When I was 12 years old, I saw a piece on a TV News programme
concerning a very old composer who was about to have the professional
première of a work he’d written nearly fifty years earlier.
I assume that it was a serious piece of TV journalism, but all
I can remember is that we were told that it required more performers
than any work ever written and that there would probably be
more people on stage than in the hall. This single, and very
ill-advised, comment probably did Brian more harm than good
because it put into the public’s mind that here was some kind
of lunatic who was getting the only performance he would ever
get, and gave the impression that all his works were on a similar
scale. After that performance of the Gothic Symphony,
under Boult at the Albert Hall – “ but just think what Toscanini
would have made of it” is supposed to have been Brian’s ungracious
comment afterwards – I eagerly awaited the occasional broadcast
of one of his Symphonies. Over the years I bought the legal,
and pirate, recordings of his works. I was lucky enough to study
with Harold Truscott, the expert on Brian’s music, and subsequently
hear his own recorded archive of the composer’s works.
Over the 45 years since that performance of the Gothic
I’ve listened to Brian on and off, and although there is much
fine work in his output, I find myself drawn to the shorter
Symphonies – those following Das Siegeslied (No.4)
– finding the earlier ones to be sprawling and lacking in real
focus. It was Marco Polo’s work in recording many of the Symphonies
which probably did more for his cause than even the BBC’s performing
them all.
This disk brings together four interesting works from the very
earliest years and the maturity of this fascinating composer.
The two Overtures were recorded, together with six other early
orchestral works, by the City of Hull Youth Symphony Orchestra
conducted by Geoffrey Heald-Smith (re–issued on 2 CDs (for the
price of one) – Cameo RR2CD 1331/2) and these recordings were
as valiant an attempt to put Brian in the focus of the record-buying
public as were the ones by the Leicestershire Schools Symphony
Orchestra. But Brian needs professional musicians if only because
his music is very difficult to play. For Valour is very
Elgarian in terms of heroism, but quite un–Elgarian when it
comes to introspection. There are a couple of passages which,
heard in isolation, could pass muster for the older composer,
but this is not Elgarian in any way! What keeps Brian’s music
apart from Elgar, and, indeed, all other British composers,
and not just of his time, is the unique way he musters and handles
his material. For Valour is a fine example of this. Starting
with a real valiant call to arms, the music quickly moves between
thoughtfulness to mocking march, then patriotic fervour. It’s
thickly scored, much of Brian is, but Rowe makes a very persuasive
case and is very sympathetic when dealing with the full forces.
The performance has a great deal of spontaneity, giving the
impression of a concert performance – once through, so to speak
– but I cannot believe that this was done without editing. If
it was then a huge bravo for the players. Dr Merryheart
is a comedy overture, but not of the belly-laugh kind of Eric
Fenby’s Rossini on Ilkla’ Moor; it’s more a comedy based
on a fantastic, and humorous, sketch. Like all Brian it’s thickly
scored so you might just wonder where the comedy lies, but it’s
in there, you just have to listen for it.
The two Symphonies are made of sterner stuff, if you can believe
that. The Eleventh starts where the Tenth finished,
with the same three notes – in inversion – and a very serious
Adagio grows from them. This is searching for something
and what it finds is a joyous scherzo! That juxtaposition of
material is one of those odd things about Brian. March rhythms
come to the fore, the march is seldom far from Brian’s mind,
and the music becomes disjointed and suddenly the movement is
the longest of the three, accounting for three-fifths of the
whole, ending with a long slow section, full of longing and
loneliness. The finale breaks out into another of Brian’s English
Dances and ends with a march. The scoring of this Symphony
is more transparent than in some of his other works, but it’s
still full. I wonder if the experience of hearing the BBC broadcasts
of the Eighth Symphony on 1st and 2nd
February 1954, by Boult and the London Philharmonic, spurred
him on to write another Symphony. The Eleventh was started on
10 February 1954. Perhaps it also prompted him to have a careful
look at his orchestration.
The Fifteenth Symphony has something of both the Eleventh
and its predecessor, the Fourteenth, about it. By
the way, when are we going to have a recording of No.14?
It is one of the very best, and most searching, of all Brian’s
Symphonies. The Fifteenth has sections built of stone,
which alternate with more delicate passages.
I wonder why I have written the above because Brian’s music
defies description. Of all the composers whose work I know,
his is the work for which the hippy word phantasmagorical might
have been coined. Brian cannot be put into categories. It’s
obvious he’s an English composer, but he stands apart, his physical
isolation and neglect helping to build both the man and his
work. After the early successes his music took on a darker hue,
his orchestration became richer and a deep seriousness came
to the forefront of his thinking.
These are fine performances, lacking, perhaps, the last ounce
or two of bite, but the music was then, as it would be now,
totally new to the musicians. The recordings are exemplary and
the booklet contains a very long, and interesting, essay by
Malcolm Macdonald.
Brian has been neglected, for all the wrong reasons, for too
long and these Naxos re–issues of original Marco Polo recordings
are invaluable. At the price they’re a steal and should be on
every record shelf, standing proud beside the English music
we already know and love – Elgar, Bantock, Parry, Rubbra, Alwyn
and so many more. Do not miss this, it’s too important. And
what’s more, it’s very good.
Bob Briggs
see also review by John
France
RTE National Symphony Orchestra/Tony Rowe (For Valour; No.15); Adrian Leaper (Merryheart; No.11)
