Unusually for me, I
have to admit to some ambivalence about
a Lyrita release. Let me be clear that
the ambivalence in no way relates to
the quality of the performances, which
are uniformly excellent. No, my reservations
concern the rather mixed-bag nature
of the programme.
In particular, I see
no point whatsoever in the inclusion
of a single movement from the ‘Enigma’
Variations. The ‘Dorabella’ variation
is a charming one but when it’s over
one is expecting to plunge headlong
into the ‘G.R.S.’ variation as usual.
It’s something of a shock to the system,
therefore, to find it succeeded by a
Pomp and Circumstance
march – though I’m glad to find that
it’s the splendid and unfairly overshadowed
Fifth march, for which Sir Andrew Davis
is an ardent advocate.
Similarly, I wonder
at the inclusion of just a single movement
of Harty’s ‘Irish’ Symphony.
I assume there’s no complete recording
in the Lyrita vaults, which is a pity
because on this brief showing Vernon
Handley and the New Philharmonia would
have been fine advocates of the whole
work.
Having got the gripes
out of the way, let me become positive
and warmly welcome the more substantial
pieces on this disc. Myer Fredman is
a perceptive guide as we walk towards
the Paradise Garden. This is such a
gorgeous piece and Fredman plays it
for all its worth, rightly pointing
up the romantic nature of the music.
Aided by ripe, committed playing from
the LPO, he builds the piece to a suitably
passionate climax (from 7:02). This
is as fine an account of the piece as
I know.
Just as welcome is
the excellent performance of Warlock’s
Capriol Suite. Indeed, in some
ways it’s even more welcome because
Nicholas Braithwaite opts not for the
familiar string orchestra version but
for the much more rarely heard version
for full orchestra, which dates from
1928. The additional colour that is
achieved through the use of brass and
woodwind enhances this delightful set
of miniatures. Braithwaite conducts
very well. I like, for example, the
nice flowing tempo that he adopts for
‘Pieds-en-l’Air’ and the counter-melody
on woodwind in the second half of the
piece adds a delightful frisson.
It’s splendid to have
Imogen Holst’s account of her father’s
St. Paul’s Suite restored to
the catalogue – and her own personal
reflections on the music as well. Miss
Holst directs the piece very well indeed.
There’s an excellent bounce to the ‘Jig’,
poetry in the ‘Intermezzo’ and she leads
a completely winning account of the
finale.
But if one is looking
for authority then the pick of these
performances has to be Boult’s memorable
reading of the ‘Tallis’ Fantasia.
This originally appeared on LP with
Boult’s fine account of the Rubbra Seventh
Symphony – the first Rubbra recording
I ever owned. There’s a wonderful dignity
and sense of rightness about this performance.
It may not be as red-blooded as Barbirolli’s
unique and wonderful EMI recording with
the Sinfonia of London but I think Boult’s
noble conception of the piece is just
as satisfying. This is a reading that
seems to reach back across the ages,
linking the twentieth century with Tudor
times in a way that RVW surely intended.
The strings of the LPO play quite magnificently
for Sir Adrian. The sound is top-drawer:
rich and full and the engineers – and
Sir Adrian – separate out the tri-fold
texture of string orchestra, the smaller
group of strings and the solo quartet
quite beautifully. This is a treasurable
recording of one of the towering masterpieces
of the English string orchestra repertoire.
So, despite the rather
disparate nature of the programme, there
is much to savour on this disc. My advice
would be to buy it for the sake of the
Delius, Warlock and Holst and, above
all, for the sublime performance of
the ‘Tallis’ Fantasia. Treat
the rest of the programme as bonuses;
there’s enough in the four performances
I’ve singled out to make this a most
rewarding purchase.
John Quinn
See also reviews by Rob
Barnett and John
France
for details
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Sir Adrian
Boult 
