Take note that these
are not the celebrated studio recordings
of these symphonies but are being issued
for the first time. I have already seen
it suggested in some quarters that the
recordings themselves are so poor as
to render this a disc only for the most
patient of specialist collectors. This
seems to me an exaggeration. It is true
that dates of 1951 and 1954 fall well
within the LP/tape era, raising higher
expectations; these recordings have
been preserved on acetates, and well-worn
ones too, especially that of no. 4.
In the case of no. 6, quite honestly
the 1947 studio recording was not awfully
good for its date and I can’t see that
the present one is all that different
– both crack up in much the same way
at Beecham’s savage triple forte at
letter I of the finale. It would not
stop me preferring what I find to be
a superior performance.
The case of no. 4 is
more complex. The 1937 recording was
good for its date, and while the honest
reportage of the Naxos transfer reveals
it as somewhat shallow and shrill, the
transfer by Anthony Griffith for EMI
- I am speaking here of that issued
as part of the Beecham Edition on CDM
7 64027 2, I don’t know if more recent
reissues have altered anything - is
full-toned and has a wide dynamic range.
There has been more intervention, but
of a wholly sympathetic kind. By 1951
microphones were able to capture a wider
range of harmonics and there is evidence
that this is a wreck of a recording
that was actually rather good. In certain
places, the opening of the finale for
instance, it momentarily sounds better
than the older one, but elsewhere, and
especially where the music is at its
most hushed, a heavy swish is all-pervasive,
dynamics are restricted and there is
overloading and some distortion at climaxes.
You’d better work out from this description
whether you are willing to take this
in your stride. Personally, even in
this case, I would still listen to this
in preference to the earlier one for
the finer performance. After all, if
you can’t stand historical sound you
won’t want any of these.
In my earlier listening
days the Beecham no. 6 was almost as
elusive as the 8th Symphony
which we will never know. Set down for
RCA it was never issued in the UK and
only became regularly available when
EMI acquired permission from BMG to
include it in the above-mentioned Beecham
Edition in 1991. A hearing of extracts
during a BBC "Interpretations on
Record" during the 1970s left me
a little uncertain as to its merits
but of course I investigated the Beecham
Edition when it came out. I must say
I remained a little perplexed. Of course
it was very fine, but there seemed a
certain tendency to press on, to do
something with the music at all
costs rather than let it unfold in its
own way. Symptomatic might be the crescendo
Beecham substitutes for Sibelius’s "più
piano" 5 and 6 bars before letter
A of the first movement, as if he is
afraid people will be bored by a single
chord lasting two whole bars unless
he does something with it. Significantly,
in the 1954 performance the chord remains
piano for at least a bar and only swells
- less than before - towards the end,
an indication that this time things
will be better but still not entirely
right. As the timings show, in this
performance Sir Thomas allows himself
a little more space to shape each movement:
| |
I |
II |
III |
IV |
TT |
| 1947 |
07:01 |
05:54 |
03:36
|
09:43 |
26:14 |
| 1954 |
07:27
|
06:11 |
03:46 |
10:07 |
27:31 |
This is entirely to
the music’s benefit. If at times in
the first movement a more spacious performance
still seems to be trying to get out,
if only the conductor would allow it,
Beecham nevertheless finds a greater
degree of mystery and grandeur both
here and in the second movement. The
change is least felt in the third movement,
but this was already a steady, unhurried
affair in 1947, while in the finale
Beecham surpasses his former self by
a very considerable degree. The storms
rage more fearsomely and the ending
has a greater fervour and poetry. If
in the last analysis the 1947 performance
was not quite one that I would quote
as evidence of Beecham’s genius as a
Sibelius conductor - which is not to
deny that even without genius he was
still better than most others - in 1954
the finale seems to be up there with
his finest.
The 1937 4th
was already a magnificent performance.
In this symphony Beecham showed no desire
to "do things" with the music,
he just let it speak directly and powerfully.
His identification with its world was
total.
Differences of timings
between the two performances do not
all go in the same direction this time:
| |
I
|
II |
III |
IV |
TT |
| 1937 |
09:58 |
04:06 |
09:35 |
08:35 |
32:14
|
| 1951 |
09:42 |
04:15 |
09:45 |
09:22 |
33:04 |
Whatever the timings
say, in movements I, II and IV the two
performances nonetheless have an identical
character, with a certain further refinement
of nuance. This increased care over
detail actually imparts a quite different
character to the third movement, which
is now revealed to conceal a tense drama
below its still, frozen surface. Beecham
is more interventionist in 1951, but
his identification with the music is
so complete that this in no way comes
between the music and the listener.
It simply results in heightened and
deepened perceptions.
This seems to me an
important record for the light it casts
on two great symphonies and one of the
composer’s greatest interpreters. For
me this overweighs any sonic limitations,
but maybe each listener will have to
work that one out for himself.
Christopher Howell
see also reviews
by Rob
Barnett and Jonathan
Woolf
BBC Symphony Orchestra*, Royal Philharmonic
Orchestra**/Sir Thomas Beecham 
