SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Vaughan Williams, Colour and Landscape:  Anthony Marwood (violin) Philharmonia Orchestra/Richard Hickox,  Royal Festival Hall 31. 5.2008 (RC)

Symphony No. 8 in D minor
The Lark Ascending
A London Symphony (original version)


This concert was the second in the Philharmonia’s series The Pioneering Pilgrim celebrating the 50th anniversary of Vaughan William’s death. In the excellent booklet notes Michael Kennedy makes the confident claim that ‘the series may well turn out to be the biggest and most significant turning-point in a wider appreciation of his stature as a composer’. After a concert of this quality one can only hope his prediction is correct. Under the inspired and loving guidance of Richard Hickox the performances were allowed to develop naturally and without interpretative distortions, faithfully projecting the vast range of emotions contained in these wonderful scores.

Kennedy calls the 8th Symphony ‘the shortest and least serious of Vaughan William’s symphonies’, yet in such a convincing performance as this its depths are fully exposed. Rather than sounding like exotic experiments, the use of percussion seems essential. In the opening Fantasia, a series of seven variations in search of a theme, Hickox immediately captured the dream-like atmosphere of the opening, heightening the dramatic impact of the following presto. The clarinet and oboe interplay in variation four was deliciously done, and the build up to the climax of the movement seemed unerringly paced.  Hickox found an ideal tempo for following scherzo, with the Philharmonia's woodwind relishing the moment to shine. In the Cavatina for strings alone,  he coaxed long singing lines from the players, subtly projecting its gentle and melancholic mood. Following the exuberant opening of the Toccata, Hickox encouraging some highly disciplined and rhythmic playing from the orchestra, culminating in a triumphant finish.

The reduced orchestra was then joined by soloist Anthony Marwood for a glowingly expressive performance of The Lark Ascending. Marwood's rapt and hushed opening immediately drew the listener in, allowing the fragile melodic lines to soar without resorting to expressive exaggeration. This was a performance which genuinely took flight and cast a magical spell over the audience.

Anyone who knows Hickox's Gramophone award-winning recording of the original version of A London Symphony is aware that he strongly identifies with this work. Despite VW’s antipathy to Mahler, it is arguable that with its borrowings from popular sources and violent juxtaposition of the banal and sublime it is closer to the latter's vision of the all-embracing symphony than the English composer was perhaps willing to admit. The start of the first movement's allegro section had a thrilling impact, and the ebb and flow between the myriad themes seemed entirely natural. The opening of the Lento captured and sustained the tranquil, introspective mood to perfection, and again Hickox's placing of the two climaxes seemed entirely natural. The scherzo was suitably fleet and colourful, and the depiction of the Cockney scene in the trio was vividly characterised. The original version differs most markedly from the revised version at the end of this movement, and in such a committed performance as this it makes one grateful that we have the opportunity to hear the composer's first thoughts. The last movement crowned the whole evening for me, with Hickox demonstrating his complete command of the score. The rapid changes of mood seemed entirely inevitable, leading one inexorably to the anguished climax. The depiction of the Thames in the Epilogue rounded off a true musical and spiritual journey.

Robert Costin


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