Frederick DELIUS (1862-1934)
Violin Concerto (1916) [24:23]
Robin MILFORD (1903-1959)
The Darkling Thrush for violin
and orchestra, Op. 17 (1928) [12:59]
Benjamin BRITTEN (1913-1976)
Violin Concerto, Op. 15.
(1938-39, rev. 1950/54/65) [31:29]
Philippe Graffin (violin)
Philharmonia Orchestra/Nicholas Collon
Royal Scottish National Orchestra/David Lloyd-Jones.
rec. 2014, RSNO Centre, Henry Wood Hall, Glasgow; Abbey Road Studio No 1, London
DUTTON EPOCH CDLX7320 [68:46]
I first encountered Philippe Graffin in his recording
of the neglected Violin Concerto by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (review)
and subsequently in a very good recording of the Elgar Violin Concerto
(review).
It’s germane to recall the Elgar disc because for that recording Graffin
went back to Elgar’s original thoughts for the solo violin part. In
doing so he ignored the alterations that were made at the suggestion
of Fritz Kreisler prior to the first performance and which were incorporated
into the published score. As we shall see, Graffin has done something
pretty similar for one of the works on this present disc.
His programme contains a novelty in the shape of the first recording
of The Darkling Thrush by Robin Milford. This short tone poem
for violin and orchestra was inspired by a poem by Thomas Hardy which
is printed as part of Lewis Foremen’s booklet essay. During the most
recent session in the MusicWeb
International Listening Studio this was one of the discs that we
auditioned and we listened to the Milford work. Our initial verdict
on the piece was that it couldn’t quite break free from Vaughan Williams
and, specifically, from the shadow cast by The Lark Ascending.
Perhaps that’s unsurprising since VW and Holst were Milford’s teachers
at the Royal College of Music. More to the point, in The Lark VW
had given what is arguably the definitive musical portrait of a bird
in flight. However, subsequently I’ve had the opportunity to listen
to the piece in more detail and to read Hardy’s lines. As a result,
while I can see that first-time listeners are likely to hear the influence
of The Lark I think that Milford’s piece is rather more than
a pale shadow of that masterpiece.
The key difference is that VW’s is a summer piece and, probably, describes
a young bird in flight. Hardy’s poem – and Milford’s music –
depicts a wintry scene and, in Hardy’s words, “An aged thrush, frail,
gaunt and small”. Thus The Darkling Thrush opens with some lovely
writing for solo winds and horn over hushed strings; the music is pastoral
but the mood isn’t innocent and the landscape is somewhat chilly and
dark in hue. The violin enters at 3:46 and thereafter is rarely silent
until just before the end. The solo writing features a great deal of
arabesque-like writing which bears similarities with The Lark but
I think it would have been difficult for Milford to devise a different
way of portraying a bird in flight. Frequently the flute is an agile
partner for the solo violin. Eventually a vigorous dance-like episode
leads to a short but effective climax (9:06-9:40) and then the music
gradually winds down. At the end Milford doesn’t portray his bird soaring
ever higher into the skies away from our sight in the manner of Vaughan
Williams. In fact to do so would have been at odds with Hardy’s poem.
Instead the thrush comes to rest and it’s the orchestra that has the
last word, bringing us back to earth, almost literally as the writing
reminds us of the wintry landscape depicted at the start.
Those who have investigated Milford’s more substantial Violin Concerto
(review)
will certainly want to hear The Darkling Thrush. It’s an attractive
and imaginatively written piece and I’m very glad to have discovered
it, especially in a fine performance such as this.
The Violin Concerto by Delius is much better known, though it’s scarcely
a repertoire piece. In a booklet note David Lloyd-Jones tells us that
in certain textural ways this recording is different to most of its
predecessors. In the first place, Albert Sammons, the work’s first interpreter,
made a number of modifications to the solo part over the years. Philippe
Graffin has been able to go back to various manuscript sources, including
Sammons’ own copy of the solo part with his markings in it to reconstruct,
as it were, the solo part as he played it. He’s also consulted Sammons’
1944 recording with Sargent. Nor is it just in terms of the solo part
that this new recording has gone “back to basics”. Lloyd-Jones points
out that the 1985 Delius Trust edition of the score incorporated editing
work done by Sir Thomas Beecham. Lloyd-Jones says that though he greatly
admires Beecham’s Delius-related work he rather parts company with him
in respect of this concerto since, for his taste, Beecham introduced
far too many slurs into the orchestra parts. These smooth out the orchestral
textures too much so for this recording Beecham’s well-intentioned additions
have been jettisoned. So this new recording is more likely than others
to mirror the text as played in Sammons’ 1944 recording (review).
David Lloyd-Jones admits that the changes made may not be all that evident
to the listener. I think it’s right to mention them, however, because
even if you don’t notice the changes – as, I confess, I didn’t - the
preparatory work that has been done evidences the great care taken over
this recording.
This isn’t the first time that Graffin and Lloyd-Jones have recorded
Delius together for this label (review)
and once again their partnership is very successful here. I like the
way that Graffin, while by no means eschewing beauty, projects the solo
line strongly. Lloyd-Jones is similarly positive over the accompaniment;
clearly both musicians understand that backbone is an essential component
of much of Delius’s music. The second movement is in some ways a dreamy
idyll with the strings muted and the brass silent with the exception
of the horns. But even here Graffin is positive – as well as poetic
– in his delivery of the solo line. The finale contains a lot of rhapsodic
flights of fancy for the soloist. Graffin’s way with the music is winning;
it’s also purposeful. Lloyd-Jones accompanies his soloist sympathetically.
There’s a strong climax at around 3:00 and shortly thereafter we hear
an attractive dancing episode led by the soloist, which is engagingly
done. As the end of the concerto draws near Delius indulges himself
– and us – with some achingly beautiful musings which are sensitively
accomplished in this performance. Indeed, the performance as a whole
strikes me as being a very fine one. And yet … I’ve accumulated several
recordings of this concerto over the years, including the Sammons performance,
the 1946 recording by Jean Pougnet with Beecham (EMI) and the 1984 Ralph
Holmes/Vernon Handley version (review),
originally issued by Unicorn-Kanchana. The score contains many beautiful
passages yet I find that the music has never really lodged in my memory.
Perhaps the composer’s solo writing is too decorative for its own good.
Delius devotees, however, can be assured that the concerto is very well
served here.
The Britten concerto receives an extremely strong performance. For this
Graffin is joined by the Philharmonia and the up-and-coming young British
conductor, Nicholas Collon. I was interested to be reminded by Lewis
Foreman’s notes that the premiere of this concerto was given in New
York with Barbirolli conducting; apparently the conductor lobbied his
orchestra hard to be allowed to give the first performance. That was
in March 1940 and twelve months later JB performed a similar service
to Britten by giving the first performances of Sinfonia da Requiem.
Apparently Britten was pleased with both premieres; the broadcast of
the second performance of Sinfonia da Requiem has survived and
shows that Barbirolli was well up to the task ( review).
What a shame that after this early championship of his music Britten
seems to have cooled towards the conductor. I hope he’d be pleased by
the advocacy of Graffin and Collon for his concerto.
Graffin does the first movement very well; he plays with poise and passion
and his tone is crystal clear, which is ideal for this piece. Having
played with a great deal of sweetness in the Delius, in this concerto
he adds just the right degree of edge to his sound and that’s entirely
appropriate. The second movement, which follows without a break is a
vivacious affair, crisply done here. The performance has great élan
and the driving rhythms are strongly articulated. The cadenza, which
starts at 5:42 and runs through to the end of the movement, demands
no little virtuosity from the soloist; Graffin really delivers. Sometime
before that (3:33-3:53) there’s a short but arresting passage in which
two skittish piccolos are heard in concert with a tuba. Lewis Foreman
plausibly suggests that this passage calls Shostakovich to mind, and
so it does. However, I’m put even more strongly in mind of the Soviet
master by the orchestral writing in the first couple of minutes of the
finale. Moreover, the finale is in the form of a passacaglia, a form
strongly associated with Shostakovich. All this, I presume, must be
coincidence because though the two composers came not only to admire
each other’s work greatly and to become friends that was much later
and I’m not sure how much of Shostakovich’s music Britten could have
heard by 1940.
Britten’s last movement is a complex and highly skilled compositional
tour de force. Graffin and Collon rise to its challenges; Graffin
with virtuoso playing and Collon with understanding conducting. I found
the Largamente, lento climax (around 7:30) a riveting experience;
here the tonal weight of the Philharmonia is especially impressive.
The concluding Lento e solenne section (from 9:29) really makes
its mark. This is unsettling music; the orchestral accompaniment is
relatively subdued but the passionate violin is struggling to find a
resolution.
This is a fine disc of British music for violin and orchestra. There’s
no obvious link between the three works but the link, if we need to
devise one, is that all three receive excellent performances. It’s the
Britten that makes the strongest impression on me but, then, it’s the
strongest work. And I’m delighted that Philippe Graffin has given us
the opportunity to discover Robin Milford’s attractive and engaging
piece. The recording quality is very good throughout the disc and, having
had the chance for more detailed listening, I can confirm the initial
verdict that we reached in the Listening Studio that the Britten recording
is particularly successful, with space and depth to the sound.
John Quinn
