Reading through the
2-volume Lionel Carley-edited Delius
– A Life in Letters one finds numerous
references to Delius’s Piano Concerto.
It might be assumed that Delius, cannily,
must have had his eye on concert performances
of his music to establish his name before
a public accustomed to, and preferring
such a work. This concerto was written
in the grand Late-Romantic tradition
and its lyricism is greatly influenced
by Grieg (1843-1907) who had befriended
the young Delius. Its more bravura
passages owe something to Liszt.
Usually we hear this
concerto in the revised edition, i.e.
after Delius, two years on from its
1904 premiere, removed its third movement
later to incorporate some of its material,
more effectively, in his Violin Concerto
of 1916. Therefore the original three-movement
work now became a single-movement concerto.
More minor revisions, approved and applauded
by Delius, came later, at the hand of
its dedicatee, Theodor Szántó
(a pupil of Busoni). The version we
hear most often today is that edited
by Sir Thomas Beecham.
It is therefore of
great interest to dedicated Delians
to hear this new, and only recording
of the composer’s original three-movement
conception. Robert Threlfall, in his
learned notes, recalls that Delius had
completed the score of a Fantasy
for piano and orchestra as early
as 1897. Some of this work was written
in Florida and therefore one might be
tempted to think that it could have
been coloured by the ill-fated romance
with his coloured girl there at that
time. This material was subsequently
developed into the Piano Concerto that
was premiered in Elberfeld on 24 October
1904, by Julius Buths, conducted by
Hans Haym.
One is immediately
aware of the strong lyrical influence
of Grieg. The first movement has a grand
sweep, too, with passion and defiance
as well as tender romanticism. The customary
Delian fingerprints are evident too,
notably around 3:00 and 8:39 (pastoral
dreaming). The Largo slow movement is
deeply felt, its limpid beauty nicely
realised by David Lloyd-Jones and Piers
Lane. Again the composer’s familiar
figures are recognisable: his individualistic
dance rhythms at 3:36 and, at 4:20,
those distant horn calls and figures
associated with those distant high vistas
Delius loved so much. Grouchy lower
strings launch the third movement that
mixes bombast, reverie and tenderness.
It has its moments but it comes as something
of an anticlimax forcing a belief that
Delius was right to abandon it in favour
of quarrying its material later.
Two recordings of the
revised version of Delius’s Piano Concerto
are worth considering: the 1969 Decca
recording (470 190-2) [timing 22:10]with
Jean-Rodolphe Kars and the London Symphony
Orchestra conducted by Sir Alexander
Gibson, and the 1990 Unicorn-Kanchana
(DKP(CD)9108) [21:52] recording with
Philip Fowke and the Royal Philharmonic
Orchestra conducted by Norman Del Mar.
Of the two, I prefer the warmer sound
of the Decca. It is a more dreamily
romantic and atmospheric performance.
But both recordings are very good and
both soloists shine.
It has to be said that
the Delius Piano Concerto, is an atypical
work. The John Ireland items are not.
In fact John Ireland’s orchestral works
are few and the two recorded here are
important major works. Legend for
Piano and Orchestra might well have
been the foundation for a Second Ireland
Piano Concerto proposed by Adrian Boult.
Alas that project never came to fruition.
Both Legend and the Piano Concerto
were written (in 1930) for his pupil
and protégée, the young
pianist Helen Perkin. The Concerto is
remarkably similar to Ravel’s G major
Piano Concerto, uncompleted at the time
of the Ireland Concerto’s premiere.
John Ireland’s Piano Concerto is
influenced by Ravel and Prokofiev -
notably that composer’s Third Piano
Concerto. The Ireland Concerto’s trumpets
use fibre dance band mutes - there is
a certain popular jazzy appeal to the
music. The Concerto was immediately
successful and it was often performed
by many British and international soloists
over the following forty years.
I remember the pianist,
Eric Parkin, who studied with John Ireland,
once telling me:
"There were certain
things that [Ireland] was absolutely
in no doubt about: he never liked his
music to be hurried, he wanted it to
go at such a pace that every chord could
be heard - he was very sensitive to
chordal movement - he hated rushing."
In addition to this
new recording there are two others of
note both featuring Eric Parkin. The
earlier Lyrita recording with Sir Adrian
Boult conducting the Concerto and Ireland’s
choral masterpiece These Things Shall
Be is no longer available so I will
be considering Parkin’s later, 1986,
Chandos recording (CHAN 8461) with Bryden
Thomson and the London Philharmonic
Orchestra. It is interesting to compare
the timings of the movements of the
two recordings of the Concerto and Legend:
Piers Lane:
I. 8:45; II. 7:12 III. 7:51 Legend 11:38
Eric Parkin: I.
9:14; II. 7:49 III. 8:31 Legend 13:17
(Thomson was often
criticised especially about his Bax
recordings and their slow tempi, while
Lloyd-Jones is associated with faster,
brisker readings – especially Bax.)
Considering the first
movement, the introduction on the Chandos
recording is more atmospheric and relaxed
and poetic. The LPO playing evolves
in a more leisurely fashion into the
faster and more playful Prokofiev-like
material. Generally, there is more of
a sense of mystery, of shadow-lands
and mistiness so beguilingly enunciated
by horns and that lovely yearning melody
so poignantly articulated by Parkin
and the LPO strings. Lloyd-Jones and
Lane hurry through this first movement’s
introductory material sacrificing atmosphere
and magic; and its romance is buried
under the weight of tutti. There is
some sense of mystery appearing at about
5:00 but for me this reading is too
matter-of-fact. The slow movement is
the heart of the concerto - a gentle
and serenely confident love song that
Parkin and Thomson sing so eloquently.
Its beauty unwinds slowly and enchantingly
with the LPO strings glowing and Parkin’s
phrasing quite heart-stopping The transition
marked by the timpani and snare drum
figures is gentler, less intrusive of
the dream-like atmosphere than the new
Hyperion recording. Their slow
movement begins well enough, the strings
nicely languid and Lane is sensitive
to the mood. However again the Chandos
recording is warmer and the LPO’s playing
is smoother and more polished. In the
bridge passage leading to the final
movement, Piers Lane and David Lloyd-Jones
suggest something wild and a hint of
dark magic on the Downs. Their phrasing
and dynamics through this movement differ
from those of the more restrained Chandos
players although Parkin and Thomson
have power in their climaxes and there
is such sweet nostalgia in that fiddle
solo. In the faster Hyperion recording,
rhythms are more emphasised including
the syncopations.
I could live with both
versions of this concerto according
to my mood but if I was pressed to choose,
then it would have to be the Chandos.
On the Chandos recording,
Legend’s opening horn calls are
most atmospheric, evoking a spacious
and empty Downland landscape and, as
the music slowly unfolds, eloquently
suggesting the infinitely sad plight
of the doomed lepers, outcasts from
a hostile and apprehensive society and
only able to participate in the isolated
church’s services by peering through
narrow openings in its outside walls.
More mid-distance horn calls introduce
the second episode. Ireland creates
an altogether different mood of ghostly
jollity as children in antique clothing
dance in a ring close by the observer
(Ireland) enjoying a picnic on the lonely
Harrow Hill close by Chanctonbury Ring.
Parkin and Thomson create a wonderful
evocation of childish delight and ghostly
mystery. Although the Hyperion recording’s
opening does not succeed in suggesting
the loneliness of the Downland location,
the Lane/Lloyd-Jones reading is far
more dramatic. It creates much more
of an atmosphere of dread in the opening
section but, in the second, the children’s
dance is more subdued, less merry in
the orchestra; generally the ensemble
playing and phrasing of the LPO is more
refined than Hyperion’s Ulster players.
On the other hand, Lane, here, adds
some attractive juvenile tripping flourishes
to the dance. According to my mood,
I would turn to Parkin and Thomson for
refinement and atmosphere and to Lane
and Lloyd-Jones for drama and intensity.
For dedicated Delians,
this is an irresistible chance to hear
and study Delius’s original version
of his Piano Concerto but on the evidence
here, the decision to revise it, I think,
was wise. The John Ireland Concerto
and Legend performances can be
confidently recommended but I will not
be parting with my Eric Parkin/Bryden
Thomson Chandos CD.
Ian Lace
Piers Lane (piano) 
for
details
