These works were originally coupled on a more 
                generously timed though full price Delos disc. Delos had added 
                the Concerto for Small Orchestra. These two war-time Symphonies 
                make for contrasting and stimulating listening. 
              The Fourth Symphony was the piece that converted 
                me to Diamond. During the late 1970s BBC Radio 3 ran a series 
                featuring the American Symphony. They used rare US import LPs 
                and through these broadcasts I came to know Piston’s Sixth, 
                Randall Thompson’s Second and many others. In the case of 
                Diamond’s Fourth Symphony captivation was immediate. That 
                diaphanous cloud of lyrical ‘dust’ that floats the 
                first movement Allegretto retains the enduring power to enchant. 
                On Naxos Schwarz shapes the long song-like theme like a master. 
                It is only hearing it again now that I notice how very much like 
                Rubbra this is. It is Rubbra in collana musicale mood mixed with 
                a lightness of touch that has served its apprenticeship with Ravel.
              Leonard Bernstein and the NYPO recorded the Fourth 
                Symphony at St. Georges Hotel, Brooklyn, New York on 13 January 
                1958. That recording (the one used by the BBC) is still available 
                with Randall Thompson’s Second and Roy Harris’s Third 
                on Sony SMK 60594. The Bernstein is balanced to produce a sound 
                picture of surgingly crowded immediacy. When those horns and trumpets 
                yawp their tawny presence springs forward with that much more 
                assertiveness than on the Naxos. Intriguingly Bernstein in 1958 
                takes things slower than Schwarz in 1990. Bernstein: 5.52; 6.20; 
                6.40; Schwarz: 5.08; 5.28; 5.59. On the other hand the Naxos has 
                a more believable perspective to the sound although the contrivance 
                of the NYPO balance does produce a gorgeous experience. The offbeat 
                slam-dunks of the crashing brass and timps in the last few minutes 
                is done with wonderful spirit, stamina and definition by Schwarz. 
                The sedate Finzian glow of the string writing in the middle movement 
                also works very well. 
                
                The Second Symphony was premiered by Koussevitsky in Boston on 
                22 October 1944. That concert was broadcast and recorded on the 
                early disc recorders of the time. I have heard that scorching 
                version but how primitive and tremulous the sound is! The Second 
                Symphony received its UK premiere on 21 December 1990 at the Royal 
                Northern College of Music in Manchester. Schwarz conducted the 
                BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. It was through the Delos CD and that 
                broadcast that I discovered this big scalding work, typical of 
                its times. Its brethren, alike yet unalike, include the Harris 
                Sixth, Arthur Benjamin’s Symphony and Shostakovich’s 
                Seventh. 
              Schwarz is impassioned and desperate as well 
                as touchingly humane. Those strings really sing in the first movement. 
                The resonance with the largo of Shostakovich’s Sixth is 
                clear. The horns peal out in a strange amalgam of pain and exaltation; 
                Howells does something similar in Missa Sabrinensis and in Hymnus 
                Paradisi. The drums are captured with vital impact tr. 1, 7.02. 
                The other work with which this echoes is Copland’s Third 
                Symphony in all its stirring grandeur and, yes, even its braggartry. 
                The allegro vivo moves along at a smartish exuberant clip with 
                vituperatively spitting impacts from percussion and brass. The 
                andante expressivo develops the severe momentum of a Rubbra symphony 
                with the violins carrying an eloquent burden. It is topped off 
                by a brass-crowned climax at 10.02 and a ‘Quiet City’ 
                style lament by the solo trumpet at 10.30. The finale is full 
                of industrious sparky energy and is played at dangerously breathless 
                speeds - Golovanov would surely have smiled from on high. Roy 
                Harris must also have influenced this writing; the stomping cross-rhythmic 
                activity and free-fluttering brass recall the Third and Sixth 
                Symphonies.
              There we have it. Two wartime symphonies by a 
                composer whose language makes links with Rubbra, Finzi, Ravel, 
                Copland and Roy Harris. Believable recordings of well-conceived 
                and executed performances. The insidiously emotional Fourth can 
                easily bring a lump to your throat.
              Rob Barnett