The world does not lack for recordings of The Four
Seasons, but still they come. This latest entrant, however,
has an appealing and rare component which is the interpolation
of the ‘descriptive captions’, read by Sir Michael Gambon. These,
or the Sonnets, from which they largely derive, are often reprinted
in booklets of the music, but are very seldom read in the context
of the performance, as they are here. Gambon was in a studio,
whilst the music was recorded in a church, and the two acoustics
retain independence, and have not been ‘blended’.
As Albert Sammons said to Josef Szigeti at a concert once; ‘it
doesn’t much matter what Kreisler plays, it’s that tone we come
to hear.’ The same is true of the Great Gambon. Whether it’s
Arthur Miller or an increasingly wide portfolio of television
advertisements, the man has cornered the market in ingratiating,
conversational warmth. He reads the captions with unselfconscious
directness. The translations are by Dr. Jordan Lancaster, and
they are nicely done. I only bridled at the phrase ‘worst fears
materialise’, which sounds like an economic forecast, not a
shepherd’s concern for an impending storm. Very properly they
are read as prose; these are not the Sonneti. There are
two occasions where the music begins softly behind the reading
of a caption, the music becoming louder as the lines finish.
I’m sure some will deprecate the effect, but I can’t say I disliked
it.
Robert Atchison is the neat soloist and the Altamira Chamber
Orchestra supports him. Their line-up is 4-4-3-2-1 and harpsichord/organ,
and they play modern set-up instruments. The performance is
quite spacious in places, with strong contrasts sometimes between
relaxed material and explosive virtuoso passagework. The performance
is strong on languor and warmth, and an almost proto bel canto
sense of line, too. The organs registrations are discreetly
accomplished; I particularly liked them in the first movement
of Summer, in both unisons and behind Atchison in his
solo passages. If you have become used to Tarrantino-like interpretations
of this work; metallic rainfall, Baskervillesque dogs, Armageddon-like
storms, nature at its most malign, music at its most visceral,
then you will find this performance too tame, discreet, and
understated. If, however, you appreciate the musical approach
to, say the Adagio and piano/Presto and forte
contrasts in the central Summer movement, or the simplicity
of Winter’s Largo, then you will be well content. This
last, with sensitive organ support, and nice orchestral pizzicati,
is even enlivened by discreet portamenti from Atchison and some
simple ornamentation toward the final phrase – the last note
of which is held for some considerable time, as if he couldn’t
bear to let it go. I must admit a strong prejudice in favour
of this kind of approach. I’m sure we’ve all heard performances
where it’s been ornamented to death.
There is an additional work, the Concerto in E flat major Op.8
No.5 La tempesta di Mare, another nature tone-setting,
the performance of which shares qualities of elasticity, characterisation
and reserved musicality with the major work.
If you’ve sometimes been confused by The Four Seasons,
by what is being depicted and when, in what order – I’m sure
many of us have, we just don’t like to admit it (a bit like
the depictions in the Enigma Variations) – then here’s a handy
way to fuse text and music. Characterization here is decidedly
not outsize, so bagpipe drones, torrent and animal life is more
Chardin than Goya. But I rather warmed to these well recorded,
expansive performances.
Jonathan Woolf
Robert Atchison (violin)
