Page 461 - Liverpool Philharmonic 22-23 Season Coverage Book

and the climax of the movement is given smoothly and pause-free, making it
all the more passionate and rapturous. At the end of the movement, those
repeated oboe and cor anglais F’s – expressionless: the notes sound almost
dead – as well as the final discord, cellos and violas on adjacent notes, are
surely meant to be disquieting. Some interpreters make these final bars
amongst the most desolate Vaughan Williams wrote. Brabbins comes quite
close.

This performance of the scherzo makes much of the inventiveness of
Vaughan Williams’s scoring. As the movement progresses, I particularly like
the way Brabbins does not neglect fortissimo markings yet manages to avoid
overdoing them. Textures throughout are exceptionally clear, and you won’t
hear violins scurrying more proficiently than these. There then follows one of
the most beautiful readings of the Romanza I have ever heard, to the point
that critical faculties are all but suspended when listening to it. The strings
produce a gorgeous sound, and the wind players are marvellously
characterful. I particularly appreciate the tone and technique of Maxwell
Spiers’s cor anglais. Only at one point did I wish Brabbins had moved the
music forward a little more, but otherwise, and by superb control of phrasing
and dynamics within a slow overall tempo, the team produces a hugely
passionate climax and an intensely moving coda. There is a rare feeling of
grandeur about this reading.

The opening of the finale has just the carefree, open-air quality that I hope
for. The little, rather jazzy exchanges in the strings less than a minute in, are
deliciously playful here, and when the music passes to the second idea the
effect is positively jubilant. The middle section of the movement is another
matter, and ought perhaps to evoke more unease than it does. But there is
always room for another view, and in the event Brabbins steers the music
towards an imposing and passionate return of the symphony’s opening
material, and a serene coda. A crucial moment for me in this passage is the
clarinets’ simple, rising D major scale a minute or so before the end. This is
barely audible in the Collins version – curious, that: he will have played this
passage himself innumerable times – but it is just right here. This, and other
matters of balance, are of course the conductor’s affair, but no doubt the
producer, Andrew Keener, had a hand in them too.

Conclusion
Each one of these recorded performances has something of importance to
say about Vaughan Williams’s masterpiece. Over the years I have come to
believe that only a poor conductor will impose a view that is to the detriment
of the work being performed. Each of these interpretations is the result of
long and serious study whose aim is to realise the work to its best
advantage. Decisions as to the quality of these performances will depend on
a number of factors, the conductor’s fidelity to the score, for instance. Are
Vaughan Williams’s speeds respected? Does the conductor follow the
composer’s dynamic markings? This is crucial, of course, because no
conductor is more important than the work being performed. Yet Vaughan
Williams himself, as a conductor, did not always follow the score to the