This 
                is another volume in Sony’s reissued series of Beecham Delius 
                recordings from the 1950s. Eventyr and the closing scene 
                from Koanga were included in the Naxos Historical series 
                of recordings from the 1930s, as were less extensive extracts 
                from the Hassan music. Arabesque was completely 
                new to me.  
              
 
              
Eventyr 
                is a fifteen minute tone poem based on "Asbjornsen’s folklore", 
                a collection of Norwegian folk tales published in 1841. Requiring 
                a huge orchestra, the work is in that typically Delian rhapsodic 
                style which demands quite a few hearings before we begin to be 
                able to find our way around it. The startling moment when members 
                of the orchestra are instructed to shout is surprisingly tame 
                here, but otherwise the performance is electric.  
              
 
              
Arabesque 
                is a rich, opulently scored work for baritone, chorus and orchestra. 
                It is sung to the original Danish text by J.P. Jacobsen, but since 
                neither the text nor its translation appears in the booklet we 
                can have no idea of what the soloist, who sings throughout, or 
                the choir, which has a more subordinate role, are telling us. 
                A summary of the text at least would have been welcome, but we 
                don’t even get that. There are certainly many beautiful moments 
                in the piece, and the soloist sings well enough if with a slightly 
                tiring vibrato, but an opportunity to help the listener with a 
                lesser known Delius work has been missed here.  
              
 
              
James 
                Elroy Flecker’s play Hassan or The Golden Journey to Samarkand 
                was first given in September 1923, having been much postponed 
                owing to financial constraints. Delius had been commissioned to 
                compose the incidental music, and the production was successful 
                enough for an initial run of several months. The music is certainly 
                atmospheric. From the tender woodwind and harp solos in the opening 
                piece of this selection to the robust and lively choruses the 
                music is beautiful in itself and was presumably successful in 
                the theatre setting. It also manages quite well to evoke the music 
                of the Arab world without sliding into parody or pastiche. The 
                Act 3 Prelude is particularly successful in this respect. The 
                Serenade, an extended violin solo, and the Closing Scene are well 
                known from other recordings, but this is a more extensive selection 
                than usual and all the more interesting for that. Some of the 
                pieces are short, however, and without much idea of the action 
                they are meant to be accompanying they are difficult to imagine 
                in context, and the failure again to provide the sung texts means 
                that we can have no idea what the chorus is singing. Their words 
                are largely inaudible. Beecham’s performance is magical and definitive, 
                as it also is of the well known Closing Scene from Koanga. 
                The names of the slightly wobbly singers are not given, but at 
                least they are not singing at us from the cellar as seemed to 
                be the case in 1934.  
              
 
              
The 
                mono sound in Eventyr, from 1951, is the most primitive 
                of these recordings. There is a certain hardness in the sound 
                throughout the disc, and also a number of studio noises, pages 
                being turned and so on, but though it is certainly of its period 
                the sound no longer gets in the way of the listener’s enjoyment 
                as I, for one, find it does in the earlier Naxos series.  
              
 
              
The 
                booklet is adorned with the same photographs of Beecham as in 
                other volumes in the series and the accompanying note by Graham 
                Meville-Mason concentrates on Beecham and his association with 
                Delius, especially in the recording studio, rather than on the 
                works themselves, which is understandable given the special nature 
                of these issues.  
              
 
              
William 
                Hedley