It’s very fitting that during the four-year period when we continue to
commemorate the centenary of World War I there should be a new and long
overdue recording of
Morning Heroes. Sir Arthur Bliss volunteered
for the army in August 1914 and he served with distinction in the trenches
in war-time France. He was wounded at the Battle of the Somme in 1916 and in
1918 he was gassed at Cambrai. All this, and the carnage he witnessed all
around him, made an ineradicable impression on him. However the most
grievous blow was the loss of his younger brother, Kennard, who was killed
in action on 28 September 1916 at Thiepval; he was just 24. After the war
was over Bliss returned to France to find his brother’s grave but this
pilgrimage failed to lay Kennard's ghost. In his notes for the
earlier recording of
Morning Heroes by Sir Charles Groves, Felix
Aprahamian writes that Bliss began to suffer from nightmares in 1928; these
must have been a manifestation of the psychological effects of the war.
Finally, the opportunity came to commemorate his brother with a commission
for a major choral work for the 1930 Norwich Festival. The result was
Morning Heroes, scored for orator, chorus and orchestra. Bliss
himself conducted the first performance. The score is dedicated ‘To the
memory of my brother Francis Kennard Bliss and all other comrades killed in
battle.’
Morning Heroes is an ambitious score and its construction is
rather unusual in that two of its five movements are for orator with
orchestra – though, as we shall see, the accompaniment in the second spoken
movement is sparse indeed. A choral finale follows the second spoken
section; together these two sections constitute the fifth movement. In the
centre of the work are three movements for chorus and orchestra. Bliss
assembled an anthology of texts; his sources include Homer’s epic Greek
poem,
The Iliad; Whitman’s
Drum Taps; the eighth century
Chinese poet, Li Tai Po; and poems by two twentieth century poets, Wilfred
Owen and Robert Nichols.
Live performances of
Morning Heroes are quite rare. It was only
this year that I experienced the work live for the first time after nearly
five decades of concert-going when I attended a concert conducted by Sir
Andrew Davis, at the Three Choirs Festival (
review). However, it has
fared slightly better in the recording studio; this is its fourth recording.
The first was made by Sir Charles Groves for EMI in 1974. That’s now
available either coupled with Simon Rattle’s recording of
War
Requiem – a perceptive pairing (
review) - or as part of a recently-issued box set of
Groves’s recordings from Warner Classics (
review). Groves returned to the work again in 1985 and
his broadcast with the same chorus and orchestra and with Richard Baker as
the orator was issued as BBC Radio Classics 15656 9199-2 (deleted). There
was also a 1991 recording conducted by Michael Kibblewhite (
re
view). That’s a very good performance, preferable in some ways to
Groves. However, Kibblewhite’s narrator is Brian Blessed and while he
recites much of his part intelligently there are two occasions, one in each
oration, where I think he goes way over the top. For that reason, and with
some reluctance, I would not make the Kibblewhite version a library choice.
In any case, I’m unsure how widely available it is these days, though it is
currently listed on Amazon.
This new Chandos recording was set down over a two day period immediately
following a concert performance in London which impressed my Seen &
Heard colleague, Alan Sanders (
review). I approached it with
some confidence, based partly on Alan’s experience and also because it had
been evident to me in the Three Choirs Festival performance that Sir Andrew
Davis conducts it with complete conviction. I had hoped to get a preview of
Samuel West in the crucial role of the orator since he had been due to take
part in the Three Choirs performance. However, to my great disappointment,
he was obliged to withdraw – his replacement, Malcolm Sinclair, was
excellent.
In the first movement the orator recites ‘Hector’s farewell to Andromache’
from
The Iliad. Bliss chose these words discerningly for they
illustrate well the concept of noble self-sacrifice, if need be, in war. The
orchestral accompaniment is marvellous, colouring and commenting on the
spoken text most perceptively. There’s quite a contrast between West and
Groves’ orator, John Westbrook (1922-1989). To be honest, I was astonished
when I looked up Westbrook’s dates just now. He would have been 51 when he
recorded the work with Groves in June 1974 whereas West was a few weeks
short of his 49
th birthday when the Chandos sessions took place.
Yet Westbrook sounds quite a bit older than West. His delivery is more
measured than West’s – his first movement speech lasts for about a minute
longer – and it’s also more patrician in tone. I like Westbrook’s way with
the text and the patrician approach seems suitable given the antiquity of
Homer’s words. There are also one or two occasions when he makes rather more
of the words than does West. A prime example is Hector’s invocation “O Zeus
and all ye gods”, which Westbrook declaims dramatically yet without being
excessive in the way that Brian Blessed is but West’s more relaxed and more
modern style is also extremely convincing. At all times he‘s clear in his
diction and intelligent in the way he inflects the words. His contribution
is wholly successful.
The next movement, ‘The City Arming’ sets a substantial excerpt from
Whitman’s
Drum Taps. Andrew Burn says in his notes that these lines
were the closest that Bliss could get to finding words that expressed the
mood in Britain in the summer of 1914. Then there was a heady – and, as it
transpired, rather naïve - rush to the colours. Whitman’s words articulate
the bustle and clamour of civilians preparing for war, some to man the home
front but many to head for the action. Bliss’s often-teeming music conveys
the pre-war frenzy with great energy. The BBC Symphony Chorus are splendid
here, singing with great conviction and incisiveness – and it must be said
that these words of Whitman don’t always readily lend themselves to musical
setting. The music in this movement is exciting if not always ingratiating;
Davis leads a gripping performance.
The third movement consists first of lines by Li Tai Po, sung by the
female voices. This section poignantly illustrates the concern of the
womenfolk left at home while their men go off to fight. The choir is
excellent here and the BBC Symphony Orchestra plays Bliss’s delicate writing
with great finesse. The men, representing the soldiers at the front, take
over for another section of lines from
Drum Taps. The gentlemen of
the BBC Symphony Chorus match the earlier excellence of their female
colleagues. The fourth movement reverts to
The Iliad but whereas in
the first movement we glimpsed the Trojan War from the standpoint of a
Trojan general here, in ‘Achilles goes forth to battle’ it’s the Greek side
of the conflict that’s represented. Davis impels this music forward
excitingly. Groves, though good, isn’t quite as urgent. The BBC chorus makes
a tremendous impact. Homer’s words are followed by a sub-section of the
movement, ‘The Heroes’. This is, in effect, a roll call of mythological
heroes, the words authored by Bliss himself. Again the choir and orchestra
put this section across with great power.
From the heroism of valorous deeds as portrayed in literature and
mythology, Bliss confronts the twentieth-century reality of war in his fifth
movement, ‘Now trumpeter for thy close’ – a title lifted from Whitman’s
The Mystic Trumpeter. First the orator recites Wilfred Owen’s
Spring Offensive. If I had a slight preference for John Westbrook
in the first movement then Samuel West wins the palm in the Owen recitation.
It helps to have a younger-sounding voice here – Owen was only in his early
twenties when he wrote this poem. More than that, West better catches the
bitter incomprehension and sadness of Owen’s lines. Westbrook is still
admirable in many ways – not least the extra drama that he injects at
“Exposed!” where Owen graphically describes the soldiers going over the top;
here and in the lines that follow he makes more of the words than West does.
However, overall I find West even more convincing.
Bliss’s scoring – if we can call it that – is astonishingly original and
imaginative here. There is virtually no accompaniment to the orator’s
recitation save for timpani rumbling ominously in the background like
distant, menacing guns. Only once – at “Exposed!” – do the drums play loudly
and that’s terrifying. What a masterstroke it is for Bliss to reintroduce
the orchestra as the orator recites Owens last line, “Why speak they not of
comrades that went under?” The woodwind play melancholy, lilting material
from the first movement and the effect is very moving. The chorus then sing
Robert Nichols’
Dawn on the Somme. The music begins quietly, almost
like a hymn, but gradually the intensity increases as Nichols’ ‘morning
heroes’ are saluted. If this music sounds like a glorification of heroism
then who better than Bliss to write in this vein? After all he had been
through he was surely entitled to celebrate heroism. Yet the work ends on a
subdued, pensive note and that too feels eminently right.
Morning Heroes is a work of great stature and I find it very
moving indeed. I’d go so far as to say that along with the
Meditations
on a Theme of John Blow it represents Bliss at his very finest. So it’s
a cause for rejoicing that it should receive such a fine recording as this.
I saw Sir Andrew Davis galvanise his forces at the Three Choirs Festival and
clearly he had the same effect here. I find that he’s often more involving
and dramatic than Groves, though I certainly won’t be jettisoning that 1974
recording. Both the chorus and orchestra respond with great commitment and
skill. The Chandos SACD sound is superb. The music comes over with great
impact – the performers have a lot to do with that – and there’s both
richness and an abundance of detail in the recording. The Groves recording
is now more than forty years old. To be honest, returning to it for
comparisons I was surprised at how well it still sounds. However, the EMI
recording inevitably lacks the amplitude and punch of the Chandos sound,
Furthermore, there’s far more detail audible in the Chandos recording – the
string writing underneath the oration in parts of the first movement, for
example. Also the EMI microphones seem to have been placed further away from
the performers than is the case with this new recording. As a result, the
Liverpool Philharmonic Choir doesn’t sound as vivid as the BBC Symphony
Chorus. There’s no doubt at all that this new Davis recording is now a clear
first choice for this fine score.
The “filler” is interesting – and relevant. Bliss wrote
Hymn to Apollo in 1926 in gratitude to Pierre Monteux for his early
championship of
A Colour Symphony. Indeed, it was Monteux who gave
the first performance, with the Concertgebouw Orchestra. It seems that very
early on Bliss was dissatisfied with the work but he didn’t get round to
revising it until 1964. In that revision he cut 21 bars and altered the
scoring, eliminating a few instruments altogether, including a second set of
timpani. There have been two recordings that I know of. One was by the
composer himself for Lyrita (
review). As ever, Lyrita are irritatingly coy about providing
recording dates. However, in the booklet small print we read that a copy of
the original LP was presented to Sir Arthur at a Prom concert in August 1971
to celebrate his eightieth birthday. So we can surmise a recording date of
1970 or early 1971. Bliss uses the revised score for his recording, as does
Vernon Handley in a 1989 Chandos version (CHAN 8818 also
CHAN2
41-1). Sir Andrew offers the original version of the score, recording it
for the first time. In his excellent booklet notes Andrew Burn speculates –
convincingly, I think – that
Hymn to Apollo may well have been
another musical commemoration of Kennard Bliss. It’s a strong piece and in
writing it Bliss was clearly being eloquent about something, quite possibly
the loss of his brother. Davis conducts it with great conviction and the BBC
Symphony plays it very well. However, it’s noticeable that the Davis
performance is quite a bit shorter than the other two recordings. Sir Arthur
takes 10:23 and Handley 11:20 – and remember, the original score is slightly
longer. The basic pace that Davis adopts is rather swifter than Sir Arthur
and I rather think that the composer’s own recording is a bit more
successful in conveying what Andrew Burn refers to as “a slow processional
motion”. Nonetheless, Davis’s performance is very good on its own terms.
This is a splendid disc. The performance standard is extremely high and
Ralph Couzens’ engineering is excellent. Similarly excellent are the notes
by Andrew Burn. Bliss devotees should acquire this as a matter of urgency
and other collectors are strongly urged to hear this eloquent musical
commemoration of the fallen of World War I. On this evidence Sir Andrew
Davis appears to be a doughty champion of Bliss. I hope he may record more
of his music in the future: might we hope, at last, for a modern recording
of
The Beatitudes?
John Quinn
