A brief word of warning
to begin. For anyone who reads the BBC
Music Magazine this exact recording
was released as a cover CD in celebration
of Tippett’s ninetieth birthday in 1995.
If, like me, you are not always overly
diligent in cataloguing your magazine
cover discs it is worth having a hunt
before parting with the nine pounds
or so this mid-price NMC Archive re-release
is going to cost you. Should you not
have it in your collection then read
on, for the disc is a fascinating document
of the composer’s own realisation of
his Second and Fourth Symphonies in
the twilight years of his life.
Remarkably Tippett
was eighty-eight when he took to the
podium for this recording. In a series
of highly illuminating recollections,
recording engineer and former Chief
Producer of the BBC Symphony Orchestra,
Martin Cotton tells in the accompanying
booklet of the trials and tribulations
he encountered in bringing the project
to fruition, trials that continued to
the very recording sessions themselves.
Initially, the problem was one of convincing
record company executives of the merit
of the project. "What do you think
Michael would bring to the music"
was one response, accurately described
by Cotton as "supercilious".
Enter Fiona Maddocks, then editor of
the BBC Music Magazine, who agreed to
fund the recording as the BBC Music
Magazine’s contribution to the forthcoming
Tippett celebrations of 1995.
No doubt one of the
reasons for the scepticism was Tippett’s
own reputation with the baton. Whilst
a regular conductor of his own music,
Tippett was not known for the accuracy
of his podium technique. By the time
this recording came to pass his age
was also an obvious factor although
it is clear from Cotton’s recollections
that advancing years had done nothing
to diminish his impish humour and an
endearing delight at the "discovery"
of his own notes.
What we get is a ‘seat
of the pants’ musical experience, an
orchestra at times clearly struggling
to keep the roller-coaster from flying
off the rails but nonetheless playing
with a sense of concentration and respect
that permeates virtually every bar.
The Second Symphony
has, in my own mind at least, always
been associated with spring. Tippett
intended the first movement (conceived
as he sat gazing over a sunlit Lake
Lugano) to be a celebration of joy.
From the pounding Vivaldi inspired Cs
of the opening bars and the dance-like
rhythms that ensue, I have always felt
that the music heralds the beginning
of the new season. Here, the BBC Symphony
Orchestra play with a vitality that
one could hardly envisage them gaining
from Tippett’s physical example on the
podium. Yet it was to his credit that
the players responded with such unadulterated
verve. The beautifully limpid sounds
of the early bars of the second movement,
like the waking of nature after the
winter, are captured with heart-stopping
atmosphere although the Presto veloce
scherzo that follows fares less
well, the tempo erring on the cautious
side as both orchestra and conductor
try to get to grips with the complexities
of Tippett’s intricate rhythmic writing.
The final Allegro moderato gets
things back on track however as the
symphony comes full circle to return
to the Cs of the opening, this time
slowed down and signalling that the
music has run its course.
The essentially classical
form of the Second Symphony could hardly
be more at odds with the continuous
structure of the Fourth, the origins
of which lie in Tippett’s viewing of
a film that showed the foetal development
of a rabbit inside the womb, speeded
up to demonstrate the splitting of the
initial single cell. The brass (augmented
to two tubas and six horns in addition
to the usual three trumpets and trombone)
figure prominently in Tippett’s scoring
and the players of the BBC Symphony
Orchestra revel in the opportunities
Tippett affords them. Once again, indeed
more so than in the Second Symphony,
there are moments when Tippett’s complex
rhythmic systems seem to bring players
and conductor perilously close to disaster.
Yet the excitement and spontaneity of
the music-making is exciting in the
extreme. Perfection it is not but do
not let that put you off. It’s thrilling
stuff.
If you prefer your
recordings studio-polished it is likely
that Richard Hickox on Chandos will
be your man. If you can put up with
a few awkward corners however this recording
is a memorable document of the sheer
joy of music making.
Christopher Thomas
BBC Symphony Orchestra/Michael Tippett 
