CD Review: Harty beguiles in compilation of British music

Among British conductors of the 20th century, the work of Sir Hamilton Harty is sometimes lost in the shuffle, at least on this side of the Atlantic. Hereabouts listeners may be more familiar with him as a composer and arranger, but in his lifetime the Irish-born maestro was considered one of the best conductors in England. His last years, unfortunately, were clouded by professional setbacks and deteriorating health, which forced him to abstain from performing for an extended period before his death at age 61 from brain cancer. At the peak of his career and health, however, he earned critical and public acclaim as music director of Manchester’s Hallé Orchestra; not only for shoring up the ensemble’s standards, but also for his wide and sometimes daring repertoire. (Although his personal tastes could be eclectic. He admitted to disliking Franck and Scriabin, looked upon Brahms skeptically, and rated Wagner below Berlioz.) 

“[N]obody has given so many inspired performances and nobody displayed the same inherent taste for diverse works or the same remarkable versatility,” eulogized John F. Russell.

Collectors have been treated to a handful of Harty compilations in the CD era from Dutton, Symposium, and Pearl, but they have all since vanished from the catalog. So it is very welcome to find Pristine devoting a number of releases to his recorded art, including this latest program of British music.

The debut recording of Bax’s Overture to a Picaresque Comedy, which opens this program, remains unsurpassed 85 years after it was recorded. Contrasting with the Sibelian mood of his better known symphonies, this work captures Bax in a playful, rakish mood. Hardy demonstrates a superb sense of comic timing in the chattering orchestral back-and-forth, as well as great suaveness in the overture’s more lyrical moments. The London Philharmonic, at their Beecham era peak, give Harty (the score’s dedicatee) finely etched playing brimming with character, especially the winds. 

Following are three selections that show off Harty’s work as composer and arranger, as well as the playing of the Hallé Orchestra, to which he was contracted to until he was unfairly ejected shortly after these recordings were made. Their collective sound is handsome, well burnished, and balanced, with some beautifully string shaded playing.

At the end we arrive at the music of Elgar, this collection’s center of gravity. The two wistful Dream Children miniatures are tenderly caressed, but the Enigma Variations are the real stars here. Save for a hard to find commemorative disc that was briefly available from the BBC 30 years ago, this performance is otherwise new to the digital era. Listen to how Hardy overlaps the wind and string textures in “W. N.,” like a play of light and shadow that follows a breeze in the canopy of a forest. “Nimrod” is sensitively moulded, with careful use of string portamenti at expressive nodal points that balance poignancy with noble bearing; a lesson for conductors today who post-Bernstein are wont to turn the variation into a funeral dirge. There are also reminders that the music was still somewhat fresh when Hardy recorded it in 1931, as well as telltale signs that the Hallé, for all its quality, was still technically below the ensembles in London, never mind those in continental Europe or America. There are moments in the faster variations (try “W. M. B.”) where Hardy’s orchestra is being stretched to its limits, occasionally scrambling to keep up with his pace. Despite all that, the performance overall is excellent; perhaps the best of all the early ones of this piece.

Mark Obert-Thorn’s transfers of this material is, as ever, superb. His use of reverb is tastefully and discretely applied; as is his noise reduction, which never threatens to dilute the fullness of sound often lost in less skilled hands.

For collectors new to Harty’s art, this attractive collection is a great place to start.

Pristine offers an assortment of British works on their latest volume devoted to Sir Hamilton Harty.

Pristine offers an assortment of British works on their latest volume devoted to Sir Hamilton Harty.

CD Review: Mengelberg and “His” Concertgebouw’s living “lingua franca,” courtesy of Pristine audio

It has been a bit of a sentimental journey listening to Pristine Audio’s latest release. Thanks to a $20 gift certificate to The Wherehouse a friend gave me on my 18th birthday, these recordings, albeit in a now long out-of-print compilation from the defunct Pearl label, were my gateway to Willem Mengelberg and historical recordings about 20 years ago. What dazzled me then continues to now: The crisp, tart sound of the Concertgebouw Orchestra; and the marshalling of its musicians into feats of seemingly spontaneous virtuosity by their music director with the shock of red hair that matched his temper.

Of course, these recordings hardly need another recommendation. The just over 100 sides that Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw Orchestra cut with English Columbia represent some of the finest things ever preserved on records. Their glittering reading of the once popular Anacréon overture by Cherubini is a capsule demonstration of the best qualities of this artistic partnership: Vibrant tone color that is skillfully blended and offset as needed, flexibility of phrasing held together by steely ensemble unanimity; all of it embodying a belief in musical performance not as ossified ritual, but as a living act of the moment. Then there is their flashy strut through Beethoven’s “Turkish March” from The Ruins of Athens, which with its sly charm and play of color gives Sir Thomas Beecham a run for his money. Best of all, arguably, is the June 1929 recording of Liszt’s Les préludes, a swashbuckling symphonic drama in miniature approached by very few other conductors and surpassed by none. 

Only the fallible (and cut) recordings of Mendelssohn and Berlioz stumble, but even giants must trip every now and again. 

Some of this repertoire was re-recorded for Telefunken (or captured in live broadcasts) a few years later, but by then interpretive bloat and a perceptible drop in the orchestra’s near-superhuman standards crept in. It is in these recordings made between 1926 – 1931 where Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw can be heard at their staggering prewar peak; a partnership which combined interpretive verve, orchestral color, precision, and flexibility of response that was equaled perhaps only by Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra. 

The second volume of that aforementioned Pearl set had been fetching handsome sums on the second-hand market for years, which alone makes this new and inexpensive recompilation from Pristine something to celebrate. Better still, these discs now sound better than ever thanks to fresh transfers by Mark Obert-Thorn (who also transferred that earlier set, as well as selections of this material for Naxos Historical). Much has changed since the 1990s and that era’s preferences for taming as much as possible the inevitable “bacon fry” that 78 RPM records make as the needle drags through their shellac grooves. The unavoidable trade-offs, however, were often fuzzy sounding instrumental attacks, tubby bass, and a glassy treble. Some collectors continue to have their sleep disturbed by the horrific, chalky, over-CEDARed nightmares produced by the likes of Grammofono 2000 and Iron Needle (“Rusty Needle” would have been more fitting). These present transfers are discreetly noisier than their predecessors, but gain over them considerably in depth and presence. 

Compare the opening attack of Mengelberg’s dramatic recording of Beethoven’s Coriolan with previous iterations. The articulative bite of the Dutch strings finally comes through with an arresting immediacy and sharpness, underlining the surface gloss with a sense of danger. Tuttis cut through, rather than thump; textures sound taut. Or listen to their joyous romp through Weber’s Euryanthe overture, a deceptively tricky score with overlapping and contrasting layers that shift with dizzying speed. For once, listeners hear the immaculately etched lines that Mengelberg (and Weber) surely intended, rather than runny pastels. 

“I study the score daily and continue to discover new things,” Mengelberg once admonished his orchestra who was languishing under one of his infamously intensive rehearsals of a work they knew well. Garrulous though he may have been in life, these stunning series of recordings are a poignant testament to a time when the language of Bach, Beethoven, Weber, Mendelssohn, were a living lingua franca, not dusty relics codifying rituals in a dead language. 

(A previous Pristine compilation of Mengelberg’s Tchaikovsky for Columbia and Odéon can be found here.)

Latest release from Pristine Audio: The first of a two-part compilation of maestro-auteur Willem Mengelberg and “his” Concertgebouw Orchestra’s recordings for Columbia.

Latest release from Pristine Audio: The first of a two-part compilation of maestro-auteur Willem Mengelberg and “his” Concertgebouw Orchestra’s recordings for Columbia.