One
of the most enjoyable concerts I’ve ever attended – not
necessarily best but most enjoyable – was given many years
ago in a local church and consisted of Finzi’s Intimations
of Immortality and Delius’s Violin Concerto played
by Manoug Parikian. I suppose it was an indication of my
enthusiasms at the time that Ian Partidge’s LP recording
has obliterated all recollection of the tenor soloist (I
do hope it wasn’t Partridge) in the Finzi but that Parikian’s
splendid playing in the Delius has remained a warm memory.
Must look up the programme if it’s still around.
This
new Gilchrist/Hill recording is that much quicker (over
three minutes) than a current rival with John Mark Ainsley
and Matthew Best on Hyperion – the Partridge/Handley is
in limbo land or Lotus Land or wherever it is that LP recordings
go to stagnate and die – and its tauter compression is
a pleasurable feature of the new recording. I’ve not heard
the Langridge/Hickox on EMI which is coupled with Philip
Fowke’s performance of the wonderful Grand Fantasia
and Toccata.
But
greater tension and speed are not everything; inflexion,
subtlety of word deployment, vowel shading and crispness
of consonants count for a huge amount and especially so
in the mammoth responsibility in setting Wordsworth. The
differences between Ainsley and Gilchrist are considerable.
Ainsley has a much more focused, centred voice; it’s harder,
less inclined to soft edges. Gilchrist is more consistent
with his cathedral background, more reflective, softer
and more malleable, more fragile and introspective. Ainsley’s
is a public persona in this work, more declamatory, Gilchrist
more withdrawn.
This
manifests itself in a number of ways, some positive, and
some negative. Gilchrist strains sometimes going up, where
the voice can spread, and where a relative uncertainty
of pitch comes into play. He colours vowels attractively
if inconsistently and his quick throbbing vibrato is accompanied
by a lack of optimum sustenance at the top of the register
and lack of chest heft lower down. But hear what he does
with the “eternal silence” section (track 11) where Gilchrist
bleaches his tone white. Ainsley is good here as well but
far less touching. Or his head voice in track 13’s And
O, ye fountains where he attains a touching grace of
expression. Demerits also include some strange colourings,
odd things such as the way he deals with the “delight” in
track 3 (“The Moon doth with delight”) and elsewhere,
where his response is rather hampered technically.
The
orchestra plays well with some very expressive solos in
the Introduction. The chorus is rather blurry however – which
may be an acoustical problem or a balance one, or both – and
its entries are occasionally mushy and indistinct. I found
certain passages, such as the glorious and unforgettable Waters
on a starry night, sounded chorally unspontaneous and
over-prepared, which limited its mystery and awe-struck
immediacy somewhat.
I’d
rate this performance well enough but there are rather
too many little problems that tend to drag it down a touch,
for me at least.
Coupled
with it is the fanfare efflorescence and sensitive introspection
of the much less well known and less often performed For
St Cecilia. The choral and orchestral forces certainly
catch the Parry-burnished nobility and masculine Englishness
of the final section, Wherefore we bid with impressive
sonority – they seem to be a touch better balanced here
as well. It’s a stirring, chest swelling interpretation,
with crisp brass and alert percussion to the fore. Gilchrist’s
honesty and clarity of diction are most attractive features
of this performance.
Jonathan
Woolf
AmazonUK AmazonUS
James
Gilchrist (tenor) 
