Alfred Reynolds was Liverpool born in 1884 and a student of
Humperdinck in Berlin for six years. He was something of a traveller,
journeying to the Far East with an operatic troupe, as well as making
American visits. Reynolds was employed as a theatre composer for most
of his active professional life – concocting light baroquerie and pastiche,
revue and operetta; he was a real all-rounder, adding songs and cabaret
turns as well as light orchestral music (broadcast by the BBC from the
late 1920s onwards). His experiences in Germany before the First World
War – where he’d led an operatic company conducting a diet of Strauss,
Lehár and Sullivan – seem to have equipped him admirably for a
compositional profile of melodic concision and charm, if not, ultimately,
of striking distinction.
His Festival March is suitably rousing and a stirring
introduction to this disc of – mainly – theatrical suites. Jabberwocky
from his Alice through the Looking-Glass is a riotous affair, compounded
of Dukas, and complete with siren whistle whereas the following Ballet
is a teasing little waltz with rococo piano interjection and the added
plangency of a rather rhythmic cello solo. Like Ketèlbey Reynolds
was adroitly mindful of the power of solo instrumental voices. The Finale
has the melodic impress of a music hall song and is complete with its
own mini trio section. The Prelude to The Toy Cart is spiced with some
orchestral exotica whilst the Romanza is a deliciously lyrical two minutes’
worth, with a violin solo to add to the interest. The finale is in oriental
style, bristling with orchestral incident. He is descriptive in the
overture to The Taming of the Shrew, alternating fractious and jovial
elements and representative of Petruchio and Katherine. Reynolds’ gift
for gorgeous melody is exemplified by the 1934 incidental music to 1066
and All That whilst the Ballet is a confection of popular tunes on the
subject of roses. Reynolds can activate a mobile bass line, as in the
Gavotte from his dances from The Duenna, an earlier work dating from
the mid twenties, whilst there’s some vigorous bassoon work in The Duenna’s
Dance and the merest hint of Beechamesque swagger. At the heart of his
Overture for a Comedy is a persuasively romantic central section – nice
contrastive material and very crisply played indeed by the Royal Ballet
Sinfonietta, most particularly trumpets and woodwind and some glamorously
sheeny violins under the ever alert Gavin Sutherland soon, I believe,
to turn his hand to Billy Mayerl. The Sirens of Southend – yes, it’s
true - are not especially high kicking but are certainly rhythmically
athletic with some coquettish little flourishes – written for a Cabaret
at the Metropole Theatre in 1926, as Philip Scowcroft’s essential notes
remind us. Reynolds encourages another cello solo in the Swiss Lullaby
and Ballet and he cultivates a Spanish tinge in Marriage à la
Mode as he does also in a couple of the dance movements from The Duenna.
How good to hear the Overture to Much Ado about Nothing – full of flexible
romantic comedy. In fact how good to hear the until-now neglected Alfred
Reynolds receive his due at last in this spirited and blemish free production.
Jonathan Woolf
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Gavin Sutherland