I’ve
had a copy of LPA 1099 on my record shelves for a long time and,
harried by surface noise and scratches, it’s now facing honourable
retirement in the light of this re-release. Rob Barnett has already
reviewed it, noting the original 1965 LP’s place in the undervalued
scheme of things that prevailed at the time, and I also happen
to share his view as to the performances. I’m enthusiastic to
comment on Henry Holst and Frank Merrick, two greatly admired
figures from a past now generally neglected by CD. Holst was born
in 1899 and lived to a grand age. A pupil of Axel Gade and later
Willy Hess, he studied harmony with Nielsen and won an open competition
to lead the Berlin Philharmonic in 1923, a position he kept until
1931. Teaching drew him to the Royal Manchester College of Music
on Arthur Catterall’s retirement from the position and he then
began a steady stream of important engagements in Britain, focused
on the North but culminating in his performances of the Walton
Concerto (first British performances). From 1945 he taught at
the Royal College of Music, became leader of one of the best string
quartets of its day, the Philharmonia Quartet, popularised the
Busoni Concerto and performing the Elgar, Nielsen and Sibelius
Concertos to considerable acclaim. He returned to Denmark but
continued to appear in Britain, as evidenced by this meeting with
the veteran Frank Merrick. There’s precious little of Holst on
CD; the Delius Legende with Gerald Moore is on a Testament Delius
compilation and his Archduke Trio with Solomon and Anthony Pini
has made at least three silver reappearances. LP reappearances
of a Haydn Trio with Pini and Eileen Joyce served notice of his
classical credentials but there are other rare performances on
the Frank Merrick Society LP label, overseen by Michael G Thomas,
that will probably not see the light of day in the foreseeable
future; Bax’s Ballad, Legend and Sonatas 2 and 3, sonatas by Frumerie
and the second Rubbra, the second movement of Isaacs’ 1910 sonata
and Bernard Stevens’ Fantasia on themes of John Dowland. His biggest
recording undertaking in the 78 years was the Mendelssohn Concerto,
given for Columbia with Sargent when Holst was leader of the Liverpool
Philharmonic during the War. Walter Legge tried and failed three
times to make a successful set and it remains unissued.
Frank
Merrick was older than his violinist partner, born in Clifton
in 1886. He was a pupil of the eminent pedagogue Leschetizky with
whom he’d studied on Paderewski’s advice. He first performed professionally
in the first decade of the twentieth century and, as with Holst,
taught at the Royal Manchester College of Music, from 1911-29
overlapping with Egon Petri. As with Holst, whose professional
progress he seemed to mirror, Merrick moved to the Royal College
of Music in 1929 where he exerted some real influence teaching,
and propagandising for Field and contemporary composers. He recorded
for Parlophone in the 30s and extensively for RRE – much splendid
John Field amongst much else - on LP. Some may know that he was
Alan Rawsthorne’s piano teacher, fewer perhaps that his wife,
with whom he often performed duets, was the charmingly named Hope
Squire, herself, like her husband, a composer. Merrick died at
ninety-five in 1981. Thus, so recently, did giants still stalk
the earth.
So
to the performances. The Bax is well suited to the tempestuous
aspect of Holst’s playing. He also proved himself a master of
restless, argumentative rhetoric and bold vigorous playing generally.
His vibrato can be fast and rather edged and the recording, not
ideal, preserves a tone that is never quite varied enough. It’s
certainly playing that abjures obviously luscious phraseology
whilst never shirking the romanticised impress of the music. His
instinct in the first movement is toward cohesion and against
over leisurely introspection. He’s far quicker than Gruenberg
on Chandos, less obviously pliant than Mei Wu Loc on ASV but grows
in noble seriousness and idyllic profusion as the movement develops.
His fast second movement is full of resinous drive and drama,
full of power but also delicacy in the slow trio section, where
he plies lyric ardour well. In the main he is even more successful
in Bax’s blaze than in his balm – but only by a small margin,
certainly reinforcing the composer’s jibe that this wasn’t a work
to be played by middle-aged virgins. Merrick drives with him all
the way, relishing the attack and the scurry. Holst brings out
the ominous consolatory feeling at the start of the third movement
with understanding, projecting with real sensitivity, drawing
to an eloquent close. If one has complaints they must reside in
his muscularity of address; he doesn’t really float his tone;
his directness is an invaluable asset in much of the sonata but
doesn’t always extend to the farthermost shores of introspection.
However this is a powerfully cohesive and successful traversal.
This
is especially pertinent when it comes to the Delius sonata – written
in 1923 by the way; Concert Artist preserves Peter Pirie’s 1915
misdating (that’s the First numbered sonata). This is the less
successful performance for precisely those reasons that made the
Bax so strong and powerful. There are some moments of less than
ideal coordination between Holst and Merrick here and a slightly
stodgy air to the playing. The poco piu tranquillo section is
rather stretchy and in general the lyric sections are rather too
slow in relation to the surrounding music for the ebb and flow
to be entirely natural. Even in the Lento sections Holst’s masculine
persona is apt to flatten the subtlety in favour of declamatory
calls to arms and maximal projection. It’s an exultant, exterior
and manly interpretation that can impress but fails to explore.
Should you want alternatives Graham and Margalit on EMI bring
a Grieg-like inflection but relatively little affection; Holmes
and Fenby bring real understanding and incremental projections
of tone and shaping; Little and Lane utilise every known variety
of expressive shading and colour to burnish the line with auburn
inwardness. I’m a strong admirer of Little but not often of her
Delius, which I find too mannered and languorous. The answer is
to highlight the lyric apex of a phrase, a solution instinctively
hit upon by the work’s dedicatee and first performer and the man
who was the first to record all three numbered Delius Sonatas,
Albert Sammons (the First Sonata recording of 1929 was never issued).
Until someone reissues that 1924 late acoustic most people will
be none the wiser; he may initially sound brusque next to Little
but ears attuned to modern sensibility often find older performers
perfunctory with their clipped phrase endings and fast tempi.
The
original recording imparted a distinct edge to Holst’s tone that
Concert Artist have successfully tamed but the recording was made
at a relatively low level and things are still a bit boxy, a hazard
of the Soho studio’s set up. Otherwise Pirie’s excellent notes
are retained – like Rob Barnett I hold Pirie in esteem and learned
a lot from his book on the British Musical Renaissance. Yes it
would have been nice to have rounded out the disc with other relevant
sonata material but I’m happy that these two musicians’ work is
once again available. Not first choices then, but always exciting
to hear.
Jonathan
Woolf
see
also review by Rob
Barnett
Henry Holst (violin)