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.

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.