Norman Del Mar’s accounts
of two of Rubbra’s greatest symphonies
make this disc self-recommending to
all admirers of this under-rated composer.
Del Mar seems to have a natural understanding
of Rubbra’s intense forms of expression
– and he inspires the Philharmonia to
reveal these scores in the best possible
light.
Rubbra’s Sixth Symphony
was a Royal Philharmonic Society commission
and first performed in the Royal Festival
Hall in November 1954. The 17-bar introduction
has a very English intensity. The performance
is beautifully shaded by Del Mar following
the music’s contours like a shadow.
The Allegretto, despite the associations
of its tempo indication, brings with
it an underlying seriousness. It is
interesting to track how some of the
musical material seems to attempt to
make a move towards frivolity, yet it
never becomes pure fun.
The second movement
is preceded in the score by a quotation
from a poem by Leopardi (1798-1837):
‘Always was this lonely hill dear to
me/And this hedge which shuts out/So
much of the distant horizon’. The landscape
invoked for Rubbra was in fact that
outside his cottage in the Chilterns
– wherever the inspiration lies geographically,
there is no doubting that this movement
surely represents one of Rubbra’s finest
statements. Rubbra can invoke stasis
in a miraculous way (and listen to the
lovely oboe solo also), leading to a
climax of pure granite. The ending of
this ‘Canto’ (as it is called) is truly
beautiful.
More immediately absorbing,
possibly, is the Vivace impetuoso third
movement with its shifting, serious
gait. Rubbra included a celesta and
xylophone for the first time in a Symphony
here (they recur in the Eighth). The
Poco andante introduction to the finale
revisits the spirituality of the slow
movement before Rubbra’s cumulative
energy moves the piece towards an ending
of dignified grandeur. All this is realised
in glowing terms by the Philharmonia
and in simply stunning sound.
The Eighth Symphony
is subtitled ‘Hommage à Teilhard
de Chardin’. A decade-long gap separates
the Eighth from its predecessor, a time-span
in which the composer moved towards
an awareness of ‘the dramatic and expressive
values inherent in intervals as such,
and in the new symphony the play of
interval against interval, rather than
key against key, provides the motivating
force behind the argument’ (the composer,
from a BBC broadcast of January 1971).
The symphony bears religious leanings,
most obviously in its subtitle. This
refers to the visionary French Jesuit
Teilhard de Chardin; (http://www.gaiamind.com/Teilhard.html
provides an introduction). This symphony
is a supremely impressive achievement.
Set in only three movements, the flowing,
dream-like first (marked simply, ‘Moderato’)
leads to an ‘Allegretto con brio’. Adrian
Yardley’s exemplary booklet note refers
to this as ‘one of Rubbra’s most dance-like
creations’, and how right he is. The
prevailing impression is one of delicacy
that flares up from time to time. The
quasi-Sibelian desolation of the finale
is a sustained lyric outpouring that
is really quite draining to experience
– the silvery colour of the celesta
at the end is a touch of pure genius.
The Soliloquy
for cello and a small orchestra of strings,
two horns and timpani (written for William
Pleeth, a chamber music partner of the
composer’s) is the earliest work on
this disc. The cellist Rohan de Saram
is a most persuasive advocate of the
work’s finely-wrought harmonies. The
impression is of a gradually evolving
slow processional. It is the perfect
ending for a most impressive disc.
Colin Clarke
The
Lyrita catalogue
Rohan de Saram (cello)