What was so special
about Dennis Brain? Here we are, nearly
fifty years after his untimely death
in a car accident at the age of just
thirty-six, and he truly is a legend,
still the first name in all musicians’
minds when horn players are discussed.
Well this BBC disc goes a long way towards
answering that question – for those,
that is, who aren’t already familiar
with his recordings of the Mozart or
Strauss concertos, for example.
He was such a complete
artist; his technique was stunning almost
to the point of disbelief. His tone
had a creamy richness that comes through
even on some of these indifferent old
recordings. But it was his musicianship
that put him in a class of his own amongst
his fellow exponents of this most treacherous
of brass instruments. The chamber pieces
here testify to his ability to efface
himself and become a perfect ensemble
player – not something all virtuosi
can do - while his phrasing was always
so flexible, so unfailingly musical.
With regard to Brain’s
tone, his ear and musicianship meant
that he was able to employ a greater
variety of sound than most players.
You’ll often detect a very slight vibrato,
used to sweeten an expressive or legato
melodic line. But the use of vibrato
in British horn playing was pretty well
unheard of in his day, being something
associated with the Russians, the Eastern
Europeans, and – horror of horrors!
– the French. As you’ll hear, however,
Brain applied his vibrato with such
taste and control that no true music-lover
could object, and as a result other
players began to follow his lead.
So he was the first
of a new breed of horn players and brass
players generally. This can be most
easily appreciated on this disc in the
Hindemith Sonata, a demanding piece,
full of knotty technical problems for
the horn player, and requiring a totally
secure sense of rhythm through the varying
metres and phrase-lengths. Though this
performance bears the earliest date
of those on the disc, Brain gives a
masterly reading. Bless him, he even
manages to make a few little slips for
the reassurance of lesser mortals!
The two chamber ensemble
works are no less interesting. The Beethoven
quintet sometimes gets a ‘bad press’
for being a weaker piece than Mozart’s
for the same combination. So it is,
but the Mozart is a sublime work, and
the fact that this example of early
Beethoven is not on that level doesn’t
render it valueless. In a fine version
like this, its qualities of good-humour
and inventiveness come through well.
Brain takes a fairly minor role for
most of the time, but the long solo
in the slow movement stands out for
its beauty and authority. However, the
real star of these tracks is the pianist
– how wonderful to have Benjamin Britten,
albeit playing a composer he professed
no liking for. He is the consummate
chamber music pianist, guiding the ensemble
discreetly yet irresistibly throughout.
The Gordon Jacob sextet
is not a piece I personally warm to
– it is a pale shadow of the major masterpiece
for this combination of piano and wind
quintet, that by Francis Poulenc. Unlike
Tully Potter in the booklet notes, I
find quite a number of echoes of Poulenc
in Jacob’s work, but he cannot match
the Frenchman’s charm and facility,
and the piece makes a rather grim, unsmiling
impression, well though it is undoubtedly
conceived for the instruments it employs.
Gilbert Vinter’s lollipop
Hunter’s Moon makes an excellent
concluding item, with its breezy melodies
and cunning use of stopped notes – and
I had never before heard it in its full
orchestral garb, so that, despite some
less than immaculate orchestral playing
from the BBC Concert Orchestra under
Tausky, this is great fun.
The recordings are
all acceptable, though they do sound
their age. But I must say, the BBC engineers
of the day certainly knew about balance!
The Jacob presents some very tricky
problems, but everything is readily
audible.
As far as Brain goes
- what a player, what a musician! A
‘Legend’ indeed.
Gwyn Parry-Jones