Records of the Week

Robert Cowan, Stephen Johnson and Edward Seckerson on the new releases

ELGAR

Symphony No 2; Dream Children No 1; Cockaigne

Halle Orchestra/ Sir John Barbirolli

Recorded: 1950-1954

EMI CDM5 663992

The recorded history of Elgar's symphonies is largely dominated by two great conductors: Sir Adrian Boult and Sir John Barbirolli. Comparisons between them suggest parallels with Toscanini and Furtwangler in Beethoven, ie objectivity as against subjectivity, structure versus phrasal flexibility and relative restraint as opposed to loving indulgence. But in the case of Elgar's Second, there are two specific recordings where those worlds almost collide, Boult's from 1944 (Beulah) and Barbirolli's from 1954. "Glorious John" went on to re-record the Symphony in stereo - a grand, sumptuous affair, aching with rubato - but this first shot has a drive, virility and dare-devil spontaneity that recall not only Boult but Elgar himself (he too recorded the Symphony twice). True, the heart still occasionally rules the head (no one makes the first movement's yearning second theme sing out like Barbirolli does here), and yet there's a compensating impetuosity that thrusts us headlong into the Malvern hills. The Larghetto is defiant and triumphant, the Scherzo tenses for a fist-shaking "trio" and the noble finale lays to rest among comforting Brahmsian cadences. Boxy sound and the odd patch of ragged ensemble make up the debit column, but there are two delectable bonuses - softly slumbering Dream Children (No 1) and a robust, affectionately phrased Cockaigne.

RC

MONTAGUE

Snakebite; At the White Edge of Phrygia; Varshavian Autumn; Behold a Pale Horse

Orchestra of St John's, Smith Square/ John Lubbock

ASV CD DCA 991

In an age when most American composers seem happy to play safe, Stephen Montague's extrovert, quirkily individual, energetic music recalls older, more adventurous times. There are echoes of the pioneering Ives, or of Copland's still fresh folk/ symphonic fusions - but he's never simply derivative. Snakebite is a frantic, exhilarating dance, full of pulsating rhythms and fragments of cowboy songs, starting with a wonderfully graphic illustration of the poisonous bite itself. Montague experiments, takes risks, but he also has the common touch. Audiences who have taken John Adams's The Chairman Dances to heart should find this more challenging, but ultimately even more enjoyable.

In At the White Edge of Phrygia, Montague's debt to his fellow-American minimalists is clearly acknowledged. But at the same time he looks to European models to broaden and intensify his thinking: repetition is important, but growth, a sense of musical form as adventure, are also possible. Then comes the moody Varshavian Autumn, inspired by an impression of the Polish capital on Hallowe'en night lit by thousands of candles - all very evocative. Finally, Behold a Pale Horse, for organ and brass, is nothing less than a vision of the Biblical Apocalypse, Hollywood Gothic juxtaposed with wild, accelerating organ toccatas. The playing throughout this collection is enthusiastic and keen-edged; the recordings are more than adequate. Congratulations to ASV on finding another highly original British-resident composer, who up till now hasn't exactly been over-represented in the CD catalogue. This deserves to sell.

SJ

BACH

Orchestral Suites

New London Consort/ Philip Pickett

L'Oiseau-Lyre 452 000-2

The counterpoint may be Protestant (to borrow from Sir Thomas Beecham) but there's none so vital in all of Bach. Come dancing. These "Ouverturen" with their attendant gavottes, bourrees, gigues and minuets, their airs and courtly graces "in the French style", are the spirit of an age protected across the centuries with all immediacy - like music taken captive in the moment of performance. The character of each is distinct, beginning in a series of deep and gracious bows with the majestic processional of No 1, proceeding to the trumpet-clad brilliance of No 3 with its great drum flourishes and imperative bass line, to the touch of wistfulness, even melancholy, that the presence of a solo flute lends to No 2, or No 4 with its corpulent bassoon, the would-be star of the supporting cast. The contrasting fugues are scintillating, the energy of many voices in a game of tag, tangy harpsichord in hot pursuit. Feel-good music in the truest sense. Which is precisely how Philip Pickett's New London Consort present it. They've a wonderful sense of "period" swagger and audacity. This is entertainment music, how-the-other-half-lived music, and they play it as such with flair and enjoyment. Much has been written and debated as to the tempi, articulation, and attitude of the dances - historically speaking. But at the end of the day (and the 20th century) all that really matters, surely, is that the spirit is ready and willing, that the sound and manner relate in such a way as to maximise the music's timeless expressivity. And so, paradoxically, the famous Air of the Third Suite - best known in that infamously slushy transcription entitled "Air on the G string" - sounds newer in these grainy, unvarnished period colours. Old voices discovering new music. Treasured harmonies born again - in our midst. And these vivid L'Oiseau-Lyre recordings are very much in our midst. Why even the clicking of the woodwind keys somehow makes it all the more real for us.

ES