At the first of two Symphony Hall concerts
by the Philharmonia and Richard Hickox celebrating the Walton centenary
(the second concert on the 26th featured a concert performance
of Troilus and Cressida) the audience was disappointingly,
and perhaps surprisingly sparse for a concert that offered much, both
programmatically and, in the case of Joshua Bell, a high profile soloist.
A case of overkill perhaps? Walton’s centenary has seen tremendous publicity
with concerts mounted nationwide and major articles in every musical
publication of note. Yet the opportunity to hear the Symphony No.
2 let alone Troilus and Cressida (for which I understand
the audience was equally thin) outside London, is one that does not
come along too often. Having just watched the newly
released Decca DVD of Tony Palmer’s Walton documentary, At the
Haunted End of the Day, in which the modest if not self-deprecating
composer tells how he "sweated blood" on these works, I could
not help but feel a pang of poignancy that more people had not seen
fit to pay tribute to a man who remains one of our most important twentieth
century musical figures.
Walton’s much loved film score for Henry
V, skilfully adapted into the concert suite we know today in 1963 by
Muir Matheson, makes a fine concert opener although it took the orchestra
a little while to settle in before the ultimate standard was set for
the night. The overture, The Globe Playhouse, got off to an atmospheric
start, subsequently marred only by a slight lack of co-ordination from
the timpani at the commencement of the central woodwind section. The
Death of Falstaff was profoundly moving, the strings heavily sombre
in tone and beautifully phrased, entirely typical of Hickox’s approach
to this repertoire in fact. The Charge and Battle of Agincourt
just failed to blaze as I would have liked and as a result the ensuing
"Bolero" lost a degree of its poignancy although the
strings in Touch Her Soft Lips and Part, as in Falstaff, were
touchingly affectionate, showing themselves to be capable of impressive
delicacy. In conclusion, Agincourt Song possessed the vigour
and spirit that the foregoing battle scene had not quite generated,
the closing bars as triumphant as one could wish for with the brass
particularly resplendent.
In the past I have witnessed Joshua
Bell’s band of teenage groupies (all female I would add) queue uncomfortably
at the Proms for many hours in the rain and sitting on tarmac to be
within touching distance of their idol at the very front of the arena.
What is more astonishing is that I have then seen them disappear in
the interval after their hero has performed without returning. I can
only assume that this is not through intense disappointment with his
performance either musical or otherwise! Fortunately, although Bell
clearly had a number of enthusiastic admirers in Symphony Hall they
were of more mature years and chose very wisely to return for the second
half. The singing purity of Bell’s tone was evident in the very opening
bars, that glorious Mediterranean sun drenched melody sounding as magical
as ever, although I missed a little of the feeling of languid breeze
from the orchestra. It soon became apparent that Bell knew exactly where
he was going with the music, his playing displaying presence, atmosphere
and emotional intensity in equal quantities. The orchestra too were
responding with sensitive accompaniment whilst Hickox’s skilful direction
was acutely attentive to the soloist’s every nuance. In the central
scherzo also, Bell exploited the many extremes of Walton’s often widely
contrasting inspiration with a sure deftness of touch, by turns malicious
in the first subject and lilting in the second. The final Vivace, again
full of Walton’s continual twists and turns, was simply marvellous,
resolute in the reprise of the opening theme from the first movement,
bristlingly brilliant in the closing bars. The reaction from the audience
was certainly the most enthusiastic of the evening with several people
(interestingly all female once again) on their feet cheering.
For all the aplomb of the Violin
Concerto however, my performance of the evening was undoubtedly
that of the Second Symphony. A brilliantly gutsy interpretation
from Hickox, demonstrating all of Walton’s compositional characteristics
with pinpoint accuracy. By turns snarling and lyrical yet often elusive
in the opening Allegro molto, melancholic with a sense of underlying
passion in the Lento assai and dramatically contrasting
in the Passacaglia, Hickox and the Philharmonia seemed to grasp
the essential musical current of the work with startling authority.
There was not a section of the orchestra that did not impress, the final
statement of the passacaglia theme in the closing paragraphs magnificent
from the brass and woodwind in particular. Maybe Hickox sensed a degree
of apathy from the audience but he wasted no time in cutting the applause
short (muted though it was in comparison to the Violin Concerto)
and giving a brief spoken introduction before plunging into the Spitfire
Prelude and Fugue from the score for The First of the Few. Stirring
stuff and once again played with shoulders back bravado from the orchestra.
This was a tribute concert that offered
much to enjoy although an audience as committed to the music as the
orchestra would have made all the difference.
Christopher Thomas.
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