The music on this
anthology was recorded when Beecham was at his best, and interest
in Delius was at its height … Ken Russell’s Song of Summer
(that lovely orchestral work by Delius is not on this set, alas)
for BBC television’s ‘Monitor’ dates from 1968.
Still, this could
hardly be a better selection of the orchestral works by Delius
played by more committed and insightful performers. The two
CDs are generous and contain almost two and a half hours of
music, many items of which have long represented their reference
recordings.
Of particular delight
is the Florida Suite – the set’s longest piece,
at just under 35 minutes. Beecham’s interpretation with the
RPO illustrates particularly well an aspect of Delius not often
highlighted, his sense of musical architecture … movement
through a piece and references forward and back, the anticipation
in each of the movements of the others and their atmospheres
as carried by their tempi. Also played with similar dignity
and reserve, though losing not a drop of intensity, is On
Hearing the First Cuckoo. Beecham makes this more of a lament
than a tone poem. And, although A Song Before Sunrise
is also packed with nuances and sentiment, in Beecham’s hands
it remains what it is: a song!
Similarly lyrical
is the treatment of the short intermezzo from Delius opera,
Fennimore and Gerda, where the insight into the lovers’
tensions is an allusion, not a depiction – just as Delius intended.
Happily there’s also music from Irmelin, though it’s
almost the shortest piece here. Beecham arranged a ‘Concert
Suite’. Here is only the Prelude.
Brigg Fair truly is an English Rhapsody
for Beecham. Again, he has the orchestra let it breathe. It’s
almost as though you’re hearing this emblematic piece for the
first time. The same goes for the much less ambitious (and mush
shorter) Sleigh Ride, which you probably are!
The Dance Rhapsody No. 2 may seem slight –
until you pay more attention to the rhythm than the rather halting,
but very Delian melody. It’s a mazurka interleaved with rich
but curbed strings and woodwind with prominent percussion, like
Sleigh Ride, and a little Elgarian: one thinks of Falstaff.
Both The Dance Rhapsody and A Song Before Sunrise
are good examples of the measure of Beecham’s control over his
orchestra, a control that he exercises at every point without
sacrificing the spontaneity of their playing. The same can be
said of Summer Evening, one of three pieces on this set
annotated as edited and/or arranged by Beecham.
Beecham’s gift was
somehow to bring out the freshness of these highly colourful
pieces at a time when mid-Century conductors and large orchestras
seemed to have grown tired of the perhaps over-rendered tone
poems of Strauss, Sibelius and the perceived need to lard spectacle
onto those formerly exciting works of Liszt, Dvořák and
Debussy. It’s as though Beecham has deliberately and gleefully
left the damp in the air around Brigg in order to cool the ardour
of any unfaithful lover who’s even thinking about being unfaithful
to the genre.
In these well-known
pieces, too, there is languor – as there should be. And melancholy. But it’s reflective
melancholy that Beecham and the RPO bring to the fore, thanks
– amongst other things – to the intensity and sprightliness
of the wind players in particular. Neither woodwind nor brass
ever drags in Brigg Fair, for example. The melodies are
poignant, not pitiful. Maybe this is the kind of balance that
a Handley or a Hickox brings nowadays. But at a time when other
conductors were perhaps a little carried away by the pathos
of Delius, Beecham truly did him proud in these respects. And
here is the splendid evidence. His command of the crescendi
makes a perfect impact and prevents Delius’ subtlety from becoming
submerged.
The one piece whose
performance might perhaps run the risk of dating a little is
the only choral work here, Songs of Sunset. Such singing
styles have changed so much since the 1950s and 60s and articulation
become more relaxed, pointed and open. Yet this is the latest
of the recordings, having been completed in 1980. Admittedly
the soloists, John Cameron (1918-2002) and Maureen Forrester
(b.1930), are from another era (and neither of them British:
Cameron was Australian and Forrester Canadian). They do indeed
perform with that subdued fortitude typical of their generation.
The chorus, the Beecham Choral Society, sets this off wonderfully…
relaxed, less ecstatic than elated when called on so to underline
the eight wan poems of loss and sorrow by the late Victorian
Ernest Dowson (1867-1900), who gave us:
Ample potential
here for maudlin on Beecham’s part because there might also
have been on Delius’. Yet neither loses focus, drags, nor wallows.
Instead – as is typical of everything on this wonderful two
CD set – there is wistfulness and remorse, distress and
regret. But they’re all integral to the music; the music does
not portray them. It embodies them. Quite an interpretative
triumph.
The ideal purposes
of this collected reissue of works dating from the composer’s
mid-20s to the end of the first world war are at least two:
to gather for aficionados and lovers of English orchestral music,
and of Delius in particular, some of the best interpretations
and recordings of their kind ever made into a single affordable
(its price is the kind of thing that gives recording companies
a good name) source.
In particular this
constituency will want to know how good the digitally mastered
transfers from those analogue sources sound. Well, very good.
Inevitably these CDs cannot have the expansive depth of a modern
digital recording. But they’re not boxy, nor unduly narrow in
dynamic range – listen to the spaciousness of Over
the Hills and Far Away, for example; it’s a piece with pianissimi
and fortissimi. Not only does Beecham delight in such contrasts,
but the way they are recorded - e.g. at the tutti about half
way through - sounds anything but brash yet has a cheerful resonance
quite in keeping with the open air to which Over the Hills
and Far Away appeals. All the recordings - EMI at its best
on these occasions - were good ones, and the orchestra sounds
well with individual soloists nicely balanced.
Secondly, these
CDs will introduce younger (and unfamiliar) listeners new to
Delius - not the most fashionable of composers 40 years on -
to music very much of its time: a century ago. Significantly
this music nicely indicates the truism that the English pastoral
school properly influenced, and was fully influenced by, worlds
way outside Great Britain.
Indeed Delius spent
much of his life outside the country – it’s impossible to ignore
or dismiss the cosmopolitan influences on the composer. Beecham’s
gift, though, is to see through any such set of influences and
present us with the essence of Delius, which – perhaps especially
for those who’ve either never taken to him and/or are new to
Delius altogether – is far more sinewy, staunch and unsentimental
than detracting caricatures would have us believe. The majority
of the music on these two CDs is slow, to be sure, in the sense
that it’s unrushed. But it’s full of spirit and – in these expert
interpretations by Beecham – prizes precision and detachment
as much as reflection.
The bulk of the
booklet which accompanies these two CDs is taken up with Lyndon
Jenkins illuminating essay, ‘Beecham and Delius’. He wrote the
classic study, ‘While Spring and Summer Sang: Thomas
Beecham and the Music of Frederick Delius’, ISBN
0754607216. If you’re looking for an introduction to Delius
or want to have a representative anthology of a dozen or so
of his best and most highly-regarded orchestral works played
by arguably his greatest interpreter, don’t hesitate to buy
this welcome reissue.
Mark Sealey
John Cameron
(baritone) ***; Maureen Forrester (contralto) ***; Beecham Choral
Society *** 
[73:15 + 73:24]
