This is an invaluable
addition to the ‘Walton conducts Walton’
discography. In the 1950s Walton made
a series of classic recordings of his
own works in collaboration with Walter
Legge and EMI. The recordings of the
First Symphony and Belshazzar’s
Feast more or less hold their own
today, unless absolutely modern sound
is required - the 1951 symphony recording,
is of course, mono only. The relationship
between composer and producer cooled
somewhat in the early 1960s and, after
suites from Henry V and Richard
III, the project was discontinued.
However, Lyrita enterprisingly tempted
Walton back into the studios a decade
later to record the works on this disc.
What is apparent right
from the opening of Portsmouth Point
is that Walton’s own conducting had
become rather more sluggish during the
intervening years. Anyone expecting
the gripping electricity captured in
the 1950s recordings should probably
look elsewhere. It is not just a case
of a broader than usual tempo - that
in itself lends the music a certain
swagger and machismo - but, rather,
the knife-edged precision of rhythm
is somewhat lacking. Ensemble is occasionally
slack and matters are not helped by
the rather beefy and weighty recording,
which masks some of the detail and blunts
the impact of what should be a terrific
curtain-raiser.
Thankfully matters
improve somewhat with the other two
‘show pieces’, Scapino and the
Capriccio Burlesco. The former
again is broader than the norm, but
here the extra space allows rhythms
to be pointed to a greater extent and
certainly encourages a greater flexibility
and expressivity - try the big cello
theme. The Capriccio Burlesco
is given an eminently satisfying performance
with absolutely nothing to complain
about; yet for extra sparkle just listen
to the work’s first recording, conducted
by André Kostelanetz (the dedicatee)
with the NYPO to hear just what can
be made of this music.
The main work on the
disc is the Sinfonia Concertante,
given here in its (1943) revised version.
This receives an outstanding performance;
again, it is possible to envisage a
sharper rhythmic profile, more driving
tempi for the outer movements. Yet the
opening echoes of Stravinsky come across
vividly and the lyrical string writing
is as expressive as could be wished
for. Katin proves an admirable exponent
of the ‘obbligato piano’ part, projecting
with clarity and precision without precluding
expressive warmth. The central movement
is exquisitely beautiful in places,
the orchestra truly revelling in Walton’s
typically wistful vein of lyricism;
particularly lovely solo horn playing.
Each movement was dedicated to one of
the Sitwells - Walton’s friends and
introduction to high society. The performance
of the third movement certainly plays
up to the near-quotations from Lambert’s
The Rio Grande which set the
poetry of Sacheverell Sitwell.
Vilem Tausky’s extrapolation
of four movements from Walton’s ballet
The Quest receives another outstanding
performance. It is a shame that Walton
couldn’t have been persuaded - or the
funding provided - to record the complete
score as Bryden Thomson did for Chandos.
However, the four excerpts here amply
demonstrate Walton’s mastery of orchestration
and his intuitive sense of drama. The
opening storm music is played with great
commitment, whilst the ensuing waltz
associated with the magician’s spell
swells and surges in a very Ravelian
manner. The siciliana second
movement deserves special mention, with
its beguiling flute melody and characteristically
bitter-sweet mood. It is a pity that
the complete ballet did not stay long
in the repertoire.
The principal draw
for Walton completists is certainly
the 1940 Music for Children.
This ten-movement suite, an orchestration
of a set of piano duets written initially
as a sequence of solos for the composer’s
niece, is charming. However, these short
movements - few lasting much more than
a minute – are not top-drawer Walton
and, as such, are not a required purchase.
Some are based around five-finger exercises
whilst others - such as ‘Puppet’s Dance’
and ‘Ghosts’ - are pleasingly illustrative.
The performance is a delight, with little
details here and there tellingly highlighted.
All of the works on
this disc - apart from the Music
for Children - are better served
elsewhere, although the couplings presented
on this CD are unique. It is certainly
a useful supplement to EMI’s classic
recordings - now available on four mid-price
collections in EMI’s British Composers
series. It is worth mentioning,
though, for those wanting to explore
Walton’s oeuvre, that for the price
of this single CD, Sony offer a two-disc
set in their Essential Classics series
(SB2K89934 review).
There one can find Szell’s legendary
recordings of the Second Symphony
and Hindemith Variations, Kostelanetz’s
electrifying Capriccio Burlesco
and Johannesburg Festival, a
fine Violin Concerto (Francescatti)
and a block-buster of a Belshazzar
under Ormandy complete with outrageously
American accents.
Owen E. Walton
se also review
by Colin Clarke
for
details
cPeter Katin (piano). 
