Listening to this disc has made me ponder how we categorise
and what we expect of creative people. Do we have certain expectations
that we want fulfilled and when those artists move away from
those comfortable preconceptions our ability to accept this
'different' work is challenged?
Here we have a disc of Parry - musical embodiment of State and
Empire; Jerusalem, England, a Coronation Te Deum, a Magnificat
dedicated to Queen Victoria and a suite of incidental music
part of which featured at two royal weddings. It seems that
Parry's music has been appropriated to provide the sound-track
for Britain as embodied by the royal family. This impression
is reinforced by a liner note containing a foreword by Prince
Charles and a cover picture of King George V in procession.
So, who to turn to for this - seemingly - most British of discs?
I suspect Neeme Järvi would not be the name to instantly
spring to mind. I have no idea how often British music has featured
in Järvi's concert programmes but I'm stuck to think of
any British music discs (a couple of Britten recordings aside)
at all in his massive discography. That said, Chandos and the
BBCNOW are past-masters at this kind of repertoire and as such
it is very fine but I do have a lingering feeling that there
is missing the last degree of empathy that could lift this fine
but rarely great music to another sphere.
To take the music in compositional order; the earliest work
offered here is the suite from The Birds by Aristophanes.
Parry was commissioned to provide the incidental music for the
play and subsequently the six orchestral sequences have been
edited into a suite for full orchestra. Liner-note writer Jeremy
Dibble argues strongly on their behalf but truth be told this
is amiably minor music. By far the most musical interest resides
in the third movement Entr'acte and the following Waltz.
The former has a Wagnerian flavour and reaches a well-paced
climax. Most disappointing is the closing Bridal March.
This was used at the weddings of both the Queen in 1947 and
of Prince William last year. Järvi misses several tricks
here with a reading just too fast and perfunctory to swagger.
The interest lies in the fact that this march does clearly pre-echo
the style and form that Elgar was to make his own but without
the brilliance of orchestration or thematically memorable fibre.
The funeral ode The Glories of our Blood and State that
follows from the same year might seem to underline the linkage
between land and monarch. In fact the text underlines the great
democracy of death; "Death lays his icy hand on kings, Sceptre
and Crown must tumble down and in the dust be equal made". Although
this lasts a brief eight minutes this is an impressive concentrated
work. Here and throughout the BBC National Chorus of Wales prove
to be ardent and committed performers. They are aided by a ripely
resonant recording that ensures that both chorus and orchestra
are given an opulent and supportive acoustic in which to perform.
The 1897 setting of the Magnificat contains some of the
most interesting music on the disc but at the same time demonstrates
most clearly the problems faced by British composers in the
19th century. Simply put, that was how to create an individual
body of work not overly in the sway of either the Austro/German
tradition or the demands of British choral societies. Parry's
Magnificat is a respectful - possibly too respectful
- homage to Bach. The central Et misericordia is a gorgeous
movement - a highlight of the whole disc. It features an extended
solo violin obbligato - very much in the style of the Bach Passions
- quite beautifully played here by leader Lesley Hatfield. It
does sound very much "in the style of" and crafted rather than
written in the white heat of inspiration. Again Jeremy Dibble
argues persuasively as to the skill in construction and sheer
craftsmanship at work. He even quotes Sir Henry Wood as failing
to understand the work's fall from the repertoire. It really
is not that hard to understand; there is not enough individuality
or impact to demand attention. Don't forget at the same date
Elgar was working on Caractacus and Gerontius
was barely two years away. Again, I have the sneaking suspicion
that Järvi is a safe rather than wholly idiomatic pair
of hands. The closing fugato chorus just runs away from
itself too much to conjure up the sense of contrapuntal grandeur
that others might have found to the work's benefit. Soprano
Amanda Roocroft, here and elsewhere on the disc, sings well
without stopping one in one's listening tracks. Much the same
is true of the 1911 Coronation Te Deum. Again, the comparison
to Elgar's Coronation contribution does few favours to Parry's
more modest and slightly earnest effort. There's a pleasingly
stomach-wobbling contribution from an organ and the extra trumpets
already on hand to play I was Glad - at the Coronation
not here! - add some ceremonial grandeur. Sadly, the air of
the formulaic lingers with thoughtful semi-chorus answering
the full-throated main choir. At seventeen minutes this rather
outstays its welcome in the way the much briefer funeral ode
patently did not.
If I'd had to date Parry's most famous work Jerusalem
offhand I'm not quite sure what I would have said. Certainly
not as late as the correct 1916. The interest in this performance
is two-fold. Firstly, it follows the direction in the Curwen
published edition that the first verse should be taken as a
solo with the full unison choir joining in for the second. The
other point of interest is that this performance uses Parry's
own orchestration as opposed to the more common one made by
Elgar in 1922. The bad news is that the Elgar version is without
a shadow of a doubt better so whatever the interest in Roocroft's
solid performance for a' lift and flare of eyes' look elsewhere.
Just two years later, seeking a follow-up to the instant acclaim
of Jerusalem, Parry set an adaptation of John of Gaunt's
famous speech from Shakespeare's Richard II. It is the speech
which starts; "This royal throne of Kings, this sceptred island...."
- the white-heat of inspiration which Jerusalem undoubtedly
possesses did not strike twice and the unison form ends up sounding
rather like the song of a second-rank public school.
This will read as damning with faint praise - which was exactly
the thought that brought to mind the idea with which I open
this review. With Jerusalem and I Was Glad Parry
wrote two of the greatest occasional pieces in the literature
of British music. They were and remain occasional works
and do not represent the bulk or the most typical music of their
creator.
Interestingly, I am reading for review purposes in parallel
with this disc a study of key choral works of the English Musical
Renaissance. The Parry works that are singled out there are
examples of his six so-called Ethical Cantatas (1902-08) as
being both his best and most personal works. With the exception
of The Soul’s Ransom (Chandos CHAN 241-31)
they have not been recorded and are all but unknown today which
reflects that perhaps what we want of Parry is Jerusalem
and more Jerusalem. If that is indeed the case then Chandos
has done it proud. I don't know if it’s my imagination
but the Hoddinott Hall sounds slightly more resonant than usual
but that is wholly appropriate. The BBC National Chorus of Wales
sing lustily or sensitively as the music requires - I could
imagine a greater volume of sound from the choir but again that's
as much to do with the theatricality of the music as with anything
else. The BBCNOW are their usual reliable selves. My instinct
is that another conductor could have found an ounce more sweep
and lofty idealism in this music - this is not really the kind
of cut-and-thrust musical drama that seems to suit Järvi
best. Usual Chandos high production values apply; Jeremy Dibble's
informative note is in three languages and full text in English
only (or Latin with English translation) are given. An interesting
but not obligatory purchase.
Nick Barnard
see also review by John
France
Amanda Roocroft* (soprano)