Alan Rawsthorne’s Second Piano Concerto was written in answer
to a commission from the Arts Council of Great Britain, and
premiered in 1951 at the Festival of Britain. The first of its
four movements begins with a flute melody which seems typical
of English music of the period. It wanders rather, not really
getting anywhere; it’s not quite a melody at all, actually,
but it haunts the mind all the same. The piano assumes an accompanying
role here, and indeed challenging though the solo part must
be, this is not a heroic piano concerto in the romantic sense.
The second movement is in contrast to the rather amiable first,
a rapid scherzo with darker undertones, though the atmosphere
falls far short of the malice in the corresponding movement
of, say, Walton’s First Symphony. The concerto has been
recorded by Peter Donohoe on Naxos, and the notes accompanying
that issue contain some interesting commentary by the composer,
dated 1958 and therefore perhaps written for the LP issue of
the present performance. The slow movement, he writes, “… has
about it that nostalgic character so much disliked by the immobile
intelligentsia of today, who confuse this quality with the emotional
mess of the last century.” Quite. The main theme of the finale
has taken some stick over the years. It is described in one
of the Penguin Guides, for example, as “cheap”, though in a
later edition the word “catchy” is applied to it. The composer
himself seems to have been dubious: “This tune, saved, one hopes,
from complete banality by its metrical construction …”. I don’t
know about “cheap”, but “catchy” it certainly is, and the composer
uses it to considerable effect to bring about an entertaining
close to a most satisfying work.
Rawsthorne’s concerto has been recorded a number of times in
the years following the appearance of this performance, but
the only other I have heard is that by Donohoe referred to above.
There, the soloist’s contribution is very fine indeed, and the
performance as a whole is very satisfying. But the present performance
is also very fine, totally committed and convincing, with a
particularly authoritative contribution from Sargent and the
BBC Symphony Orchestra. Where the later performance scores,
of course, is in the quality of the recorded sound, and since
the dryness of some of the musical ideas makes for a work which
only gives up its secrets slowly, even reluctantly, there is
no doubt that for a newcomer to the work, and perhaps to the
composer, the later performance will be an easier entry point.
For Rawsthorne enthusiasts who have not heard the Matthews performance,
however, I urge you to give it a listen right away.
The Rubbra Concerto was new to me. Like the Rawsthorne it is
not a heroic concerto in the Rachmaninov or Tchaikovsky vein.
The piano part is big and wide ranging, but the instrument is
more the equal of the orchestra than its competitor. The first
movement opens in sombre mood, and in the minor key, despite
the work’s major key designation. The music gradually opens
out – in line with its botanical title: “Corymbus” – to imposing
effect, and rising to a remarkably passionate climax. The second
movement is entitled “Dialogue”, but it is not at all an intense
affair along the lines of the slow movement of Beethoven’s Fourth,
but calm and very beautiful. I have not had access to a score,
but I think this movement probably begins nearly a minute later
than the tracking cue would have us believe. The finale opens
with a dancing figure, and its rondo structure is easily discerned
even on a first hearing. There are references to earlier themes,
in particular to the opening of the concerto, before the brief
flourish that ends the work. There is a certain ebullience here
that may surprise those who know the composer only from his
symphonies and choral works. Once again, it is a most enjoyable
and satisfying piece and comes here in an outstandingly fine
performance.
As is to be expected from this source, there is no presentation
to speak of. The CD cover is a simple inlay card with no accompanying
text at all. The back of the box carries a number of internet
links, including one to some useful pages on this very site.
This is not really a “forgotten record”, though, as the Rubbra
performance has already been available in EMI’s British Composers
series. I haven’t heard that transfer, but this one, apparently
direct from the original HMV LP of 1958, seems to have been
expertly managed.
William Hedley
Edmund Rubbra
discography & review index
Denis Matthews (piano) 
