CD Box Review: Artie Shaw and His Orchestra * King of the Clarinet * Live 1938-39 * Hindsight Records (HBCD-502) 1993

[ Taking a break from Vaughan Williams this morning to review of one of the most important jazz sets out there...]

Artie Shaw - clarinet

Les Robinson, Hank Freeman - alto sax

Tony Pastor, Ronnie Perry, Georgie Auld - tenor sax

Johnny Best, Bernie Previn, Chuck Peterson, Harry Geller - trumpets

George Arus, Russell Brown, Harry Rodgers, Les Jenkins - trombones

Les Burness, Bob Kitsis - piano

Al Avola, Dave Barbour - guitar

Sid Weiss - bass

Cliff Leeman, George Wettling, Buddy Rich - drums

Helen Forrest, Tony Pastor - vocals

After more than a decade of writing a jazz clarinet blog, I'm shocked to find I haven't reviewed this CD box. Maybe I took for granted that it was inevitable, or thought it would be too difficult to find enough superlatives, or maybe I thought I'd already done it. However I've managed to maintain this level of neglect, it's mind boggling. 

Of all the great jazz clarinetists, Artie Shaw resonates more personally with me than any other. We share a geographical connection with roots in New York, Connecticut, and Cleveland; an intellectual similarity that makes the world of literature and writing as enticing as music; a fundamental need to wrestle with the meaning of existence; and a musical preference, above all, for what might be termed lyric melody of meaning. That this box might contain what I consider his most important and beautiful recordings may have been why I've neglected to review it. The fact is, despite what one might think, I've tried to stay away from drawing too much attention to his music - not out of some Bloomian "Anxiety of Influence", but simply because I'm never sure I can do it justice. 

You see, I've given historical "lecture concerts" in nightclubs and libraries highlighting the accomplishments of many of the great clarinetists of jazz history. Sidney Bechet, Jimmie Noone, Benny Goodman, Pete Fountain, Hubert Rostaing, George Lewis, and Acker Bilk all come to mind - I've prepared lectures on their life's work and performed tunes in context for them. But never for Artie. It's probably because he's just too close to me - I almost don't know where to start. It's too personal. I can honestly say I've been influenced by just about everyone I've listened to by this point, but Artie is really the bedrock of my style. Here are a couple of quick stories demonstrating how this influence reveals itself: 

Once, while playing at a jam session at a local tavern, I remember an older gentlemen coming up to me between sets, with a puzzled look on his face. 

"It's been bothering me all evening...who you remind me of..." he said, with that odd familiarity with which perfect strangers approach jazz musicians after a set. "Then it came to me! Your playing reminds me of Gustav Mahler!" And he pointed at me knowingly, shaking his finger with a sly smile, as though he'd caught me throwing Mahler excerpts into my solos.  

Another time, while recording my live album at the Bop Stop in Cleveland, also between sets, a very astute trumpet player in the audience commented that he felt my performance of "Go Down, Moses" was a seamless fusion of klezmer and blues. The truth is that neither the similarity to Mahler, nor the fusion was conscious - but the both spoke of the foundational influence of Artie Shaw on my playing. His musical thoughts have worked their way into my language, because they've always been the basis for my musical speech, as it were. 

So maybe this explains why I've taken so long to review these recordings. I think this box might represent the finest documents of Artie Shaw's playing and musical mind. And because of that, for me at least, they might be the greatest performances of what is known as the Swing Era, by any band. They document an important period for Shaw - from just before "Begin the Beguine" catapulted him to nationally recognized fame (and fortune), to his second (but thankfully not final) retirement. These recordings follow him from what he described as the "rat trap" that was the Blue Room at New York City's Lincoln Hotel in the Fall of 1938, through his stay at the Summer Terrace of Ritz Carlton in Boston during the Summer of 1939, to the glamour of the Cafe Rouge at the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York, where Shaw snapped at last and, in an effort to preserve his sanity and health, abruptly walked off the stage in the middle of a performance, never to return with this group again. It seemed a career ending move at the time. Fortunately for the rest of us, it wasn't, but even if it had been we'd have no cause to complain, as Shaw and this band left us some of the finest music of jazz history. This box is even more important than the great studio recordings made by the Artie Shaw Orchestra at the time, because it's live.     

With very rare exception, I always prefer live recordings, even with all their flaws. Whether we're talking about Benny Goodman's Madhattan Room Broadcasts, Duke Ellington's All Star Road Band, or classical recordings like Gennady Rozhdestvensky's live cycle of the Vaughan Williams symphonies, there is an immediacy and an interactive excitement that cannot be replicated without an audience. As a performer, both in the classical and jazz realms, I can attest to being more creative and alive on stage than in any rehearsal or studio session. Audiences draw things out of performers that can't be imitated. These recordings are no exception - they are almost all more interesting and exciting than their studio counterparts. Shaw himself was interviewed and served as a consultant for this set, and the booklet provides almost track by track observations from the great clarinetist. 

Unlike Benny Goodman's Madhattan Room Broadcasts, which were re-released in a six CD box in the 1990s, the tracks from these three discs are not released in strict chronological order, but chosen from the three broadcast locations in New York and Boston, to create three re-imagined "sets." Pete Kline seems to have made the choices for these sets (he's credited as the Box Set producer and compiler). He did an excellent job - the listener might be forgiven for thinking these were three complete performances from three evenings. It also speaks the amazing consistency of Shaw's band over the course of more than a year. The performances from Boston aren't notably different from the ones in New York, either before or after the groups Cinderella success. If you'd told me they were all from the same location, from the same weekend, I'd believe you. 

Most of the arrangements for these charts were done by Artie Shaw, Jerry Gray, and the guitarist for the band Al Avola. They represent the epitome of Shaw's style - lyrical melody, clear dialogue and counterpoint between the sections - nothing pedantic muddying up matters; they're a study of beauty without sentimentality. And slotted throughout the arrangements, some of the finest jazz soloing ever captured. 

Leading off with "Rose Room" from the Ritz-Carlton on August 19, 1939, we hear Artie's lyrical virtuosity at work. I don't know if anyone possessed a melodic gift to the degree he did at this point in his career. In many ways he reminds me of a jazz version of Tchaikovsky. His rhythmic variety alone during his solos, combined with an ability to craft the most intricate melodic ideas all within the space of a chorus (or at times half a chorus) remains, for me, unmatched. When jazz embraced bebop language, it lost some of this lyricism, in my opinion. I've always felt it would be worthwhile to use Artie's lyricism as a starting point, and develop jazz in a different direction - less modernist, more romantic. It's actually what I try to do myself as a player. Anyhow, we hear Artie at zenith here. his solos on "Rose Room", "Carioca", "Yesterdays", "Sweet Adeline", "One Foot in the Groove", "Man from Mars", "Stardust", "Out of Nowhere", "St Louis Blues", "It Had to be You", "I Can't Give You Anything But Love", "I Cover the Waterfront"  and more are classics.  For any musician they are a clinic of creativity, beauty, and invention. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that he wasn't just soloing here, but leading the band as well - and the band is in incredible form - relaxed, warm, swinging - a type of perfection rarely accomplished by any ensemble of any musical genre.

(For those wanting a sample, the recording of "The Carioca" here cannot be surpassed. From a teenage Buddy Rich chirping in the background, to Artie's endless variations - including his stellar choruses over the band at the end, it's a must for any jazz collection).

There is plenty of great soloing by other members of the band in this set, but the star is Shaw. Helen Forrest, my favorite of the girl singers back then, is in top form on these recordings too. Her intelligent, heart rending versions of "Comes Love", "Don't Worry 'Bout Me", and "Two Sleepy People" in particular remain my favorite versions of these tunes by a singer. Tony Pastor, though he was admittedly a bit of a novelty singer in addition to being a solid tenor sax, is in good form here too - adding humor, and even a little pathos to the fine arrangements he sang over. 

When Artie left the bandstand in November of 1939, leaving this band and seemingly his career as a musician behind, it was widely believed that he did it out disgust for the music business and its hassles, along with the wildness of the teenage fans who annoyed him with their antics. But listening to these recordings, once again, this morning, I can't help but wonder if he psychologically needed a break from the intense creating he was doing on a nightly basis. I'm not sure many musicians have sustained such lyrical invention and technical brilliance over the course of a twelve month span as we have documented here. And to do it while leading one of the finest ensembles in the world - it's beyond what I can fathom.

As I wrote above, if he had never returned to music, we would have no reason to be anything but grateful. Fortunately for us, he added more brilliant chapters to his career and to jazz history. As great as those were, however, none surpassed the perfection he achieved in the year spanning from November 1938 to November 1939.               

***

Epilogue: I bought this box, of all places, at Tower Records in New Orleans in 1999. I wasn't aware of its existence until seeing it there, and immediately appreciated the irony of going all the way to New Orleans just to end up buying Artie Shaw discs. It was on the return to Indiana (where I lived as a grad student) that the importance of the purchase became apparent. Driving all through the night from New Orleans to Bloomington, through Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Kentucky, my wife and I played these discs over and over. They were a match for the heartland landscape at night, perfectly engaging, managing  to keep me awake and in a type of elated awe for hundreds of miles. I'll never forget the experience. My admiration for these recordings hasn't flagged in the twenty four years since. 

CD Box Review: Vernon Handley * Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra & Choir * The Symphonies of Vaughan Williams * EMI * 1986-1994

I can't imagine what it must have been like when these first began to come out in the mid-1980s. Standards of orchestral performance, and familiarity with this repertoire, had grown exponentially since the mono recordings of Sir Adrian Boult in the 1950s. Technically speaking, the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic and the EMI recording crew were light years ahead of that first cycle.

I'm not one to pit one era against another. Each has its strengths. The recordings made by Boult for Decca had the composer in the concert hall, collaborating with the interpretation - they are indispensable and of the era of the music itself. 

But this cycle must have been a revelation for its listeners. The intonation, articulation, command of the musical material, and recording is at such a high level in comparison to the older editions that it must have seemed at times like a first hearing of certain aspects of the pieces. 

Recorded in the Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool, on 27-29 July, 1988, A Sea Symphony (No 1) has a crispness and clarity that was at least close to unprecedented in earlier recordings of the piece. The orchestra was clearly comfortable with everything, responding with virtuosity to every request (a quality that becomes a hallmark of this Vaughan Williams cycle. The orchestra really is a star over the course of these works). 

Soprano Joan Rodgers and baritone William Shimell are excellent. the liner notes for the 2002 reissue (which is the set I own) by Andrew Achenbach say that no less than Michael Kennedy called Rodgers's performance "by far the most dramatic account of the soprano part I have heard" in his review for Grammophone magazine. The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir has the power and skill to match the orchestra and soloists. This is a very solid performance and will not be a disappointment to those who love the piece. It has a freshness and lightness of touch, despite its power, that seems to suspend time a bit - it does not seem just short of 70 minutes long. But the real thrust of this particular review is for the next symphony.     

This recording of A London Symphony (No 2), made on 3 and 4 March, 1992, might be my favorite. Perhaps it took a couple of generations of orchestras playing these pieces, but it seems this recording is a real arrival point for stylistic concerns. The strings don't play as though they are interpreting Brahms or Beethoven - instead they approach Vaughan Williams as  the descendent of Purcell - there's a transparency, a lightness of texture even in the grandest moments, that gives this music an English freshness. The woodwinds are perfectly balanced, all soloists play with feeling, precision, and what seems effortless intonation (though it never is - players have to work an entire career to gain and maintain this type of mastery and relationship with their fellow players). The interplay of clarinet, flute, oboe, English horn, is some of the finest you'll hear, which brings me to a major complaint I have regarding nearly every classical recording ever released:

Would it kill the record companies to take one page of the liner notes and name the musicians? After all, they're the actual men and women who made the sounds recorded - not the conductor or the recording engineers. Is there anyone as ignored as the average symphony orchestra musician? Half the time, some musicologist will write a bunch of nonsense for pages and pages (okay, sometimes it's not nonsense, but you get the idea), and even he'll get his name in the booklet - but the principal clarinet, flute, trumpet, or even concertmaster (not to mention everyone else) is anonymous. It's time to move the orchestra out of the age of medieval serfdom! We want to know who made these incredible sounds! If anyone knows the roster for the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic at the time of these recordings, please feel free to post them in the comments. Let's start a movement for the musicians themselves! It's time their contributions were recognized!  

Having said this, the brass and percussion hit the brilliant climaxes as well as any others on record. Handley's interpretation is mature without ever becoming stodgy, allowing the music to ripen perfectly (such as in the second movement, which some are tempted to take too slowly, others too quickly). The dialogue between the sections of the orchestra suggests an ensemble who know each other and the music extremely well. I can't get over the beauty of the clarinet playing in the second movement, along with the viola, cello, flute, oboe. It's just one of the finest recordings of this piece ever made.

The contrasts in the Scherzo are brilliantly handled. The violins play the initial light thematic material with meaning and direction - not taking any measures off. Once again the clarinets are excellent, and the contrasting brass (from mellow reflective French Horn passages to biting, insistent interruptions) are turned quickly. Such music making can only be done with great attentiveness and willingness.   Nothing is ever rushed to "get to the next bit" but nothing lacks direction and forward motion to the proper musical goal. It's deeply satisfying. 

All of these observations for the first three movements hold for the fourth movement epilogue. The pacing is perfect, the life is always there, the momentum of the phrases. Bravo Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, and bravo Vernon Handley. They've really done justice to a masterpiece here. 

A word on the sound: I have heard various criticisms of the sound engineering on this cycle. I'm surprised by this - my discs are excellent - none of the problems others have expressed. In fact, they might be the best (clearest and widest range of volume) of all the sets I own. Perhaps some critics were unfortunate as to which pressing they received? I don't know. All I can say is that I'm grateful I got the set I have, which is top notch.  

On to Handley's recordings of the Pastoral Symphony and Symphony in F minor (No 4): 

I have neglected these recordings for nearly twenty years, thinking I preferred Boult and Slatkin to the offerings here. While I still love the Boult and Slatkin, I won't make that mistake again. Once again, the wind players shine in the Pastoral Symphony - really some of the finest in any recordings of RVW - and the interpretation is beautifully paced, yet dynamic. Pay close attention to the articulation in the third movement and you'll be rewarded. The sound might be the best of any recording of the Pastoral I've reviewed yet - the dynamic contrasts are bold and perfectly timed. While it won't replace my love for Boult's EMI version, this rendition won't go out of the rotation again. 

As for the fourth, what can I say? Of all performances, I should never have let this one slip by the wayside. It might be the best I've ever heard of the piece. I've talked in earlier reviews about the decision to emphasize violence, beauty, or the monumental quality of this work. Well, Vernon Handley and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic seem to consider that a set of false choices, and opt for all three at once! It's dynamic, crisp, huge sounding, beautiful and fierce, simultaneously. The rhythmic interplay is second to none and rivals the later recording by Slatkin and the Philharmonia for RCA, which has long been my favorite - but maybe not now. This version is really excellent and among the very best performances of any RVW on disc.   

Thrown in as an extra, to lead off this disc, is the English Folks Song Suite (originally for wind band), in Gordon Jacobs's arrangement for orchestra. It's delightful and sets the stage well for the two symphonies that follow. 

 

The next disc in my set pairs the Symphony in D major (No 5) with Flos Campi and the oboe concerto. I'll review the oboe concerto at another time, but here suffice it to say that the choice of Flos with No 5 was brilliant. Though it's an enigmatic piece loaded with symbolism almost under the guise of a viola concerto, it's approached by Handley almost like a missing symphony between 4 and 5. This approach really works. It breaches the gap aesthetically and connects the two piece somehow, preparing listeners for the religious symbolism of what Michael Kennedy called the "Symphony of the Celestial City", so deeply is No 5 imbued with music from RVW's then unfinished opera, The Pilgrim's Progress. 

Caveat: There are very few recordings of 5 that impress me. I absolutely love Bernard Haitink's rendition of it, and generally find others lacking in his power and majesty. One other version that deeply impressed me was Gennady Rozhdestvensky's live recording with the USSR State Symphony. All that aside, this is a very good version of the piece. You really can't go wrong with it - and once again the sound and dynamic contrasts are among the very best. 

By the time we've reached the Symphony in E minor (No 6) in this cycle, we're expecting the same thing all the other symphonies have delivered: a fantastic performance by a perfectly balanced orchestra dominating any and every difficulty of these pieces, interpreted with an unerring hand. That's a lot to live up to, but they deliver once again. The violence is there, the beauty is there - the broad theme from the first movement played with that Purcellian quality in the strings that I have mentioned before in this review. The dread of the second movement yields to the ferocity of the third, more convincingly than Boult. It would be superior to Boult's Decca recording in nearly every way, except for the last movement. There is nothing wrong with Handley's interpretation or the RLPO's execution of the music - it is simply missing the added magic that Boult drew out of the orchestra with the composer present. An unrepeatable moment to be sure, and nothing to blame Handley for not having! Once again, though, you cannot go wrong with this version. 

I really wanted to like this recording of Sinfonia Antartica (No 7). The orchestra had already proven, and proves once again, that it could give Handley everything he asks for - but they can't tell him to ask for the right things. I'm not a rigid authoritarian when it comes to following the score - I don't insist upon the letter of the law when the spirit moves - but when the interpretation violates both, we have a problem. And such a problem exists, very obviously, in some of the tempi chosen for this, which tend to be glacially slow. 

The real trouble begins in the scherzo. The movement is headed by a quote from Psalm 104 - "There go the ships, and there is that Leviathan, whom thou hast made to take his pastime therein." It's a Psalm of praise to God for all things. To drive this symbolism home, RVW chooses his "Glory to God" theme from Hodie as the opening horn call for the movement. The tempo is marked moderato with the dotted quarter note = 58. Handley takes it, literally, at half tempo. The "Glory to God" sounds like it's in slow motion, and the music simply dies. When we get to the penguin music, it sounds ridiculously heavy. Giant monster penguins with mighty teeth, perhaps. The symphony never really recovers. So much of it just sounds so slow, it becomes a feat of endurance, not unlike the dying crew of Scott at the South Pole. 

I'd be lying if I denied the effectiveness of some of Handley's ideas - the finale has some truly great moments. And the orchestra sounds great, sonically - as consistent as ever throughout the set. But when both meaning and the composer's instructions are ignored, it makes for a disappointing experience. There are plenty of better versions of this symphony, and it is one of the only disappointments of this set.  

Handley returns to form for the 8th symphony. I don't know how popular it is these days to refer to this Symphony in D minor as the "little 8th", as it once was, but I never thought it wise to approach the piece from this angle. Though shorter in duration, and not as massive, it has moments of real grandeur and expansiveness that can be wrongly overlooked if seen as some sort of little excursion. Handley doesn't overlook these moments, nor is this treated like a little excursion. The first movement, which is one of RVW's most enigmatic, is handled with subtlety and power. I'm not sure why, but the opening celesta part is often late, even on some studio recordings. It's a minor detail, but the first thing I listen for in a recording of the 8th - does the celesta come in on time, and is the performance deliberately pedantic to enable it? Well, the celesta comes in on time here, and the performance is not pedantic. It seems a hallmark of the Handley/RLPO cycle that assumed technical coping mechanisms for delivering these symphonies aren't needed. 

I prefer the second movement to be more sardonic and biting than it is here. To me, this is one of those points of similarity with two of RVW's great Russian contemporaries: Prokofiev and Shostakovich. Especially in his later years, he was capable of the type of cynical and almost grotesque writing they so often excelled at - and I think this wind band scherzo alla marcia is an example. It's one of the reasons I really like the performance by the USSR State Symphony Orchestra under Gennady Rozhdestvensky - they really get what is going on here. Handley opts for a more regal, staid approach, which is perfectly acceptable and well played by the winds of the RLPO. 

The string cavatina of the third movement is another thing altogether. What a fine performance this is - not tossed off as "one more pastoral moment for VW", but at times straining, aching counterpoint in the strings. There is certain hint at leave taking in this symphony, of a saying goodbye at last, which I think is very poignantly felt in this movement. 

The finale is fantastic - with all of the added percussion - perfectly balanced, you really enter the soundscape with this excellent recording. Massive but fleet of foot, catching every detail and seeming to break the bonds of "this mortal coil." 

The 9th opens hauntingly. Pay close attention to the harp in the beginning - the pulse and the atmosphere so subtley written and executed. After the first introductory climax, the clarinet section interlude unfolds beautifully into the string and brass counterpoint. The RLPO go from intimate to massive in sound very quickly, but it's hardly detectable because so organic. The tempi are perfect. 

I'll be the first to admit I usually find this piece more disturbing than comforting. It does seem the final leave taking of the great composer, but not like the Pilgrim reaching the glorious end of his journey. The darkness and gloom can seem overwhelming. Handley & Co don't ignore any of this. But somehow, their entire approach - perfectly balanced winds, brass, percussion, and strings - with an emphasis, even when massive, on transparency and lightness of string sound that harkens back in English history, makes the emotion more bearable. I want to emphasize that my use of the word "lightness" for the string sound does not mean "weak." It is light but strong, like good armor or weaponry. There is a clarity here amidst the gloom, that makes us willing to follow RVW through the dark night on Salisbury plain to the Cathedral spire and the stars.    

This approach informs the whole piece - and because of this, the second movement Andante Sostenuto isn't a slog - it has all the depth of sound needed, but is always moving forward towards its inevitable destination. At the time it was recorded, I don't think there was a better performance of the 9th. The sense of timeless floating is achieved throughout in the lyrical sections. I can't get over the contrasts from the most intimate, almost chamber music like passages transitioning instantly to some of the most massive, confrontational 20th century music written. The RLPO raised the bar for everyone in this set. 

The saxophones go from haunting to sardonic and hectoring in the scherzo. None of the lines are lost, and everything delivered clearly, with meaning. The outbursts of percussion, during the saxophone chorale passages of the scherzo are so good - how balance was maintained with such diverse forces, and such dense writing -it's almost miraculous. The transition to the fourth movement really gives us a feeling of Tranquillo as indicated in the score. I've always found the final movement demands emotional and psychological patience. The RLPO doesn't just push through it, though - instead, with the clarity and patience of their own utterance, we're brought through mountains and valleys of sound, all the way to the dazzling conclusion with harps, cymbals, trumpets, and saxophones. 

In my review of Sir Adrian Boult's first, foundational RVW cycle, I mention that every collection should have at least two cycles: that first one and another. I can wholeheartedly recommend the EMI cycle by Vernon Handley and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic as the second cycle. It raised the bar for all orchestras afterwards, and has almost unparalleled consistency of greatness. The interpretations are almost all uniformly brilliant.   

Once again, let's praise the RLPO soloists. The clarinet, flute, oboe, violin - everyone. The whole orchestra should be listed in the liner notes. They are the ones who made these glorious sounds, after all. 

"Turn up my metaphors and do not fail": Religious meaning and musical iconography in Ralph Vaughan Williams’s The Pilgrim’s Progress

 [ Originally published in the Journal of the RVW Society, No 38 March 2007]

by Eric Seddon

[ Section III of this article (entitled “The Piece”) is an almost verbatim account of what I delivered in Midhurst on 26 November 2006. In joining it to the background material prepared before the symposium, I have omitted redundant material and added only one other substantial comment. E.S.] 

On the 2^nd of May, 1951, shortly after the premiere of Vaughan Williams’s operatic Morality, The Pilgrim’s Progress, E.J. Dent wrote to the composer, offering his congratulations and support of the piece. The general substance of the ensuing correspondence is that of Dent’s solidarity with RVW against the early criticisms that the Pilgrim was not really appropriate for the operatic stage—that it was an oratorio in disguise. Dent was unequivocal in his rejection of such a criticisms, writing instead:

I am more and more…certain that it must be an Opera on stage and not an oratorio. I have read several criticisms and think them mostly stupid and unintelligent. I think I know more about Opera than all the lot of critics put together, and have a more analytical mind than any of them; I am a complete unbeliever and generally a scoffer but I have no difficulty or reluctance to surrender wholeheartedly to Bunyan and to your music. [1]

It is of interest that in the process of defending the Morality as stage-worthy, Dent articulated his own religious position. This rhetorically buttresses his argument, at least, but there is more to it than that, for during this correspondence Dent was to venture into religious concerns more than once. In a letter of the day before, he wrote that“[The Pilgrim’s Progress] does not want a cathedral environment, because Bunyan stands for “pure” religion without the external decorations of a church.”  This is of particular importance in this correspondence, for it is the beginning of what becomes Dent’s one real negative criticism of the Morality—that it wasn’t faithful enough to Bunyan. On 6 May, he writes specifically what he sees to be a problem:

The House Beautiful actions are too ecclesiastical, and some costumes too;the atmosphere required is surely not Priestly Authority, Penance, formal Worship and Reverence, but Kindness and Friendliness, Love and Sympathy, Helpfulness on the part of all the heavenly beings (including Evangelist and Interpreter).

Dent’s primary objection in this scene is Vaughan Williams’s decision to conduct the laying on of hands and anointing of the Pilgrim in a manner that indicates the Rite of Confirmation, which would have been directly opposed by an Ana-Baptist such as Bunyan. He is also bothered by the costumes of the inhabitants of the House Beautiful, which, according to the original staging, implied a monastic community; likewise incompatible with Bunyan’s Puritanism. Later in the same letter he added a similar objection:

…did Bunyan imagine [Pilgrim] wearing the traditional “pilgrim” dress with cockle-shell hat and staff? In any case I think a hat and staff would often help to suggest pilgrimage; he sometimes looks too “ecclesiastical” without them.

Vaughan Williams’s reply makes his position clear concerning the sacramental and  “ecclesiastical” elements which Dent found alarming. In his response of 17 May, he writes:

As regards the Religious aspect of the H[ouse] B[eautiful], I like the landscape back-cloths on the whole. In “House Beautiful” what we want is a scene of initiation, which I have made by expanding two sentences of Bunyan. 

 

 Towards the close of the letter, RVW adds this telling statement:

You refer a good deal to Bunyan, but remember that this is not Bunyan but only adapted from Bunyan. He would certainly have had a fit at some of the things I do!

Vaughan Williams was therefore well aware of the sacramental and ecclesiastical elements written into the Morality; it is clear by this response that they were intentional. It is interesting to note, too, that Dent was not the only one to pick up on the “ecclesiastical issue” embedded in the Morality. In Nathaniel Lew’s survey of the early criticism of the Pilgrim, he writes that “many were troubled by the obvious similarity of much of the opera to High Church ritual, finding it… a violation of the spirit of Bunyan”, going on to cite, among others, the following criticisms:

‘I don’t think Bunyan, sturdy independent as he was, would have approved of what Vaughan Williams has done with his book’ (Daily Mail, 1951)

‘The extraordinary clarity and vividness of [Bunyan’s] original is obscured in heavy-handed ritual that destroys simplicity without adding anything illuminating, and which, with its suggestion of Puseyite fal-lals, would certainly have outraged Bunyan’ (Glasgow Herald, 1951) [2]

These criticisms cannot be dismissed as mere tirades. They point to several substantial elements, such as those mentioned by Dent to VW in private, and more. What the critics lacked, however, was the knowledge that VW had done these things deliberately and that his treatment of Bunyan’s book is emblematic for his career. To find sacramentalism in The Pilgrim’s Progress, for instance, would not have shocked anyone who had deeply considered the musical and textual symbolism that permeated many of his earlier works. Over the course of his career, a relatively clear trajectory can be traced through many of RVW’s most important pieces, detailing a continued fascination with and investigation of Christian mysticism and even sacramentalism—the two sometimes intertwining in profound unity.

CD Box Review: Vaughan Williams * Symphonies 1-9 * Sir Adrian Boult * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Decca * 1952-58

 

Sir Adrian Boult, conductor

Isobel Baillie, soprano (A Sea Symphony)

John Cameron, baritone (A Sea Symphony)

Margaret Ritchie, soprano (Pastoral Symphony and Sinfonia Antartica)

John Gielgud, speaker (Sinfonia Antartica)

London Philharmonic Orchestra

London Philharmonic Choir

Symphonies 1-7 were recorded in MONO

Symphonies 8 & 9 were recorded in STEREO

All were recorded for DECCA between 1952 and 1958 except for Symphony No. 9, which was recorded for EVEREST. 

The historical importance of this set is difficult to exaggerate. Some critics dislike that most of the symphonies here are recorded in mono, some suggest the proficiency of the London Philharmonic was, at the time, weaker than later. I guess if you're looking for a single Vaughan Williams cycle to purchase, those considerations might factor into the decision. But I've told people in search of "one great Vaughan Williams cycle" that I think they really need two: This one, and any of the others you happen to like most. Let's be honest - there are so many great Vaughan Williams cycles out there, and really none of them are bad. You can't go wrong with almost anything you choose. 

There are three inescapable reasons for having this set, though: First, the composer himself was present for the recording of symphonies 1-8. Second, it was the first complete cycle ever made. Third, it was recorded by Sir Adrian Boult, who knew Vaughan Williams's music as well as any musician ever has. I began collecting them on LP in the 1990s - fortunately this finely transferred digital set was made available in 2002. I'm pretty sure I bought one of the first copies sold. 

A word about MONO and sound quality in general. I don't see myself as an audiophile. I appreciate great sound, and would prefer it, of course, but what interests me the most are the musicians themselves: their interpretation and execution of the piece. So I can be pretty forgiving about recordings. Beyond that, I prize diversity of style - not only among the performers, but the recording engineers. As I mentioned in my review of Gennady Rozhdestvensky's cycle with the USSR Ministry of Culture, I enjoy the bold, crisp, aggressive Melodiya style as much or more than the warm, softer Deutsche Grammophon approach. It allows me to hear different things - and therefore approach the pieces differently. The same holds true for me listening in mono. All things being equal, I'll usually choose stereo, but listening in mono forces me to focus on certain things I ordinarily might not - and that can be a very good thing. 

All of this pertains to the challenging lead off of this set: A Sea Symphony (No.1). Don't be frighted off simply because it's in mono - this recording is interpreted and performed extremely well. The voices are way to the front of the mix - more so than in any stereo recording I've heard, so already we have a unique perspective.

From the outset, with the brass fanfare opening, we can hear Boult's presence. He's a conductor whose sound is immediately distinct. One of Boult's great contributions is the attention he gives to inner voices, filling everything out with richness and tension. Like Sviatoslav Richter's piano approach, the effect is to reveal the inner working of the music in a different way - and in Boult's case, he was the first interpreter of many of these pieces. Considering the composer himself was present, I would love to know how much of the interpretation was Boult's initiative and how much of it RVW's - the important thing, I guess, is that this recording represents what they both wanted. 

John Cameron and Isobel Baillie are great soloists. Perhaps because of the mono sound, and the placement of them and the Choir, the articulation of Whitman's text is crisper than in many other versions. The 96kHz remastering assures that we'll hear all of the details possible. All of this makes for great listening. 

One of the most disappointing recordings of the set, in terms of the sound, is A London Symphony (No 2). I don't know why this one ended up so steely, and lacking the depth and color of several others in the set. Not all of that can be blamed on mono sound - there was a beautiful recording of London made by Sir Henry Wood in the 1930s, showing what could be accomplished with that technology. This one is unfortunately not so vibrant and warm. It is still valuable for all conductors and performers of the piece for the interpretation. Boult's pacing and phrasing here is, in some ways, a template for the many other recordings made since, and are worthy of study. The almost extremely broad interpretation of the second movement by Previn with the RPO in the 1980s, for instance, finds an antecedent and historical justification in Boult's opening to the same Lento movement here. What matters, of course, is whether the performance is ultimately successful on its own terms, but to have this sort of historical document is almost unique (Shostakovich's cycle with Kondrashin and the Moscow Philharmonic being another, similar gift).   

As far as I'm concerned the Pastoral Symphony (No 3) was Boult's wheelhouse. For my money, no one ever did better than him in tempi, texture, or the "swing" of the music, which seems like it's being created from the air around you as you listen, rather than even being read. Choosing between this version and his later stereo recording, I might opt for the stereo, but this has some unique features. Vaughan Williams wrote for both natural trumpet and horn in the second movement - giving them solos which are supposed to be deliberately out of tune. The natural trumpet player actually plays flat here, as does the French Horn - but probably because the composer was in the house and demanded it. Almost every other recording I've heard, while the soloists might try to give a nod to the basic idea, maintain pretty conventional intonation. It might be a controversial take, but I don't really think the natural pitch adds to the piece. Generations of recordings made where the soloists play with tempered pitch have shown that to be as effective or more musically, at least for me. But let's face it - the composer himself wanted something else, and in this recordings we hear what he wanted. The brass climax of the third movement has that real Boult "crunch" sound that no one else gets, and I find addictive. It's a remarkable recording.  

Oddly, I find it important to remind folks that the F minor Symphony (No 4) isn't just about dissonance and violence. To hear some commentators, you'd think this was all about the rise of fascism in Europe - that it was newsreel music. Despite protestations of the composer and his widow (who called it more of a self portrait than a discussion of current events) the narrative persists, almost a hundred years later. For what it's worth, I think that matters - that this music so impressed the public and continues to as a document of its era is impressive and meaningful (music is a communal event, after all). But I think it can obscure full appreciation of the work to view it this way.  

Sometimes it helps to listen to the music as though for the first time - and what strikes me now, especially in the first movement, is the abundance of beautiful melody. After a century of dissonance, RVW 4 really isn't shocking - except in its beauty despite the dissonance. Vaughan Williams himself thought it beautiful. In a letter to a friend (quoted by Michael Kennedy in the Eulenburg edition of the score) he wrote "When you say you do not think my F mi. Symph. beautiful my answer must be that I do think it beautiful..."

No one takes the melodic, flowing content of this symphony more seriously than Sir Adrian Boult. Listen to the flowing melodies that are throughout - focus on them awhile more than the dissonance - it will repay your efforts! 

This recording in this set is remarkable for being mono - so much detail is audible. The colors are all there, and the orchestra really plays well. 

Original LP release of Symphony No. 5
Eric Seddon Collection

This is an uneven set, when it comes to sound quality. Unfortunately, I find the D major Symphony (No 5) to be one of lesser quality. But the musicality is all there. Like the earlier RVW 2, this might not be the version you return for repeated listening, but with the composer present, and the interpretation so sound and foundational, every serious listener or performer will want to know this important historic recording. 

Original Release LP of Symphony No 6
Eric Seddon Collection

At one point, I'd collected over half of the the LPs from this cycle - I owned Symphonies 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, and 9. Unfortunately, a flooded basement and water damage seem to have claimed my recordings of 2, 3, and 7, but the others have survived. My copy of 6 is almost pristine vinyl, so it's possible to do a side by side comparison of the transfer quality to the original sound. To my ear the transferring done in 2002 did full justice to the originals, such as we possess them. This is really great news - it means those who own the CDs get the real deal. I can't find attribution for the remastering, but whoever did it for Decca at the time really gave us the best product available. 

This recording of Symphony No 6 in E minor is, like the other eight in this set, an essential reference for interpreters of the piece going forward, having been done in the presence of the composer himself. Like the 3rd and 4th of this cycle, the sound is generally good for its era - one of the better recorded of this set. The brass have the trademark Boult "crunch" for maximum intimidation - those inner voices all speaking menacingly, most particularly in the tense second movement.

Boult's scherzo, as has been noted by others, is not as ferocious as subsequent interpretations. I tend to like the horrible aural spectacle of an orchestra sawing itself in two for this movement, and so prefer those later versions by conductors like Slatkin and Previn, but all of that having been said, Boult once again tends to the melodic content first and foremost, and where it isn't exactly ferocious, it is certainly muscular. 

The pianissimo epilogue is one of the finest: it has a shimmering, hushed, almost starlit quality. Other recordings seem to represent this fourth movement as more desolate; somehow this version is more consoling, at least for me. Boult understands the overarching melodic content of this movement, and so it floats by seeming to move very quickly, but in fact lingers just correctly. Once again, despite protestations of the composer, this piece can't seem to separate itself from an imagined program. Since its first performances, it's been associated the end of WWII in the public imagination. I fall into this too - I mean what composer has ever depicted something so much like violent warfare, followed by desolation (which so many heard as a reference to the destroyed cities of Hiroshima, Nagasaki, or Dresden)? 

With that in mind, it's in this particular recording, most strongly, that I feel RVW asking humanity "Where will we go from here? The stars are shining on the dead, but we've been given another chance. What will we do when the sun rises again tomorrow?" 

This performance of the epilogue impressed the composer so deeply that we're about a minute and a half spoken address: RVW himself thanking the London Philharmonic for the sensitive and meaningful performance.   

This Sinfonia Antartica (No 7) is close to my heart, if only for the number of times I've changed friends' opinion of the piece by having them listen to Boult's opening. The climax of the introduction (in the score at the Largamente before rehearsal number 5) with the soaring French Horns answered by the strings is so powerful, even the least sympathetic of listeners have been moved to considering it again. For mono, this is a very compelling recording, and the "lift" Boult achieves with the orchestra is unique in the recording. 

There's a debate as to whether the superscriptions to each of the movements should be read aloud for concerts or recordings, but I think this recording puts that debate to rest. Sir John Gielgud recites them here, and that's good enough for me: they clearly belong. They add a necessary poetic element and direction to the piece that is essential.  

The wordless chorus here is clearly captured, and their performance is one of the strongest. The drama and contrast makes this one of my top picks for any of the recordings of No 7. Boult's scherzo is instructive: Leviathan music yielding to penguin music, dissolving into melody; the play of bright, sparkling ocean waves dancing about dark undercurrents maintained with a brighter sheen on this recording than so many others. Perhaps the mono sound forces us to listen more to the upper voices and textures, but in general, Boult's (and RVW's?) conception of the piece seems more hopeful and less despairing than other versions, demonstrating the vast interpretive range RVW's music.

Boult's reading of the Intermezzo is heartfelt but without sentimentality. The emotion comes from the direction of the phrases and how they are sung - always forward motion, never cloying. The destiny of the piece, after all, will not be stopped by these moments of beauty.  

The finale is resolute, brusque, shocking. This is an essential recording.

The recording of Symphony No 8 in D minor is really only of interest as a document, considering the composer was in the room. It's solid, for the most part, though the second movement is weak. The third movement, containing such lush and reflective music, seems rushed for no reason. The finale has spirit, but much of the detail is lost in a giant mush of sound, dominated oddly by overbalanced trombone at the end.    

Original Release LP for Symphony No 9
Eric Seddon Collection

Symphony No 9 in E minor, recorded in stereo for Everest, is another matter altogether. For me, this is really the most essential recording of the piece. Beginning with the haunting announcement of the composer's death the night before the recording session by Sir Adrian, the music takes on an elegiac character that cannot be matched. The sound is probably the finest of the set. Sure there are cleaner performances out there, crisper playing, but throw all concerns of raggedness aside - this is pure passion from Boult and the London Philharmonic. There are few recordings that match both the situation and the masterful playing. Sidney Bechet's recording of "Summertime" for a recording session that was supposed to include Tommy Ladnier (who had died the night before) and the Duke Ellington band's album dedicated to Billy Strayhorn immediately after he'd passed (...And His Mother Called Him Bill) are the two that immediately come to my mind. Musicians under these circumstances can imbue the music with a depth otherwise impossible. It seems to me this is such a recording. Every dedicated listener of Vaughan Williams's music should have it - and even every listener of 20th century orchestral music. 

To summarize: this set is essential for every devotee of Vaughan Williams, and should be required listening for all conductors of his symphonies. Get your hands on a set while you still can.  

A Remembrance of Michael Kennedy (1926 - 2014)

[ Note: I've spent the last several days listening to CDs and writing reviews of Vaughan Williams symphony cycles. I'll continue to do so here, but pause today to mention that dusting off the old recordings and reading the liner notes has reminded me of the importance of Michael Kennedy. You see, inevitably, even the most casual listener of Vaughan Williams will encounter the writing or thought of Michael Kennedy. Michael was the composer's friend and chosen musicologist. His analysis will always carry a bit more weight than anyone else's, just as Sir Adrian Boult's interpretations of the symphonies will always have pride of place. The reason is simple: both men were close to the composer himself, and best knew his ideas and opinions. Like anyone who has published research on Vaughan Williams, I've relied on Michael's work, even where I had any disagreements. Back in 2006,  certain disagreements came to the fore when we presented clashing understandings of the role of religion and religious symbolism in the composer's works at a symposium in Midhurst, Sussex. Regardless of our disagreements, meeting him was a high point of the weekend for me (along with meeting Dr. James Day, RVW's first biographer, and other luminaries such as Stephen Connock and Diana McVeagh - it was a lot of fun for a young RVW scholar).  

When Michael passed away in 2014, I wasn't active in scholarship (having turned most of my attentions to a performing career), but wrote this tribute to him on Facebook. Readers of the blog might want to know what it was like to meet, and debate, the man chosen by RVW to analyze his works for posterity. -E.S. ]

 RIP Michael Kennedy (1926-2014)

Michael Kennedy was a musicologist and critic who wrote for decades at the UK Telegraph. A personal friend of Ralph Vaughan Williams, he was asked by the great composer himself to write the definitive book on his music. After RVW's death, he produced a text which has remained the standard for all subsequent scholarship.

I had the honor of debating him in 2006, at a joint symposium of the RVW and Elgar Societies in Midhurst. I distinctly remember that for the first day and a half of the symposium he refused to speak to me or acknowledge my existence. When his presentation came around, however, he unloaded on my theories of religious symbolism in RVW's work such that no one could doubt his both marking and despising my earlier articles.

After that presentation I walked up to him, shook his hand, and thanked him for letting me off the hook by calling me out by name. He was very happy at my reaction--I think he enjoyed meeting a younger man who could take a punch. The next morning, I unloaded on his theories with equal strength, while showing him the respect he'd earned for a lifetime of service to music. After my presentation, both he and his wife thanked me for treating him so well, even in disagreement. He then encouraged me to write a book on Vaughan Williams's operas, and remained a supportive colleague after that meeting, however much he saw things differently.

Michael was a scholar from an earlier age--an age when people could disagree with full blooded passion, but still respect and even encourage their opponent. He was a gentleman, and the trusted friend of one of the finest composers who ever lived. I will miss his brand of toughness, honesty, and sense of fair play. I can only hope that in this current society dominated by ad hominem attacks and character assassination, men and women like Michael Kennedy will still find a place, and eventually hold sway.

Here is a picture of the two of us after my presentation in '06. Rest in Peace, Michael. I hope you have found the Celestial City we spoke of that weekend.

Eric Seddon and  Michael Kennedy, Midhurst, UK, 2006 (photo by Joyce Kennedy)

CD Box Review: Vaughan Williams * The Nine Symphonies * Gennady Rozhdestvensky * The State Symphony Orchestra of the USSR Ministry of Culture * Melodiya * Live 1988-89

The State Symphony Orchestra of the USSR Ministry of Culture

Gennady Rozhdestvensky, conductor

Tatiana Smolyakova, soprano (A Sea Symphony)

Boris Vasiliev, baritone (A Sea Symphony)

The Choir of the Leningrad Music Society (A Sea Symphony)

The Choir of the Rimsky-Korsakov Music College (A Sea Symphony)

Elena Dof-Donskaya, soprano (Pastoral Symphony & Sinfonia Antartica)

The USSR State Chamber Choir (Sinfonia Antartica)

This remarkable set of 6 CDs, with performances dating from before the fall of the Soviet Union, features Gennady Rozhdestvensky performing all nine symphonies of Ralph Vaughan Williams with the State Symphony Orchestra of the USSR Ministry of Culture. For those who prefer live performances, this set is almost a miracle - not only are these live broadcasts from what was then called the Grand Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonic Society, they are single takes. This is very rare. Most recordings marketed as "live" tend to be a compilation of several different performances. Not so here: they were each individual performances at single concerts. There is a minimal amount of coughing, page turning, and various background noises - just enough to remind you it was in front of an actual audience, and initial audience applause has been retained for all nine symphonies. I don't know about you, but for me this makes this set a true gem.

At the time these were made, there were still some substantial differences between Russian orchestral styles and those heard in London, Berlin, or elsewhere. Russian brass was more biting and aggressive, the basic tone of the French Horns often quite different. The oboe sound was more piercing and lighter colored (I don't want to say bright, because of the negative connotations among woodwind players - but typical Russian orchestral oboe playing wasn't always obsessed with the darker sounds one would hear in more regularly in the West). The string style likewise had it's own type of section play and expression - almost a vocal quality. So I wondered how this all would "translate" to the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams, the quintessential English composer, whose music seemed made for the British Brass sections of the LSO, LPO, RPO, or the Philharmonia.

The answer is that it translates shockingly well, and makes me wish more orchestras would record this cycle outside of Britain.

The Sea Symphony (No. 1) is the biggest challenge. With text by Walt Whitman, sung in English, listeners must prepare themselves for hearing a Russian accent (the way German audiences certainly have to brace themselves for an English accent when listening to many performances of Bach). Vaughan Williams himself, so committed to performances in the vernacular, would almost certainly have encouraged them to sing it in Russian, so I don't think any of the rest of us should care about the accent. Anyhow, the powerful solo singing of Tatiana Smolyakova and Boris Vasiliev immediately brush away any concerns. The choir is one of the finest to record piece, with power, subtlety of color and shadings, and exceptional slotting of the voices.

The orchestra is up to the challenge too - the brass don't sound as though they are Russifying the piece (a more difficult task than you might imagine - I've heard American brass not know quite what to do with Vaughan Williams's figurations and end up sort of Americanizing them). And there are some breathtaking moments too - when the oboe soars above the orchestra with a power I've never heard in a Western performance. By the end of disc one, I felt this was going to be a terrific cycle, and my worries were really over.

All of these were fine performances. The balance and precision wasn't the same as an air-brushed studio recording, it's true, but there are plenty of those beautifully edited recordings out there. The vigor and immediacy of these recordings are unmatched by studio cycles.

In my earlier review of Andre Previn's cycle with the London Symphony Orchestra, I talk about the decision many conductors seem to make when performing Vaughan Williams - whether to emphasize color or counterpoint. It appears Rozhdestvensky balances both in this cycle, and because of it, his Pastoral Symphony (No 3) and D major Symphony (No 5) are very good. The Fifth is one of my favorite recordings of the piece, by any orchestra.

The Eighth Symphony in this set is also one of the finest I've heard. It can be difficult to give a sensation of continuity in a piece that uses unusual orchestration in the first movement (including vibraphone and celesta), switches to all winds in the second, strings only in the third, then an extended orchestra in the forth (adding glockenspiel, tubular bells, tuned gongs and more). Somehow, Rozhdestvensky makes the whole thing seem like a dialogue between different parts of the orchestra, and it all makes perfect sense. The two interior movements are memorable - the singing quality of the strings in the third is different from many of the British recordings, and a welcome interpretation.

None of the performances strikes me as deficient. Some are less memorable than others, but you really can't go wrong with this set. I found the epilogue to the Sixth to be one of the best, the Ninth more compelling than many other recordings, A London Symphony (No 2) to be a solid interpretation and performance, and the Sinfonia Antartica to be very well delivered. But the high points for me were the Sea Symphony and the Fifth. They should definitely be a part of any Vaughan Williams devotee's collection.

A word about the Melodiya sound. Some people don't like the intensity of the old Melodiya discs - especially the Russian repertoire of Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, or Shostakovich. Be forewarned: I love the old Melodiya sound! Crisp, clear, strong - this is not the warm, rounded sound world of Deutsche Grammophon and von Karajan. I love those recordings too, but sometimes I just want something clear, bracing, and edgy. These Melodiya discs and performances aren't the most raw I've heard -they're not Svetlanov's Tchaikovsky cycle, for instance - but they have a clarity that is rare for Vaughan Williams. My advice is to embrace it. This is unlike any other Vaughan Williams cycle: true live performances by a Soviet era Russian orchestra. We'll probably never hear anything like it again. Get them while you still can.

CD Box Review: Andre Previn's Vaughan Williams Cycle with the London Symphony Orchestra from the 1970s on RCA

A couple of weeks back, I decided to listen to the Shostakovich String Quartets in order, all fifteen of them. It took me a weekend, but was a very rewarding project. Perhaps I'll post about them someday. Instead, the subject of this post was my very next listening project: to revisit the symphonies I know better than any others - the nine of Ralph Vaughan Williams. Between this past Friday evening and Sunday night, for the first time in about 25 years, I listened to all of Andre Previn's cycle with the London Symphony Orchestra from the 1970s, in order.

Previn's recordings of 3,4,6,8, and 9 were probably my first exposure to each of those symphonies. Shortly after after hearing them, however, other conductors' versions caught my ear. For some reason, I basically abandoned listening to Previn's set somewhere around 1998. They remain highly regarded among Vaughan Williams fans, though, so I felt it high time I revisited them.

The biggest take aways:

1. This version of A Sea Symphony (No 1) is truly great. I was riveted from beginning to end. It's clear Previn really knew Vaughan Williams's music comprehensively - he draws out thematic ideas that return throughout the composer's complete works, symbolically, perhaps better than any other version I've heard. It's not often a conductor can change my opinion of any of these pieces, I've lived with them and studied them so long, but Previn and the LSO managed moved the needle for me on the Sea Symphony - I no longer believe it to be a "prelude to greater works" or "final apprentice piece" of RVW: instead, it's in the discussion for the greatest of his works, and the foundation for the rest of his career. It's a real watershed moment; a "coming into his own" more like Beethoven's Eroica in terms of its importance in his career.

2. Back in the '90s, my absolute favorite from this cycle was the Pastoral Symphony (No. 3). Something about Previn's lingering lushness, where the outside world seems to disappear, really hit well with me then. It's very specific: rather than emphasizing the counterpoint (as Boult might), Previn focuses on color and blending - and by blending, I mean a really serious effort to create a sound world that is unique and subtle. It's still a very good recording, but it didn't blow me away, and that was a bit of a shocker. Also, the "pastoral era" of Vaughan Williams didn't strike me as Previn's strength in this cycle. The recordings are great, don't get me wrong, masterful even - but his versions of the London Symphony (No. 2) and Symphony in D major (No. 5) aren't the strongest. Interestingly, he re-recorded 2 & 5 in the 1980s with the RPO (and those are fantastic).

3. I remembered his F minor Symphony (No. 4) and E minor Symphony (No. 6) being excellent, but this weekend they were even better than I'd thought. The balance between counterpoint and color in #4 is nearly perfect. The orchestra responds with fire, but also with something monumental quality. Previn doesn't unleash the orchestra entirely, instead imbuing it with a statuesque quality, emphasizing (once again) sound and tone color. I think this annoyed me in my younger years - I craved the violence of Slatkin's interpretation especially - but with age I can appreciate Previn's vision.

Previn's #6 was excellent. I've sometimes been unconvinced by the 4th movement of this piece, but here it was incredible. It's essential that conductors realize this piece is the fulcrum to all of RVW's works - it begins in what we might call RVW's "middle style", but by the end, we've reached something of a different world, much as WWII ended one world and began another. Many people dislike the late symphonies of RVW - they want the pastoral, warm works of the 1920s and '30s. The last three symphonies are darker, more challenging to the ear. The final tipping point happens in #6. After the glorious, broad theme of the first movement, seemingly of triumph, the darkness descends. The second movement has the tension of a bombing raid, the third sounds like the orchestra will tear itself in two, and the forth seems like an aural depiction of desolation itself. Previn gets all of this. I don't know why we as human beings want music like this. Perhaps it's because we need to face certain truths we were prefer to avoid. Yet it fills a need, in the way the ancient tragedies did.

4. The recording of Symphony No 8 in this cycle might be my favorite. There are certainly other approaches one might take than Previn's, but this is really marvelous. Reading VW's symbolism becomes very important in these pieces - it's not just about execution - a conductor who doesn't know RVW's symbolic phrases can mow right over them and lose all the meaning - but Previn seems to know what is going on, and delivers. I can go into greater depth another time...the 8th is more important than most folks think.

5. The Sinfonia Antartica (No. 7) is likewise a great recording - Previn understands what is going on in the score, symbolically. He must have known RVW's choral works and operas quite well too, because this hits all the spots...and makes the work terrifying. If one doesn't know the correlation between the 'Glory to God' of Hodie and the Leviathan music of #7, they're going to miss something - likewise the keening of the Irish women in 'Riders to the Sea' becomes prominent in this symphony, coupled with the Apollyon music from The Pilgrim's Progress. If you don't know this, the symphony might be wrongly dismissed as a collection of climactic moments and eerie sound effects. Yet, if you are familiar with all that surrounded this piece in Vaughan Williams's output, the symphony becomes a massive and terrifying symbolic world - a heroic warning smacked down in the middle of the century. Previn hits those spots; activates that symbolism.

6. The 9th. What can I say about this recording of the 9th? I was disappointed. But I'm often disappointed in renditions of the 9th. The 9th is the type of work that can disturb one's sleep and haunt a person without giving satisfactory recompense. Very few match the depth and meaning of Sir Adrian Boult's recording with the London Philharmonic for Everest, the morning after the composer's death. Previn is in good company here though - not many conductors can get anywhere near Boult on the Ninth.