In recordings terms it could be said that The Ulster Orchestra is
the most experienced Moeran ensemble in the UK. The bulk of that material
was recorded with Vernon Handley on the stick for Chandos. It comes
as something of a surprise to realise that the
last of those
recordings was made as long ago as 1990 - and featured the only other
full version of the
Serenade offered here too. For the major
work here - the Cello Concerto - one has to go back to 1986 for the
most recent competitor:
Raphael
Wallfisch with Norman del Mar and the Bournemouth Sinfonietta.
Before that you must find your way to 1969 for the seminal performance
by inspiration, wife of Moeran and dedicatee
Peers
Coetmore. Aside from a
Naxos
disc of the Symphony and Sinfonietta which came about only because
another session was cancelled this is the first new disc of all Moeran
orchestral works in just about a quarter of a century. Personally
I do not consider the reconstruction of the notional Second Symphony
to be 'real' Moeran and its companion work on that
Dutton
disc - the
Festival Overture - is minor at best.
That being the case, Moeran aficionados will not need to read this
review - they will have bought the disc already. For those new to
the considerable cause I'm pleased to say that this is a very impressive
disc. Moeran's is an elusive idiom; played too sentimentally the dark
undertow is missed and played too neo-classically the sense of pained
pastoral rapture is lost. One cannot imagine that conductor JoAnn
Falletta has had many opportunities to programme Moeran during her
various tenures in the USA so all the more credit to her for finding
just the right 'touch' so impressively in the bulk of the music offered.
To my ear cellist Guy Johnston is the most impressive of the three
players to have recorded the principal work. Coetmore's recording
is an obligatory purchase on Lyrita for the reasons mentioned above.
That wonderful Lyrita disc also includes the two other Coetmore-inspired
works; the Cello Sonata and the small Prelude. Unfortunately by the
time she came to record the concerto with Boult she was in her mid-sixties
and for all her musical insight what we hear is technically fallible.
In contrast Wallfisch was at the very beginning of his recording career
- this was one of his earliest concerto discs and while it is good
neither the interpretation nor the recording are from Chandos' top-most
drawer. Johnston came to the world's attention when he won the BBC
Young Musician of the Year in 2000 despite breaking a string during
his final - stunning - performance of Shostakovich's 1st Cello Concerto.
Moeran's Cello Concerto is a far more dark and troubled work than
one might expect or indeed initially sense. Moeran's last years were
shadowed by increasing worries about his inability to focus or concentrate
and the concern that this might foreshadow a descent into total mental
collapse. In part this explains the repeated attempts to complete
the Second Symphony which at various times he reported to friends
as being all-but complete. If you look at the small tally of Moeran's
output the last orchestral work is the
Serenade dating from
1948. However, dig a little deeper and it becomes clear that this
work is in fact linked to the suite
Farrago from 1932 and its
'lightness' belies the struggle with which it came in being. Returning
to the Concerto; its genesis is wholly a result of Moeran's infatuation
with Coetmore. Theirs was a curious relationship - more idealised
than practical, indeed much of the time they were married was spent
apart with Coetmore on tour and Moeran trying to escape his devils
by drink and travelling to Ireland. It is this sense of a lyrical
- often Irish - idyll juxtaposed against an often manic gaiety that
characterises the work. Johnston plays with just the right musing
rhapsodic freedom and with a beautifully unforced tone in the works
many slower (brooding?) passages. The three movements are marked
Moderato,
Adagio and
Allegretto which does reflect the somewhat muted
spiritual world it inhabits.
The sudden juxtaposition of jaggedly flamboyant brass writing does
- and should - come as something of a shock - track 1 4:56. Here Falletta,
having been such a sensitive accompanist to the earlier introverted
mood drives the music forward impressively. Her Ulster players respond
as to the manner born. Timings overall for Wallfisch and Johnston
are very similar [28:36 to 28:44] but Johnston favours a more extreme
range of tempi. Some might argue that this makes the music feel more
sectionalised, less organic but I feel this is an insightful choice
ultimately revealing the work as
less cosy and comfortable
than I had previously thought. The reason the extremes of mood work
- literally manic one might say - is explained insightfully by Geoffrey
Self in his 1986 book
The Music of E.J. Moeran (Toccata Press).
He offers a very lucid analysis of the work which at its heart shows
that all the musical material is tied together by what Self describes
as a "parent cell technique". Essentially this is a well-tried method
by which even the most diverse music in the work can be traced back
to a four-note musical cell - the 'parent' of all that follows. This
deeply-laid foundation allows Johnston and Falletta to explore the
extremes of the emotional range/dynamics/tempi of the work without
it collapsing into a sequence of fragmentary episodes. Wallfisch's
more considered approach is beautiful and accomplished for sure but
less challenging.
The central
Adagio contains the most heart-felt and lyrically
impassioned writing in the entire concerto and the performance here
reinforces my impression that this is now the single finest version
available. The finale has always felt just a little forced in it faux-Irish
bonhomie. Self notes here and elsewhere some fascinating parallels
in terms of melodic outlines with the famous Dvořák B
minor concerto. Once again it fits more logically in the dramatic
arc as defined by the performers here. Johnston captures the capriciousness
of the writing to perfection and while it is by no means an overtly
virtuosic concerto for virtuosity's sake he sounds completely at ease
with any of the technical hurdles Moeran presents.
Dating Moeran's works is rarely straightforward. Often the music would
evolve over an extended period absorbing influences along the way;
any given piece may seem to have a variety of styles at work. This
is especially the case with the
Serenade. As mentioned, parts
of the work originated in a 1932 Suite. By the time of its 1948 premiere
under
Basil
Cameron this had expanded into the eight movement
Serenade
given here although when the score was published two movements; No.3
Intermezzo and No.7
Forlana were removed. According
to Lionel Hill in his book "Lonely Waters - the diary of a friendship
with E J Moeran" (Thames, 1985) this was simply a decision to make
the work more concise and therefore appealing to programmers. Again
there have been two other commercial recordings. Handley on
Chandos
in Ulster offers this fuller eight movement version. He also recorded
it in the 1960s with the
Guildford
Philharmonic Orchestra. Hickox on EMI with the Northern Sinfonia
plays the published score (CDC 7 49912 2 then 7 64721 2). Given that
that version also has a rather blurringly resonant recording it rules
itself out fine though the actual playing and interpretation are.
The Ulster Orchestra of 1990 vintage give their contemporary colleagues
a very stiff challenge and if pushed I would opt for the earlier version
with Handley finding a fraction more wit and Chandos a tad more sophistication
in their engineering. Again though Falletta has to be applauded for
her direct, bright-eyed and unfussy approach. The spirit of Peter
Warlock hangs benevolently over the work and in the spirit of his
Capriol Suite this
Serenade entertainingly recreates.
To quote Self; "[the] element of pastiche ... is here sedulously cultivated
... stylistic inconsistency is very much part of the work, but it
in no way spoils music of charm, boisterousness, and quasi-Gallic
wit".
None of the movements are longer than five minutes and all are ear-ticklingly
appealing in the best traditions of 'light' music. It is hard to agree
with the Naxos cover-note writer that this work is "much-admired"
- but treated as a minor but wholly enjoyable romp it deserves a toe-hold
in the repertoire. I particularly enjoyed the
Galop (No.4)
with the Ulster brass in rollicking form and the flowingly elegant
Rigadoon which captures the bittersweet lilting nostalgia that
Moeran made so much his own.
The disc is completed by the Two Pieces for Small Orchestra -
Lonely
Waters and
Whythorne's Shadow. On disc especially these
two works are nearly always linked but that is no more than a publisher's
expedience - they have little in common excepting their considerable
beauty and undoubted craft. Dating is again an issue with both works.
They were published as a pair in 1935. The writer Hubert Foss dates
the former to 1930/31. Self refers to a Peter Warlock article which
mentions a work with this name in 1924. This was around the time Moeran
collected his
Six Folksongs from Norfolk but the published
works exhibit a maturity and sureness of touch which Moeran did not
possess in the early 1920s. The likelihood is another work of extended
genesis and possible multiple versions. What is certain is that the
work we now have is a miniature masterpiece. Nay-sayers would probably
cite it as a prime example of cow-pat music at its most pastoral.
The dedication to Vaughan Williams shows a spiritual kinship with
the older composer but this is most certainly
not a rose-tinted
view on a Rural England that never existed outside of a Hardy novel.
There are other editorial considerations too. Moeran offers two endings,
one - his preference - with a singer; "So I'll go down to the Lonely
Waters, Go down where no one they shall find me." In his preface to
the work in the published score Moeran wrote: "... it is preferable
to perform the piece in the version with the voice part, but it should
be understood that the singer need not be a professional one, in fact
anybody with a clear and natural manner of singing may sing the verse.
And in any case, the singer must be in an unobtrusive position, sitting
at the back of the orchestra or out of sight altogether."
Given this clearly stated preference it is rather disappointing that
some of the other fine recordings of this work - Handley on Chandos
and Dilkes on EMI - opted for the instrumental version. The only other
performance I have heard with a singer is the lugubrious Jeffrey Tate
on EMI (7642002) with a far too heavily voiced Anne Murray. The field
was wide open then for a definitive version with voice. Unfortunately
Falletta and her producer, Tim Handley, make a miscalculation here.
Their soprano Rebekah Coffey has a perfectly attractive voice but
she sings in such a 'trained' and correct way with ev-e-ry syll-a-ble
carefully enunciated. How easy it would have been in the wonderfully
generous acoustic of the Belfast Hall to place her - or preferably
someone more idiomatic - in the distant balcony - a voice heard through
the mists of morning. These two pieces are also the time when Falletta's
instinct to keep the music moving lets her down. Handley takes a rhapsodic
9:20 for
Lonely Waters and a pensive 6:30 for
Whythorne's
Shadow. Falletta takes a flowing 8:01 for the former but a too
brisk 5:01 for the latter. To give another comparison -
Neville
Dilkes by whose performances I'm guessing many people, myself
included, 'learnt' these pieces snips another minute off Falletta's
time for
Lonely Waters [7:06] without it feeling rushed but
expands
Whythorne's Shadow to 6:45. Certainly, the miniature
tone-poem that is
Lonely Waters can take either extreme. Dilkes'
push through to the impassioned climax gives the work a moment of
pained ecstasy. Sadly though, his EMI recording does show its age
now.
Whythorne's Shadow is considered to be Moeran's
Memento
Mori for Peter Warlock who died in 1930. Warlock had rediscovered
the Elizabethan composer Thomas Whythorne in a 1925 pamphlet and published
an edition of his partsong
As Thy Shadow Itself Apply'th in
1927. So in one brief work Moeran acknowledges his debt to Warlock
- and through him to the liberating influence of Elizabethan music
- as well as the poignancy of loss combined with release. Release
because Warlock has exercised a not wholly beneficial influence on
Moeran through the 1920s. The work is written in mainly compound 6/4
time. This is a notoriously hard tempo to hit just so: too slow and
it lumbers, too fast and it becomes mindlessly rum-ti-tum. Unfortunately
Falletta falls into the latter category and to be honest the piece
goes for little. The score gives a clear tempo indication - dotted
minim (half-note) circa 48. Falletta plays it at around dotted minim
68. This is a huge difference - Falletta seems to be labouring under
a misapprehension that in some way this piece should be performed
with some awareness of historical performance practice. The entire
playing style as well as being too fast is light and lifted. I find
this a very strange mis-reading; this is a 1930s work which is an
echo - a
shadow if you will of an earlier style
as it was
understood to be in 1930. It makes for a disappointing end to
an otherwise impressive disc.
A word about the disc's presentation and engineering. Paul Conway's
liner-notes are concise but informative. Producer Tim Handley and
engineer John Benson produce a lively and immediate sound in the excellent
Ulster Hall. I have always considered the early Chandos discs recorded
there to be amongst that label's very finest. Their Bax Symphony No.4
- can it really be 30 years old this year? - won a Gramophone engineering
award, I recall. By that yard-stick the sound is a fraction more brittle.
The strings in particular sound a little thin and light with a degree
too much front-desk prominence. To be fair, these are not works that
require an orchestra to sound as though they have a Straussian sumptuousness.
The woodwind are beautifully caught as indeed are the brass. The hall
gives an heroic ring to the jagged fanfares that Moeran favours. Curiously
the trombones feel a fraction further forward in the mix than their
trumpet colleagues. Cello soloist Johnston is well balanced - always
clear and with a warm tone - but not overly prominent. As I mentioned
before, the placing of soprano Rebekah Coffey is an error of judgement
in production rather than technical terms. In her own right her sound
is well caught; I just happen to think it is not the
right
sound.
For all the relative disappointments with the two closing miniatures
the positives on this disc far outweigh the negatives. indeed I hope
that Falletta is encouraged to investigate the rest of Moeran's fairly
modest orchestral output. Certainly a new version of the Violin Concerto
would be most welcome. Alongside the classic
Boult/Lyrita
disc of the Symphony and Sinfonietta this is a good place for a Moeran
newcomer to start a collection and a compulsory purchase for all other
acolytes.
Nick Barnard
See also review by Rob
Barnett
Moeran review index
