Classical CD Reviews for September 2024

In this captivating collection of classical music reviews, Simon Mundy looks into a series of landmark recordings that showcase the artistry of some of the most significant conductors and orchestras of the 20th century. The spotlight is on Pierre Monteux, a titan of classical music, whose live performances of works by Beethoven, Ravel, Haydn, Stravinsky, and others are brought to life in SOMM Recordings’ latest release. Monteux’s unique ability to mix historical insight with dynamic interpretations is on full display, capturing the essence of the original performances from orchestras like the Royal Philharmonic and London Symphony Orchestra. Alongside Monteux, Mundy explores Stanford’s choral works as interpreted by The Sixteen under Harry Christophers, highlighting the charm of early 20th-century choir music, and George Lloyd’s symphonic journey, offering a nuanced look at a composer whose works straddled the line between tradition and innovation. Finally, Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s Brahms symphonies with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe bring precision and clarity to Brahms’ lush compositions, making these recordings a must-hear for classical music enthusiasts.

This is one of the most fascinating releases this year. Monteux (1875 – 1964) was an enormously important figure in 20th century music from the moment he began working with Diaghilev at the Ballets Russes and conducted the infamous premiere of The Rite of Spring in 1913. With them he also conducted the premieres of Petrushka, Jeux by Debussy and Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloé; works that defined how music would develop all century. The performance given here is the 1963 one he gave for its 50th anniversary in the Royal Albert Hall with the London Symphony Orchestra, of which Monteux had become Principal Conductor (famously insisting on a 10 year contract in his late 80s). Jon Tolansky, who has rescued these recordings and interviews, was there. Monteux had lost none of his ability to shape and energise these works. He was not only a great interpretor of the music of his own time. His Beethoven and Haydn has a lightness of touch that would simply not have been heard from his German contemporaries. The Pastoral Symphony, with the BBC Northern (now the BBC Philharmonic) in Manchester Town Hall from later in 1963, foreshadows the readings of period instrument advocates like Norrington and Harmoncourt. The recordings are not studio quality – they are taken from the ‘air checks’ the BBC made as they were broadcast but not intended for general release. Jon Tolansky and his company, Music Preserved, has done us all an immeasurable favour by cleaning up these and thousands of other tapes that would otherwise have been lost. The brief clip of the Dvorak rehearsal with the LSO in 1959 is fascinating too because one never really understands conductors’ quality until they have been followed in rehearsal and one has understood how they tease out the details of the score. For anyone serious about hearing the music making of the last century at its finest, these discs are a wonderful find.

At the turn of the 19th century there was a huge market for music arranged for small choirs, suitable for the good amateurs who regarded choir nights (as they still do) as one of the most enjoyable of the week. Composers, prompted firmly by their publishers, ransacked national song traditions and demure poetry collections looking for suitable material. Charles Stanford, one of those Irishmen who was happy to declare his roots but had his career firmly in London, was a dab hand at producing a steady stream of partsongs that were grateful to sing and delightful to listen to. Not surprisingly The Sixteen and Harry Christophers sail through this selection with immaculate attention to timbre, diction and detail, without ever losing the flow or compromising the ensemble. It is the sort of singing that only a crack professional choir can achieve and amateurs yearn for. Surprisingly, given Stanford’s relaxed style, this is the first complete recording of the Six Elizabethan Pastorals, Op. 49, the Eight Partsongs Op. 127 and the Six Irish Folksongs, Op.78 – and the first ever recording of nine other Irish folksongs that do not have an opus number because they were never published and have been lurking in the storerooms of the British Library until rescued for this disc by Jeremy Dibble. More fool those Edwardian publishers! In truth Stanford’s settings of all the lyrics have a conformity of style and harmonic language which means the songs flow by without huge differences emerging but this is a collection that is pure pleasure in every sense.

If George Lloyd had been born twenty years earlier he would have fitted into some of Stanford’s composition classes and probably emerged as one of those endearing composers of charming  English music like George Butterworth and E. J. Moeran. Unfortunately for him, he was born the same year as Benjamin Britten (1913) and lived until 1998. Unfortunate because his music is inherently conservative, without Britten’s nimbleness, and even makes Walton and Arthur Bliss sound radical. Unfortunate too in that he died just before the resurgence of romanticism and easy listening in this century. His creative life was just in the wrong era and for many years he gave up trying to be a professional composer and earned his living from a market garden, growing mushrooms in Kent. Having said that, he wrote 12 symphonies between 1933 and 1989 which all show his craftsmanship and deft orchestration. Lloyd conducted these recordings when he was in his late sixties and there was then a certain amount of guilt in the music business about his neglect. I remember meeting him for lunch when the discs were first issued. He was a charming, unfailingly sincere man but deeply hurt by the way he felt he had been treated by critics and BBC producers. The trouble is, these are not great symphonies but neither are they bad. They just don’t quite bite hard enough. Even the Twelfth sounds like film music from the fifties. But it is what it is and Lloyd does have his devotees because his is an undoubtedly individual voice. If you want to be engaged but not challenged these works will give satisfaction.

Earlier in this column I wrote that one never understands a conductor’s real quality until seen in rehearsal and a few weeks ago I watched the COE and Nézet-Séguin working on Mahler in Baden-Baden’s Festpielhaus. I can report that his ear for detail is extraordinary. These Brahms recordings were made in the same hall two years ago and released the week we arrived there this July. Though he is French-Canadian, rather than simply French, he has the same attitude as Monteux, preferring to concentrate on precision and blend rather than weight. This is the great advantage of working with a chamber orchestra, rather than the full modern symphony version. The clarity of Brahms’ orchestration, rather than the suffocating folds of Viennese plush, comes through. Brahms was a frequent visitor to Baden-Baden’s relaxed holiday spa resort (the Festpielhaus is built on the site of the railway platforms at which he would have alighted) and he finished the First and Third symphonies there. It is that serious but cordial side of the composer that this set captures so well.

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