Ned Rorem took lessons from Virgil Thomson in the early forties 
                  in exchange for pocket money and duties as a copyist. Having 
                  observed Thomson at close quarters, in one of his diaries, Rorem 
                  made the point that after working on Thomson’s scores 
                  he knew how Thomson composed but he had no idea of why 
                  he composed. Whilst I can understand Rorem’s comment, 
                  I cannot agree with it. Obviously, to the younger composer Thomson’s 
                  seeming naivety must have rankled - does the simplicity of the 
                  music mean it was created by an idiot savant or an idiot, or 
                  is it that Thomson was really a seer? This is truly the crux 
                  of the matter. Thomson was a well trained and very knowledgeable 
                  musician; a conductor, composer and music journalist. His catalogue 
                  is huge and includes work in all forms, some are simple little 
                  pieces - he wrote many Portraits of friends, which are 
                  delicate miniatures - and there are operas, ballets and symphonies. 
                  Perhaps his works didn’t plumb the depths of human emotion, 
                  perhaps some of his pieces are slight, but he is never dull. 
                  
                    
                  The Mother of Us All is an opera with a libretto by Gertrude 
                  Stein. It tells of Susan B Anthony, one of the major figures 
                  in women’s suffrage in the USA. This suite has three movemets 
                  - Prelude, Cold Weather and Political Meeting 
                  - and they are written in Thomson’s usual, charming, easy 
                  going Americana voice. It’s a very enjoyable work, nothing 
                  serious, the middle movement is simply about weather with no 
                  other emotional connotation, and it’s given a nicely bluff 
                  performance which helps to point the jokes. 
                    
                  Stokowski’s performance of the Brahms Symphony 
                  is very interesting for he tends towards fast tempi on occasion, 
                  which will raise some eyebrows. The first movement is marked 
                  Allegro non troppo - not too fast - but Stokowski ignores 
                  the non troppo part and goes for a brisk, but, it must 
                  be said, never rushed, allegro. What this does is to 
                  heighten the tension and drama - this may be a kind of pastoral 
                  symphony but it still has some dramatic parts to it. The slow 
                  movement is marked Adagio non troppo and here Stokowski 
                  really gets it right, with some gorgeous string playing, and 
                  a strong sense of line. The scherzo is perfect in pacing in 
                  the outer 3/8 sections, hurried, but again not rushed, in the 
                  2/4 middle section. What is interesting, and very satisfying, 
                  is how he marries the two musics together with ease. The finale 
                  begins with the most exciting pianissimo statement of the main 
                  theme, before Stokowski unleashes a climax of some power. Again 
                  the tempo is brisk, but every note is in place and articulated 
                  with clarity. There have been few conductors who could have 
                  achieved what Stokowski achieves here in this way. It’s 
                  certainly a unique performance and not one I would choose if 
                  I could only have one performance of the work on my shelf, but 
                  as a Stokowski fan it’s a performance I wouldn’t 
                  want to be without for this conductor was nothing if not inspirational 
                  and music can always live with the performance given for the 
                  moment, not for the recording studio. 
                    
                  The Marche Joyeuse recorded here is Chabrier’s 
                  Joyeuse Marche. I know that Marche Joyeuse is 
                  the correct French but the composer chose the other title and 
                  I wonder why its name has been Frenchified here. Do Americans 
                  call it Marche Joyeuse, against the composers wishes? 
                  Who cares? This is a spirited performance if without either 
                  the charm or the delicacy of Beecham - it was one of his lollipops 
                  - but it makes a fabulous end to a very exciting and stimulating 
                  concert. 
                    
                  The sound is what you would expect from a 60 year old recording, 
                  but it’s quite bright, almost throughout, and once the 
                  ear adjusts it’s easy to listen to. The CD also includes 
                  the radio announcer which gives a real period feel to the recording. 
                  Even though these performances aren’t what we’re 
                  used to, they are sparkling examples of music making in its 
                  most vivid sense and, it must be said, the old magician has 
                  done it again, making us reappraise our understanding and feelings 
                  towards an accepted masterpiece, and take account of a new work. 
                  Hurrah! 
                    
                  Bob Briggs