CD Box Review: Bernard Haitink * London Philharmonic * The 9 Symphonies of Vaughan Williams * EMI * 1984-2001 * Part 1: Symphonies 1-6

 

Bernard Haitink, LPO Vaughan Williams Cycle 2004 EMI release
Eric Seddon Collection

London Philharmonic Orchestra

London Philharmonic Choir

Bernard Haitink, conductor

Sheila Armstrong, soprano  Felicity Lott, soprano 

Amanda Roocroft, soprano  Ian Bostridge, tenor

Jonathan Summers, baritone

Sarah Chang, violin

I couldn't wait to get my hands on this box when it first came out in 2004. Haitink's cycle was nearly twenty years in the making, the earliest having been recorded in 1984 (Symphony No 6), the last released in 2001 (8 & 9). All were recorded in Abbey Road's Studio 1. Haitink's recording of Symphony 5 in D major was my introduction to the piece, way back in 1995. I was a graduate student in music history at the time, and before then had only heard one RVW symphony - Sir John Barbirolli's London Symphony with the Halle. While I loved that recording, it didn't inspire me to look into the rest of RVW's cycle. By contrast, Haitink's profound rendition of the fifth set me on a journey into Vaughan Williams's works that continues to this day.  

I believe Haitink to be an important interpreter of Vaughan Williams. I don't know if he set out to be deliberately unique, or if it was just the natural result of his being a Dutchman and therefore not bound to approach them in such an English way, but this is a different perspective than other cycles. I don't mean to say they lose their "Englishness" in his cycle, but there is a sense throughout these recordings that they are simply great music - not that they have to have a subset category of being great English music.  

It's astonishing to me that, considering how huge and complex a piece it is, there really aren't a bunch of lousy recordings of A Sea Symphony (No 1) out there. Like so many others, Haitink's satisfies. I'm not one who usually puts too much on the soloists - if they do the job in this piece, that's usually enough for me. But there is something different about Felicity Lott's singing in the first movement, and the way she blends, particularly at the end, with the chorus. It's a magical moment. There is a type of tranquillity that Haitink brings to Vaughan Williams's music, evident even in this first symphony - it's a quality that is becomes more pronounced as the cycle continues. Call it a living stillness at times, or a stillness without stopping. I think many musicians attempt this, but few achieve it. Some have derided this cycle as 'boring' but perhaps they aren't hearing the quiet tension, the movement below the surface of the music that Haitink reveals. These are not obvious recordings, but among the subtlest.

The choir here sounds more youthful than many recordings of the Sea Symphony. Perhaps it was. Credited are both the London Philharmonic Choir and a group called Cantelina (the Ladies Choir of the Colchester Institute of Music). There is less heavy vibrato, especially in the womens' voices - the result is a youthful freshness, and a lighter quality for what can become a very heavy piece in the wrong hands. If it didn't herald a new era of Vaughan Williams choral performance, this recording from 1989 was at least part of the sea change that paved the way for the many magnificent choral recordings of the 1990s, by many groups, featuring clarity and a youthfulness, without warbling vibrato. Here they achieve a numinous quality, similar to what we hear in the later Sancta Civitas. The ending moved me as much as any other great recording of the piece - be it Boult or Previn, or whomever - giving an odd, beautiful sense of safety amidst exploration (something VW would not always express, but certainly did here). Haintink's version is among the very best.     

A London Symphony (No 2) is the most accessible and 'normal' of the nine symphonies of Vaughan Williams for those who like big tunes and romantic sounding orchestration - it fits into the idea of 'nationalist' symphonies of the late 19th and early 20th century quite well, and is therefore a great introduction to his music. Haitink is once again unique for his sense of stillness at the beginning. This isn't music to listen to while driving to work or going for a walk - you'll find it boring if you do. Only sitting and listening carefully reveals the tension under the surface. I think it rewards that sort of listening, but my guess is that this is better for the seasoned Vaughan Williams fan - not a first exposure. As I suggested with Rostropovich's Tchaikovsky Cycle with this same orchestra a decade earlier, this is one to have as a contrasting interpretation, among more standard options like Boult, Previn, Handley, and Slatkin. Listen to the end of the epilogue, though. If anything proves RVW is not merely a 'nationalist' composer, but on to something more fundamental to the human soul, it's this ending of A London Symphony. Haitink lingers right to the edge of RVW's musical vision, allowing us to peer with him. 

Paired with this symphony on Disc 2 is the Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis. Haitink reveals glorious, ruminative music of shimmering textures and shades of meaning. 

Haitink's great strength as an interpreter of Vaughan Williams reveals itself more fully in the symphonies written after World War I - the ruminative, increasingly contrapuntal, meditative works take on new meaning and depth. The Pastoral Symphony (No 3), which was based upon RVW's wartime experience and has even been called the composer's "War Requiem" by Michael Kennedy is given a profound reading. The sound is gorgeous. The natural horn and trumpet moments are beautiful. Honestly, among the many great recordings of the third, I don't think any of them surpass Haitink and the LPO. Call it a stillness without stopping - deep waters shimmering on the surface. 

Symphony No 4 in F minor is one of the finest captured on record. The first movement is crisp, violent, and massive simultaneously. The second movement counterpoint floats as if effortlessly (but take a look at the score sometime and see how complicated it all is). The scherzo might be the most impressive. The rhythmic ideas are very complex and sometimes counterintuitive - listen to the soli bassoon section at the beginning of the movement and compare with other recordings. The bassoonists sometimes have a tricky time interpreting the rhythm at the top of this phrase, but here everything slots into place "as easy as falling off a log" as I heard one orchestral player put it. The flair of this music is fantastic - most orchestras are just trying to get the figures correct, but the LPO is beyond that, playing it meaningfully. I'm not sure I've heard the savage oompahs of the finale so well and tightly delivered and the swaggering melodies are played with appropriate cockiness. I don't think any version is better - it's only a matter of taste between this, Handley's, or Slatkin's. They each have their case to make and you can't go wrong with any of them.   

The centerpiece of Haitink's cycle, though, is the Symphony No 5 in D major. From the very opening pedal tone in the bass and the horn call reminiscent of both Ravel and Sibelius (to whom the symphony was dedicated), the music is imbued with luminosity unmatched in any other recording of this work. We seem immediately beyond time - the warmth and lift achieved by Haitink gives new meaning to the music. I think it was Frank Howes (an early critical champion of RVW's music) who called this symphony the 'Benediction.' It certainly feels like a blessing here. Sitting with the score as I write this, I'm just marveling. The orchestra is so good, and the pacing perfect. The second movement scherzo is, admittedly, not as crisp as some other recordings, but the Romanza third movement has exactly the sacred quality it deserves. The original inscription above the third movement read "He hath given me rest by His sorrow and life by His death." It's a moment taken from RVW's opera, The Pilgrim's Progress, which he feared would never get staged (it did, finally, in 1951). The Passacaglia fourth movement feels like a folk dance in heaven at times. This recording lives up to Michael Kennedy's description of the fifth as the 'Symphony of the Celestial City.'

I consider this to be the greatest moment of Haitink's cycle, and couldn't recommend it more strongly. It's one of the greatest recordings not only of a Vaughan Williams symphony but, in my opinion at least, of any symphony, and deserves to be in everyone's collection.   

Also included on this disc are an excellent recording of Norfolk Rhapsody No 1 and The Lark Ascending, played by a very young Sarah Chang on violin. Ms. Chang was only 14 years old or so when making this record, and it's unfortunate she was rushed into the project. She plays the violin beautifully, and the LPO accompanies well, but there is a real lack of meaning - she flies through the figures as though they are exercises (this has got to be one of the fastest Larks on record). I fear she was simply too young for the piece - and I'd love to hear another version from her now, because her playing is technically beautiful and can only have gotten deeper. 

Symphony No 6 in E minor was the first recorded of this cycle. I was concerned there might be a noticeable difference in quality or sound reproduction, as there were considerable advances in CD recording between 1984 and 2001, but there is nothing to worry about - it matches the rest of the cycle. The opening movement is brilliant - the contrast between the first and second, jazzier theme is more pronounced than nearly any other recording. Haitink really moves the music quickly here. If anyone tells you his tempi are universally slow, don't believe them. This and the aforementioned F minor Symphony (No 4) are proof Haitink's tempi are as varied as any cycle. The broad tune with harp - the Purcellian moment we all wait for in the first movement - is likewise contrasted, starting simply then soaring, as it should. No one does these moments better than Haitink. 

The second moves with real direction and pace as well - perhaps the fleetest other than Slatkin's, which was to follow nearly a decade later for his masterful cycle with the Philharmonia on RCA. The fullness, yet transparent lightness of the sound achieved by the LPO and the crew at Abbey Road is maintained throughout with the greatest consistency. Haitink's concept of blending is more continental in style - the instruments merge into each other to create new sounds rather than remaining distinct, as in more typically British style. This gives a totally different texture to these performances than Vernon Handley's with the RLPO. Both are among the very best cycles of RVW out there, and I wouldn't say one was any more important than the other, but they show different facets of this flexible music which can yield so much. The tension Haitink builds at the end of the second movement through stringendo and the thundering, contrasted with drawing back, is amazing - the listener almost wants this impending doom to stop, but Haitink & Co won't let it. The musical insistence is supreme, until the tense truce declared by the strings and cor anglais, beautifully delivered.

The tenor saxophone soloist in the scherzo is one of the finest ever recorded for this piece. It's a shame recordings never include the names of the actual musicians. Everyone else and his brother is listed in the credits, but not the musicians who performed. It's the most bizarre and unfair aspect of the classical recording world over the past century. The rest of the scherzo is great - emphasizing the monumental aspect of the catastrophic vision of the piece, perhaps, though there is plenty of violence as well. 

Haitink's fourth movement epilogue seems quicker paced than most recordings, but that's only because he stays true to the metronome marking in the score (quarter note = 56). Check out the score sometime, if you can read music. Look at the number of times RVW writes senza cresc. ("without crescendo") and see the number of beautiful, fully exposed solos where that is accomplished by the musicians of the LPO - the bass clarinet, the oboe, the french horns, trumpets. Pitch is maintained virtuosically. It's a beautifully, hauntingly effective recording of the piece to the very end.

Rounding out this disc is In the Fen Country - in a satisfyingly expansive reading you'd expect from Haitink - and the orchestral version of On Wenlock Edge, featuring Ian Bostridge singing the tenor. RVW preferred the orchestral version (probably made in 1922) to the original chamber version. This recording is exceptional - Bostridge is as good as it gets on this repertoire, and the pairing with Haitink is fortunate indeed.     

 

Haitink's version of Sinfonia Antartica (No 7) is one of the more pessimistic readings available, which is justified: it's probably RVW's most pessimistic symphony. The initial brass climax of the Prelude doesn't sound triumphant as in Boult or Slatkin's versions, but menacing and wary. The strings, Sheila Armstrong's wordless soprano, and the women's choir are chilling. 

The second movement is masterful. The recorded sound places the listener almost aurally inside the orchestra (this is a feature of this cycle as a whole). All of the sound effects and instruments are heard clearly. The penguin music, often barbarically treated, is played lightly with a sense that penguins are actually cute! And who doesn't want cute penguins? Much better than the savage nightmare penguins of some recordings.  

If you struggle with depression, maybe skip this landscape movement. Boy this is a grim one! I mean, it's a grim piece - in this reading it really sounds like RVW's 'anti-Sea Symphony' Symphony; almost a negation of youthful optimism. Whatever else you might say, you can't accuse Haitink of trying to rosy things up. The intermezzo is suitably nostalgic and broad. 

The epilogue is stoic, as the beginning, and overall this is a stoic reading of Sinfonia Antartica rather than heroic.   

One way of looking at the last three symphonies of Vaughan Williams is that they're a set of reflections on his career as a whole: Sinfonia Antartica a stoic, pessimistic reflection on A Sea Symphony, while the 8th and 9th symphonies, ultimately, have the same psychological program: leave taking. That two symphonies by the same composer should have similar programs isn't surprising. Tchaikovsky's 4th and 5th have the same trajectory - a fate motif overcome. Similarly, Beethoven 5 and 9 harken back to the Eroica. Vaughan Williams gives us 8 and 9, which seem to be wresting with dark questions, seeking resolution in a nocturnal landscape, finding release among the stars. 

Symphony No 8 in D minor opens with vibraphone, celesta, harp and a questioning trumpet. Jokingly referred to by its composer as "variations in search of the theme" the score actually calls it "Variazioni senza tema" (variations without a theme). It strikes me as the closest movement in RVW's works to Ives's Unanswered Question. Haitink gives it a broad existential reading here - and he remains committed to this throughout the piece. The second movement is a biting march scherzo for the winds only. If Sinfonia Antartica is a stoic reflection on A Sea Symphony, this march is a commentary on VW's earlier wind band music. The elegaic movement for strings also seems a tender reflection on the Tallis Fantasia and Variants on Dives and Lazarus. The fourth movement once again gives the sensation, thanks to the sound quality, of being inside the music itself - the slower tempo enables us to hear many details inaudible on other recordings. As with others in this cycle, this isn't a standard interpretation - for that you'd turn to Barbirolli, Handley, Boult's second recording of the piece, or Slatkin. But Haitink seems to approach this with a seriousness others don't. Whether that seriousness is compelling to listeners is probably a matter of personal taste. 

Symphony No 9 returns to the E minor of the Sixth Symphony, and is RVW's ultimate leave taking. Inspired by Thomas Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles, it begins with a vision of Stonehenge at night, travels across Salisbury Plain to the beat of a ghostly drummer, until climbing the spire of Salisbury Cathedral into the stars. 

Haitink's 9 begins gentler than most other renditions, emphasizing lyricism rather than dread. It's more majestic than imposing, more heroic than harrowing. I appreciate this interpretation, as the last three symphonies of Vaughan Williams can be very dark, psychologically - that Haitink seems to view the Sinfonia Antartica as the low point of pessimism in the cycle and a continuous arc higher from that point is releiving. His engagement with the counterpoint is more lyrical, less savage than other recordings. The flugelhorn playing here is some of my favorite. What a mournful instrument the flugel is in this context. On the original release of the CD, Ann McAneney was given credit, but for some reason she was omitted in the credits for the box set. 

The second movement continues its course and Haitink remains committed to a lyrical interpretation. This is part of the reason I've called the 5th symphony the center of this set: you can finally hear how the 9th relates back to the 5th. In most cycles, they bear very little resemblance. There is more light and contrast in Haitink's 9th than in other versions.

The third movement reminds me of how well John Williams must have known this piece. So much from Star Wars and E.T. seem prefigured. The textures revealed by Haitink at the beginning of the fourth movement harkens back to music from Hodie and the portraits from the England of Elizabeth. Haitink transforms what is often performed as relentless and grim to a gentler landscape, more dance-like in expression. The blending of the orchestra in the massive sections is gorgeous - no two colors are alike from moment to moment. For me this is the finest recording of Vaughan Williams 9: my first recommendation for anyone approaching it. It almost seems like the piece languished, misunderstood, for over forty years, until recorded here.

In summary, I think the Haitink cycle is unique in its perspective and important for serious listeners of RVW. It focuses on sound and lyricism, placing the Symphony No 5 at the center. I consider it a contrasting cycle to Boult, Handley and the others - listeners will probably want to hear a more traditional approach before tackling these, but once you really know them, you'll want to hear the great Dutchman's ideas, executed so beautifully by the London Philharmonic.  

  

CD Review: Benny Goodman * Air Play * Doctor Jazz * 1986 release (live takes from 1936-38)

In 1986, with little fanfare, the Doctor Jazz label put out a double LP containing remasters of Benny Goodman air checks under the title of Air Play. Despite the unfortunate choice of putting an elderly Benny on the cover, these were actually live performances of the 1936, 1937, and 1938 Goodman band, quartet, trio, and even a rare duo between Benny Goodman and Teddy Wilson. The original acetates had been given to Goodman by Thomas Ciano of Long Island, transferred by D.R. Connor, and represent some of the finest examples of Goodman's band from its most important period.

 

The catalogue of live Goodman is fairly vast, and there are better known collections out there, including the famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Concert, multiple volumes of the Camel Caravan, and the "Complete" Madhattan Room Broadcasts. But even with those essential recordings in mind, if I was to recommend only one album of live Goodman material, it would be Air Play.

Though this double LP set was eventually released in 1989 on a single CD, and therefore is considerably shorter than the other live sets mentioned above, these arguably represent the finest live performances we have of Goodman. Each different band is presented in top form. Leading off with 1937 checks, it's Harry James's leadership of the trumpet section that leaps out of the speakers at us. The young James's presence is so stunning, and the trumpet section of Ziggy Elman and Chris Griffin so tightly pulled along in his irresistible tide of sound, that we can understand why Duke Ellington called this trio the "wonder of the age", and why Cootie Williams made it a professional goal to one day play in the Goodman band. For me, this is the hardest swinging, best sounding trumpet section ever assembled.

Matching that intensity and swagger is Goodman's clarinet. Too often, it was suggested by jealous, hardly disinterested parties that Goodman was a mere technician. These recordings refute such an accusation more eloquently than any others. Few moments in clarinet history thrill me quite the way Benny's statement of the theme on an up-tempo "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" from January 19, 1937. His tone is absolutely commanding: solid, flexible, muscular; his swing is a perfection of paradox--loosely firm, sweetly punching, relaxed tension--the limber, balanced boxer of jazz clarinet. It's a very short moment, but any clarinetist wanting to understand the essence of Goodman's musical style needs to attempt this solo with the same commanding presence. They will soon find that the Goodman mystique and style ultimately have very little to do with flashiness. Musical and tonal depth are the true sources of Goodman's interpretive sense.

One of the acetates was from a shortwave broadcast from New York to the BBC. According to the notes, Gene Krupa had the flu and couldn't make the gig. Because of this, we're treated to a Goodman/Wilson duo for "Body & Soul"-- arguably the finest performance of a tune that they "owned" anyway, followed immediately by "Dinah" with Lionel Hampton added on vibes. Benny was known for making his winds rehearse at times without rhythm section--he would insist that each section be able to swing on their own. This, in part, accounts for the unique drive of the Goodman band. In the duo and trio, we hear how this sort of swing was present in each of the members, independently of drum support.

There are as many gems here as tracks--including a solo performance by Jess Stacy of Bix Beiderbecke's "In a Mist", a definitive version of "You Go To My Head" with Martha Tilton taking the vocal, and (for me at least) the definitive quartet version of "Stompin' at the Savoy". The inner voicings of Lionel Hampton's soloing on "Stompin" are the most eloquent of the many I've heard, and the acetate transfer is uniquely excellent. The most famous version of this, from the Carnegie Hall concert, sounds overwrought and tense in comparison.

On "You're Blasé", the trio is yet another unique configuration, with Lionel Hampton taking over on drums. This charming little tune was never recorded in the studio by Goodman's "classic" quartet or trio.

Bud Freeman, whose tenure with Goodman was so fleeting, was even present on several tracks, demonstrating particularly on "Bumble Bee Stomp" why he is such a seminal figure in the development of the tenor saxophone.

The liner notes by Leonard Feather are a refreshing example of excellent jazz criticism. Instead of ideological vagaries, Feather engages the music itself, commenting intelligently about certain aspects of the arrangements, and the forms of tunes. Moreover, as a historian, he deftly places Goodman in proper context when he writes:

Swing music, in fact, was a phenomenon that had been around for years; all that was needed to bring it into focus was an individual in whom (and around whom) all its essential characteristics could coalesce, in such a manner that its appeal would cut across barriers and result in mass popularity both for the artist and for the idiom he represented.

It was not surprising that Benny Goodman was that individual. He was the first genuine virtuoso jazz orchestra leader ever to front an ensemble of this quality. Duke Ellington's genius was expressed more through his orchestra than at the piano; Louis Armstrong, incomparable as a soloist, never had a band worthy of him and was busy trying to get his sax section to emulate the sound of Guy Lombardo.   

Finally, one of the more hauntingly beautiful moments in air check history occurs with Goodman's sign off number, Gordon Jenkins' "Goodbye", when two announcers close the evening's broadcast--one in Japanese and one in English, as the broadcast was transmitted not only to the United States, but Tokyo for the many jazz fans in Japan. This peace-filled moment of cultural exchange is made more poignant with what we 21st century listeners know: that many of those listening and dancing to this music would be plunged into a terrible conflict only two years later, undoubtedly claiming lives from those ranks. The great era of American musical romanticism ushered in by the Goodman band would be almost as short lived as the war itself, the consequences of which made, in many ways, the type of music making Goodman and his colleagues made on these air checks impossible shortly thereafter.

This is an essential collection for anyone who loves American music or jazz.

CD Review: Tchaikovsky Symphonies 5 & 6 * Mstislav Rostropovich * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Parlophone * 1976

 

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Mstislav Rostropovich, conductor, solo cello

Warner Music re-release box set of 6 CDs, containing Tchaikovsky's Symphonies 1-6, 'Manfred' Symphony, Romeo & Juliet, Francesca Da Rimini, '1812' Overture, and the Rococo Variations

Discs 5 & 6:

Symphony No 5

Variations on a Rococo Theme (Seiji Ozawa, conductor, Boston Symphony Orch)

Overture '1812'

Symphony No 6 'Pathetique'

Rostropovich's interpretation of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No 5 in E minor begins so slowly it's alarming. But throughout this set, I've learned to trust and be patient. That patience is once again rewarded. This is not to be understood as a conventional take on this work, and isn't the recording I'd choose to introduce listeners to Tchaik 5. For a basic introduction, I'd suggest the famous recording of Mravinsky with Leningrad on Deutsche Grammophon. Two other great recordings in a more standard vein are George Szell with Cleveland or Zubin Mehta's fine recording from the 1970s with the Los Angeles Philharmonic (a really great cycle in general, too often overlooked).

This recording of the Fifth is more like a controversial soloist's take on a beloved and overplayed concerto. The risks all pay off - we're all glad he took them by the end - but it isn't exactly what you're expecting going in. Once again, the fact that it was recorded in Kingsway Hall gives the orchestra a massive quality that is difficult to replicate on other recordings, and the attention to detail is nothing short of remarkable (one wonders how much rehearsal time or retakes of sections went into it). The finale stands out in particular - the attentive listener will likely hear lines they've never heard before, with an unparalleled clarity.

The Rococo Variations were recorded with Seiji Ozawa and the Boston Symphony, in Boston Symphony Hall, with Rostropovich as soloist. I'm a clarinetist and saxophonist, and this is Mstislav Rostropovich on cello. How on earth am I going to critique his playing? The man was a legend and this recording is therefore self recommending. Listen and enjoy.

The final disc in this Tchaikovsky box begins with the 1812 Overture, recorded with the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington D.C.'s Kennedy Center. That hall has a beautifully warm sound (I've had the good fortune to play there, and was the warmest hall I'd ever played, soundwise). This is a solid interpretation of the piece. Unlike so many in this set, Rostropovich doesn't opt for a broad reading. It's all pretty standard tempi, executed cleanly with some verve by the NSO.

Symphony No 6 in B minor 'Pathetique' returns us for the final installment of the cycle recorded (mostly) in Kingsway Hall, London, with the London Philharmonic, in October of 1976. Once again, the listener has to be patient and trust where Rostropovich is taking us in the first movement, and I think he does deliver at the big moments. The 5/4 waltz of the second and the march of the third are both delivered in a more standard way - very effective and with great color by the orchestra and hall. The fourth movement is heartfelt, with the LPO strings approaching the almost vocal quality of the finest Russian orchestras. It wouldn't be my first choice of Pathetiques, but it is a very good rendition of the piece.

So looking at this set as a whole, I'd say it lived up to my expectations. This is a cycle where the orchestral sound and Kingsway Hall are the stars. I don't think you'll find a set with richer and more diverse colors. The one symphony that was recorded outside of Kingsway (the so-called 'Polish' symphony No 3) might just be the finest version of the piece I've heard on record, so it's not a disappointment.

My recommendation for a first cycle (with Manfred) would be Evegeny Svetlanov's live cycle with the USSR State Symphony Orchestra from the 1960s - although Western listeners should beware: it's as raucous a Russian recording as you can get. Without Manfred, I'd recommend Zubin Mehta's with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. I think the Mravinsky recordings of 4,5 and 6 are a must for every collection. But as a contrasting cycle, delivering very different, broad interpretations with gorgeous detail and sound, this really can't be beat. Get one before they all disappear. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

CD Review: Tchaikovsky's Manfred Symphony * Mstislav Rostropovich * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Parlophone * 1976

 

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Mstislav Rostropovich, conductor

Maxim Vengerov, violin

Warner Music re-release box set of 6 CDs, containing Tchaikovsky's Symphonies 1-6, 'Manfred' Symphony, Romeo & Juliet, Francesca Da Rimini, '1812' Overture, and the Rococo Variations

Disc 4:

'Manfred' Symphony

Serenade Melancholique

Despite being the longest of Tchaikovsky's career, calling for the largest forces, Manfred is no one's favorite symphony, and is (wrongly, in my opinion) excluded from most recorded cycles. I'm not quite sure why. Certainly it's a meandering piece, lacking the cohesive form of the six numbered symphonies, but this is a program symphony, after all. Mahler symphonies don't meander less, and they are still popular. The program itself might be the biggest problem. Lord Byron's dramatic poem never enjoyed the cultural status it did in the 19th century, and is generally not the sort of plot people choose to immerse themselves in for an hour.

For late 20th century audiences, perhaps the most effective use of 'Manfred' was as music for the soundtrack to the 1977 BBC production of Anna Karenina, starring Nicola Pagett and Stuart Wilson. Here all the beauty, passion, and regret come together with a masterful story (and brilliant acting). The soundtrack didn't use this recording (which was released in the same year) but went with Evegeny Svetlanov's classic version with the USSR State Symphony Orchestra. It works so well that I've often jokingly suggested we rename it the 'Anna Karenina' Symphony, rewrite the program, and put Nicola Pagett on the cover. I'll bet it would do better in the concert hall and in record sales!

Wishful silliness aside (though I'm not even half joking), this version, while lacking the fire and brimstone of Svetlanov's (a recording I think every Tchaikovsky fan should hear) this set has the power to convert those who might not otherwise have liked it. There are moments (especially in the second and final movement) which sound like proto-Shostakovich. And here, Rostropovich seems to have transformed the London Phil into a Russian orchestra, so biting are the brass and winds at times, so savage the lower strings.

The first movement, which meanders in any recording (it's a portrait of Manfred wandering in the Alps, after all), is a little stagnant compared to others, until the massive final climax (which is perhaps the most overpowering moment in all the Tchaikovsky symphonies - and why no set can really be called complete without it). Once again, a great strength is the clarity of the recording in Kingsway Hall - how the details are revealed. Even if the interpretation isn't the most dynamic, we can revel in the sound of the orchestra itself. They are amazing.

The second movement isn't disappointing at all. Fleet and lively, it really delivers with the virtuosity of the LPO winds, in particular. The third movement will strike some listeners as too broad, but see my earlier comment about Kingsway Hall and reveling in the sound itself.

The fourth movement opening section blows me away - it really sounds like proto Shostakovich at times. Rostropovich brings out all the visionary qualities (in a musical sense).The organ climax - with that Kingsway Hall organ - is not to be missed! So even if this isn't your favorite piece, or your favorite interpretation, it's a great and unique recording well worth listening to.

The Serenade Melancholique Opus 26 for violin and orchestra is tagged at the end of this disc. It was recorded in Abbey Road's Studio 1 more than twenty years after Manfred, in 1999. It features Maxim Vengerov on violin and is a beautiful recording.

CD Review: Tchaikovsky Symphony No 4 * Francesca da Rimini * Mstislav Rostropovich * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Parlophone * 1977

 

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Mstislav Rostropovich, conductor

Warner Music re-release box set of 6 CDs, containing Tchaikovsky's Symphonies 1-6, 'Manfred' Symphony, Romeo & Juliet, Francesca Da Rimini, '1812' Overture, and the Rococo Variations

Disc 3:

Symphony No 4 in F minor

Francesca da Rimini

In October of 1976, a week after recording Tchaikovsky's Third Symphony in Abbey Road Studio 1, Mstislav Rostropovich and the London Philharmonic returned to Kingsway Hall in London to resume the rest of the cycle with Symphony No 4 in F minor.

Perhaps more than any other of Tchaikovsky's symphonies, No 4 lays bare the contrast between Eastern and Western styles. When these recordings were made, there was still as distinct difference between Russian and Western European symphony orchestras. Soviet era ensembles such as the Leningrad Philharmonic and the State Symphony of the USSR Ministry of Culture featured aggressive, pointed, brass sections and drastic, extreme dynamic contrasts between the sections. Performances that would be considered savage, barbaric, or excessive (however much they might impress technically) in the West were routine in the East. The Berlin Philharmonic of the time, directed by Herbert von Karajan, was notable for their consummate blending, the richness of sound, and the desire to always make the music beautiful, however loud it might get. What might be called the London style (as practiced by the major orchestras there) focused less on the type of merged blending of Berlin, instead presenting each color of the orchestra in as balanced and dynamic a way - emphasizing the different sounds of the orchestra's sections distinctly. By contrast, the Soviet era orchestras would drive with passionate energy to the degree that, at times, all winds and strings blend to a white frenzy of fortissimo. This is not to everyone's tastes in the West, but it remains an important part of the tradition of performing Tchaikovsky. (I personally love it). So, as with my trepidation when approaching the Soviet cycle of Vaughan Williams symphonies by Rozhdestvensky, I admit to wondering if the LPO would deliver a satisfying performance for one of my leanings.

Short answer: they did.

Longer answer: The french horns open with an almost Russian bite to their sound, and we're off! The trumpets are slightly more staid than you'll hear from Mravinsky or Svetlanov's Soviet era recordings, but those are extreme examples, and the LPO sounds magnificent. Rostropovich focuses more on beauty than passion in this music, and the tempi are often slightly broader than most recordings, but once again Kingsway Hall is a major star of the show - and I enjoy the lingering to hear the beautiful playing. Also, and I can't stress this enough: Rostropovich has an arc to the emotion in this music. Symphony after symphony of this cycle - and even Romeo and Juliet - are paced to deliver the absolute climax towards the end of the pieces. This includes the interior movements: where other conductors might opt to go for climax after climax within the piece itself, Rostropovich sees the whole work and gages the drama to reflect the whole.

In other words, patient listening is rewarded - wait and let Rostropovich unfold his vision. It's worth it, believe me. The slow movement here is quite gentle compared to many other recordings, and lingers more too. The Pizzicato Scherzo is one of the finest for clarity and melodic direction, but the real satisfaction comes in the finale. By the end, the passion and fire are fully lit - and we understand what Rostropovich was driving at this whole time.

This is a highly satisfying Tchaikovsky 4 by a Western orchestra.

They returned to Abbey Road Studio 1 for in May of 1977 for the recording of Francesca da Rimini, and you really can hear the difference between the Studio and the magnificence of Kingsway Hall. Still, it is beautifully recorded. And what an orchestra! Mountainous sound, but each part distinguishable. This is the strength of the British approach, in my opinion: each instrument delineated beautifully and fully, regardless of dynamic. It makes the color palette of the composition shine, and with Tchaikovsky there is always plenty of color. Having said this, the brass sound absolutely Russian in their brashness of the climax! The strings sound like the flames of hell (and I mean that in...uh...the best possible way). The ending is, as it should be, terrifying.

I'm not sure if I would buy this individually, but as part of the cycle, it's great. Bottom line: this is a successful disc three, and the cycle continues to impress.

CD Review: Tchaikovsky Symphony No 3 * Romeo & Juliet * Mstislav Rostropovich * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Parlophone * 1978

 

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Mstislav Rostropovich, conductor

Warner Music re-release box set of 6 CDs, containing Tchaikovsky's Symphonies 1-6, 'Manfred' Symphony, Romeo & Juliet, Francesca Da Rimini, '1812' Overture, and the Rococo Variations

Disc 2:

Symphony No 3 in D major "Polish"

Romeo and Juliet - Fantasy Overture

In my first review of this set, I made a big deal of the fact that this cycle was recorded at Kingsway Hall in London - it was, in fact, a primary reason for my purchasing it. There is one exception among the symphonies: the Third Symphony in D major was recorded in Studio 1 of Abbey Road Studios from October 13-15, 1976. There isn't a really noticeable drop off in sound quality. Some of the depth achieved in Kingsway is sacrificed, but the clarity is off the charts. For whatever it's worth to listeners, this is the only symphony of this box set that wasn't recorded at Kingsway - and it's a great performance.   

From the opening pizzicato of the bass section, this record is gripping. The orchestra's response to the most subtle fluctuations of tempo or dynamics is astonishing. Rostropovich interprets every line with the subtlety of the great soloist he was - and not just the string lines or melodies, but every bit of contrapuntal or accompaniment activity. Every detail is charged with meaning - I heard passages never audible on other recordings. Rostropovich knows the architecture of the piece so well that everything is perfectly paced. Conductors can get ham fisted or savage with the first movement of this piece, but not here. It's noble, exciting, glorious. 

The second movement is taken at a real waltz tempo - the interplay between the woodwinds is an example of fine section work at its best. The third movement opens as a true elegy - a broader tempo (justified by its execution) than many other recordings. Rostropovich's reading imbues the movement with the type of Russian landscape tone painting we hear in the slow movement to the Symphony No 1. So often the third symphony is overlooked: this recording is proof that it shouldn't be. 

The scherzo is taken briskly - the gossamer textures of the strings contrasting to the fleet exclamations of the winds, reminding us of the dance of the snowflakes from the Nutcracker - such a challenging movement, with such crisp, yet tonally full execution. I'll continue the drumbeat that all the musicians should be listed in the notes to every recording. That we can't name the members of the flute, oboe, or clarinet section here, or the trombone soloist, for instance, is criminal. 

The finale is what one would expect after the first four movements - detail, precision, direction, all of it a masterful performance of the piece. Rostropovich and the LPO have delivered a performance worthy of this neglected masterpiece. It's the finest performance of No 3 I've ever heard. 

This recording of the fantasy overture Romeo and Juliet was recorded about a year later, in August of 1977, also at Abbey Road. The opening is broader than most. This is a hallmark of Rostropovich's approach to this whole set. I'm usually highly critical of a broad approach to Tchaikovsky, but Slava & Co manage to sustain the musical interest and forward motion throughout. Still, while it's polished, meaningful, and extremely well performed, it sometimes lacks for me a certain amount of youthful fire and vigor early on. For that, I'd suggest Mikhail Pletnev's recording with the Russian National Orchestra from a couple of decades later. Having said that, no one in their right mind wouldn't want this recording as part of the set. It's worth it just to have Rostropovich's interpretation of the soaring love theme with the french horns coming over the top, and the climax of the whole piece. Musicians will learn a lot about the details - it's an excellent study recording for those interested in how the piece is put together - and the ending does not disappoint. The tympani figure is like doom itself. The chorale at the end a reminiscence that this was, after all, a tone poem about a play written by the same man who penned A Midsummer Night's Dream. The timpani roll at the end reminds us he also wrote Hamlet. No one will feel their twenty minutes was wasted listing to such a rendition.  If you love Tchaikovsky, you'll want this disc in your collection. 

 

 

CD Review: Tchaikovsky Symphonies 1 & 2 * Mstislav Rostropovich * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Parlophone * 1976

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Mstislav Rostropovich, conductor

Warner Music re-release box set of 6 CDs, containing Tchaikovsky's Symphonies 1-6, 'Manfred' Symphony, Romeo & Juliet, Francesca Da Rimini, '1812' Overture, and the Rococo Variations

Disc 1:

Symphony No 1 "Winter Dreams"

Symphony No 2 "Little Russian" (or "Ukranian")

I'm not familiar enough with Rostropovich's career to say whether these were his debut recordings as a conductor, but they were made only a couple of years after his defection from the Soviet Union, so they must have at least a little historical importance within his catalog.

Nearly all of them were recorded in Kingsway Hall in London -- a legendary recording venue for symphony orchestras which was sadly demolished in 1998. If you want to hear absolutely incredible orchestral sound, the recording of Vaughan Williams's The Pilgrim's Progress by Sir Adrian Boult with the LPO in 1972 is a fine example. I doubt anywhere but Kingsway Hall would have allowed or yielded the colors, range of power, etc.

Anyone who has played in a symphony orchestra will tell you the hall is a determining factor in the identity of an orchestra's sound. Severance Hall in Cleveland, Carnegie in NY, the Musikverien in Vienna, the Kennedy Center in DC -- these are not merely interchangeable buildings, but halls which place sonic demands on the performers. The best of them reward excellence, and Kingsway Hall was second to none for recording purposes. That all but Symphony #3 in this set were recorded there made it a must buy for me. Seriously. I bought this set largely because I wanted to hear what the Tchaikovsky symphonies would sound like in Kingsway Hall.

The sound does not disappoint. Like the other great Kingsway/London Phil recordings of that era, the orchestra can sound massive -- all the colors of the instruments can be developed and contrasted, and a sense of warmth, but with vast space in the music, is present. It really is astonishing. Because of this, Rostropovich has a very free hand in how to shape the music -- and his hand, at least in this first disc, seems darn near unerring.

This interpretation of Symphony No 1 ("Winter Dreams") is different from any others I've heard. His tempi are often slightly slower than my favorites of the past, but the response of the orchestra to even his slightest fluctuations is so attentive and organic...it's phenomenal music making.

I'm very picky about this piece. I dislike the tendency of many conductors to get lost in Tchaikovsky's melodies -- to wallow around in them or stretch them. In general, if you perform his works with an eye to form and crispness of expression, they are much more satisfying. The melodies will take care of themselves--and are more beautiful if played with sincerity rather than sentimentality. The very opening of the First Symphony is for me the most dangerous spot. If a conductor starts too slowly here, it ruins the whole piece for me--the intensity of the opening question presented by the flutes and bassoons is lost.

Rostropovich begins at a slightly slower tempo than my past favorites (Mehta with LA circa 1976 and Svetlanov with State Symphony of the USSR circa 1965) but his use of gentle stringendo is captivating. The orchestra is incredibly responsive to him throughout. Most striking is the massive sound of the orchestra compared to many other recordings, yet the music doesn't lose its fleet crispness.

The attention to detail is remarkable -- inner voices emphasized which are usually lost in the wash, articulations defined more clearly. Oftentimes in the last three movements, Rostropovich will take more time than usual on what might seem a mere connecting passage, highlighting the basses or some other aspect of the score not usually noticed, yet it never seems pedantic -- in doing so, he illuminates the structure and meaning of the piece more profoundly.

His interpretation of the fourth movement, especially, shapes the music in a way I've never heard before -- contrasting sections much more drastically, but without any sort of interpretive whiplash. I think those listeners who are inclined to find the Finale too bombastic (a common criticism) might be persuaded of the merits of the piece after listening to this recording.

Symphony No 2 is like the first in every way. The orchestra just sounds bigger than most, the colors and voices all singing and properly slotted. For me the "Little Russian" is Tchaikovsky's least impressive symphony -- it's certainly got great melodies and is well done, but it lacks the brilliance of depth of his others. Particularly problematic is the last movement, which can veer too far into a music hall sound. Rostropovich's solution is to take the Finale a little slower and try to give it a more stately gravitas. It seems a good solution, though perhaps there is a better one still out there.

Overall, I find this disc among the most original and best recordings of Tchaik 1 and 2 that I've heard.

Stay tuned for more reviews of this cycle, which I'd not known about until relatively recently.

CD Review: Artie Shaw & His Gramercy 5 * The Complete Commercially Released Recordings * Jasmine Records * 2008

 

In September of 1940, Artie Shaw decided it was time to go the way of other bandleaders by adding a "band within a band" to his shows. Tommy Dorsey had done this as early as 1935 with his impishly named "Clambake Seven", as had Bob Crosby with his "Bobcats"--the group most responsible for presenting Irving Fazola to the world beyond New Orleans. These bands were designed to preserve and promote the older style of New Orleans polyphonic improvisation. Throughout the Swing Era different approaches to ensemble jazz had developed, most notably written arrangements and a different type of aural tradition known as "head charts"--motivic arrangements communally developed by bands such as the Fletcher Henderson and Basie bands, often left unnotated.

Benny Goodman had joined the trend for small groups in 1935, though in a more forward looking way, hiring Teddy Wilson to form a trio with himself and Gene Krupa. The group was expanded to a quartet with the addition of Lionel Hampton in 1936, producing music that was no longer a direct representation of New Orleans or Chicago, but something altogether different. One more major expansion of the group took place with the additions of Charlie Christian and various other players; the Goodman Sextet becoming Benny's small ensemble of choice from 1939 through the mid 1950s.

Considering all of these, which had gained considerable success over the years, Shaw's entry into the small group fray was quite late. When he finally entered, it was with a unique twist: this would be the group to pursue his old ideas concerning "chamber jazz"; ideas which had met with only sporadic success. In an era that prized "hot and loud" music, Shaw had never been at home. His ideal was cooler, more introspective, less bombastic. While the first cuts by his new group would feature some distinctly "hot" numbers, it would ultimately be remembered for its reflective romanticism.

The first version of the band was comprised of Artie's clarinet along with Billy Butterfield on trumpet, Al Hendrickson on guitar, Jud DeNaut on bass, Nick Fatool on drums, and the novelty for which the first Gramercy 5 will always be know, Johnny Guarnieri on harpsichord.

They began recording on September 3, 1940, and the tunes chosen were emblematic for the group's direction. Two Shaw originals were cut: "Special Delivery Stomp" (derived from his earlier big band chart "Man from Mars"), and a blues, "Summit Ridge Drive", named for Artie's Hollywood address at the time. Then there were two 'standards': "Keepin' Myself for You" and "Cross Your Heart."

"Summit Ridge Drive" became a major hit, selling over a million copies while taking advantage of the new craze for jukeboxes, and establishing credibility for the new band.

The next session took place three months later, on December 5, 1940. Once again there were two Shaw originals and two standards. "Dr. Livingstone, I Presume" was to contain Shaw's most explicit klezmer reference as a composer, while his sarcastic "When the Quail Come Back to San Quentin" paradoxically provided a canvas for many of his more baroque and inspired solo musings in future years. The standards recorded that day were to become almost synonymous with the group: "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" (a miniature gem of aural poetics) and "My Blue Heaven", the solo of which contains one of Shaw's earliest veiled references to Stravinsky's Petrushka, a piece he would return to more than once.  

The group continued to develop past its initial line-up, with each reiteration adding a layer or two of depth and innovation. Reassembled in 1945, Roy Eldridge was featured on trumpet, Dodo Marmarosa on piano instead of harpsichord, and Barney Kessel on guitar. This was the group that laid down a succession of Shaw's most biting original tunes--"The Sad Sack" (short for "sad sack of shit"--a term used to describe worthless soldiers in WWII), "The Grabtown Grapple" (which predated Charlie Parker's similarly named "Scrapple from the Apple"), "Scuttlebutt" (Artie's ode to arguments), "The Gentle Grifter" and "Mysterioso" among them. Sometimes brooding, always intense, these tunes brought a satirical edge to small group jazz similar to Mahler's moments of symphonic sarcasm or Shostakovich's bitter parodies. This continued throughout the '40s, with Shaw adding tunes like "Crumbum" and "Nothin' From Nothin'" to the catalogue.

Also like Mahler, while capable of being artistically critical and biting, Shaw was very rarely pessimistic in an ultimate sense. Over the course of his career he recorded many songs of disappointment and even bitterness, but only one ("Gloomy Sunday") strikes as despairing, self-pitying, and hopeless. A more typically Shavian message comes at the end of 1950's Gramercy 5 recording of "There Must Be Something Better Than Love"--the end of which dismisses the title sentiment with the final rhetorical questions:

But if there's something better than love who's got it?
Who wants it?
Do you?

Often emotionally confrontational, Shaw's love tunes from this period were certainly not facile.

The last group to be known as the Gramercy 5 was an entirely reconstituted group, both in sound and personnel. With Hank Jones on piano and Joe Roland on vibes, especially, the group took on a truly pellucid, ruminative, and romantic quality that has rarely if ever been matched, and was finally to realize Shaw's vision of clear, deep, chamber jazz. This is the group that laid down the now famous "Last Recordings" and "Final Sessions" of Artie Shaw, which were kept unreleased for several decades. They were the summit of Shaw's chamber jazz achievement, and as complete a look at his career's importance as we were ever to get--a last will and testament before, like Prospero, he "broke his staff and drowned his book."

Immediately apparent to Shaw enthusiasts is the difference in tone from these recordings. Gone is so much of the bitterness, the biting sarcasm, and the frustration-laced wailings of so many of Shaw's earlier recordings. Peace, so difficult to convey in music, gentleness, and warmth are dominant in new ways in this music--it exudes a pure, fresh romanticism seemingly untainted by darker elements often associated with the term. After these sessions, Shaw packed up his clarinet and never recorded again.

This 5-disc set from Jasmine Records, entitled "Six Star Treats" is one of the most essential box of jazz recordings available. Not only does it bring together, for the first time, all of the studio recordings of the various groups to work under the Gramercy 5 name, but it provides alternate takes and many live performances, including some tunes the group never recorded in the studio.

Towards the end of disc one, for instance, there are clips from a Bing Crosby broadcast featuring the Gramercy 5 performing Gershwin's "I Was Doing Alright" and Rodgers & Hart's "You Took Advantage of Me", both of which are given masterful interpretation and neither of which was recorded in studio. There are also some rare alternate, shorter takes released as singles of the last Gramercy 5. "Besame Mucho", "Tenderly", and "Stop and Go Mambo" are each presented in this alternate form, giving a rare and brief glimpse into the "head arrangement" process that Shaw had used throughout the life of the ensemble.

The transfers of these recordings are consistently good, though collectors will also want to own other versions. The RCA Victor "Complete" disc (which is nowhere near complete, but contains only the studio recordings from 1940-45)  has exceptionally good sound, and the original issues of the "Last Recordings" have not only good sound quality, but important interview liner notes with Shaw.

But as it stands, this 5-disc set is the very best out there for Artie Shaw and His Gramercy 5. It is the most comprehensive box of Shaw's most important recordings. It couldn't be more essential. 

[A version of this review was originally published in The Jazz Clarinet in May of 2013 - E.S.]

CD Review: Two Versions of Vaughan Williams's The Pilgrim's Progress * Boult 1972 * Hickox 1998

The Pilgrim's Progress is Vaughan Williams's magnum opus, and arguably his most important work. Though never very successful in the opera house, it contains much of his most beautiful music, and serves as a symbolic summation of his career up until 1951, when it premiered. (From 1952 through 1958, RVW had a final creative surge that produced his last three symphonies, and which should be symbolically analyzed in their own right, but the Pilgrim serves as the major work for all that came before.)

Of all his works, this final opera has languished most, but we are fortunate to possess two world class recordings: the premiere recording released during the RVW Centennial Year of 1972 by Sir Adrian Boult with the London Philharmonic and John Noble singing Pilgrim; and Richard Hickox's with the Royal Opera House from 1998, with Gerald Finley in the lead. 

This review will discuss these recordings; interested readers can delve into the symbolism and meaning of this neglected masterpiece with my study of the piece here.  Without further ado, let's dive in to the recordings...

World Premiere LP Release: Sir Adrian Boult

Ralph Vaughan Williams * The Pilgrim's Progress

London Philharmonic Choir * London Philharmonic Orchestra

Sir Adrian Boult, conductor

John Noble, Pilgrim

EMI, 1972

Boult delivered one of the performances of his life with this. Recorded in Kingsway Hall, the London Phil never sounded better - it's one of the best recorded operas I've heard. Kudos to the balance engineer Christopher Parker and the producer Christopher Bishop. I've rarely experienced a Wagner opera close to the soundscape this orchestra and recording crew produced and captured. Torrents of sound, mountainous when needed - or the subtlest pastoral moments - they are all here on this magnificent EMI release. 

John Noble sings an inspired Pilgrim. He was already associated with the role, having the lead for the 1954 Cambridge student production, which in many ways saved the opera from total obscurity after its disastrous debut three years earlier at Covent Gardern. Noble's voice lives up to his name; he interprets with conviction and strength. It's his interpretation that will certainly serve as the template for all others. The chorus, which plays such a prominent and dramatic part in this opera, is massive and clear - the Arming of the Pilgrim, the Vanity Fair mob, and the Pilgrim's final arrival into Heaven are some of the greatest choral work I've heard. The finale in particular is like nothing else. The lift Sir Adrian gets, the crashing symbols, the surging of the orchestra, and the choir over the top in the best of ways, is nothing short of magnificent - a top ten moment in recorded history for me. Also, for me personally, it might have been life altering (I changed my masters thesis topic after hearing this recording! Went from writing on Charles Ives to Vaughan Williams!)

The London Philharmonic plays with the care and intensity of a symphony performance - in fact, their playing here is superior to many of their performances of RVW's symphonies. The whole cast of singers (and there are loads of them for this opera) seem perfectly chosen - from Raimund Herincx's solemn and rich Bunyan, to Robert Lloyd's terrifying Apollyon, to the humor of Gerald English and Gloria Jennings as Mister and Madam By-Ends, you just can't beat any of the singers in these roles. John Shirley-Quirk's Nocturn as Watchful (the porter) is one of the greatest moments in any Vaughan Williams recording, for my money. 

The instrumental soloists in the London Phil are likewise just about perfect in every way, from the french horn and trumpet fanfares, to the english horn moments, the pastoral beauty of the clarinet, the viola and violin solos in the Delectable Mountains, and the skeptical bassoon in the By-Ends episode, you really couldn't ask for more. 

To make this set even more attractive, about a half hours worth of rehearsal coverage is included - we get to hear Sir Adrian putting the whole thing together. 

Any lover of RVW's music, or opera in general, should have a copy of this.  

The Hickox CD release on Chandos, 1998

Ralph Vaughan Williams * The Pilgrim's Progress

The Royal Opera House Chorus * The Orchestra of the Royal Opera House

Richard Hickox, conductor * Gerald Finley, Pilgrim

Chandos, 1998

A masterpiece like the Pilgrim should never be relegated to one recording - we're doubly fortunate that Richard Hickox gave us another in the late 1990s. It's almost unfair to compare the two. Boult's is probably unsurpassable - the inspiration, location (Kingsway Hall, which no longer exists), and performers are unrepeatable. 

The first thing one notices about this Chandos release is that we feel like we're hearing an opera in this recording - not a massive fantasy soundscape that engulfs the consciousness, but singers acting on a stage with a pit orchestra below them. There is nothing wrong with this experience - it is, after all, what an opera is. This recording delivers that, and is therefore a different angle on the piece. Everything, and I mean everything, is well played and well sung. As with Boult's cast, there are no weak links. In fact, if you study the score carefully, you'll find that the singers on this Chandos release (particularly Gerald Finley as Pilgrim and Peter Coleman-Wright, who sings Bunyan) are more meticulous about delineating the actual pitches than their earlier counterparts. Hickox also takes orchestral repeats for scene change music left out by the earlier Boult recording. Both approaches work (the repeats are optional), but it's great to hear them. 

Another nice facet of this - instead of a trouser role (as in the earlier EMI release), Hickox cast Mica Penniman as the Woodcutter's Boy. It makes a surprisingly big difference to the whole texture and freshness of his scene. 

The chorus is solid and excellent - what is lacking here isn't anything technical, but the "lift" and inspired performance achieved by Boult & Co. 

My one real frustration with this recording was the choice of megaphones for Apollyon. The EMI release gives us a booming, menacing amplifier for Robert Lloyd - imminent death seems probable as this Angel of Death chants his threats. By contrast, for the Chandos recording, a whiney little megaphone was used. It sounds like Gidon Saks is a constable threatening innocent pedestrians. If I could change one thing from this performance, it would be the choice of megaphones.  

Having said that, the star of the show is Gerald Findley. His Pilgrim is absolutely riveting and his voice rich, powerful, expressive. If you love this piece, you need this recording for Gerald Finley's performance. 

   

Remastered Boult EMI set released on CD in the '90s

So there you have it, folks. A rundown of two great performances. If you love the piece, you'll want them both. If you can only get one, choose Boult. It might be the finest Vaughan Williams recording ever made. 

CD Review: Artie Shaw 10-Disc Box * "Begin the Beguine" * Membran * 2005

 

This 10-disc set issued by Membran is probably the most affordable and comprehensive survey of Artie Shaw's studio recordings from 1936 through 1945. While a considerable number of sessions from the late 1930s are missing (all the studio recordings made by "Artie Shaw & His Rhythm Makers" are absent), this box collects nearly all the groups recorded as Artie Shaw & His Orchestra and Artie Shaw & His Gramercy 5 made through 1945.

The packaging and presentation are minimal: ten cardboard sleeves inhabit a wallet-style glossy box. Shaw's dates are given, correctly, on the side and back of the box as 1910-2004, while on the front cover they are listed as 1909-2004. Two out of three ain't bad, especially considering the amount of great music inside. The cardboard sleeves give the names of tunes and durations only--no historical data at all. For those who care to do a little research, though, this set is very admirably laid out in precise chronological order, beginning with the June 11, 1936 session which produced "The Japanese Sandman" and ending nearly a decade later with the 1945 sessions that produced "September Song", "Little Jazz" featuring Roy Eldridge, Eddie Sauter's masterful arrangement of "Summertime" and others. In between are more than 200 of arguably the most consistently polished and inspired studio recordings made by a Big Band. Some bands matched Shaw's output for energy (Basie's band was unbeatable in that regard, in studio or out), and others matched his precision (Goodman's comes immediately to mind), but Shaw seems to have innately understood the need to capture as close to definitive versions as possible on record. He was later haunted by this, as fans would demand exact reproductions of studio recordings on the bandstand, an annoyance that he found artistically stifling. But the verve and clarity of the studio recordings remain deeply satisfying in ways that others, such as the Goodman band's studio recordings from the 1930s, rarely matched.

Compilation albums of "greatest hits" are good for beginners, but those who would truly understand the work of a great artist need to experience their works in context. Just as it helps to have a roughly chronological exposition of Shakespeare's plays, so it helps to hear Shaw's works in order. To realize that "Begin the Beguine" doesn't exist in a vacuum, but was recorded at a single session in New York on July 24, 1938 which also included "Indian Love Call", "Comin' On", "Back Bay Shuffle", "Any Old Time", and "I Can't Believe That You're In Love With Me" helps us understand not only the brilliance of the session, but why Artie might have been both surprised and frustrated at the frenzy surrounding the obscure Cole Porter tune that was to dominate his gigs from then on. Three of the tunes recorded at that session were his own songs ("Comin' On", "Back Bay Shuffle", and "Any Old Time", the one recording we have of Billie Holiday with Shaw's band). Because of this, it's doubtful he expected the obscure Porter number to be the focal point.

Beyond this, there are numbers found here that reveal Shaw's scope, depth, and subtlety not available on the average compilation disc, which are usually assembled on the basis of sales and immediate popularity. Among the gems any real Shaw fan will want to hear are MacDowell's "A Deserted Farm", Ellington's "Pyramid", Shaw's own "Prelude in C Major", and the incomparable "Dusk (Evensong)" by Paul Jordan. Many of these suggest a direction that jazz and American popular music never took--a jazz orchestral concept that might have made the distinctions between "sweet", "latin", "third stream" and other styles obsolete, had Shaw wanted or been able to continue them farther. In many ways, several of these sides represent not only a precursor to the work of Gil Evans, but an artistic concept with untold scope. The eclecticism is unpretentious, deriving from a deeper interaction with musical sources--never as a gimmick with one "style" grafted onto another. Unlike many lesser artists, Shaw was never a pasticheur: his inspirations weren't manipulated, but fused together, emerging as a unified whole.

I'd encourage any fan of jazz to get this set, and it is essential for any jazz clarinetist--these recordings are as foundational to our art as Beethoven's symphonies were to later orchestral composers. To hear how Shaw developed clarinet approach and language from his relatively early efforts carving out double C's for "Blue Skies" on May 18, 1937, to his three brilliant solos for "Blues in the Night" on September 2, 1941, to his modal wailings on multiple versions of "Nightmare" and the subtle statements of melodic fragments on  "A Deserted Farm"--so simple, yet so charged with tonal shadings and meaning--the serious jazz clarinetist cannot afford to ignore any of these. This set is probably the best and most economical way to obtain all of them.

Could the transfers be better? Sure. Would it be nice to have a booklet with some dates and personnel? Absolutely. My recommendation is for the serious listener to purchase Vladimir Simosko's definitive Artie Shaw: A Musical Biography and Discography to accompany this and other sets.