This is a charm for the curious, the enthusiast for these composers 
                and the student of the chamber medium as canvassed by composers 
                of the British Isles. The time span runs from four years short 
                of the transition into the twentieth century to the year of the 
                start of the Second World War. Holbrooke was to see out the war 
                as was Benjamin who lived through both. Benjamin however retained 
                a grip on success, on concerts and on broadcasts. Holbrooke however 
                found that the war spelt neglect as his music became increasingly 
                unfashionable. Like York Bowen he was to live into old age with 
                his music gathering dust around him and with his benefactor since 
                1907 dying one year after the end of the war. Rootham who had 
                seen active service in the Great War died one year short of the 
                start of War and Walford Davies – a great educator – died while 
                the war still raged. 
              
Holbrooke wrote 
                  three violin sonatas (1900s, 1917 and 1925). The middle one 
                  is a version of the Grasshopper Violin Concerto which 
                  like the concertos for cello and for saxophone awaits a premiere 
                  recording. This is the Third Sonata’s first commercial recording 
                  although it was recorded privately for the composer in the 1930s 
                  and a studio broadcast was put out by the BBC in the early 1980s. 
                  This version is played full out with total commitment by Roche 
                  and Stevenson. The music is certainly not oriental in the sense 
                  we might expect from songs by Bliss, Lambert or Mahler. It’s 
                  a vague flavour and whether I would have noticed it but from 
                  the title I am not at all sure. The single movement Sonata is 
                  mercurial, sanguine, warmly lyrical without being in any way 
                  like Brahms or Bruch. If anything you might well warm to this 
                  if you enjoy the John Ireland and Dunhill sonatas. It strikes 
                  a superb balance between melodic ideas and length. You will 
                  not tire of the piece.
                
For a change of 
                  temperature and style move on to Walford Davies’s op. 
                  7 Second Violin Sonata in four movements. After a strenuous 
                  Brahmsian first movement comes a chuckling Dvořákian Allegretto 
                  semplice. This does not have the all-conquering confidence 
                  of the Tovey Piano Trios but it has compactly expressed pleasures 
                  of a romantic pensive leaning. The easy-going, flowing and smiling 
                  mood glimpsed in the second movement returns with a silvery 
                  and very attractive eloquence here.
                
Cyril Rootham’s 
                  music has been in harness with Holbrooke’s before. Have a look 
                  at the Rootham First Symphony and Holbrooke Birds of Rhiannon 
                  on Lyrita (JF; 
                  RB). 
                  Rootham in the 1920s wrote with the most treasurable lyrical 
                  faculty. The singing line in the first movement for example 
                  might well make you think of Delius or Ireland’s Second Sonata 
                  but the idea is I think stronger than either. This is not the 
                  Sonata equivalent of the First Symphony which in any event lay 
                  seven years in the future. The intensely honeyed singing line 
                  might be thought of as a modern counterpart to the Karlowicz 
                  or Sibelius violin concertos. It is a glorious full-throated 
                  idea and Roche makes full play of it. She sounds more excitable 
                  and confident than Barry Wilde who recorded it with Alan Fearon 
                  on a private LP back in the 1970s. In general the admirable 
                  Jacqueline Roche carries her confidence high and harking back 
                  to Jürgen Hess’s broadcast of the Holbrooke also leaves him 
                  sounding positively tentative. The finale of the Rootham sings 
                  in a way that bring to mind Howells at his most pastoral-ecstatic 
                  during the decade from 1914 to 1924.
                
Arthur Benjamin 
                  was born in Sydney but was very much part of the British 
                  music scene as composer and administrator. His list of works 
                  is by no means lengthy although there are a handful of operas. 
                  His most striking works are the Symphony 
                  and the Romantic 
                  Fantasy for violin and viola and orchestra – the latter 
                  dedicated to Bax and by no means at odds with the Delian idiom. 
                  The Cello Sonatina is in three compact movements of which the 
                  middle one seems to hark back to Bach while the finale has the 
                  devilish obsessive quality of the Bax Viola Sonata’s central 
                  movement.
                
The simply splendid 
                  booklet notes – almost essential with a release this recondite 
                  - are by the pianist Robert Stevenson.
                
This makes for a 
                  fine conspectus of neglected British violin sonatas and in this 
                  company the Rootham and the Holbrooke stand out. It will complement 
                  the Forum-Regis 
                  collection. I also hope that it will serve as a pathfinder for 
                  a further collection to include the Isaacs Violin Sonata and 
                  Holbrooke’s Second Sonata. More please.
                
Rob Barnett
                  
              
                
              
see 
                also article on the Genesis of this recording by Robert Stevenson