British concertos have become something
of a theme for the record companies.
Whiteline have already given us English
Oboe Concertos (WHL2130
review) and English Bassoon
Concertos (WHL2132 review)
so this anthology fits neatly within
that corner of their catalogue. The
only modifier is the British label -
necessary because of the presence of
Scot Iain Hamilton and Australian John
Carmichael. Elsewhere we have Naxos
with their British piano concertos and
most recently their British Tuba Concertos.
Time for someone to essay a few British
violin concerto collections!
Carmichael, born in
Australia, a pupil of fellow countryman
Arthur Benjamin, now lives in the UK.
He is no pioneer. His music in its more
dreamy moments reminded me of John Ireland
in the Forgotten Rite although
the close-up vivid recording balance
tends to work against mystery. He also
has a tendency to shade into Iberian
mode (this is the man who also wrote
a Concierto Folklorico that seems
to be a tribute manqué to Nights
in the Gardens of Spain). He writes
a finale that catches the light-on-the-palate
magic of the very best light British
music of the 1950s and 1960s. It’s wonderful
stuff and is played with real panache
by all concerned. That said John Wallace
does not have quite the pin-sharp articulation
of dedicatee Kevin Johnston on the only
other recording of the work (part of
a wonderful Australian light music collection
reviewed at http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2001/June01/Swagman.htm).
By the way there’s also a very agreeable
Carmichael chamber music collection
on ABC Classics http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2004/Mar04/carmichael_sea_changes.htm
Then comes a ragingly
strange gear-change from fifties light
suave straight into four movements of
jazzy scorch, smooch and swoon. John
Wallace and the orchestra do the honours
in the Iain Hamilton concerto with breathtaking
abandon. This is renowned controversialist
Hamilton slumming it with death-defying
style. There is not a hint of the 1960s
and 1970s Manchester School. The concerto
is tremendously enjoyable being one
of three works he wrote for the BBC
Light Music Festivals of the 1950s and
1960s. I confess to wincing once or
twice in Malcolm Arnold’s similarly
pop Concerto for Phyllis and Cyril
and drifting off during such fusions
as the Seiber/Dankworth Jazz Improvisations
(conducted by Pritchard on Decca).
Here however Hamilton carries off the
act without an arched eyebrow or a wink.
He plays it serious and for me the piece
works resoundingly well. He vies with
Gershwin and Bernstein in evocation
of hot summers and the jitteriest of
jitter-bugs.
Boughton wrote his
twenty minute concerto for his youngest
son Brian in August 1943. While Carmichael
is fantastic and mercurial and Hamilton
goes in for total jazz immersion (OK
it’s notated), Boughton writes a work
of over-arching Brahmsian seriousness.
This is sustained even during the darting
pointillist delicacy of the Allegretto.
Not for the first time we also hear
a marchingly sentimental little touch
of Elgar (First Symphony) in the opening
of the Lento espressivo second
movement. It also casts a warm smile
over the final pages. His Third Symphony
has similar echoes. This is a concerto
for which I suspect Boughton had the
highest aims. His seriousness and his
success is reflected in the calming
opening and close which touch on the
string writing of both Elgar and Finzi.
Boughton is a fascinating composer
and this is a composition to match -
no shallow crowd-pleaser that’s for
sure. Wallace knows this work well and
his reading has gained in depth since
his 1990 broadcast of the work with
the BBC Scottish.
I know the name of
Tony Hewitt-Jones. I wish I knew more
of his music. After a life in the county
council education worlds and of many
occasional and didactic pieces he retired
to the Cotswolds. His ashes are spread
amongst the hills that inspired so many
British composers. His muscular string
writing has a shade of Rawsthorne-like
asperity but it is modest. The solo
line is florid and celebratory with
the customary time allowed for poetic
reflection in the middle movement. It
provides many moments to savour. I kept
detecting gentle hints of Copland (Tender
Land) and then the composer turns
away. The Moto perpetuo darts,
ducks and dives. Wallace’s clarion bell-tone
and clarity of articulation are sheer
delight.
Sanctuary and Whiteline
do their customary slap-up job and Philip
Lane provides the documentation.
Four extremely accessible
concertos avoiding the bland, full of
mercurial moodiness and dazzle (Carmichael),
out and out jazziness (Hamilton), clarion
delight (Hewitt-Jones) and emotional
gravitas (Boughton). The best of the
Sanctuary concerto collections.
Rob Barnett
John Wallace (trumpet) 
