This is a tasty, original and generous collection of works 
                    for horn and orchestra. All credit to the Australian Government 
                    for having the percipience to fund it. 
                  
It's very much a Franco-Australian 
                    affair with the Damase Rhapsodie commissioned by Barry 
                    Humphries and the last piece being the Phantasy by 
                    G.W.L 
                    Marshall-Hall. The latter was born in London but was resident 
                    in Melbourne from 1891 until his death. The horn player, orchestras 
                    and conductor are Australian. Melba is an Australian label 
                    of fragrant distinction and the musicians are all Australian 
                    by birth or firm adoptive choice. 
                  
The Damase Concerto 
                    was premiered at an international symposium of horn-players 
                    in Bordeaux – the composer’s birthplace - in 1995. Jacks' 
                    tone here and throughout is steady, bold and true centre. 
                    This is so even when he plays the more languid role of singer-enchanter 
                    as in the third movement. The final allegro vivace has 
                    a gritty pulse over what is a constant presence: a strong 
                    sense of Poulencian melody and poetry. Even so the progress 
                    of this delectable music is hardly ever becalmed. Don't miss 
                    the many soloistic touches from the orchestra. There’s a dialogue 
                    with the first horn and singing tendrils of the sweetest melody 
                    from the Leader. It's a lovely work and you need to add it 
                    to your heritage tracks.
                  
We have heard the three 
                    movement Koechlin Poème before. This work majors on 
                    the pensive-pastoral rather than the active. However the finale 
                    provides some bushy-tailed dynamic contrast. Even so this 
                    readily melts into the warmth of summery woodland glades perhaps 
                    in the manner of Bax's Spring Fire. 
                  
The single movement 
                    Damase Rhapsodie was written for Tuckwell who premiered 
                    the work in 1986 in London. Here Tuckwell defers to the young 
                    Ben Jacks and takes to the podium in full and generous empathy 
                    with his soloist. This sea-inspired work is full of intriguing 
                    twists and turns. There is nothing here of dissonance - just 
                    tonal succulence and pleasing rhythmic invention. It passes 
                    through many gradations of mood. A boulevardier insouciance 
                    sometimes comes to the fore. I am not sure I would have detected 
                    anything oceanic if I hadn’t been told. That said, there is 
                    a wave-lapping cradling to the final peace-suffused pages. 
                    Very satisfying. We need to hear much more orchestral Damase 
                    and urgently. 
                  
The Dukas Villanelle 
                    is as arranged by Paul Terracini who has a light hand 
                    in these matters. Dukas's famously unforgiving self-critical 
                    judgement resulted in his own orchestral arrangement being 
                    destroyed. It is good that Terracini has given this piece 
                    new orchestral wings with an eye to the bubbling Rimskian 
                    flavours of the original. 
                  
The Saint-Saëns Morceau 
                    is not exactly unknown though hardly common either. It 
                    is at times rather like a Mozartean take on Brahms. A 
                    delightful light piece. 
                  
Marshall Hall's Phantasy 
                    was written when the composer had only ten more years 
                    to live. It's a late-classical romantic ‘conzertstück’ with 
                    a Tchaikovskian swoon mixed in with Weberian liveliness. 
                  
Quite what the comely 
                    female on the cover has to do with all this I do not know 
                    even if she is flanked by a coiffed poodle and a French horn. 
                    Anyway let's not worry about that. 
                  
              
The closest thing to 
                hot cakes in years. Snap it up now.  
                
                
                Rob Barnett