The London Philharmonic are closely associated with 
          the music of Vaughan Williams; indeed, they gave the premiere of the 
          Fifth at a Proms concert in June 1943. They also feature in two of the 
          most distinguished traversals on record - Haitink’s and Boult’s 
          second, both on EMI/Warner. Now we have them on this tempting twofer 
          from the orchestra’s own label. Re-mastered by Deborah Spanton 
          from the original BBC tapes the Fifth and Seventh symphonies are just 
          too long to accommodate on one CD, but as the set is priced at around 
          a tenner it represents solid value. Then there’s the 
frisson 
          of live performances, with their attendant risk-taking and potential 
          for unexpected energy and insights. 
            
          In its latest incarnation Haitink’s complete EMI cycle is a real 
          bargain. There are other surveys, among them ones from Handley (CfP) 
          and Previn and Slatkin (both on RCA), but the real surprise for me was 
          discovering the Bournemouth recordings with Kees Bakels and Paul Daniels 
          (Naxos). I was particularly impressed with Bakels’ Seventh, which 
          is very atmospheric and, where appropriate, drenched in drama. His is 
          one of the most gripping and truly symphonic versions of ‘Sinfonia 
          Antartica’ I know; his Fifth - coupled with a powerful Ninth - 
          isn’t far behind. 
            
          For such a self-effacing conductor Haitink ranges far and wide; quietly 
          refined in Vaughan Williams’ more idyllic works, lofty in Strauss’s 
          quasi-philosophical ones and unforgettably eloquent in late Mahler. 
          He can also disturb and devastate with the trenchancy and weight of 
          his Shostakovich and freeze one’s blood with his Bartók. 
          RVW’s Fifth which, for a wartime symphony, is surprisingly serene, 
          finds him at his engaging and spontaneous best. The silken strings of 
          the gently evolving 
Preludio have seldom sounded so glorious, 
          or the pulse so natural. What shape and presence too - the tuttis are 
          commanding but never overblown - and the recording sounds remarkably 
          rich and spacious for the Festival Hall. 
            
          It’s not often that one feels - intuitively at least - that this 
          is how the music 
should go, but that’s the abiding impression 
          here. Haitink unpacks and unfolds this score with consummate skill, 
          and the tugging rhythms of the 
Scherzo are controlled with disarming 
          ease. As for the LPO they respond with a rare blend of alacrity and 
          character, and one hears their affection for this music in every bar. 
          The 
Romanza, with its thematic links to 
The Pilgrim’s 
          Progress, is as open-hearted as one could wish, and again I’m 
          astonished at the depth and sophistication of this recording, which 
          is far preferable to Haitink’s studio version. 
            
          Recently I had the pleasure of hearing Haitink’s live RCO Mahler 
          Ninth (
review); 
          that shares with this Fifth a calm, all-pervading certainty - perhaps 
          what some might call a profound humanity - borne of accumulated wisdom 
          and an intimate knowledge of these scores. The crisply rendered 
Passacaglia 
          is ample proof; inner voices are clearly articulated and then subsumed 
          in writing - and playing - of quiet and seamless grace. As for the timps 
          they are simply splendid, as are the strings and woodwinds at the long-breathed 
          close. I just can’t recall a more luminous summation to the symphony 
          than this. I’m also grateful that the deep spell - so carefully 
          cast - isn’t broken by yelps of ‘Bravo’ as the music 
          fades to silence. Indeed, the audience is mouse-quiet - unusual for 
          London in December - and all applause is edited out. 
            
          This ‘Sinfonia Antartica’, recorded a decade earlier, may 
          be fractionally imprecise at the start but it steadies and builds convincingly 
          to those first cliff-like tuttis. The ever-reliable Sheila Armstrong 
          is firmly evocative in the unforgiving wastes of the 
Prelude 
          - the accompanying timp strokes, a grim counterpoint, are very well 
          caught - and Haitink carves out some mighty climaxes. The brass are 
          thrilling in their blend and blaze and there’s considerable bottom-end 
          crunch to this recording. It may not sound as well upholstered as the 
          Fifth, but it does have impressive clarity and impact. 
            
          After that big, Promethean 
Prelude the 
Scherzo is altogether 
          more conventional in its mood and manner. Of all the music here it’s 
          apt to sound the most cinematically clichéd, and that’s 
          a crevasse that not even Haitink can avoid. Bakels has greater thrust 
          and weight and he draws the loose musical threads together more effectively, 
          both here and in the Coleridge-inspired 
Landscape. That said, 
          Haitink is as implacable as anyone, but for sheer, ineluctable tension 
          and a seismic organ Bakels gets my vote every time. Still, the RFH instrument 
          has a Gothic, silent-film-like excess that’s not inappropriate 
          here. 
            
          The 
Intermezzo and 
Epilogue can seem anticlimactic - even 
          episodic - after the cumulative strength of the preceding movements; 
          and so it is here, despite valiant rallies in the latter. The LPO, so 
          refined in the Fifth, aren’t as polished in the Seventh, and like 
          a Revivalist preacher Haitink struggles to inspire his recalcitrant 
          flock. Bakels has no need for such coercion, and he carries everyone 
          with him in a consistently paced and eloquent 
Epilogue. 
            
          Apart from boasting good performances Haitink’s EMI/Warner box 
          is ridiculously good value, so all RVW fans should own it. Neither of 
          his Sevenths strikes me as particularly memorable, but this caught-on-the-wing 
          Festival Hall Fifth is everything a live recording should be, but 
          very seldom is: it’s played from the heart and it’s free 
          of the musical lapses or sonic compromises one associates with a live 
          event. 
            
          A Fifth of rare coherence and character; a sturdy but sporadic Seventh.
            
          
Dan Morgan
          http://twitter.com/mahlerei 
          
            
          A Fifth of rare coherence and character; a sturdy but sporadic Seventh.  
          
          
          Vaughan Williams review index: 
Symphonies