological moralising. More traditional fare is found in The Angel Gabriel, New Year’s Carol and Joseph and Mary. The Miraculous Harvest (or The Carnal and the Crane) is based on “mediaeval poems and on apocryphal gospels going back to the first millennium.” The Carnal probably refers to a crow. Of interest is God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, with a vastly different tune to that which we are used to.
Other carols that are not
associated with the Season include Dives and Lazarus, The Saviour’s
Love and The Seven Virgins.
The present recording has wisely
omitted some verses in a few of these carols. This is especially so when they
would become a burden for singers and audience alike.
In 2011, Derek Welton and Iain Burnside recorded the voice and piano edition for Albion Records. It was issued on On Christmas Day – Folk-Carols and Folksongs: Arranged by Ralph Vaughan Williams (ALBCD013, short review here).
William Vann and the Chapel Choir of the Royal Hospital Chelsea have already made an important contribution to RWW’s legacy. This includes three Christmas albums: A Vaughan Williams Christmas (ALBCD035, reviewed here), An Oxford Christmas (ALBCD050, reviewed here) and A Christmas Fantasia: Carols and Fantasies (ALBCD063).
The performances by the Chapel Choir of the Royal Hospital Chelsea under their director William Vann are exquisite. Equally delightful is Derek Welton’s and Iain Burnside’s rendition of the arrangement for voice and piano.
Despite not all the carols being concerned with the Yuletide Season, this lovely CD makes an ideal Christmas present for all enthusiasts of RVW’s music as well as those who have an ear to the ground for traditional English folksongs.
"It is good policy for a singer to keep "on the good side of" his accompanist. A really fine accompanist is a rare bird. Besides the technical skill necessary to a soloist, an accompanist must have the finest musical feeling and discrimination, and at the same time sacrifice himself to the interests of the singer. And oftentimes the accompanist must shoulder the sins of the singer. It is an easy way to relieve oneself from the blame of a "bad break" by charging the fault to the accompanist. A singer once tried this with Handel, and declared that if Handel didn't accompany him better, he should jump over onto the harpsichord where the player sat and smash it.
Said Handel: " Let me know ven
you vill do dot, and I vill adverdise id. I am sure more beoble will come to see
you shump as vill come to hear you sing." He didn't jump."
From Anecdotes of Great Musicians by W. Francis Gates (1896), with minor edits.
No collection of carols would be complete without John Ireland’s The Holy Boy. Originally the third of Four Preludes for piano (pub.1917) it has been “dished up” in quite a few arrangements, including orchestral, chamber and brass ensemble. In 1941, Ireland set words by solicitor and gifted amateur musician, Herbert Sydney Brown, to the tune. It is always a pleasure to hear.
Two carols by Rebecca Clarke are included. The first, a vivid realisation of verses from the anonymous fifteenth-century English carol, There is no Rose (1928). The equilibrium between the solo baritone and the soprano-less choir is ideal. This is followed by a gratefully contrapuntal Ave Maria (c.1937) for sopranos and altos only, nodding to Palestrina.
The current director of the Chapel Choir of the Royal Hospital Chelsea, William Vann contributes the simply titled Carol. This is a setting of the poet/composer Ivor Gurney’s poem “Winter now has bared the trees” from the volume Severn & Somme (1917). The liner notes admit that this is a pastiche of Gerald Finzi, Herbert Howells and RVW. Whatever its antecedents, this is a perfectly well-wrought and effective fusion of text and music, creating a perfect balance between the cold season and the “warmth and joy of Christian camaraderie.” No date of composition is given.
I guess few people will have heard Cecil Armstrong Gibbs Christmas cantata, A Saviour Born, however, many singers who use the ubiquitous Carols for Choirs I (1961) will be familiar with his While the shepherds were watching. Rhythmically vital and modally tinged this unaccompanied carol should be an indispensable part of the Yuletide playlist.
Christmas Day by Gustav Holst is a Choral Fantasy on Old Carols, written in 1910. These include old favourites Good Christian Men, Rejoice, God Rest You Merry Gentlemen and Come, Ye Lofty, Come, Ye Lowly. The liner notes point out that The First Nowell “was woven throughout as a counterpoint.” Despite Holst dismissing it as “poor stuff anyway and not worth doing” it has become a favourite. Well worth having on this CD in Holst’s sesquicentennial anniversary.
A new carol to me is Elizabeth Maconchy’s Nowell, Nowell, Nowell (1967) which sets an old English text dating from the fifteenth century. It is “light, joyful and elegant.”
Three numbers from the Twelve
Traditional Carols from Herefordshire published in 1920 are heard. These
were “collected, edited and arranged for voice and piano, or to be sung
unaccompanied by Mrs E.M. Leather and R. Vaughan Williams.” The fieldwork was
done during 1912-1913.
The first carol is Christmas Now is Drawing Near at Hand which contains a lot of theological moralising. It presents a lovely melody. God Rest You Merry, Gentleman, has a quite different tune to that popularly sung today. The final offering from this collection is On Christmas Day. The sentiment of this carol seems lacking charity, with Jesus striking down the ploughman who was working on Christmas Day to make ends meet. It is truly melancholy. The liner notes promise that a subsequent “companion album, Carols from Herefordshire, (ALBCD064) contrasts all twelve carols in both settings.” Most of the choral versions have never been recorded before.
I remember as a teenager listening spellbound to a wireless broadcast of RVW’s Hodie (1954). (It was on 24 December 1972). I accept that the complete cantata has been judged as a little uneven, yet for me it was (and still is) full of Christmas magic. Two of the Carols from that cantata are heard here, The Blessed Son of God and No Sad Thought His Soul Afright. The latter musically presents a chilly, frost-bound landscape.
RVW’s Christmas Hymn from the Three Choral Hymns (1929) presents a text after Martin Luther, by Miles Coverdale. This longish piece begins quietly, as a lullaby as it meditates on the crib in Bethlehem, but soon builds intensity as the poet meditates on the theological significance of the Incarnation. The Wassail Song was the last of the Five English Folk Songs completed in 1913. There is little theology here, just encouragement to enjoy a good drink.
Another work that epitomises the Season is the Fantasia on Christmas Carols composed in 1912 and premiered that year during the Three Choirs Festival in Hereford Cathedral. It is scored for baritone soloist, choir and either orchestra or organ. (A piano and solo cello edition exists). During the progress of this single movement, RVW weaves together English folk carols, including The truth sent from above, Come all you worthy gentlemen, and On Christmas Night. Fragments of other carols are heard. The choir is instructed to use “extended techniques” such as “humming” and singing ‘Ah.’ There are delicious harmonies throughout.
The liner notes are devised by John Francis with additional material from William Vann. They are helpful and provide information about each piece and its background. The texts are included. I would have liked the dates for all the composers to be given. Details of the choir, musical director, organist, and baritone solo are included. The booklet is well-illustrated with pictures of the composers and performers. The beautiful cover is based on stained glass in Holy Trinity, Sloane Square, designed and made by Christopher Whall in 1900.
It is redundant to comment on the faultless singing and organ accompaniment. The sound recording is excellent. This is a valuable Christmas offering that explores much lesser-known repertoire, with a few old favourites for good measure.
Track Listing: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 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.
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)
[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.
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…
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: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.
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 20th 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: