Northampton-born Edmund
Rubbra is I believe a minor master,
a profoundly spiritual man whose music
is beginning to receive the recognition
that it deserves. I am informed that
these original Lyrita issues were some
of the small number of defining recordings
that helped raise Rubbra’s music from
virtual obscurity into a resurgence
as an important composer worthy of genuine
interest. I am familiar with several
of Rubbra’s symphonies, a few concertante
scores, some chamber and sacred music.
However prior to receiving this Lyrita
release I had not heard these two symphonies
at all.
The four movement Symphony
No. 6 was commissioned by the Royal
Philharmonic Society and composed when
Rubbra was in his early fifties. At
the premiere of the work in 1954 Sir
Malcolm Sargent conducted the BBC Symphony
Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall
in London.
The strong and mysterious
opening movement is disconcerting and
tense with isolated episodes of spring-like
bloom. The movement ends like a boat
becalmed on the seas. The canto
(largo e sereno) is meditative;
never cheerful. Rubbra’s mood is serious
with an undercurrent of apprehension.
The music builds to an unsettling climax
before a brief episode of relative quietude.
In the third movement Rubbra’s joy and
vitality run rampant. The celesta and
xylophone productively contribute to
the bright colourings. In the final
movement the long expressive lines are
maintained, dignified and mellow. The
prevailing mood changes to one of hectic
searching; as if for freedom. The contrasts
between storm and relative calm rapidly
fluctuate. The conclusion to the score
comes as a welcome respite from the
tension. One is left wondering how they
should really feel as Rubbra’s inner
emotions are so difficult to read.
Rubbra’s Symphony
No. 8 is cast in three movements.
He gave the score the title Hommage
à Teilhard de Chardin in
honour of his appreciation for the controversial
French Jesuit priest Teilhard de Chardin
(1881-1955), a philosopher who also
had a considerable interest in biology
and palaeontology. The Eighth Symphony
had to wait a few years for its
premiere performance which was given
in 1971 under the baton of Sir Charles
Groves and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Orchestra at the Philharmonic Hall in
Liverpool.
The serious mood of
dark foreboding that pervades the earlier
Sixth Symphony is immediately
present. It is hard to imagine anything
sacred here and I contend that the movement
contains an almost pagan quality. The
mood builds to an angry and aggressive
pitch that feels unremitting, ending
with a sense of emotional exhaustion.
The central movement marked allegretto
con brio is hectic and bustling
with nervous energy. Occasional woodwind
episodes provide an opportunity for
an emotional respite from the uncertainty.
In the poco lento closing movement
the thick almost impenetrable textures
remain. Rubbra’s refusal to provide
memorable themes makes the music an
arduous and turbulent emotional journey.
At 5.36 to 6.00 the drums beat out a
disturbing tattoo, some relief is provided
but any reprieve is short-lived. The
tension increases although thankfully
the harp enters at 7.45 to herald a
long-awaited and welcome mood of tranquillity.
On this Lyrita recording
of the two symphonies the Philharmonia
barely put a foot wrong with world class
playing that eminently satisfies. The
strings and woodwind just have to be
singled out for their ensemble and superb
tone.
The earliest of the
three scores, the Soliloquy,
was composed I believe between 1943-1944,
although the booklet notes give two
dates for the score: 1944 and 1947.
This single movement work for solo cello
and a small orchestra of strings, two
horns and timpani was composed for the
use of Rubbra’s friend, the eminent
cellist William Pleeth.
In the Soliloquy
the determined cello sings its mournful
song almost incessantly against a dense
orchestral background. Rubbra clearly
has something serious and profound to
say. It would have been impossible for
him not to have been emotionally scarred
by the terrible events of world war
two; which was still taking place. One
becomes unsettled by the disconcerting
character of the music that one hopes
will soon end to release the tension.
Cellist Rohan de Saram is a committed
and compelling soloist against the backdrop
of Rubbra’s demanding and unremitting,
tension-filled music. The London Symphony
Orchestra respond with persuasive and
passionate support.
In spite of not knowing
where or when the recordings were made
the Lyrita engineers have provided clear
and well-balanced sound quality and
the booklet notes from Adrian Yardley
are first class. I can guarantee that
it won’t be long before this excellent
Lyrita reissue is on my player again.
For those who are not familiar with
the orchestral works of Rubbra this
would make an excellent place to start.
Michael Cookson
see also review
by Colin Clarke
Rohan de Saram (cello) 
for
details
