The esteem in which Violet Gordon Woodhouse was held 
          didn’t much survive her death. Though she was the first major instrumentalist 
          to record on the harpsichord, was the seemingly unlikely dedicatee of 
          Delius’s Dance for Harpsichord, was lionised by Osbert Sitwell 
          and T. E. Lawrence to the point of idolatry, played recitals with Tertis, 
          broadcast widely and was a superb exponent of the literature for her 
          instrument, she became known, if at all, for her tangential relationship 
          to a scandalous double murder and for her extraordinary domestic arrangements, 
          which culminated in a simultaneous marriage blanche and ménage 
          a Cinq. see 
        
 
        
Violet Gordon Woodhouse was born in 1871 into a musical 
          environment. Adelina Patti was a family friend and at sixteen Violet 
          began to be taught by pianist Oscar Beringer and later by Augustin Rubio, 
          dashing Spanish émigré pianist. Violet, nee Gwynne, married 
          Gordon Woodhouse to further her musical ambitions knowing that otherwise 
          a performing career would be difficult for her, if not impossible. It 
          was Arnold Dolmetsch who introduced her to early music in 1895 and Bernard 
          Shaw encouraged her; with the harpsichord, clavichords, spinet and a 
          set of virginals purchased from Dolmetsch she began to carve out the 
          beginnings of a drawing room career for herself. 
        
 
        
Gordon Woodhouse lost his money after the First War 
          but in 1926 his sisters were murdered by their butler and his finances 
          were once more transformed and restored, allowing Violet more or less 
          to retire from public performance. She continued to perform in her salon 
          and gradually gravitated more and more to the clavichord (in the 1941 
          BBC recordings she plays, for the only time in her recorded career, 
          a clavichord in the first Prelude and Fugue of the "48"). 
        
 
        
Her repertoire embraced the accustomed baroque suites 
          – especially Couperin – and in particular music from the Fitzwilliam 
          Virginal Book as well, obviously, as Bach, Handel and Scarlatti. As 
          Pearl’s splendid booklet notes relate – biographer Jessica Douglas-Home 
          on the life, Richard Luckett on the music – there are idiosyncrasies 
          in this disc more than those merely of her private life. The sound of 
          the harpsichords used on the 1920-28 recordings will be the first to 
          strike the ear. Luckett notes that Dolmetsch tinkered with a vibrato 
          effect in his instruments. Gordon Woodhouse relied strongly on Dolmetsch’s 
          copies and the effects of his compensative and imaginative reconstructions 
          are certainly individual although not always entirely attractive. The 
          necessarily compromised frequencies of the acoustic discs, in particular, 
          means that one often has to listen through the exigencies of instrument 
          and acoustic to reach the mind behind them. What emerges here, however, 
          is a musician of consistently superior gifts, of digital accuracy, broad 
          textual fidelity (matters of repeats aside) and constant avoidance of 
          the motoric-metronomic impulses once associated with the instrument. 
        
 
        
Maybe the Purcell Gavotte has a rather stolid quality 
          to it but the Rameau makes up for it – entirely winning playing, vigorous 
          and insinuating. She’s not technically immaculate in the Farnaby Gigge 
          – but employs tremendous subtleties of rubato in even so obvious a piece 
          as the Harmonious Blacksmith. Comparison with her great continental 
          rival, Wanda Landowska and her industrial sized Pleyel, shows a number 
          of clear differences. Landowska’s projection and tremendous zest were 
          fused with her means of expression, a massive harpsichord, whereas Gordon 
          Woodhouse favoured degrees of intimacy which led eventually to the clavichord. 
          In the Harmonious Blacksmith for example Landowska is hard driven, exultant, 
          breathlessly exciting whereas Gordon Woodhouse favours a different aesthetic; 
          with her, wit resides in the sublimation of virtuosity and hers is a 
          performance that lives from the inside out, as it were. The Byrd selections 
          are more evidence of her understanding of the English Virginalists and 
          her own place in the vanguard of early instrumental performance practice. 
          But there is evidence everywhere of her understated but profoundly thought-through 
          musicianship, not least in the Italian Concerto where comparison once 
          more with Landowska reveals more points of difference. Gordon Woodhouse’s 
          accelerandos, crescendos and decrescendos are certainly more frequent 
          and superficially disruptive than Landowska who, in comparison, appears 
          more obviously linear in conception. There is an inevitability about 
          the shaping of Landowska’s lines that Gordon Woodhouse doesn’t attempt; 
          the English player is far more involved in tempo-rubato in her playing, 
          is more pianistic, and the smaller instrument allows her metrical flexibilities 
          with which to imbue her playing. 
        
 
        
Not least the most fascinating feature of this disc 
          is the survival of a 1941 BBC broadcast – which contains her clavichord 
          playing, the only known example. The short-sightedness of the BBC in 
          its inability or unwillingness to preserve recordings of this kind – 
          or to dispose of or destroy them – is well enough known and this excerpt 
          from the fifteen minutes (it wasn’t possible to include all for reasons 
          of length) shows what we now lack. She plays the first Prelude and Fugue 
          from the "48" and a piece from the Strallock Manuscript and 
          we can hear her speaking voice, in one of those famously awful scripted 
          interviews. A privilege nonetheless. Recorded in her home, Nether Lypiatt 
          Manor, Gloucestershire, in the height of the War she must already have 
          seemed something of an antique. But this disc resoundingly demonstrates 
          the significance of her place in the history of the rediscovery of early 
          music and its first remarkable appearance on disc. 
        
 
         
        
Jonathan Woolf