There are many fine British symphonies but, at the risk of courting
controversy, I believe there are only six that can truly be called ‘great’:
the two symphonies that Elgar completed; the middle three of Vaughan
Williams’ nine; and Walton’s First. I’ve encountered several fine recorded
versions of the work down the years but André Previn’s 1966 recording with
the LSO, which I first bought as an LP well over forty years ago, has proved
ominously and defiantly hard to shift from the top of the table (
review). How will this latest challenger fare?
In the incandescent first movement Gardner sets a cracking pace from the
outset. Writing of the Previn performance in 2002, I said that in his hands
this movement ‘crackles with electricity from first to last’; that’s just as
true of Gardner’s approach. Actually, he’s quicker at the start than Previn,
who takes a slightly more deliberate but no less energetic view. Gardner
brings out all the harmonic tension in the music - as does Previn - in a
reading which never loses momentum, even when Gardner reins back the pace to
capture the aching passion of the slower episodes. There’s explosive energy
a-plenty and no lack of dynamism. The three minutes or so from 10:28 to the
end are viscerally exciting as Gardner drives on to the conclusion of a
draining reading of the movement. As at the beginning Previn is marginally
more deliberate in these closing minutes but his relentless approach pays
equal dividends. After either of these gripping performances one rally needs
a breather but there’s no let up.
Gardner’s account of the
Presto con malizia movement is urgent
and tremendously precise. Here the BBCSO woodwinds are as agile as you could
wish while the strings impel the music forward and there are some thrilling
contributions from the horns. In this movement Walton takes the rhythmic
ingenuity and urgency of
Belshazzar’s Feast to a new level. The one
slight disappointment I have is that Gardner’s excellent timpanist does not
feature quite as prominently as I would have expected; the ferociously
exciting part sounds a little bit muffled. Previn’s incisive timpanist, by
contrast, is a malevolent, daemonic presence throughout. The last few bars
of Gardner’s performance offer exceptional orchestral brilliance. Previn is
brilliant too, here and elsewhere, but I do wonder if perhaps he conveys the
con malizia element just a bit more successfully than does Gardner.
Previn’s reading takes the breath away; Gardner comes close but I wonder if
he conveys more brilliance than malice.
The haunting flute solo at the start of the third movement is beautifully
done on this new recording; the aching melancholy is caught to perfection.
As in the first movement, Gardner brings out the harmonic tensions in the
music very well indeed and in the opening minutes of this movement the BBCSO
woodwinds play with great feeling and finesse. Gardner is by no means cool
but he shows great patience and restraint. This in itself produces
compelling results but the real dividend comes from 7:57 onwards as he and
the orchestra screw up the tension as the movement’s climax is built and
then achieved. The comparative restraint shown earlier makes this climax
resonate all the more powerfully – the horn parts in the middle of the
orchestral texture register tellingly in these pages. Previn, it should be
said, is no less successful in this movement.
After composing the first three movements Walton had something of a
writer’s block and the finale was added to the symphony after the rest of it
had been premiered. Some commentators have held that the finale is an
anti-climax after what has preceded it and that it appears ‘bolted on’. I’ve
never had such a problem with it, though it’s arguably somewhat more
conventional in tone. By the time he wrote the finale Walton had ended one
romantic relationship and had entered another and quite likely a lot of the
angst that coloured the first three movements had dissipated. It’s
almost as if in the finale he is saying ‘I had some problems, but I’m over
them now.’ Is that too fanciful? Perhaps – or perhaps not. In his good
booklet notes Anthony Burton compares the grand rhetorical opening to
Walton’s later marches and film scores. I think that’s a well-made point but
I’d go further and suggest that the spirit of
Crown Imperial,
Orb and Sceptre and, indeed, the
‘Spitfire’ Prelude and
Fugue can be detected throughout the movement. The marking for the main
allegro is qualified – or amplified – by the words
brioso ed
ardamente and that’s certainly what we hear from Gardner and the BBC
SO. We also hear it from Previn and the LSO. The fugal episodes come over
really well in this new recording, both the first such episode (from 2:48)
and the quiet, scurrying fugue (from 7:21). The sound on the Previn
recording, though nearly 50 years old – can that
really be true? –
is still pretty impressive. However, when the two sets of timpani and the
tam-tam erupt in the Gardner recording (8:23) the modern-day sonics of the
Chandos recording really do make a difference. Gardner manages the
rhetorical ending extremely well, conveying the grandeur without tipping
over into hyperbole.
I have no intention of discarding the Previn recording which is, as they
used to say, ‘a classic of the gramophone’ but this new Gardner offers the
strongest challenge to its hegemony in my experience. Anyone who regards the
Walton First as highly as I do should – nay,
must – have both.
Choosing this newcomer for your library is made even easier by the
coupling. Tasmin Little has produced some exceptional recordings for Chandos
of late. There’s her recording of the Elgar concerto, which has been widely
and highly praised (
review) and which I’m embarrassed to admit I haven’t yet
heard. I have no such confession to make regarding her account of the Moeran
concerto, which I rate very highly indeed (
review). Now she’s tackled the Walton concerto.
The work was written for Jascha Heifetz and Anthony Burton points out that
in composing it Walton had in mind not only the great violinist’s legendary
virtuosity but also ‘the sweetness and purity of his playing of long lyrical
lines.’ In the light of this comment it’s been instructive and fascinating
to compare Heifetz’s 1950 recording of the concerto, conducted by the
composer (
review), with this newcomer. Astonishingly, Heifetz and the
composer get through the piece in just 27:15, nearly six minutes less than
Miss Little takes. Her account of the first movement, for example, is a full
two minutes longer. The key, I think, is that while the Little/Gardner
partnership can be as volatile and driven in the faster passages they’re
much more ready to savour the slower sections than are Heifetz and Walton.
In this connection the Chandos habit of including in their track-listings
all the main tempo indications of individual movements is an enormous help.
In Heifetz’s RCA booklet, for example, the tempo for the finale is given as
Vivace. The Chandos literature confirms that this is merely the
first of
twelve tempo markings. Even if you don’t have access to a
score that sort of information helps the listener to get a much closer feel
for what’s going on.
At the start of the first movement Tasmin Little phrases the music
tenderly, her line cushioned by Gardner’s sensuous accompaniment. Heifetz is
swifter, more clear-eyed. I have to say that I’m won over by Miss Little’s
reflective and romantic approach. Some idea of how things are shaping up can
be gained by noticing that Little gets to the
Subito molto passage
(4:09) a full minute later than Heifetz. At this point Gardner gets the
orchestra to erupt and when Little joins them a few moments later her
playing is just as sparky. I like her approach to this movement very much;
it combines thoughtfulness with virtuosity. The
Tempo I (9:10)
where the flute has the opening theme, counterbalanced by the violin, is
absolutely magical and from this point to the end of the movement the
music-making is absolutely superb. Heifetz and Walton bring out the brittle
side of the music very well and Heifetz’s steely virtuosity is breath-taking
but Little offers a more rounded and nuanced view of the movement; she
certainly touches the heart strings more.
In the second movement Heifetz offers some highly impressive quicksilver
playing. The main point of difference comes in the passages marked
Con
molto rubato where there’s much more ‘give’ in Little’s playing. I find
her approach to these episodes seductive and, dare one say, sexy; ultimately
it’s much more convincing. In the fast passages Little displays cat-like
agility and the dynamic shading that she and Gardner bring to the music is
very impressive – and more acute than the composer and his soloist achieve.
In the finale it’s a similar story. Both soloists are excellent in the
quick, bravura passages but Little has a definite edge when it comes to the
ruminative and reflective episodes. The return of the material from the
first movement (4:32) is gorgeous in the Chandos performance and Tasmin
Little gives a super account of the Elgar-like accompanied cadenza,
revisiting and summing up the main ideas of the concerto in expert fashion
before she and Gardner despatch the coda with brilliance.
As with the Previn reading of the symphony one wouldn’t wish to discard
the Heifetz recording; it’s an important document. However, to repeat a
comment I made earlier, I think Tasmin Little offers a more rounded and
nuanced view of the work and the support she gets from Gardner and the BBC
SO is just marvellous.
This is a compelling coupling of exceptionally fine Walton performances.
The Chandos recordings of both performances are superb – I listened in SACD
format. Both these performances now become the modern benchmark for the
respective works.
Though I’ve had a number of very good discs to review in the last few
months, it’s been a little while since I added a disc to my shortlist for
Recordings of the Year. This one emphatically goes on that list.
John Quinn
Previous review:
Brian Wilson
