These are classic performances of the gramophone
and need no recommendation from me. Beecham’s role in promoting
the music of Delius is well documented, as is the composer’s gratitude,
and even if his later performances for EMI are better known, the
Beecham magic is very much present on these three discs. I haven’t
heard the original 78rpm issues, but the remastering seems to
have been expertly done, even if careful listening supports the
view expressed elsewhere that the performance of Brigg Fair
is slightly sharp. A producer’s note alerts us to technical problems
with the original discs of this 1929 performance, including pitch
fluctuations. This didn’t bother me and won’t bother the majority
of listeners, but presumably if the pitch is affected the actual
speed of the performance has been affected also, even if only
marginally. But the playing throughout the three discs is of great
authority, and there certainly is something special about Beecham’s
way with phrasing in this music which needs, I think, more than
that of almost any composer, a sympathetic interpreter, if it
is to work at all. And then the CDs are of course very cheap,
and this final factor will make them irresistible for many collectors.
I could stop there, yet these discs do make me
wonder once more at the explosion of interest in historical performances
on record. The fact is that the sound, however remarkable it may
be for its period, is execrable compared to what we may
now expect. Who is buying all these discs, and for what reasons?
I’m not at all suggesting that they shouldn’t be issued – that
would be ridiculous in any case – but I would see most of them
as working tools for historians rather than anything else. These
discs, in spite of the illustrious names which appear on them,
seem very much to fall into this category.
The first disc begins with On Hearing the
First Cuckoo in Spring which was the second piece I ever heard
in a symphony concert, probably in 1965, and which I have loved
ever since. (The first piece – you’re dying to know – was Chabrier’s
España, which I love also.) The Hallé Orchestra
was conducted on that occasion by Lawrence Leonard, and I was
as captivated by the final diminuendo in the Delius as
I was by the wonderful pizzicato opening of the Chabrier.
The present performance is lovely too, though the final notes
are not so drawn out as I remember from the Hallé concert,
and the reading as a whole is evocative without any trace of self-indulgent
lingering. Sadly, however, I don’t think I’ll be coming back to
it very often when the sound is so primitive. Why should I, in
any case, when Barbirolli or Vernon Handley provide equally lovely
and atmospheric performances – though very different ones – in
modern sound, not to mention Beecham’s own rather more affectionate
later reading on EMI?
Sea Drift was recorded almost nine years
later and the difference in the quality of the sound is remarkable.
All the same I have to say that my reactions were similar. When
the textures are overloaded, not rare in this work, the recording
simply can’t cope, and for all that you can hear them the choral
basses might as well have stayed at home. A sign of what was possible
with a smaller ensemble may be heard in the unaccompanied section
a little more than half way through, when both choir and soloist
are brought forward and much more of what is happening in the
music becomes audible. But as soon as the orchestra re-enters
the singers – the soloist in particular – suddenly shoot back
to their original places. Better to do it that way, certainly,
at that point in recording history, but the effect is comical
all the same. It’s a very interesting performance, of a piece
with all these Beecham performances, affectionate and expressive
but avoiding sentimentality. He shaves almost three minutes off
Richard Hickox’s timing on his first recording for Decca, and
Hickox, as we know, is no slouch. Beecham refuses to linger, and
there is something about the phrasing, noticeable in the very
opening chorus, where phrase endings are cut so short that the
effect is rather jaunty. I think the work can take this, as there
is a danger, with the combination of Whitman’s story of the he-bird
left alone when his mate disappears and Delius’ overcharged harmonies
and textures, of the whole thing turning to treacle. The Australian
baritone John Brownlee sings well, and clearly shares the conductor’s
view that the piece should be kept moving. The chorus too, acquits
itself very well, but though this is a work beloved of choral
societies I don’t think the average English singer is really at
home with the very particular way in which Whitman expresses his
ideas. "Alabama" sounds as far away from these singers’
everyday lives as it has in any performance I’ve ever heard or,
for that matter, sung in myself. The choral diction is excellent,
but both they and the soloist make heavy weather of the more rapid
passages in compound time: it’s laboured, and even with Beecham
on the box the pathos is sometimes absent, the choir sounding
jolly rather than dramatic. And here again I wonder how one would
react to this performance if the sound allowed everything to be
heard? As it is, and for reasons already expressed, when I want
to listen to this work for pleasure I’ll turn to either of Hickox’s
two performances, with John Shirley-Quirk (Decca) easily as touching
as Bryn Terfel on the later Chandos performance.
When it came to the pieces I knew less well,
or, in two cases, not at all, I found that the sound actually
got in the way of hearing what was happening in the music. This
is less problematical in the more energetic passages of Over
the Hills and Far Away or Paris, where the music asserts
itself more easily above the background noise. But in certain
of the earliest recordings here the sound comes close to breaking
up, and the more withdrawn, magical passages suffer accordingly.
There’s little incentive, under these circumstances, to persevere
with music you don’t already know.
A lengthy period of concentrated exposure to
this music also tends to expose its limitations. There is something
a little stagnant about much of it, the harmony which for the
most part doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere, and a melodic line
in which many of the notes seem to have been consciously chosen
rather than finding their own, inevitable place. The range of
orchestral colour seems limited, too, though here again I think
that more modern sound would reveal greater variety. I realise
that all this will not go down well with Delius enthusiasts, but
I suggest that we knew this already and only concentrated and
repeated listening over a lengthy period of time reminded us of
it. I also suggest that although there are many large-scale works
in the Delius canon, that this is a composer who is best appreciated
in small doses.
Admirers of Delius, Beecham or historic performances
in general will not be discouraged by my reaction to these recordings,
and this is as it should be. Nothing I say will affect the reputation
of the individuals concerned, and that should go as much for David
Lennick, whose achievement in transferring these performances
to CD is probably a heroic one, as it does for Delius and Beecham.
But I wouldn’t like to think that many people would use these
discs as their introduction to the music of Delius, attracted
perhaps by the conductor’s reputation in this repertoire. There
is more to Delius than is available to the listener here, and
these discs, valuable though they are, should be heard as supplements
to more modern recordings where not only the sound, but also the
development of Delius interpretation over time will provide a
richer, more varied and enjoyable experience.
William Hedley
RPO/LPO/Sir Thomas Beecham