The assassination of JFK in November 1963 had 
                a profound effect on everybody who was alive and old enough to 
                understand at the time. Nobody was more deeply shocked than the 
                forty-five-year-old Leonard Bernstein; "the assassination 
                threw me for a loop. In fact, I don’t think I’ve recovered from 
                it yet" he wrote some fifteen years later. So deeply was 
                he shaken that he called a halt to the headlong rush of his career, 
                and took, to the amazement of all his friends and colleagues, 
                a "sabbatical year", suspending all engagements during 
                the 1964-5 season. However, he did break the self-imposed ‘purdah’ 
                on one occasion, to compose one of his most delightful and abiding 
                works, the Chichester Psalms. It was written at the behest of 
                the Rev. Walter Hussey, Dean of Chichester Cathedral, though the 
                premiere was actually given in New York in May 1965. 
              
 
              
There have been many fine recordings of the Psalms, 
                but this Naxos one is worthy to be placed alongside the best of 
                them. It begins with a rhythmically tight first movement, the 
                Bournemouth Symphony Chorus responding marvellously to the wild 
                energy of the 7/4 music. The slow movement that follows, a setting 
                of the 23rd Psalm, is as ravishing here as I have ever 
                heard it, with an exceptional contribution from thirteen-year-old 
                Thomas Kelly in the demanding solo part. Kelly is vocally superior 
                to John Bogart on Bernstein’s own 1965 recording, and is preferable 
                even to Aled Jones in Richard Hickox’s 1986 version, partly because 
                Jones was very much a treble, whereas the part calls for a slightly 
                darker sound. 
              
 
              
The finale is superbly done, with the strings 
                of the BSO responding richly to Alsop’s impassioned interpretation 
                of the introduction. The recording has a splendid depth of ambience 
                here, and when the male voices of the choir enter with that irresistible 
                tune, their tone is firm yet gentle. The quietly ecstatic mood 
                is sustained through to the rapt coda, ushered in by Elizabeth 
                Franklin-Kitchen’s exquisite high G. This is a deeply satisfying 
                performance of this unassuming work, which has quietly made itself 
                a staple of the choral repertoire. 
              
 
              
The disc begins with an equally fine version 
                of the symphonic suite put together from Bernstein’s only film 
                score, that for Sam Spiegl’s ‘On the Waterfront’. Despite its 
                strong echoes of Stravinsky and Copland, this is vintage Bernstein, 
                with a particularly memorable ‘love episode’ as its central section. 
                Alsop paces the music a little more deliberately than the composer 
                (though I have only his earlier 1960s version to hand), but the 
                climaxes do gain from this, and, if anything, the piece grows 
                in stature from the more spacious approach. 
              
 
              
The final tracks contain the Three Dance Episodes 
                from the musical ‘On the Town’. These are given stylish and appropriately 
                rumbustious performances, the BSO relishing the sprung rhythms 
                and raunchy melodies. Naxos have produced another winner here; 
                wonderful playing and singing, and a recording which is crystal 
                clear and atmospheric at the same time. I have to say that 
                48:36 is far from generous – but there you go, at under a fiver 
                who’s complaining? 
              
Gwyn Parry-Jones