Beechamites will have
to have this. After all this is two
CDs packed with previously unpublished
Beecham recordings. In fact the mono
recording of movements 2-4 of Tchaikovsky
4 has been issued previously; the rest
is new.
To cap things the set
is documented exhaustively by Graham
Melville-Mason who has already done
Beecham proud in his stint with UK Sony's
own Beecham series.
Steven Wright and John
Pattrick, as Executive Producers, have
done well by Beecham's memory. Listen
to the earliest recording here to see
what I mean. Although deep-down debris
can be heard in the tactfully low level
of crackle in the Tell Overture
what holds the listener is Beecham's
galloping élan. Beecham drives
and his orchestra, in preternaturally
unanimous splendour, deliver the goods.
I might have heard more poetic introductions
(from Reiner) but the sabres-drawn charge
of the second section of the Overture
is breath-taking. After a syrupy and
treble down-played Legend comes
the extremely immediate Entry of
the Gods into Valhalla by Wagner
with some emphatically 1940s British
voices. The harp ostinato is cared for
and shaped lovingly by John Cockerill
against the stern voices of the Gods.
The Mozart Divertimento 15 represents
a composer Beecham championed consistently
across 1300 performances and sixty years
(1899-1960). This is stylish and fastidious
big-band Mozart. Then comes another
composer whose representation in Beecham's
programmes began in 1908 and finished
in his very last concert on 7 May 1960.
Delius's Appalachia was recorded
by Beecham in 1938 (HMV) and 1952 (CBS)
and both of those studio events are
still available. This version is unique,
documenting a live concert with audience
present in the Queen's Hall on 10 November
1935. It is startlingly clear and with
a believable dynamic range - highly
enjoyable and typically poetic with
the slow-dripping magic of the Hassan
echoes at the Var 8 misterioso
being specially memorable. The baritone
Cuthbert Matthews sounds distanced;
a not disagreeable effect, adding to
the enchantment of this piece. Delians
will want to snap this up - not just
a piece of history but with all the
atmosphere of time travelling to an
ambience now long gone and a hall that
was to disappear in the 1941 Blitz.
A similarly miraculous survivor is the
Weber overture from the same concert.
This romps along with abandoned excitement
further goaded by typically hoarse Beecham
shouts - one can hear where Beecham
also drew his love of Berlioz - especially
in Le Corsair and Roman Carnival
(incidentally, do look out for the
new Sony double of all Beecham's Columbia
Berlioz - to be reviewed by Jonathan
Woolf).
Beecham was approached
in the early 1950s to make a series
of recordings to be used as a backdrop
for some television programmes. The
Rimsky Antar (not otherwise recorded
by beecham) is a relic of that project.
It was made at the Shepperton Studios
and is accorded a fine recording with
an almost completely silent background.
This is every bit as good, vital, delirious
and rambunctious as Svetlanov's recordings,
with forward contributions from a woodwind
section strong on technique and character.
Beecham cedes something to Svetlanov
in the allegro risoluto (tr.
3 CD2) which is touched with a passing
lassitude. Nevertheless this is a major
discovery for those, like me, who consider
Antar every bit the equal of
Sheherazade. Then come the syrupy
and rather treble-dull recordings of
Norman Del Mar's orchestration of two
of Mendelsssohn's Songs Without Words.
Several layers of gauze
are swept aside and a decade of recording
technology ushered in for the glinting
recording of Tchaikovsky 4. This symphony
was a Beecham favourite. He first conducted
it in 1928. He made various mono recordings
of the work in Paris in 1957 at the
Salle Wagram. This Fourth has been strapped
together from a lone stereo first movement
made at the Kingsway Hall (itself the
subject of a self-inflicted 'blitz'
about ten years ago) on 16 April 1958
and three movements set down in mono
in Paris on 8 October and 3 November
1957. A cracking performance is delivered
even if it is an assemblage of bits
and pieces from two disparate locales.
Beecham's attention to dynamic variety
is a joy, the door is opened to the
character of each of the players, especially
the woodwind who often in the first
movement seem to lurch and drawl in
an agreeably tipsy avuncular haze when
Beecham is not bringing down the skies
with black snarling brass. The acoustic
changes noticeably for the last three
movements which are bright yet warmly
enveloped in the Salle Wagram. Some
details leap out surprisingly closely
including the triangle in the finale
at 1.57 (CD2 tr. 10). Also superbly
captured is the retort and blast of
the trumpets and trombones. This is
a Tchaikovsky 4 to place alongside Mravinsky's
as a less hysterical but still deeply
exciting alternative. In this symphony
my thoughts turned to another exuberant
colourist and audacious adventurer,
Leopold Stokowski. While Stokowski delivered
many brilliant recordings he was not
as consistently successful as Beecham;
certainly not in this symphony. Stoki's
Vanguard recording of the Tchaikovsky
4 with the American Symphony is a lacklustre
affair by comparison with Beecham's.
While the general listener
may unfortunately be off-put by the
absence of stereo (except in the first
movement of the Tchaikovsky) there is
some very special music-making here.
This set is a stunner and bids us a
civilised adieu with the soporific stately
Sarabande - all grandeur and
treacle. Here typically is a Beecham
lollipop sending the listener away in
contentment.
Rob Barnett
Great
Conductors of the 20th Century
