Thomas Beecham always 
                liked a saucy wit and he liked Virgil 
                Thomson. The feeling was mutual. Looking 
                at the cover photograph of Thomson, 
                resplendent in superbly cut pin-striped 
                and double breasted suit, standing by 
                a column, his glasses tightly clenched 
                in his right hand and left hand slipped 
                barrister-style into left pocket, I 
                thought he could even be modelling for 
                the conductor. How instructive then 
                to turn from the elegant Savile Row 
                cut of his cloth to his instrumental, 
                chamber and vocal music presented in 
                this disc. It’s a reissue and devotees 
                of the highways and byways of American 
                music may have caught up with it over 
                a decade ago on Musical Heritage Society. 
                Those yet to make the acquaintance of 
                Thomson in less opulent canvases than 
                his more popular orchestral, ballet 
                or operatic works will like to investigate. 
              
 
              
The Synthetic Waltzes 
                date from 1925 and Thomson’s very early 
                thirties. They’re as naughty as La Pigalle 
                after dark – waltzes subject to rhythmic 
                and metrical displacements, though not 
                omitting to include a trademark glorious 
                tune. And yes, it really is glorious 
                and how typical of the dandy to sink 
                it in a jeu d’esprit such as 
                this. The Violin Sonata followed five 
                years later, still in Thomson’s Parisian 
                days, and is written in his personalised 
                brand of neo-classicism in four movements. 
                The slow movement sounds like slightly 
                displaced Handel, the Waltz (he was 
                fond of subverting them) is a bumptious 
                wrong note affair, whilst the finale 
                develops a ripplingly lyric dynamism. 
              
 
              
The rest of the disc 
                is devoted to Thomson’s settings of 
                Campion, Marianne Moore and a sundry 
                collection called Praises and Prayers. 
                The four Campion settings are written 
                for mezzo, clarinet, viola and harp, 
                an intriguing ensemble perhaps rather 
                more associated with the salon but here 
                used to entirely different musical ends. 
                Short but not epigrammatic, Thomson 
                responds with great finesse to these 
                settings, a love of which poetry aligned 
                him once more with Beecham, who could 
                recite reams of the stuff. In 1963 he 
                set Two by Marianne Moore. Both 
                are short; the first is emphatic, the 
                second madcap – not surprisingly since 
                the poem is My Crow Pluto, an 
                example of Moore’s more esoteric sense 
                of humour. 
               
              
 
               
              
Praises and Prayers 
                dates from the same year as the 
                Moore settings. Saint Francis of Assisi, 
                Richard Crashaw and jostle with Anonymous. 
                Thomson responds with simple piety to 
                the St Augustine, with powerful climax 
                in the Crashaw and with roundel joy 
                in the anonymous setting of Before 
                Sleeping. 
              
 
              
The performances are 
                thoroughly committed and if not the 
                last word in finesse at least certainly 
                on the right side of engagement. Thomson’s 
                insouciance may sometimes be held against 
                him but at his finest in these works, 
                especially the vocal settings, he shows 
                the utmost clarity and beauty in his 
                response. 
              
 
               
              
Jonathan Woolf