Samuel COLERIDGE-TAYLOR (1875-1912)
The Song of Hiawatha – Overture, Op.30 (1899) [11:21]
Petite Suite de Concert, Op.77 (1910) [16:03]
Othello Suite, Op.79 (1909) [10:37]
4 Characteristic Waltzes, Op.22 (1898) [13:42]
Gipsy Suite (1927, arr. Leo Artok) [12:41]
Romance of the Prairie Lilies (1931, arr. Percy Fletcher) [6:30]
RTÉ Concert Orchestra/Adrian Leaper
rec. 20-21 January 1993, Radio Centre, RTÉ Dublin, Ireland.
NAXOS 8.555191 [71:15]
These recordings, first issued on the Marco Polo label in 1995, have been reissued as part of the Naxos British Light Music series, and the booklet notes are by the late David Ades, who was one of the (if not the) most significant commentators on British Light Music. This, then, is a celebration of a man who, in Ades’ words, had the potential to be “a major force in light music” and the equal to Eric Coates, Haydn Wood and Edward German. That is all, I am sure, true, but it does not paint the whole picture.
Between the two world wars my father used to sing in the Royal Choral Society and enthusiastically recalled their regular performances of Coleridge-Taylor’s Hiawatha at London’s Royal Albert Hall, with conductor Sir Malcolm Sargent fully kitted out as a Red Indian Chieftain and the chorus bedecked in various Red Indian costumes. There was even scenery, and the performances played to packed houses. I still treasure my father’s score of the complete Hiawatha trilogy, and it has been standard practice of mine, when working with choral societies, to perform Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast (which I believe to be probably the greatest secular choral work written by a British composer since the 17th century) at least once, and often, by demand, more often. Choirs and audiences love it. I have also tackled Tales of Old Japan, which otherwise seems to have been all but forgotten, and with cathedral choirs I have sung some of his anthems as well as his Evening Service in F. Beyond his excellent choral music, much of his output for chamber ensemble has been issued on record at various times, and some of his larger orchestral works (notably a Symphony and a Violin Concerto) are currently available on CD. The fact is, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor was a much more serious composer than this Naxos release would imply, and while only those insufferable musical snobs (such dinosaurs still roam the musical world) who regard light music as sub-standard would dismiss Coleridge-Taylor for being a composer of such trifles, his real genius still remains hidden from the view of the vast majority of the music-loving public. This reissue is not going to change that, despite the sure-footed playing of the RTÉ Concert Orchestra and Adrian Leaper’s unfailingly sympathetic direction.
If proof were needed that Coleridge-Taylor is far more than a mere composer of Light Music, the Overture to The Song of Hiawatha should instantly provide that. This is serous concert music, expertly crafted and full of intriguing subtleties. I am puzzled that Ades suggested that the Overture does not include musical excerpts from the Song of Hiawatha itself; it does, most notably the famous striding open fifth theme which permeates the whole trilogy. But perhaps it is to Coleridge-Taylor’s credit that he disguises these themes so well, making this not so much an overture to a major choral work, as a stand-alone concert piece. The opening of the Petite Suite de Concert is another fine example of non-light music. It could easily pass for one of Dvořák’s own overtures. Although echoes of Dvořák, and to a lesser extent Delius, abound, Coleridge-Taylor was musically very much his own man, and his wonderful gift for melody, inspired by his African roots, shines through the entire work. The set of four Characteristic Waltzes was composed in 1898, the year following his graduation from the Royal College of Music. Ades links these to the idea, apparently voiced by Coates, of music “not written for dancing”; but they seem more to belong to the tradition of concert waltzes exemplified by Brahms. And, indeed, the spirit of Brahms hangs over all four of these, although in the first – Valse bohémienne – it alternates, surprisingly effectively, with a much lighter voice. The second, Valse rustique, has a delightfully pastoral air with a beautifully lyrical oboe solo, while the third, Valse de la Reine, is a gracefully flowing dance with hints of Tchaikovsky about it, but utterly characteristic of Coleridge-Taylor’s own compositional voice; full marks here for the deliciously light touch from the RTÉ Concert Orchestra timpanist. The fourth waltz – Valse mauresque – clearly has a personal resonance for Coleridge-Taylor (the title translates as “Moorish”) with a jagged rhythmic introduction and a noble, strutting theme. Also clearly a subject with which Coleridge-Taylor felt able to relate is revealed in his incidental music to a stage production of Shakespeare Othello (commissioned by that great English actor and theatre impresario, Hebert Beerbohm Tree). Four movements from this incidental music are presented here including a highly-dramatic and exciting Dance, a delightful Children’s Intermezzo with a charming duet for clarinets, The Willow Song a lovely (and typically Coleridge-Taylor) theme given out by solo viola, and a brisk Military March which certainly does belong firmly to the world of Light Music.
Two other items here are not genuine originals by Coleridge-Taylor, but arrangements. Percy Fletcher has found something (although its origins are not clear) and made it into a lavishly scored if rather bitty Romance of the Prairie Lilies. This is British Light Music through and through, full of short-lived tuneful delights, but how much is Coleridge-Taylor and how much is Fletcher is open to debate. The Gipsy Suite is a four-movement piece for “salon orchestra” assembled by Lothar Windsperger working under the nom-de-plume Leo Artok, and “utilising melodies by Coleridge-Taylor”. Ades tells us nothing more about it, where the melodies come from, or how the Gipsy element came about; three of the four movements have the word gipsy in their title but there is nothing in the music which might be thought of as being in some way gipsy connected. It is charming and light-hearted music with the second movement “Song of the Gipsy Girl” sounding very much like a number from a Savoy operetta. The rest of the music is full of foot-tapping ideas, but lacking the musical substance that seems to mark out genuine Coleridge-Taylor whether or not he is writing light music.
Marc Rochester
